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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6cca95a --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #53885 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/53885) diff --git a/old/53885-8.txt b/old/53885-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 9418935..0000000 --- a/old/53885-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9439 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's A Gentleman of Courage, by James Oliver Curwood - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: A Gentleman of Courage - A Novel of the Wilderness - -Author: James Oliver Curwood - -Illustrator: Robert W. Stewart - -Release Date: January 4, 2017 [EBook #53885] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GENTLEMAN OF COURAGE *** - - - - -Produced by Chris Whitehead, Roger Frank and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -book was produced from images made available by the -HathiTrust Digital Library.) - - - - - - - - - - _A_ Gentleman _of_ - COURAGE - - - - - _Other Books by_ - JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD - - - The Alaskan - The Country Beyond - The River's End } _A Trilogy of the_ - The Valley of Silent Men } _Three River_ - The Flaming Forest } _Country_ - God's Country, _The Trail to Happiness_ - Baree, Son of Kazan - The Courage of Captain Plum - The Courage of Marge O'Doone - The Danger Trail - Flower of the North - God's Country--and the Woman - The Gold Hunters - The Golden Snare - The Great Lakes - The Grizzly King - The Honor of the Big Snows - The Hunted Woman - Isobel - Kazan - Nomads of the North - Steele of the Royal Mounted - The Wolf Hunters - - - - - [Illustration: Frontispiece--_PETER_ was the same Peter, - but now he was a man] - - - - - _A_ Gentleman _of_ - COURAGE - - _A Novel of the Wilderness_ - - _By_ JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD - - _With Illustrations by Robert W. Stewart_ - - - - - [Illustration] - - - COSMOPOLITAN BOOK CORPORATION - NEW YORK MCMXXIV - - - - - _Copyright, 1923, by International Magazine Company._ - - _Copyright, 1924, by International Magazine Company._ - - _Copyright, 1924, by Cosmopolitan Book Corporation, New - York. All rights reserved, including that of translation into - foreign languages, including the Scandinavian._ - - - _Printed in the United States of America by_ - J. J. LITTLE AND IVES COMPANY, NEW YORK - - - - - _The Illustrations - consist of - A Frontispiece and a Centerspread - reproduced in Color from the - Original Paintings by_ - - ROBERT W. STEWART - - - - -_A_ Gentleman _of_ -COURAGE - - - - -_A_ Gentleman _of_ -COURAGE - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -Pierre Gourdon had the love of God in his heart, a man's love for a -man's God, and it seemed to him that in this golden sunset of a July -afternoon the great Canadian wilderness all about him was whispering -softly the truth of his faith and his creed. For Pierre was the son -of a runner of the streams and forests, as that son's father had been -before him, and love of adventure ran in his blood, and romance, too; -so it was only in the wild and silent places that he felt the soul in -him attuned to that fellowship with nature which the good teachers at -Ste. Anne de Beaupré did not entirely approve. Nature was Pierre's God, -and would ever be until he died. And though he had crept up the holy -stair at Ste. Anne's on his knees, and had touched the consecrated -water from the sacred font, and had looked with awe upon mountains of -canes and crutches left by those who had come afflicted and doubting -and had departed cured and believing, still he was sure that in this -sunset of a certain July afternoon he was nearer to the God he desired -than at any other time in all his life. - -Josette, his wife, slender and tired, her dark head bare in the fading -sun, stood wistful and hoping at his side, praying gently that at last -their long wanderings up the St. Lawrence and along this wilderness -shore of Superior had come to an end, and that they might abide in this -new paradise, and never travel again until the end of their days. - -Back of them, where a little stream ran out of the cool forest, a -tireless boy quested on hands and knees in the ferns and green grass -for wild strawberries, and though strawberry season was late his mouth -was smeared red. - -The man said, pointing down, "It makes one almost think the big lake is -alive, and a hand is reaching in for him." - -"Yes, they are Five Fingers of water reaching in from the lake," agreed -Josette, seating herself wearily upon a big stone, "though it seems to -me there should be only four fingers, and one thumb." - -And so the place came to be named, and through all the years that have -followed since that day it has tenaciously clung to its birthright. - -The boy came to his mother, bringing her strawberries to eat; and -the man, climbing a scarp of rock, made a megaphone of his hands and -hallooed through it until an answering shout came from deep in the -spruces and balsams, and a little later Dominique Beauvais came out to -the edge of the slope, his whiskered face bright with expectancy, and -with him his little wife Marie, panting hard to keep pace with his long -legs. - -When they were together Pierre Gourdon made a wide and all-embracing -sweep with his arms. - -"This will be a good place to live in," he said. "It is what we have -been looking for." - -With enthusiasm Dominique agreed. The women smiled. Again they were -happy. The boy was hunting for strawberries. He was always empty, this -boy. - -Pierre Gourdon kissed his wife's smooth hair as they went back to the -camp they had made two hours earlier in the day, and broke into a wild -boat song which his grandfather had taught him on his knee in the -wicked days before he had known Josette at Ste. Anne, and Dominique -joined in heartily through his whiskers. - -The women's smiles were sweeter and their eyes brighter, for fatigue -seemed to have run away from them now that their questing men-folk were -satisfied and had given them a promise of home. - -That night, after supper, with their green birch camp-fire lighting -up the blackness of the wilderness, they sat and made plans, and long -after nine-year-old Joe had crawled into his blanket to sleep, and the -women's eyes were growing soft with drowsiness, Pierre and Dominique -continued to smoke pipefuls of tobacco and to build over and over the -homes of their dreams. - -Young and happy, and overflowing with the adventurous enthusiasm of the -race of _coureurs_ from which they had sprung, they saw themselves with -the rising of another sun pitched into the heart of realities which -they had anticipated for a long time; and when at last Josette fell -asleep, her head pillowed close to her boy's, her red lips that had -not lost their prettiness through motherhood and wandering were tender -with a new peace and contentment. And a little later, while Pierre and -Dominique still smoked and painted their futures, the moon rose over -the forest-tops in a great golden welcome to the pioneers, and the wind -came in softly and more coolly from the lake, and at the last, from far -away, rose faintly a wilderness note that thrilled them--the cry of -wolves. - -Dominique listened, and silently emptied the ash from his pipe into the -palm of his hand. - -"Where wolves run there is plenty of game, and where there is game -there is trapping," he said. - -And then came a sound which stopped the hearts of both for an instant, -a deep and murmuring echo, faint and very far, that broke in a note of -strange and vital music upon the stillness of the night. - -"A ship!" whispered Pierre. - -"Yes, a ship!" repeated Dominique, half rising to catch the last of the -sound. - -For this was a night of forty years ago, when on the north shore of -Superior the cry of wolves in the forest was commoner than the blast of -a ship's whistle at sea. - -The pioneers slept. The yellow moon climbed up until it was straight -overhead. Shadows in the deep forest moved like living things. The -wolves howled, circled, came nearer, and stopped their cry where -the kill was made. Mellow darkness trembled and thrilled with life. -Silent-winged creatures came and disappeared like ghosts. Bright eyes -watched the sleeping camp of the home seekers. A porcupine waddled -through it, chuckling and complaining in his foolish way. A buck caught -the scent of it, stamped his foot and whistled. There were whisperings -in the tall, dark spruce tops. - -Caverns of darkness gave out velvety footfalls of life, and little -birds that were silent in the day uttered their notes softly in the -moon glow. - -A bar of this light lay across Josette's face, softening it and giving -to its beauty a touch of something divine. The boy was dreaming. Pierre -slept with his head pillowed in the crook of his arm. Dominique's -whiskers were turned to the sky, bristling and fierce, as if he had -taken this posture to guard against harm the tired little wife who lay -at his side. - -So the night passed, and dawn came, wakening them with the morning -chatter of a multitude of red squirrels in a little corner of the -world as yet unspoiled by man. - - * * * * * - -That first day from which they began to measure their new lives the -axes of Pierre and Dominique struck deep into the sweetly scented -hearts of the cedar trees out of which they were to build their -homes at Five Fingers. But first they looked more carefully into the -prospects of their domain. - -The forest was back of them, a forest of high ridges and craggy -ravines, of hidden meadows and swamps, a picturesque upheaval of -wild country which reached for many miles from the Superior shore -to the thin strip of settlement lands along the Canadian Pacific. -Black and green and purple with its balsam, cedar and spruce, silver -and gold with its poplar and birch, splashed red with mountain ash, -its climbing billows and dripping hollows were radiantly tinted by -midsummer sun--and darkly sullen and mysterious under cloud or storm. -Out of these fastnesses, choked with ice and snow in winter, Pierre -knew how the floods must come roaring in springtime, and his heart beat -exultantly, for he loved the rush and thunder of streams, and the music -of water among rocks. - -At the tip of the longest of the five inlets which broke like gouging -fingers through the rock walls of the lake half a mile away they -decided upon the sites for their cabins. Against those walls they -could hear faintly the moaning of surf, never quite still even when -there was no whisper of wind. But the long finger of water, narrow and -twisted, as if broken at the joint, was a placid pool of green and -silver over which the gulls floated, calling out their soft notes in -welcome to the home builders, and in its white sand were the prints -of many feet, both of birds and of beasts, who played and washed -themselves there, and came down to drink. Between these two, the open -and peaceful serenity of the inlet and the cool, still hiding-places of -the forest, were the green meadowland and slopes and patches of level -plain, a narrow strip of park-like beauty at the upper edge of which, -in the very shadow of the forest, Pierre and Dominique struck off their -plots and squared their angles, making ready for the logs in which the -afternoon saw their axes buried. - -The days passed. Each dawn the red squirrel chorus greeted the rising -sun; through hours that followed came the ring of steel and the -freedom of voice which is born of love and home. Pierre sang, as his -grandfather had sung long years ago, and Dominique bellowed like a -baying hound when the chorus came. Women's laughter rose with the -singing of the birds. Josette and Marie were girls again, and the boy -was forever leading them to newly discovered strawberry patches hidden -among the rocks and grass and ferns. - -It was a new thing for the wilderness, this invasion of human life, -and for a long time it fell away from them, listening, frightened and -subdued. But the birds and the red squirrels gave it courage, and -softly it returned, curious and shy and friendly. The deer came down to -drink again in the dusk, and moose rattled their antlers up the ridge. -Pop-eyed whisky jacks began to eat bannock crumbs close to Josette's -hands. Jays came nearer to scream their defiance, like wild Indians, in -the tree-tops, and thrushes and warblers sang until their throats were -ready to burst, and twenty times a day Pierre would pause in his labor -and say, "This is going to be a fine place to live in, with the sea at -our front door and the woods at our back." - -He called Superior "the sea," and twice in the first week they saw far -out in its hazy vastness white and shimmering specks which were sailing -ships. - -Log upon log the first of the cabins rose, until the roof was covered, -and scarcely was it done when Josette and Marie were planting wild -morning glories and crimson splashes of roses about it, and were -digging in the dark, cool mold of birch and poplar thickets for violet -roots, and out in the sheltered fens and meadow-dips for hyacinths and -fire-flowers; and in the hour before dusk, when the day's work was over -and supper was eaten, they would go hand in hand with their men-folk to -study and ponder over the fertile patches of earth here and there where -next spring they would plant potatoes and carrots and turnips and all -the other fine things they had known back in the land of Ste. Anne. - -It was August when the two cabins were finished, small in dimensions -but snug as dovecotes, and in the eyes of Josette and Marie grew a -deeper and more serious look. For they were housewives again, with -little to do with, but with a world full of endeavor and anticipation -ahead of them. And it worried them to see that the fruits were -ripening, red raspberries so thick the bears were turning into hulks of -fat, black currants and saskatoons among the rocks, and all over the -ridgesides great trees of wild plums and mountain ash berries, waiting -for the first frosts to make them ready for preserves and jams. - -So Dominique, one day, set out to blaze a trail to the nearest -settlement, thirty miles away; and thereafter their men-folk took -turns, one and then the other, going with empty pack and returning with -sixty pounds of burden, and berries were put into cans and dried and -preserved--until Pierre and Dominique began to tease their wives and -ask them if they wanted their husbands to turn into bears and sleep -on their fat all winter. It was this banter which reminded Josette -of candles, and in September they killed two bears and made several -hundred of them. - -With the first frosts of autumn Pierre said even more frequently than -before, "This is a fine place to live in," and Josette and Marie, -seeing what the frosts were doing, rose each morning with new wonder -and new joy in their eyes. For if these frosts were giving to the -waters of the lake a colder and harder sheen, with something of menace -and gloom about it, they were also painting the ridges and hollows and -all the forest land as far as they could see with a glory of color -which they had never known at Ste. Anne. - -Breath of winter came in the nights. Higher grew the great birch piles -of firewood which Pierre and Dominique dragged close to the cabin -doors, and very soon came the days when the carnival of autumn color -was gone and all but the evergreen trees assumed the ragged distress -of naked limbs and branches, and winds broke down fiercely over the -wilderness, and the moan of the lake, beating against its rock walls, -grew clearer and at times was a muffled and sullen roar half a mile -away. - -But these changes were not frightening to Pierre and his people. -Canadian winter was, after all, the heart of their lives; long months -of adventure and thrill of deep snows and stinging blizzards on the -trap lines, of red-hot stoves, and snug evenings at home telling the -tales of the day, and appetites as keen as the winds that howled down -from the north. - -This season, of all seasons, they would not have changed. It was then -the wolf howl took on a new note, the foxes cried out hungrily at -the edge of the clearing in the night. The call of the moose floated -awesomely through the frost of still evenings, and the bears hunted -their dens. One after another songbirds departed, leaving the whisky -jacks and the jays behind, and the ravens gathered in flocks, while in -the thickets and swamps the big snowshoe rabbits turned from brown -to gray and from gray to white. All hunting things were astir, from -the wolf and the fox and the little outlaw ermine to the owl and the -dog-faced fisher-cat, and in November Pierre and Dominique dipped their -traps in hot bear grease and prayed for the first snow. - -It came in the night, so quietly that none heard the breathless fall -of it, and the world was white when little Joe got out of his bed at -dawn to look at his rabbit snares in the edge of the timber. That was -the beginning of their first winter at Five Fingers. It was a cold, dry -winter, and there was never a day that a haunch of venison or moose -meat was not hanging behind the cabins. Trapping was good, and the -store of pelts grew as the weeks went on, until Pierre and Dominique -both swore in the same breath that it was a paradise that they had -found on this north shore of Superior, and each day they made new -promises of what they would buy for Josette and Marie in the spring. -The snow piled itself deeper, and the lake froze over. In January it -was thirty degrees below zero. - -The white world, Josette called it, and at times they all played in it -like children. There was Christmas, and then New Year's, and a birthday -for Marie, and games and stories at night round the crackling stoves in -the cabins. Pierre and Dominique built toboggans, and from the crest of -the ridge where they had first looked down upon the Five Fingers they -sped in wild races over the open and halfway across the snow-crusted -ice of the middle finger. And yet when Dominique came in one day and -said quite casually that he had heard the chirp of a brush warbler back -in the big swamp Marie gave a little cry of delight and Josette's eyes -grew suddenly bright. - -It meant spring. A day or two later Pierre said the coats of the -snowshoe rabbits were turning rusty, which meant early spring. Then -came discovery of the first bear track, the track of a foolish bear who -had come out hungrily, like a woodchuck, only to hunt himself a den -again when he saw his shadow freezing in the snow. After this there was -more sun in the morning and less of the cold of sullen twilight each -night, and before even the crust of the snow had begun to thaw Pierre -brought in a poplar twig to show how the buds were swelling until they -seemed ready to pop. "I have never seen them fatter," he said. "It -means spring isn't far away." - -When the first robin came Josette told her husband she could already -smell the perfume of flowers. He was a cold-footed and crabbed-looking -bird, forlorn and disappointed at the world's chill aspect, and for a -few minutes he sat humped up on the roof log and then flew away. - -This was the beginning. The snow began to thaw on the sunny sides -of the slopes, and after that the change came swiftly. In April a -steady and swelling murmur ran through the forests, the music of the -gathering waters. Meadows and flats became flooded, little creeks -changed suddenly into rushing torrents, lakes and ponds crept up over -their sides, and the tiny stream which passed near the cabins, quiet -and gentle in summertime, was all at once a riotous and quarrelsome -outlaw, roaring and foaming in its mad rush down to the Middle Finger. -Half a mile away was a larger stream whose flood sounds came to them -like the distant roar of a cataract. It was glorious music, with -something in it that stirred the blood of Pierre and his people like -tonic and wine. Pierre, in his optimism and love of life, explained -it all by saying, "It is good to have a long, cold winter that we may -fully enjoy the spring." - -The birds seemed to return in a night and a day--robins perky and glad -to get back from the lazy southland, thrushes and catbirds and a dozen -kinds of little brown warblers and brush sparrows whose voices were -sweetest of all the spring songsters. The earth itself began to breathe -with swelling roots and tips of green; the first flowers popped up; the -poplar buds exploded into fuzzy leaves, and Pierre and Dominique worked -from morning until night, clearing the patches they were to plant this -year, and spading up the rich, dark soil. - -It was about this time Pierre gave voice to a thought which had been -growing in his head all winter. He was standing with Josette at the tip -of the green ridge from which they had first looked down upon Five -Fingers. - -"Ste. Anne was never as fine as this, _chérie_," he said. - -"No, not even before the woods were cut," agreed Josette. - -He took her hand and held it softly in his own, and Josette laid her -cheek against his shoulder so that his lips could touch her smooth -hair. Pierre always liked it that way. - -"I have been having a dream," he said, his voice a little queer because -of its secret, and because he knew how its confession would thrill the -one at his side, "and I have said nothing about it, but have done much -thinking. Would not a little church look pretty down there, just where -the tip of the evergreen forest reaches to the Middle Finger?" - -"A church!" whispered Josette, her heart giving a sudden swift beat. - -"Yes, a church," chuckled Pierre softly. "And over there, in that -green bit of meadow--what a place for a home for our old friend Poleon -Dufresne, and Sara, and all the children. And there is room for the -Clamarts, too, and Jean Croisset and his wife. It is a big land, with -plenty of fur and game and good rich soil underfoot, and I have thought -it is not right to keep it all to ourselves, _douce amie_." - -From the door of her cabin some distance away Marie Beauvais wondered -just why it was that Josette threw her arms so suddenly round her -husband's neck and kissed him. And Pierre, with a heart full of -happiness, little guessed that with the fulfilment of his dreams would -come tragedy into the wilderness paradise at Five Fingers. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -It was five years later that Simon McQuarrie and Herman Vogelaar came -to Five Fingers. They were a queer but lovable combination. Simon -was a Scotchman, tall and spare, with a thin face which seldom broke -into a smile and which had the appearance of being made of flint. His -companion was a Dutchman, short and round as a dumpling, with a pink, -smooth face, light blue eyes and a great habit of puffing when he -exerted himself a little, which came, Simon said, from overeating. They -had been boys together more than thirty years ago in a little Ontario -town, and now they were partners, timber-looking, prospecting and -bartering and saving a little money as the years went on. Herman was a -widower, and his only daughter, Geertruda, had married Jeremie Poulin -back in Quebec, and Jeremie was a cousin of the Clamarts and lived now -at Five Fingers. It was Herman's first visit. He had come to see the -new baby and had brought Simon along with him. - -The instant Simon's shrewd eyes came upon the clearing and the little -settlement, with the fingers of water reaching in from the big lake, he -began having thoughts which he did not at once announce to Herman. - -The years had brought changes to Five Fingers. The single-room cabins -which Pierre and Dominique had built were gone, and in their places -stood larger buildings of clean-cut and nicely squared logs, with -flowers and garden plots around them, and rows of smooth stones painted -white. Josette, now almost forty, was still slim and pretty, and Pierre -was more than ever her lover, in spite of a great disappointment which -he kept shut up in his own heart. He wanted children. His love for them -was a passion, but for him stalwart young Joe, now fourteen years old, -was the first and the last. Pierre had implicit faith in prayer, and -ever since that first summer at Five Fingers he had prayed devoutly -that God might send more children. - -And God answered, though somewhere there was a slip that puzzled -Pierre, for the more he prayed the more children came to Dominique and -Marie. First there was a pair of them, Louis and Julie, then three -singles as regularly as could be--Aimé and Félipe and Dominique--and -with each one of them Marie grew plumper and jollier and began questing -about in her head for a name to be given the next. - -But Pierre was happy, for if they were not entirely his own there were -at least children all about him. Poleon and Sara Dufresne had come with -three children and had built their cabin a stone's throw away; Jeremie -and Geertruda had a baby, and at the edge of the green bit of meadow -which he had pointed out to Josette five years ago were the homes of -Jean Croisset and Telesphore Clamart, and Aleck Clamart was courting -Anne Croisset. With Pierre he was secretly making plans for a home the -following year, after one more season of trapping. - -And right at the tip of the evergreen forest, where Pierre had -promised, was the little log church in which they gathered each Sunday, -and to which Father Albanel, a wandering minister of the forests, came -once and sometimes twice a month. - -As the population had grown, so had the clearing expanded. There were -a good dozen acres or more under careful tillage, and in the open were -cattle and several horses, and in every wild meadow for miles about a -stack of harvested hay in season. There were chickens and geese and a -community flock of turkeys, and at all seasons plenty of eggs and milk -and cream and the sweet butter, and the dug-out cellars were filled -to the brim with good things to eat when the first cold blasts of -winter came. Pierre and Aleck had built a boat, and the six families -had combined in the purchase of two nets, so there was no lack of fish -either winter or summer at Five Fingers. - -For two winters, much against his desire, young Joe had been sent back -over the new Canadian Pacific to attend school at Ste. Anne. - -Simon McQuarrie made note of all these things with the judgment of a -fox and the keenness of a weasel. No one would have judged Simon for -what he really was, at least not on short acquaintance. In him was a -heart so honest he would have cut off a little finger before taking a -mean advantage of any other man or woman. But, as Herman put it, he was -always looking around to see what he could pick up. Herman furnished -the laughter, the jollity, the never-ending good humor and four-fifths -of the stomach of the partnership, and Simon was the ferret who smelled -out the dollars; so when Simon said one day, "I never knew a better -place than this for a little mill, Herman," the proud grandfather of -baby Tobina knew something was in the air. - -First of all, with his native shrewdness, Simon took stock of the -happiness at Five Fingers. This contentment, the community affection -which brought all together like members of one family, was a big asset -in the very beginning. The mill itself could be made a sort of family -affair, and a boat arranged for twice or three times a year to run up -from Duluth or Fort William and carry away the lumber. There was enough -fine birch and cedar and spruce right about them to keep going for -years, and the mill would bring even greater prosperity than trapping, -which was sure to wear out now that the settlements were filling up -rapidly along the line of the railroad. - -At last he talked over the matter with Pierre, and Pierre called in -Dominique, and there was a meeting of all the men-folk of the families -at which it was agreed nothing could be finer for Five Fingers than a -mill. Simon promised the first thing to be made from its lumber should -be a schoolhouse, and they would have to see to it the schoolhouse had -a teacher, for if Dominique and Jeremie and Poleon kept up the pace -they were going there surely must be teaching at Five Fingers. - -This was on Saturday. The next day Father Albanel came, a little, -gray-haired, rosy-cheeked man who loved life and all living things, and -who had no settled church because he saw in nature a greater God than -he had ever been able to find in the Book written by man, a freedom of -thought which had been labeled heresy by those who traveled the old -and unchangeable paths. But Father Albanel was loved by every man, -woman and child who knew him, and while his stricter brethren chanted -and prayed in their vaulted cathedrals and little mission houses, his -Church was ten thousand square miles of forest land. And on this Sunday -Father Albanel prayed that Simon McQuarrie might be able to keep his -promises. - -So the mill came. There was not much to it, but when on a certain -September afternoon a tug and a scow came creeping up the middle inlet -every soul in Five Fingers was down to meet them, and every heart was -beating with the biggest excitement that had ever come into the lives -of Pierre and his people. With the tug came Simon McQuarrie, proud as -an admiral in command of a fleet, and with him a Norwegian engineer and -his wife, two mill-hands, and a sallow-faced, anemic-looking young man -who was to teach Jeremie Poulin's children and Dominique's kindergarten -during the winter for fifteen dollars a month and board. - -The mill was set up, with only pieces of tarpaulin for roof at first. -Axes rang merrily in the woods, and the three horses at Five Fingers -dragged in the logs at the ends of chains. Even the women were excited, -and the children waited eagerly for the set day when smoke would pour -from the tall boiler stack and the saws would begin to hum and grind. -This happened on the fifth day, and when at last steam was up, and the -long belt began to turn, and the big, shining saw to whirl, there rose -a great hurrah, and even Baby Tobina waved her tiny fists and crowed as -loudly as she could. Then the sharp teeth of the saw touched the end -of the first log, and there came the first of that beautiful, droning -song--the song of live steel cutting through sweet wood--which was to -last for many years at Five Fingers, and which may be heard at times to -this very day. - -No one, not even his sweetheart wife, Josette, was permitted to look -deeply and completely into the heart of Pierre. As time passed he saw -his beloved forest dragged in, a log at a time, to be cut into pieces -by that droning, merciless saw. He watched the life's blood of the -timber pile up in great golden heaps of sweet-smelling sawdust in which -the growing children loved to play, and down on the shore he saw his -wilderness garnered in huge piles of boards, waiting for the little -black tugs to come in and drag them away. He knew that it was all as -it should be, for new prosperity came with the mill, more comforts and -happiness for the women and children, and a few more people to Five -Fingers. This was progress. Yet an ache was in his heart which he kept -to himself, and which would never quite die away. For with a passion -next to his love for children he loved his forests, and with him every -tree was a word of God. - -Yet he would not have changed conditions, for he knew it was himself -who was wrong. Everything told him that. Even the wild things seemed -to love this more intimate companionship with man, for the birds and -squirrels were never more numerous about Five Fingers. They sang and -chattered with the music of the mill, ran over the roofs of the houses -and built their nests under the eaves, and in winter came to the very -doorsteps to eat crumbs and grain thrown out for them. It was Pierre -whose word was unwritten law at Five Fingers. One of his laws was that -no living thing that was not a pest should ever be harmed near the -settlement, and when ice and snow were heavy in the hills and between -the ridges deer came out shyly to eat with the cattle. - -Pierre went no more on the trap line but attended to the business of -the mill, and Josette pleased him by saying this made her happiness -complete. In spare hours one could always find children about him, and -in the evenings, when the droning of the mill saw had ceased, there -were games and races and fun among the sawdust piles, and never a day -passed that the home of Pierre and Josette was not filled with childish -laughter and the patter of little feet, although the little girl they -prayed for never came to bear their name. "But she will," said Pierre, -keeping up that undying hope in his heart. "Some day, my Josette, there -will come a little girl to be a sister to Joe." - -Even Joe, his one child, seemed to be getting farther away from him, -for as time passed the boy needed no urging to return to Ste. Anne, -but was restless and ill at ease when back home from school, and was -excited when the day drew near that would take him from Five Fingers -again. He was eighteen when Josette learned his secret, and she laughed -softly, and kissed him, and told Pierre so that he would not worry any -more. The girl was none other than Marie Antoinette, the beautiful -little daughter of Jacques Thiebout, whom they had known years ago on -the St. Lawrence. She was a year younger than Joe, and had told him he -must wait until she had finished completely with the school of Ste. -Anne de la Perade, for that was her ambition, and her father's, too. -Then she would come with him to Five Fingers. - -Tears of joy filled Pierre's eyes the night Josette whispered the -secret to him, for if the little girl they both wanted persisted in not -coming they would at least have grandsons and granddaughters to make up -for it. - -"And it may be this is the answer to my prayers," Pierre said to -himself. "For Joe's children will be of our own flesh and blood, and -we shall love Marie Antoinette as our own. And as Joe is younger and -stronger than Dominique, who is growing fat, I do not see why he should -fall behind him in the matter of family." - -Few changes came to Five Fingers as the years rolled on. The little -mill continued to hum and the axes to ring farther and farther back in -the forest, and twice or three times in a season the boat came up with -loads of supplies and carried away the lumber. - -Not a single year did the stork fail to build his nest somewhere about -the sawdust piles. Twice he visited Aleck Clamart, who married Anne -Croisset; two little Dutchmen he brought to Geertruda Poulin, and there -were nine pairs of feet to shoe in the home of Dominique and Marie when -young Joe Gourdon brought Marie Antoinette to Five Fingers as his wife. - -The mill did not run that day, for it was a day of feasting and -rejoicing, and all the world held no prouder monarch than Joe. Marie -Antoinette, tall and slim, with her great dark eyes, her glad smile and -her outreaching arms of love for the people who had now become her own, -was as sweet and beautiful as his mother had been in the days of her -youth. And Pierre, in his joy, found in her a rival, for the children -gathered round her in dumb worship, and in her pretty arms Marie -Antoinette gathered every one, kissing each in turn, even to bashful -Louis, the eldest son of Dominique. And when, in their cabin, she flung -those same pretty arms around Josette's neck and called her Mother, -Pierre winked hard and went outside to puff at his pipe, for he felt -like a boy who wanted to cry. - -God had been good to him. God had blessed Five Fingers. In the going -down of the sun his eyes rested upon a green slope where no plow had -touched and no cabin had been built. Religiously that sacred little -plot had been held for the time when death might find its way among -them. And death had not come. Gratitude welled up in Pierre's heart -and choked him--gratitude and pride and faith, for all this was the -handiwork of the great and good God he believed in, the God of his -forests, the open, the sun and the sky. And the thought came to him -that when at last there was a break in the little green slope it was -only right that he should be the first to go, for God had filled his -measure to the brim, and it seemed to him he could hear the whisper of -a message from the violets and red roses of that little knoll in the -setting of the sun. - -Marie Antoinette, coming to him so quietly he did not hear, put her -little hand in his and whispered, "It is beautiful here, my father!" - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -As long as men remain to tell the story of the Inland Seas the great -autumn storm of 1900 will not be forgotten. It has been set down as -a matter of history, and a hundred tales could be told of the ships -that went down and the men who died in those days when the Five Lakes -were like five mighty churns, whipping and tossing their waters in -maelstroms of destruction. - -It was not cold. A part of the time the sun shone brightly, and back -in the woods from the Superior shore birds sang, and flowers still -bloomed. To Pierre and his people this was of strange and mysterious -portent, for though they had seen many storms at Five Fingers there had -never been one like this, with that terrific roar of enraged waters -against rock walls and birds preening themselves and chirping in the -sunshine of the forest. - -On the second day Pierre took Josette and Marie Antoinette down to the -tip of the wooded peninsula that lay between the Second and Middle -Finger that they might see the lake as they had never seen it before. -It was fun for the women. The wind choked them at times, and they had -to scream to be heard, and it whipped their long hair loose until -they were like panting naiads, clinging to Pierre's hands, their eyes -shining and their hearts thrilled with the excitement of the adventure. -Pierre, laughing, told Josette she was as lovely as a girl with her -shining hair all about her in a windblown tangle and her cheeks as pink -and soft as Marie Antoinette's. But he was only half heard, for the -seas were roaring among the rocks below them like the steady thunder of -countless guns. - -When they came out of the last rim of sheltering spruce and looked -beyond the black and dripping rampart of rock that held back the raging -waters Josette clung to him in sudden fear, and Marie Antoinette gave a -cry that cut like a knife above the wind. - -Pierre's heart went dead and still as he stared gray-faced out to sea. -There was a twist on his lips where laughter suddenly died. - -Out from the shore lay an entanglement of reef and rock, jutting up -like great heads of sea-monsters in the quiet and calm of summer, a -resting-place for gulls, and strangely quiet and beautiful at times -when the water rippled between them in wide paths of green silver. -Through this network of waiting traps ran the channel in which the tug -made her way to and from the Middle Finger. But there was no channel -today. It was lost in a fury of thundering flood, lashing itself into -ribbons, and among the rocks, half a mile from where Pierre and his -women stood, a ship was beating herself to pieces. - -In his first moment of horror Pierre knew they had come just in time -to see the end. She was a schooner of possibly three hundred tons, and -had plunged broadside upon the long, low reef which Josette herself had -named the Dragon because of the jagged teeth of rock which rose from -it like the spines of a huge fin. Her tall masts were gone. A mass of -wreckage tangled her deck, and Pierre fancied that even above the roar -of the surf he could hear the crash of her rending timbers as she rose -and fell in mighty sledge-hammer blows upon the reef. As he waited, -struck dumb with horror, the vessel was raised half out of the sea, -and when she fell back her stern split asunder and the foaming water -engulfed her until only her bow was held up by the projecting spines of -the Dragon. - -Marie Antoinette cried out again, and her face was waxlike in its fear -and horror, for very clearly in that moment they saw a moving figure in -the bow of the ship. In an instant the figure was inundated and gone. - -Life leaped back into Pierre. - -"If any live they may sweep into this pit of the Middle Finger," he -shouted. "We must help them." Then he turned to Marie Antoinette and -placed his mouth close to her ear. "Go back," he cried. "Go back and -bring help as swiftly as you can!" - -Scarcely were the words spoken when Marie Antoinette was gone with the -quickness of a bird, her long hair streaming about her like a veil as -she ran. Pierre looked at Josette. She was not frightened now. Her -face was white and calm and her eyes were pools of steady fire. She was -looking on death. She could almost hear the cries of death. Her glance -met Pierre's, and her lips moved, but he did not hear her words. It was -then, looking again toward what little remained of the schooner, that -they saw something sweeping in toward them among the nearer reefs. It -came swiftly, now almost submerged, then popping up for an instant, and -was swept at last upon a rock where the waters split like a mill race -at the very edge of the smoother sea that ran through the mouth of the -Middle Finger. - -"It is a raft," shouted Pierre, "and someone is on it!" - -Josette's cry rose shrill and piercing: - -"_It is a woman!_" - -They could see the figure flung upon the rock, with a hand clutching -at its slippery sides, and Pierre's breath came in a sudden gasp of -despair when he saw it was a woman. Her face was a ghost's face in the -surf mist, and her drenched hair streamed upon the rock as the water -ebbed away. She seemed to see them as they stood at the cliff edge, and -Pierre thought he heard her voice rise faintly above the thunder of the -water, crying out for her life. - -He turned and ran to a ragged break in the cliff and climbed down -swiftly to the narrow shore line at the edge of the Finger, shouting -for Josette to remain where she was. But Josette was close behind -him when he began tearing off his clothes. She was terribly white. -Blood streaked one of her soft cheeks where she had stumbled against a -sharp-edged rock coming down. But her eyes were filled with a strange -and unchanging fire, and she fell upon her knees among the stones to -unlace one of Pierre's boots while he freed himself of the other. She -looked up at him. A glory of strength shone in her face even as her -heart was breaking in its agony. For she knew that Pierre Gourdon, her -husband, was going into the pit of death; and she tried to smile, and -Pierre kissed her lips swiftly and sprang into the sea. - -She stood up straight and watched him as he fought his way through the -shore surf toward the seething maelstrom where the woman lay upon the -rock. Josette could see her clearly. She could see the water and white -spume leaping up about her, reaching for her, thrusting her up and -then dragging her back, and almost she prayed that God would take her -and cover her completely with the sea so that Pierre might turn back. -For a little her courage left her and she called wildly upon Pierre to -return, telling him she was his wife and that the woman on the rock was -nothing to him. And then the woman who was fighting for her life seemed -to look into the eyes of Josette through the distance that separated -them--and Josette held out her arms and cried encouragement to her. - -All sound but the roar of water was lost to Pierre. He was swimming -now, and a hundred forces dragged at his body, beating him one way and -then the other, while with all his strength he fought to keep himself -in the right direction. He knew what it meant to be carried beyond the -rock into that deadly place which they called the Pit. There he would -die. He would be pulled down by the undertows, and a little later, when -they were done with him, his body would be thrown up at the foot of the -cliff. The thought did not fill him with fear. It gave him strength to -know Josette was watching him in this struggle against death, and that -she was praying for him--and for the woman on the rock. - -Only Josette and the other woman could measure the eternity of time -it took him to win the fight. In the last moment a mighty hand seemed -to gather him in its palm and sweep him up to the rock, and he found -himself clinging to it, facing the woman. She was as white as he had -seen Josette. Her eyes were as dark, and there was something in them -that was more terrible to look at than fear. Pierre was exhausted. -He drew himself up a few inches at a time, trying to smile the -encouragement he could not speak. His eyes reached the level of the -rock, and he looked over and down--and saw then what it was the woman -was holding in the crook of her arm. - -It was a little girl, six or seven years old, and forgetting in his -amazement the thundering menace of the sea Pierre thought that in all -his life he had never seen anything so beautiful as this child. She was -not hurt. Her eyes were wide open--great, dark eyes that were velvety -pools of terror--and her face, lovely as an angel's, looked at him -from a mass of jet-black hair that dripped with water and clung about -her neck and shoulders like silken strands of seaweed. It was as if a -vision had crept up from the foaming surf to taunt him, a vision of a -face he had painted in his dreams and had prayed for and hoped for all -through the years of his life, and he dashed the water from his eyes -to see more clearly. Then he reached down and drew the child to him -and held her fragile, slim little body in his arms. The woman's face -changed then. Its fierce resolution died out. She became suddenly limp, -and seeing her weakness Pierre caught hold of her so that the surf -would not beat her from the rock. - -"I will get you ashore," he shouted. "You must not give up! You must -hold to the rock!" - -He bent his face to the child's. - -"And you----" - -She lay against his breast. Her eyes were looking up at him steadily, -and words choked in Pierre's throat. Those eyes, it seemed to him, were -too beautiful for a child's eyes. Her lips were still red. But her face -was the color of a white cameo in its frame of wonderful black hair, -and the thought came to him again that it was an angel the storm had -blown in from the sea. - -The woman was drawing herself up beside him. Another wave broke against -the rock, smothering them in its surf. Out of it came her voice. - -"I am Mona Guyon," she cried, so close that her head touched his -shoulder. "This is my baby. Her father--went down--there--beside the -rock--a few minutes ago. Take her ashore----" - -A roaring flood inundated them. When it was gone Pierre drew in a deep -breath. - -"You must hold to the rock," he shouted again. "I will come back for -you. It will be easy--easy for all of us to get ashore--if you will -hold to the rock!" - -When the roar of the surf died away for a moment he told the child what -to do. She must put her arms round his neck and ride ashore on his -back and draw in deep breaths whenever her face was out of the water. -They would swim to the shore very quickly, and then he would come back -for mother. He even laughed as he told her how safely and quickly it -could be done. And then he kissed her; there on the rock Pierre Gourdon -kissed the soft little mouth he had prayed for so many years, and bowed -his head a moment, asking God to help him. Then he lay flat on his face -and drew her into just the right place on his back, and when her arms -were round his neck he tied her hands tightly together under his chin -with a strip which he had torn from his shirt. She could not get away -after that. They would go ashore together, one way or the other. - -Slowly he lowered himself over the slippery lee of the rock, and -again he smiled at Mona Guyon. The hour of his Calvary had come, -and his heart beat fiercely with the strength of two praying women -as he slipped into the sea with his precious burden. The twisting -undercurrents reached out like the tentacles of an octopus and tried -to drag him into the doom of the Pit. But it was not Pierre Gourdon -alone who was fighting for the right to live. The woman on the rock was -fighting for him, and the woman ashore--standing to her waist in the -boiling surf--no longer had heart or soul or strength of body, for all -had gone to him; and about his neck were the arms of a child that gave -to him the courage, not only of those who loved and prayed, but of the -good God who had called upon him to play his part in this day and hour. - -So he fought, and won at last to the place where his beloved Josette -reached out and caught him and helped him to the stony shore, where he -sank down weakly, with the child in his arms and her face looking up -at him from his breast. He had kept her above the water--that had been -the never faltering thought in his mind; and now there seemed to be -something of awe, of reverence, of unspoken worship in those strangely -beautiful eyes of l'Ange, as Pierre called her in his heart, and -suddenly her arms tightened round his neck and with a little cry she -kissed him. - -Then she was in Josette's arms, and Pierre rose to his feet. - -A sudden dread swept over him as he looked out at the rock again. It -seemed to him the seas were higher, and the woman was not as he had -left her. Her face was down, she was limp, a dark blot without life or -resistance, and he saw a huge wave drive up and move her like a sodden -chip a little nearer to the edge of the Pit. She was not _holding on_, -as he had prayed God she would! A few more waves like that last one, a -taller crest, an angrier thrust from the sea--and she would go. - -He turned to Josette. She was on her knees among the sharp stones with -her arms about the child, and both she and little Mona were looking -up at him, waiting, knowing that only Pierre Gourdon was master of -himself and of life and death in this hour. He had never seen such eyes -as theirs--Josette's in their agony of fear for him, little Mona's so -strangely, gloriously beautiful, saying more to him in their childish -terror and entreaty than human lips could have spoken. - -"I am going back," he said. "It will be easy this time!" - -They heard him above the smashing fury of the Pit, and Pierre, catching -an unknown note in his own voice, knew that he was lying. As he faced -the beat of the sea he made as if he did not hear Josette calling -wildly to him that help would surely come in a few minutes, and he must -wait. A few minutes and it would be over, for he could see that with -each thrust of the frothing surf over the crest of the rock the woman -was a little nearer to death. - -It was a harder fight this time. At least it seemed so to Pierre, for -the old strength was no longer in his limbs, and something seemed to -have gone out of his heart. If he could reach the rock, just reach it -and cling to it and hold the woman until Marie Antoinette's message -brought the men! That was all he prayed for now, all he hoped for. It -was inconceivable for his imagination to go beyond those things--the -rock, the woman, a jutting tooth of reef to hang to for their lives. He -could feel death all about him as he fought and swam. It struck at him, -choked him, blinded him, dragged at his breath until it seemed as if he -must give up and go riding with it into the maelstroms of the Pit. It -laughed and jeered at him and roared in his ears, but through it all he -saw the rock, and at last the same strange current caught him with the -force of a gargantuan hand and flung him to it. - -He tried to climb up, and slipped back. He tried again and again, and -then began to make it, an inch at a time. Something was singing in his -ears. It was like the droning hum of the saw in the mill. For a moment -he rested. He could not see the top of the rock, but he could see the -shore, and there were many figures on it now--men running down to where -Josette was again standing waist-deep in the water. - -With new courage he pulled himself up, and then he gave a cry--a -madman's cry of horror, fear and futile warning. The woman had slipped -to the very edge of the rock--the edge that lipped the fury of the Pit. -She was half over. And she was slipping--_slipping_.... - -He scrambled toward her, flinging himself down the treacherous dip to -catch at her long hair. He caught a strand of it, but it pulled away -from him--and he thrust himself another foot and buried his fingers in -the wet mass of it. In that moment the sea took her. It dragged her -down, and Pierre, holding fast to her hair, went with her into the -black death of the Pit; and as he went his wide eyes saw once more the -blue of the sky and the tops of his beloved forests, and out of his -soul came a soundless cry, the faith and gratitude of a man who was not -afraid to die, "After all--God has been a long time good to me--Pierre -Gourdon!" - -Even then, in that roaring baptism of death, his mind was on the woman. -It would not do to let her body beat itself among the rocks alone, and -in some way--as they were twisted and torn by the rending currents--he -got his arms about her. He made no effort to fight, except to hold -her. To fight against the forces which had him in their power was -impossible. He was like a chip in a boiling pot, twisted and turned, -now thrust downward and then up, but never far enough to snatch a -breath of air. He felt the blows of the rocks. Then he began going -down, until it seemed in the last moment that he was falling swiftly -through illimitable space. Consciousness of the woman's presence was -gone, but he still held her in his arms. - -Only the strong hands of Joe Gourdon and Simon McQuarrie held Josette -from joining her husband in the heart of the Pit. She struggled against -them, crying out her right to go to him, until they brought her to -the narrow rim of beach under the cliff and her eyes fell on little -Mona. The wind had blown the child's wet hair back from her face, and a -bitter cry came to Josette's lips and resentment burned in her for an -instant like a fire. Pierre was gone because of _her_, because of this -beautiful, star-eyed child and the woman! They had taken him from her. -And here was the child, living, staring at her with those eyes which -had made Pierre call her _l'Ange_--staring at her--while Pierre--and -the other woman--dead and beaten among the rocks.... And then.... - -"_My mother!_" - -It was the child's voice, two words crying out to her, faint and -yearning and filled with agony above the lash of the sea, and with an -answering cry Josette fell down sobbing upon her knees and opened her -arms and held the little stranger tightly against her breast. For a -space after that she was blind to what happened about her. Dominique -stood between her and the sea, even as he saw the grim joke which the -fiends of the Pit were playing upon them this day. For these fiends -were seldom known to give up their playthings, whether logs or sticks -or living things. Once he had known them to keep the body of a dog for -days, and at another time a strong-limbed buck had died there, and it -was a week before they had tired of him and had thrown him ashore. But -this day there was a change. Joe Gourdon and Jeremie Poulin and Poleon -Dufresne had leaped waist-deep into the surf and were bringing out the -bodies of Pierre and the woman! - -It was Marie Antoinette who knelt beside them first, and unclasped -Pierre's arms from about the woman. And then Josette saw them. She -staggered to her feet and ran past Dominique, and the first she looked -upon was the white, dead face of the mother. Very tenderly then she -took Pierre's head in her arms, and bent her own over it until both -their faces were shrouded in her long hair. - -"He isn't dead," she whispered. No one heard her, for she was saying it -only to herself, and then to Pierre. "He isn't dead. He isn't dead." -She repeated the words, swaying her body gently with Pierre, and the -others drew back, and Marie Antoinette hid little Mona's face against -her while Simon McQuarrie and Telesphore Clamart bore the dead woman -between them round the end of the cliff. And Josette kept repeating, -"He isn't dead, he isn't dead," and she kissed Pierre's lips, and -pressed her cheek against his cheek, and the women and men of Five -Fingers stood back and waited, none daring to be first to break in upon -these sacred moments which belonged to Josette and her dead. - -At last Marie Antoinette came up softly and knelt beside Josette and -put a loving hand about her shoulder. Josette's eyes turned to look at -her and they were soft and glowing and so strange they frightened Marie -Antoinette. "He isn't dead," she was still saying, and she bowed her -face down again to Pierre's. - -Choking the sob in her throat, Marie Antoinette put her hand to -Josette's face--and a great shock ran through her. She had touched -Pierre's cheek. She felt with her other hand, and drew back Josette's -hair, her heart suddenly throbbing like an Indian drum. Then she saw it -was not the madness of grief that kept Josette repeating those words, -but the intuition of a soul which had felt the nearness of its mate, -for Pierre's eyes slowly opened and the first vision which came to him -out of a roaring sea of dreams was the face of his wife. - -From the group of tensely waiting people Mona had come, sobbing in -a strange, quiet way for her mother, and as Marie Antoinette drew a -little back Josette caught the child close to her, along with Pierre, -and as Pierre reached his arms up weakly to them both the thought came -to him again, "_God has been a long time good to me--Pierre Gourdon!_" - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -It was the blue jay that mellowed the fear of death in the swiftly -beating heart of Peter McRae. He had always been a friend of the blue -jays, and this particular bird had perched himself in a spruce top a -hundred feet away, screaming defiance at Peter's enemies and telling -him to keep up his nerve and not be afraid. - -Without going beyond his fourteen-year-old power of reasoning Peter had -a strange and abiding faith in the Canadian blue jay tribe. He was a -boy's bird, if there ever was one, with his everlasting cocksureness, -his persevering courage and his hundred and one little tricks of -outlawry and piracy--a bird who was always ready for a fight, never ran -away from trouble, and who lived up beautifully to the man-made law, -"Do others before others do you." He was a gentleman and a sportsman -even if he was a robber and a pest, and Peter loved him. - -He could see this particular blue jay very clearly. Shouting voices -and the crack of rifles had not frightened him away, and he was making -a great commotion in the spruce tops, screaming until it seemed his -raucous cries must split his throat. Then, too, there was the cheerful -little sapsucker who persisted in pecking for grubs in the end of the -big log behind which Peter and his father were hidden, and two newly -mated red squirrels who chattered and ran up and down a tree a little -farther on, one chasing the other. A big yellow butterfly slowly opened -and closed its fan-like wings almost within reach of Peter's hand. - -These things kept the madness of utter fear out of the boy's brain. His -thin, rather frail face was very white; his blue eyes were round, and -staring; his body, not so strong as it should have been, was doubled up -behind the log, and his heart throbbed like a hammer inside him--but -his courage was not gone. There were no tear stains about his eyes. In -one of his hands he clutched a twisted stick. - -From the blue jay and the sapsucker and the yellow butterfly his eyes -rested upon the face of Donald McRae, his father. That father, so far -back as Peter could remember clearly, had been not only a father, but -mother and brother and pal as well. "One thing you must live up to -all your life, Peter," this father had told him a hundred times, "and -that is to be a pal to your own boy when you have one, just as you -are now a pal of your dad's. If a dad and his boy are not pals they -shouldn't have been born." So they had been that, with no secrets -between them except one that had led up to this tragedy of today, and -which the boy had not yet begun to understand. All he knew was that for -some mysterious reason they were fighting for their lives, and were -now sheltered behind a log, and that men a little distance away were -watching and waiting to kill them with guns. - -The man smiled at him and chuckled in a way Peter loved. But the smile -and the chuckle did not hide the flame smoldering deep in his eyes, -nor the pallid tenseness of his face, nor the trickle of blood that -persisted in running down his cheek and wetting the soft roll of his -collar. He was bareheaded and sweaty; his blond hair, very much like -Peter's, was wildly disheveled; his hands gripped a gun, and lying on -his stomach, he had made himself a loophole by digging leaves and mold -from under a crooked elbow in the log. Through this he had watched for -his enemies. His grin was chummy and companionable as he turned to -Peter. - -"Everything all right?" he asked. "Not afraid, are you?" - -Peter shook his head. "I'm not much scared." - -"Getting hungry?" - -"No." - -"Thirsty?" - -"A little--not much." - -The man laughed. He did not feel like laughing. But he laughed, -fighting to make it appear natural and unstrained. - -"You're a trump, Peter. God knows you're a trump!" - -A rifle cracked in the thick fringe of balsams and jack pines a -hundred and fifty yards from them, and a bullet struck the log with -a sodden _chug_. The man wiped the blood from his cheek with a -handkerchief that was stained red. - -"Does it hurt, dad?" - -"Nothing but a scratch, Peter." - -He put his face to the ground and peered under the log again. - -Peter changed his position, uncramped his legs and doubled himself up -in another fashion, hugging the earth closely. The blue jay was having -a fit, and the sapsucker perked his bright-eyed little head at him not -more than a dozen feet away. He could hear a bird singing, and one of -the red squirrels was chattering his late afternoon song in a mountain -ash tree overhanging the river. Between his knees was a clump of -violets. - -The log was almost at the edge of the river, which was a swollen flood, -and the stream bent itself around like a hairpin, shutting them in on -three sides. That was why they were safe, Peter's father had told him. -No living thing could swim it to get behind them, and in front of them -was a narrow neck of land which was open and clear right up to the -thick edge of the swamp a rifle shot away. Across that open no one had -dared to come. - -A dozen times during the past hour Peter had wished the river was not -there, for it held them prisoners even if it did keep their enemies -back. Across it, not much farther away than he could have thrown a -stone, was a deep, dense forest of primeval darkness, low and swampy, -in which he conceived a thousand hiding-places for himself and his -father. Peter's mind sometimes traveled beyond his years, and as he -looked at the stream, yearning for the safety of the other side, he -wondered why the blue jay and the sapsucker and the singing brush -sparrow should have wings while they had only legs and arms. - -Only wings could carry them over the stream. In the dry months of -summer it was not much more than a creek, with sand bars and pebbly -shores and polished rocks sticking out of it. Now, in this flood time -of spring, it had no shores and was a thing gone mad. It was deep and -black, and swept past with a steady, growling roar, eating into the -banks on its way, uprooting trees and slashing itself into caldrons -of boiling fury where the channel narrowed or where it leaped over -the great boulders and rock débris of rapids. From where he crouched -Peter could see one of these places a quarter of a mile below, and -there the water was not black but white, and leaped and spouted as if -huge monsters were churning it. Under ordinary conditions the swollen -stream would have lured and fascinated him. It came out of a vast and -mysterious Canadian wilderness, and it disappeared into an adventure -land of forests equally vast and strange. With it rode many things of -interest--huge piles of driftwood, shooting down on the crest of the -flood like islands; big logs that sped with the swiftness of monster -serpents; and great trees, freshly torn out by the roots, and with -their tops trailing and swishing like whips urging on a living thing. - -Peter was staring at it when a hand rested itself gently on his head. -Donald McRae was watching him, and a slow torture had burned itself -like the scar of a living coal in his eyes and face. More than the -earth he walked upon and more than the God he believed in, he loved -this boy. It was Peter, with his thin, quizzical face, and his mind -and courage developed beyond his strength and years, who had made life -bearable and joyous for him. As he had worshiped the mother, linking -his soul with hers until it had been taken away, so he worshiped this -one precious part of her she had left to him. Without Peter.... - -He choked back the thickness in his throat as he placed his hand on the -boy's head. It was a habit with him to talk with Peter at times as if -he were a man, and the man-way in which Peter's eyes met his now gave -him courage. - -"They won't try to cross that open before dark," he said. "They're -afraid of us in the light, Peter. But they'll come when it's dark. And -we can't wait for them. We've got to get away." - -The boy's face brightened. He had a consummate faith in this father -of his. He waited, keenly expectant, twisting one of the blue violets -between his thin fingers. - -"Does the creek frighten you, son?" asked the man. - -"It's pretty swift, but I'm not much scared of it." - -"Of course not. You wouldn't be your dad's boy, if you were. See that -log down there, the big dry one, half in the water?" He pointed, and -Peter nodded. "When it begins to get dusk we'll crawl down and take a -ride on that. It won't be hard to get away." - -For the first time a tremor came in the boy's voice. - -"Dad, what are they trying to shoot us for? What have we done?" - -Donald McRae made a pretense of peering through his loophole again. -He wanted to cry out with the sickness that was in his heart, and in -the same voice call down the vengeance of God upon the makers of that -grim and merciless law which at last had come to corner and destroy him -where he had built his little cabin home in the edge of the wilderness. -It was impossible--now--to answer that question of Peter's, "_What have -we done?_" - -He raised his head, and faced his boy. - -"It's five o'clock. We'd better have a bite to eat. When we take to the -water it will spoil our grub." - -From the pocket of a coat which lay at his side he took some biscuits -and meat. Peter made a sandwich and munched at it, yearning for a -little of the black river-water to go with it. When the man had -finished he drew from an inside pocket of the same coat a wallet, a -pencil and a corked bottle half filled with matches. In the wallet he -found a sheet of paper, and on this he wrote for several minutes, after -which he folded the sheet of paper very tightly, thrust it into the -bottle with the matches, and corked it in securely. Then he gave the -bottle to Peter. - -"Put that in your pocket," he said, "and remember what I'm telling you -now, Peter. We're going to make for a place called Five Fingers. A man -lives there whose name is Simon McQuarrie. Don't forget those two--Five -Fingers and Simon McQuarrie. What I have written and put in the bottle -is for him. If anything should happen to me----" He broke in upon -himself with a cheerful laugh. "Of course nothing _will_ happen, Peter, -but if it should--you promise to take that bottle to him?" - -"I'll take it." - -"Where?" - -"Five Fingers." - -"Who?" - -"Simon McQuarrie." - -"Right. Now keep watch through this hole while I cut some leather -strings out of the tops of my boots. We may need them to harness the -log with when we go to sea. Won't they be surprised when they come and -find us gone--eh--Peter?" - -"You bet they will!" agreed Peter fervently. - -Quietly he began watching the open through the hole which his father -had made under the log. He breathed a little more tensely, for he -realized the deadly importance of his vigil. Yesterday one of his -ambitions had been to wear a uniform when he was old enough, one with -stripes and brass buttons, and with a big revolver fastened to a cord -hung around his neck. He had looked upon the wilderness police with -the awe of a youngster who loved romance and adventure. Today he hated -them. Only a little while ago he had waited for his father at their -cabin, with a good dinner ready for him. Then his father had come, -galloping on a horse Peter had never seen before. - -"I've had a little trouble with the police, Peter, and we've got to hit -into the woods," he had said. - -The suddenness of it had taken Peter's breath away. They did not wait -to eat any of the dinner he had prepared. Even then the police almost -caught them before they reached this log. There were four of them. His -father had kept them back with his rifle, and Peter was disappointed in -his marksmanship. He was sure he could have done better himself. His -father missed every time, even though his bullets did go close enough -to make their enemies dodge behind trees. And always before that he had -been proud of his father's shooting! - -His hand touched the cool barrel of the rifle, and a thrill ran -through him. It was a thing he had never felt before. He was sure _he_ -would not miss if he could only be given a chance, for he had often -hit rabbits at that distance of a hundred and fifty yards, and a man -was many times larger than a rabbit. An inch at a time, slowly and -carefully so that his father would not notice what he was doing, he -poked the barrel of the rifle through the hole. He would be ready, -anyway. He had forgotten fear. His blood was hot. His father had -always talked to him about playing square, and never taking a mean -advantage, and always to fight for women, no matter who they were. -Well, there were no women here, but it wasn't playing square when four -men came after his father like this. If they would come out, clean and -sportsmanlike, one at a time, and fight with fists instead of guns.... - -"You see, Peter," his father was saying as he cut a thin strip from his -boot top, "I couldn't leave you in the cabin alone. I've got to get you -down to Five Fingers. If Simon McQuarrie isn't there, you wait for him. -And don't show anyone else that paper in the bottle!" - -Peter was not listening. His heart had given a sudden terrific jump -and was half choking him. In the edge of a clump of dwarf banksians -something had moved. And then his father turned--just in time to catch -his hand, to stop his finger at the trigger, to drag him back from the -hole. Never as long as he lived would he forget the terrible look that -had come into his father's face. To hide it Donald McRae leaned over -his son and hugged him close to his arms, and for a space the law might -have descended upon them without resistance. - -From the shelter of the evergreens Corporal Crear of the Provincial -Police was looking toward the log. His men were lying close about him. - -"We've got to go out and get him when it's dark enough," he said. -"Don't shoot unless you have to, but if that happens--shoot straight. -Only be sure it's not the kid. That's what puzzles me--why McRae has -the kid with him out there behind the log!" - -Only Donald McRae and Peter could have solved that mystery for Crear, -and even then Crear might not have understood. It was something which -belonged entirely to Peter and his father. As they waited for the sun -to dip behind the tall evergreen forest across the river, they lay -very close together, and their eyes met frequently and their hands and -bodies touched. - -There was something pathetically doglike in the man's dependence upon -his boy. Take Peter away from him and his heart was gone, for Peter -was the one thing he had left of a great faith and a great love that -would never die. More than once a cold fear had swept over him at the -thought of something happening to him, and he had always prayed that -if anything did happen, it would come to both at the same time. Even -now he would not have sent Peter back to the safety of the cabin. -That would have meant dissolution for himself--and strangers and a -heartbreaking tragedy of aloneness for Peter. - -Across the river there was hope, and a refuge for Peter at Five Fingers -with Simon McQuarrie. A woman had put an undying faith in the justness -of God in Donald McRae's soul, and always there were two things in his -breast, faith and memory of the woman, like stars which no darkness -could dim. Their glow lay warmly in his eyes as he saw the courage with -which the boy waited for the setting of the sun. - -As the long shadows came creeping across the river Peter no longer -felt the fear which had made his heart beat so uncomfortably fast. His -father's presence and the touch of his hand filled him with an utter -confidence. The man even pointed out to him the mysteries of an ant -home which they had accidentally destroyed in the log, and told him a -story of how once upon a time he had gone down a flooded stream like -this, and what fun it had been. - -Then the shadows came more swiftly. The sun at last left only a golden -glow above the forest. The blue jay and the sapsucker were gone. Out of -the woods came the melodious dusk song of many red squirrels. A flock -of crows sailed overhead on their way to the evening roosting place. -The rush of the river seemed more gentle and lost its menace for Peter. -The churning turmoil of the distant rapids was mellowed in a soft mist, -and a little later they could not make out clearly the driftwood going -down with the stream. - -"Now is our time," said Peter's father. "Creep after me, flat on your -stomach." - -It took them only a minute to reach the big dry log. They could move -freely here, for the upward dip of the bank concealed them. Donald -McRae did not let Peter guess the tension he was under as he worked. -He stood his rifle where the police would easily find it and laughed -softly as he tied one end of a stout leather thong about Peter's wrist -and the other end about his own. After that he rolled the log into -the water and tested it to get its proper balance and tied the other -leather thongs to a projecting stub. - -"It's just right," he announced cheerfully. "A canoe couldn't have been -better built for us, Peter. Are you ready?" - -"I'm ready," said Peter. - -He was in the water to his knees; now he went in to his waist. It was -cold, biting cold; his teeth clicked, but he did not say anything about -it. He looped his arms about the stub and through one of the leather -thongs, and from the opposite side of the log his father twisted the -fingers of one hand tightly in his coat. Then they began to move. His -feet lost bottom and the cold water shot up to his armpits, taking his -breath away. His father grinned cheerfully at him and he tried to grin -back. In a moment they were in the current and the shore began to slip -past them with amazing swiftness. It was not unpleasant, except for the -icy chill of the water, which seemed to take the place of blood in his -veins. There was no resistance against his body; the log carried them -buoyantly and smoothly, so that after a little he had courage to look -about him. - -Their log had swung quickly into mid-stream, and they were overtaking -a more slowly moving mass of driftwood. The thought came to Peter -that it was like a race. Then something alive caught his eyes on the -flotsam. It was a furry, catlike creature with short, perky ears and -a fox's face, and he could almost have touched it with his hands when -they passed. - -"A fisher-cat," said his father. "He will have a nice swim when he hits -the rapids!" - -Peter was wondering just how much of a chance the fisher-cat had when -something drifted against him. It was a drowned porcupine, floating -belly up. The porky must have had a nice swim, too! - -He shivered. The roar of the rapids was growing, and it was no longer -pleasant to hear. The musical cadence which distance had given it was -gone, and a sullen, snarling undertone of menace and wrath began to -pound at the drums of his ears. In the twilight it looked as though -they were racing straight into the mouth of a huge churn out of which -milky froth was spouting. - -Then two things happened which seemed odd to Peter. The dead porcupine -was clinging to the log as if some sort of life held it there, and the -fisher-cat's raft of driftwood which they had overtaken and passed was -now _passing them_. To Peter this last was unaccountable, but to Donald -McRae, who understood the whims and caprices of flood currents, there -was no mystery about it. For a moment the fisher-cat seemed about to -make a leap for the log. Then he huddled back and disappeared with his -raft in the rougher water that preceded the gray wall of spume. - -The man's hand tightened its hold on Peter. - -"Hang on and don't get scared," he cried. "We'll go through this like a -rubber ball!" - -That was the last Peter heard of his voice, and suddenly his father's -face was blotted out from his vision. A huge mouth opened and engulfed -them. He could feel himself going down it, with roaring gloom and -mighty explosions of water bursting itself against great rocks all -about him. For a space which seemed an eternity he gave himself up -for lost, and he wanted to scream out to his father. But the water -smothered him. It thrust him under, buried him, then tossed him up to -breathe. He hung on, as his father had told him, and after three or -four minutes which were so many hours to him he could breathe easier -and the roaring grew less. - -They had come through a half-mile of the rapids then. The last of the -rocks snapped at them, like growling dogs at their heels, and suddenly -the water grew deep and smooth where it swung shoreward in a great -eddy. For the first time Peter felt a hurt. It was his father's hand, -holding him in a grip that only death could have broken. And then he -saw his father's face. Donald McRae was gasping for breath. Even Peter -would never know the fight he had made to keep the log running right -during those three or four minutes in the rapids. - -Slowly the current brought them to the shore. It was the shore they -wanted, too, with its deep evergreen forests and its hundreds of miles -of untrailed hiding-places. The big pool was dotted with drifting -masses of débris. One of these, very near to them, Peter was sure he -recognized. But the fisher-cat was no longer on it. - -He was terribly cold, and when at last his father brought the end of -the log to the shore and helped him out to dry ground the boy fell down -in a sodden heap. He was ashamed of himself and tried to get up. - -Donald McRae took one of his hands. - -"You must walk, Peter--run if you can. Come on!" - -He almost dragged him into the darkness of the forest, and Peter began -to use his legs. It made him feel better. But his teeth chattered and -his body shook as if he had the ague. Two or three hundred yards in the -shelter of the timber they came to an overturned spruce tree, and near -this was a birch with festoons of loose bark hanging from it. - -Donald McRae stripped off an armful of the bark, and one of Peter's -blue hands fished out the precious bottle of matches from his pocket. -Very soon the flames were leaping up joyously, and he felt their warmth -entering into his body. He helped to gather wood. In a quarter of an -hour there was a glow in his face, and the big backlog of pitch-filled -cedar was a flaming furnace. Darkness settled heavily in the forest, -and he was no longer afraid or uncomfortable as he continued to dry -his clothes. His father, in a period between wood-gathering, cleaned -his pipe and began to dry out some of his soaked tobacco. That was -cheerful and inspiring. It always seemed chummier and more homelike to -Peter when his father was smoking his pipe. - -Later they broke off cedar and balsam boughs until they had a soft -bed two feet deep within the warmth of the fire. When the last thread -in his clothing was dry Peter crept into this bed. He had no idea of -sleeping but made himself a comfortable nest and sat bright-eyed and -watchful while his father rested with his back against the log and -smoked. - -A hundred times they had made camps together that were very much like -this one. On hunting and fishing expeditions, and when berries were -ripe, and on the trap lines, they had slept out many nights with -boughs for a bed. But there had never been the thrill of tonight. The -cumulative significance of what had happened was just beginning to find -itself in Peter's head. This night was different from all other nights. -The darkness which had gathered heavily about them was different, -the fire did not seem as friendly, and his father, smoking his pipe, -was changed. Always in their adventuring they had been in quest of -something--fish or venison, berries or fur. Now something was after -them. It was this slow process of mental and physical change from the -hunter into the hunted, and its understanding, that was creeping into -Peter's soul. - -He loved night with its mystery of darkness, its stars and its moon, -but now he could feel and hear it breathing secret plottings and -danger. When the fire crackled too loudly or its flames leaped too high -he shivered, fearing it would betray them. He wondered why his father -remained in the light now that they were warm and dry, for there were -safer hiding-places in the great pits of gloom that encompassed them. -But he said nothing, feeling strangely that even to voice fear would -bring reality upon them. - -He watched his father, and the brightness in his eyes--something -new and strange that lay in them--was like a stab to Donald McRae. -In this hour he saw the boy's soul changing. Peter, at last, was -beginning to build up the truth. Something terrible must have -happened--somewhere--or the police would not be after his father. He -had believed the police were omniscient, that they hunted only bad -people. That was what they were for--to shut bad people in prisons, or -hang them, or shoot them. _And they were after his father!_ - -The man saw these things in Peter's eyes and in his pale, thin face. -And suddenly a revulsion of horror and of rage swept over Peter. If the -police said his father was bad they were liars. He hated them, and if -the chance came to him he would get even with them. He would beat out -their lives with a club. He would kill them--if they didn't leave his -father alone! - -He said nothing. But he got out of his nest in the evergreen boughs -and sat close to his father against the log, and Donald McRae put his -arm around him and puffed hard at his pipe to keep the firelight from -revealing what was in his eyes. The world might be against him, but -Peter would be like this, his friend and pal to the last. He knew it, -and thanked God. - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -Peter did not know when he fell asleep. He was buried in the -sweet-scented cedar and balsam when his father awakened him. He sat up -and rubbed his eyes, and it came to him quickly where he was. The fire -was out and dawn was breaking up the gloom of the forest. He missed the -fire, and the bacon frying over it, and the pot of coffee steaming in -the coals. Those were the usual things that greeted him when he woke up -in camp. And this morning he was hungry. - -They headed straight into the heart of the unexplored timberlands south -and west, and with empty hands and no pack on his back Donald McRae -talked as cheerfully as though they had a week's rations with them. But -his eyes were constantly questing for something to eat, and it occurred -to him as a sort of tragedy that he had not tied his rifle to the log. -He did not explain to Peter just why he had left it where the police -would easily find it. - -By midday their hunt for food had become a thrilling adventure to -Peter. It stirred his blood even more than thought of their enemies, -for the police seemed an interminable distance away now, shut out by -miles of wilderness. There was something fascinating about it, too. -There were birds about them and rabbit runways in every dip and swamp -they came to, and deer and moose and caribou tracks so plentiful in -places that they made trails like the hoof-beaten paths of cattle. - -But there was nothing they could get at, except porcupines. During -the morning they could have killed half a dozen of these animals with -clubs, but each time porcupine flesh was suggested for dinner Peter -made a grimace of revulsion. Twice they had tried it experimentally on -their camping trips and both times it had nauseated him. He insisted he -would rather starve than eat any more of that ill-smelling, fatty stuff -the porcupine was made of. He would chew spruce gum instead. There was -plenty of it on the trees they passed. - -"If you get too hungry we'll roast some lily roots," said Donald, "but -if you can hold out until night we'll have the feast of our lives." - -Peter held out. The sun was still up when they came from heavy timber -into a long, narrow meadow running into a swamp on the other side. This -was the sort of place Donald McRae had been looking for. In the edge -of the swamp were rabbit runways beaten fresh and hard. They chose the -site for their camp in the rim of the high timber, and while Peter -brought in firewood Donald made snares from another section of boot -top. These he set in the runways. It was scarcely more than dusk when -the first big snowshoe ran his head through a noose and found himself -swinging at the end of a sapling. An hour later he was roasted, and -in the light of their fire they divided the feast between them. Peter -didn't mind the absence of salt and bread and potatoes. Nothing he -could remember had ever tasted quite so good to him as the unseasoned -rabbit. - -Food and the warmth of the fire made him drowsy, and very soon after -they had finished their supper Donald tucked him snugly into the bed -of evergreens they had made and covered him with his coat. Peter fell -asleep instantly, and for several minutes the man remained on his knees -at his side, the smile of tenderness in his face changing slowly into -a look of haggard grief. When he rose to his feet the luster had died -out of his eyes and years had fallen upon his shoulders. He caught -his breath sobbingly as he stared into the wall of chaotic darkness -beyond the firelight. It was only Peter who counted now, and this night -was the last Peter would be with him. Tomorrow he would be alone, an -outlaw, a hunted man running away to save his life. And Peter.... - -A moan came to his lips, a dry and broken cry of hopelessness, and his -eyes fixed themselves in their anguish upon the heart of the fire. -Without Peter, would God give him strength to live? What would the -days be like--and the nights--and the months and years to come without -Peter? For Peter was not only Peter. In taking the mother, God had -given her soul back to him in the body of her boy. She was a part of -him, speaking with his voice, looking out of his eyes, loving with his -love, a comrade and pal to the man in spirit even as she had been in -her own sweet life. And now--tomorrow--he would lose them both. The -law was after him. Its hounds would follow him from hole to hole, like -foxes after a rabbit, and probably in the end they would get him. - -He closed his eyes to shut out the thing that was hurting him. When -he opened them a face seemed to have taken form in the glow of the -fire like a soul come to give him courage and resolution, sweetly sad -in its inspiration, glorious in its consolation and cheer. Every day -through the years this visioning of his wife had come to him; through -those years she had walked hand in hand with him, she had been with -him in the upgrowing of Peter, had helped to teach him the love of God -and the glory of nature, and had laughed and cried and sung with them -as sunshine and shadow came. And always, in the darkest hours, Donald -McRae saw her face, sweet and strong and never afraid. And so it was -tonight. - -"This is your last great fight for our Peter," her eyes seemed to say -to him. "You must be strong." - -And then she was gone. Slowly the fire died out, and he put no more -wood upon it, but sat motionless and silent until it was only a red -glow of ember and ash. - -He did not sleep. The moon rose and the clear sky above was filled with -stars. In their light he walked back and forth in the open, a solitary -figure with a thousand still shadows about him. It was the sort of -night he loved, a spring night breathing and whispering of summer and -sweet with the perfumes of balsam and spruce and growing things under -his feet. These things were a part of his God, and of Peter's God. Just -as the woman had built up his faith in him, pointing out its truth and -beauty and glory, so had he built up in Peter an illimitable faith in -this God which was nature. It strengthened him now. The glow of the -moon, the softness of the stars, the gentle whisperings of the wind, -the low music of running water and the thrill and tremble of inanimate -and voiceless life about him were a part of his religion. - -"Love a tree and you love God," had been his text for Peter. And as -long as there remained trees and flowers and the songs of birds and -eyes and ears with which to see and hear, hope could never die. His -brain cleared and his heart grew stronger as he paced more swiftly -through the moonlight. The world was gloriously big, he told himself -again and again. Somewhere in it was a place for him and Peter, and -when he found it, far away from the menace of the law, Peter would not -fail to come when he called. But tomorrow he must be strong enough -to lie and strong enough to leave Peter at Five Fingers with Simon -McQuarrie. - -Toward dawn he built up the fire and cooked another rabbit which he -caught in one of the snares. It was ready when Peter crawled out of his -balsam bed. He did not know his father had not slept during the night. -Donald McRae began to whistle when he saw the boy was awake, and though -an uncomfortable thickening, persisted in his throat he fought to make -the whistling cheerful just the same. - -He announced his plan to Peter as if it were born of sudden inspiration -and happily solved a temporary problem for them. He told him about -Five Fingers and their old friend, Simon McQuarrie. Peter could just -remember the Scotchman and Simon's fat Dutch partner and friend, -Herman Vogelaar. Donald McRae seemed to recall them now with great -pleasure, and he was sure Peter would enjoy his little visit with them, -especially as there were several boys and girls of his own age to play -with at Five Fingers. Of course he would come back soon, and maybe they -would live at Five Fingers, if Peter liked it there. He continued to -build up the lie, but something of trouble remained deep back in the -boy's eyes. Donald tried not to see it too much, for it was the look he -would have seen in the woman's eyes, if she had been in Peter's place. - -They traveled until noon and ate their lunch. The afternoon was well -gone when they heard the striking of an axe ahead of them. A quarter of -an hour later they could hear several axes, and the distant crash of a -falling tree. Donald McRae steeled his heart, and stopped. Yet in this -moment he was smiling. - -"That is Five Fingers," he said. "Can you go on alone, Peter?" - -Peter nodded. "But I don't want to," he said. "I want to go with you, -dad." - -"You must go to Five Fingers, Peter. I'll come back soon. I promise -that. I'll come back--soon." - -A gulp came in Peter's throat. - -"I'm not tired. I can go a long ways yet, dad. I'd rather go with you." - -The man drew him into his arms. - -"I'll come back tomorrow," he lied, fighting to speak the words calmly. -"And you must get the paper in the bottle to Simon McQuarrie as soon as -you can. You aren't afraid to go alone, are you, Peter?" - -"No, I'm not afraid." - -"Then--you must go." He hugged him close for a moment, and rested his -cheek on Peter's disheveled hair. "Maybe I'll come back tonight," he -whispered desperately. "Good-by, little pal. Hurry--and give Simon the -paper--and--good-by!" - -His lips burned against Peter's forehead. It was that kiss which -startled Peter, and when his father turned away, and then looked back, -smiling and waving a hand, a suffocating feeling remained in Peter's -heart as if he could not get all the air he wanted to breathe. He -tried to wave his hand in response, but in a moment it fell limply to -his side. Donald McRae saw the gesture and a sob came in his breath. -He disappeared behind a windfall, stopped and looked back. Peter was -slowly turning toward Five Fingers. The small figure was pathetic in -its aloneness. Twice it paused and turned, and then went on, and was -hidden at last by a screen of evergreens. - -"God be with you and care for you, Peter, and give me strength to bear -this parting," sobbed Donald McRae. - -With white and haggard face he turned into the North. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -Beyond the thicket of young jack pines Peter did not hurry. His feet -dragged, and he listened, hoping he would hear his father's voice -calling him back. In half an hour he did not travel far beyond the -evergreens. Then he knew his father was gone. He continued in the -direction of Five Fingers, recalling his promises. Tonight or tomorrow -his father would return. He hoped it would be tonight, for there was a -lump in his throat which he could not get rid of, and something in his -heart which frightened him with suspicions and fears which he was too -young to analyze. But he knew his father would not lie. He would come -back. He wondered what was written on the paper he was taking to Simon -McQuarrie. Probably it told about the wickedness of the police, and -Simon would help in some way. Other questions came into his mind now -that he was alone. Why hadn't his father gone on to Five Fingers with -him? - -The chopping of the axes had ceased, but he knew he was heading in -the right direction. He came into openings filled with the stumps of -trees that had been cut down, and these clearings were carpeted with -white and pink spring flowers and masses of violets. He had never seen -such beautiful violets, or so many birds at this season of the year. -There were robins and thrushes and dozens of little warblers and brush -sparrows, and the cutting down of trees seemed to have brought all the -sapsuckers and woodpeckers and gaudily colored blue jays in the woods. -The sun was delightfully warm, too, though in another hour it would -be settling behind the tree tops. In this glory of peace and quiet -he proceeded quietly and cautiously, for his father had taught him -always to do that in the forest. So he came without sound of footfall -or crackling brush to the edge of a little opening beyond a thicket of -poplars and birch, and here he stopped suddenly and his heart jumped up -into his mouth. - -Standing in a warm pool of sunlight not twenty feet away from his -concealment was a young girl. She was almost as tall as Peter and so -lovely to look upon that he stared at her in amazement and admiration. -He thought she had seen him, and his first vision was of her face -and a pair of beautiful dark eyes, laughing up at a red squirrel, -chattering in a tree top a few paces away. Then she sat down, gathering -her flowers about her, and eyes and face were lost to him in a mass of -shining, black hair that fell quickly about her, almost touching the -ground she was seated upon. - -At first he was astonished. Then timidity and fear crept upon him and -he wanted to steal away as quietly as he had come. He drew back a step -and was preparing for the next when an unexpected interruption rooted -him to the spot. The wild and agonized yelping of a dog came from the -thick brush beyond the girl. Instantly she was on her feet, her slim -body quivering with the tension in which she waited. And then she -called, "Buddy--Buddy--come here!" - -With a series of pain-filled yelps the creature called Buddy responded. -He darted out of the brush and came like a streak across the open. It -seemed to Peter the half-grown pup was all legs and head and tail, and -that from the sounds he made he must be mortally hurt. Whimpering and -crying, he cringed at the girl's feet and kissed the hand she reached -down to him. But she did not look at him. She had dropped her flowers -and her attitude was fierce and expectant as she waited. - -Peter could see the bushes moving across the open and in a moment a boy -burst through them. He was half again as big as Peter, and he had a -stick in his hand. He followed the dog, half running, and Peter began -to hate him as he came. "Any person who will strike a dog should never -have been born," his father had taught him from the beginning; and -this boy with his thick red face and hulking body had been beating the -pup. He was panting triumph when he came up, and the pup slunk closer -between the feet of his mistress. The pursuer was at least two years -older than Peter. He had thick hands and little eyes and a bullet head, -and his eyes were glowing with wickedness. - -For an instant Peter saw the girl's eyes. They were dark pools of -flaming fire. Then like a little tigress she was at the other. Her -hands struck at his face and for a moment the bully was caught at a -disadvantage. He dropped his stick and caught her in his arms. His -hands buried themselves in her hair, and Peter saw her blows becoming -more and more futile. The pup snarled and darted in at the boy's feet. -A kick sent him back howling. - -Horror and rage possessed Peter when he saw the girl's head thrust -backward, and without a sound he ran out of his cover and caught her -assailant by the throat. Then, when the girl was freed, he struck. -That was another thing his father had taught him, to fight when it was -necessary to fight--_and always for a woman_. His fists struck hard and -furiously, and he heard a bellow of alarm and pain from the bully. - -The older boy stumbled and fell, and Peter was on him like a cat. He -realized this was no time to "play the game fair." They rolled and -twisted on the ground, and blood streamed from the bully's nose and -mouth. Once Peter saw the girl. She was standing very near, her lips -parted, her wonderful eyes shining at him. That glimpse of her was a -mighty encouragement. He fought harder, driving his fists home, and -kicking. Then they were on their feet again. - -It was the bully who renewed the battle. Mauled and bleeding, he had -recovered from the surprise attack and his greater bulk and weight -began to tell. Exhausted by two days and nights of hunger and flight, -Peter felt his strength going. He went down, and the bully flung -himself upon him. It was then Peter caught a second glimpse of the -girl. She had caught up the stick and was standing over them. He could -hear the stick as it struck blow after blow, and his enemy rolled over, -half stunned. They were both at the bully then, Peter with his fists -and the girl with her stick, and the older boy took to his heels in a -wild flight for the safety of the thicket out of which he had come a -few minutes before. - -Peter wiped his nose and mouth with his sleeve and gasped hard to get -his breath. The girl was breathing hard, too, and she was looking at -him with such wonder and gladness in her eyes that he wished he was -back in the timber again. Then she came to him and began nursing his -face with a soft handkerchief, and said things which he could not -remember afterward, and Buddy the pup jumped up against him, wagging -his knotty tail and licking his hand. - -Peter drew back and tried to grin. For a moment he had felt enormously -uncomfortable in the presence of this lovely little goddess of the -woods, with her soft handkerchief dabbing at his face. Now his old -cheer returned. He was glad the fight was over and was strongly -conscious that the girl had played no small part in the final victory. - -So he said apologetically, "He'd got me if you hadn't come in with the -stick." - -She stood back and looked at him. She was younger than he, probably not -more than thirteen, but to Peter she appeared to be infinitely older -in these first minutes of their acquaintance. It bothered him to meet -her eyes squarely, they were so big and dark and filled with soft fire, -like the velvety, jet-black hair that streamed in dishevelment about -her. - -"He is twice as big as you," she retorted. "I hate him. He belongs with -the tug from Fort William, and every time he comes we have a fight." - -"He's a--a woman-hitter," said Peter. - -She accepted his compliment with a dignified nod of her head. Then she -stamped her foot and shook her stick in the direction the bully had -gone. "If he ever tries to do again what he tried today--I'll--I'll----" - -"He won't while I'm around," helped out Peter, swelling with a bit of -pugnacious pride. "I wasn't in good shape, and I've been traveling -pretty hard, and we didn't have a lot to eat. I can lick him when I'm -fed up and rested." - -The girl was almost womanly in her swift intuition. Her eyes glowed -softly at Peter. - -"Who are you?" she asked gently. "I am Mona Guyon, and I live with -Josette and Pierre Gourdon at Five Fingers." - -"I'm Peter," said the boy. "Peter McRae." - -"Where you from?" was her next query. - -Peter took time to swallow. His father had not told him how to answer -questions. Then he pointed. - -"From away off there, miles and miles. My father brought me until we -could hear the axes, and then I came on alone. He's coming tonight or -tomorrow." - -"Is your mother with him?" - -"She's dead." - -He was not looking at her when she came to him and took his hand, -and in all his life he had never felt such a warm, soft little hand -clinging to his own as Mona Guyon's. - -"My mother is dead, too, Peter," she said. "And so is my father. They -were drowned--out there six years ago. It was Pierre Gourdon who -brought me in from the rock." - -It was an uncomfortable moment, and yet something of joy passed into -Peter. His fingers, smoke-stained and soiled, tightened about Mona's -hand as they both looked off over the cuttings to the wall of the vast -forest that shut out Lake Superior from their view. They could plainly -hear the distant murmuring of the surf. - -"I'm glad you've come," she said. "I hope you're going to live here. -Are you?" - -"Maybe," said Peter. - -"You're brave, and I like you. If you were that hateful Aleck Curry, -who looks like a toad----" - -"I wouldn't be him," interrupted Peter. - -"No, but if you _were_, and you tried to do what he did, I wouldn't hit -you with a stick." - -Peter's mind floundered in a futile effort to understand. - -"I can lick him tomorrow," he ventured. - -With a little laugh she pulled him to the scattered flowers. He helped -her pick them up and put them into one big bouquet. Her soft hair -touched his hands and he found it easier to look into her eyes. His -heart beat fast and he was strangely happy. He forgot his swelling eye -and a stiffening lip, but he did think of his father. He would surely -beg his father to live at Five Fingers. It would be wonderful there, -with someone like Mona to know and fight for. - -Then he thought of his message. - -"I've got something for Simon McQuarrie," he said. "Dad told me to -hurry with it." - -"And you're hungry." - -She took his hand again, in a possessive and matter-of-fact way. There -was something maternal about it, something so sweetly glad and friendly -that a great wave of comradeship swept through Peter. He was no longer -nervous or afraid. Tonight or tomorrow his father would come, and they -would all be happy. - -Through a glory of warm sunset they crossed the cut-over opens and -came soon to the crest of the green slope that looked down on a little -paradise hidden away in the heart of a great wilderness, a paradise of -green meadows, of water shimmering like silver in the sun, and of the -few log homes wherein lived the people whose paths Pierre Gourdon had -blazed through the forests many years before. - -"That is Five Fingers," said Mona. - -And down the slope she led the way with Peter, still holding him by the -hand. - -He was speechless as they went. Everywhere he looked the earth was -gloriously green, and in this green were the scattered cabins, with -little spirals of smoke rising from their chimneys. He could smell this -smoke, faintly sweet with the perfume of jack pine pitch and cedar. He -saw the big, yellow dunes of sawdust about the mill, and in the mill -itself, which had only a roof and no sides, the huge steel saw that -was silent for the day blazed like a mirror in the sun. The lowing of -cattle came up from the green meadows, and he saw horses grazing, and -then his heart gave another jump, for between them and the little plain -where the settlement lay were a doe and fawn. His fingers tightened -suddenly about Mona's hand, and he stopped, an excited wonder escaping -in a cry from his lips. The girl laughed softly and freed her hand for -a moment to braid back her lustrous hair. - -"That is Minna," she said. "We named her after Geertruda Poulin's last -baby. Pierre Gourdon allows no killing for miles and miles around here, -and the deer feed out of our hands and eat our hay with the cattle in -winter. Only----" Her lovely face clouded, and Peter saw a glow of -distress in her eyes. "The men kill porcupines because they eat our -chairs and doors and windows. But they bury them for me, over there -in my porcupine cemetery, and I plant flowers all around them. I love -porcupines." - -"So do I," said Peter. - -She took his hand again, and they continued down the slope. "Uncle -Pierre lets me have three of them for pets," she said. "I have a great -many pets, hundreds of them. All the birds and deer and bears and wild -things for as far as you can see belong to me, and none of them are -afraid of me. Uncle Pierre gave them to me, and no one harms them. No -one except Aleck Curry," she added with a quick note of fierceness -rising in her voice. "He would kill them all if he dared. I hate him!" - -"I'll lick him if he doesn't leave them alone," offered Peter. "I can -do it when I'm fed up." - -She squeezed his hand. - -"That's their boat--down there--with the big scow. It comes from Fort -William four or five times each spring and summer to take the lumber -away. Aleck's father owns it, and I hate him, too. He laughs at Uncle -Pierre and wants to bring hunters up." - -Peter was silent. A miracle was unfolding itself in his soul and under -his eyes. As they came near to the first of the cabins he thought again -of his father and his message. - -"Where does Simon McQuarrie live?" he asked. - -The girl pointed to a little cabin near the mill. "Over there. And -that's where I live--in the first of those two big cabins with the -rows of white stones around them. Uncle Pierre and Aunt Josette live -there, and Marie Antoinette and Joe in the other. Joe is Uncle Pierre's -boy, and Marie Antoinette is his wife. You'll love them. Everybody -does--except Aleck Curry." - -"I smell bacon," suggested Peter. - -The girl sniffed. - -"It--it's from Simon McQuarrie's cabin," she announced, a little -disappointed. "Won't you come down to our place? Please!" - -"I've got to see Simon," persisted Peter. "My father told me to see him -first." - -Simon saw them coming. His hard Scotch face softened as he saw Mona, -and he scarcely noticed Peter until they were at his open door. Then -Mona said, releasing her proprietary hold on the boy's hand: "This is -Peter McRae. His father is out in the woods, and he's coming tonight or -tomorrow. Peter wants to see you about something and he's hungry. He -just whipped Aleck Curry, and that's why his eye is black and his lip -swollen. Good-by, Peter!" - -There was something wholly and beautifully satisfying about Mona, and -Peter felt himself strangely alone when she left him and he found -himself in the cabin with Simon. And then a thing happened which would -have amazed all the people in Five Fingers could they have seen it, -for Simon McQuarrie, with his honest heart and hard face, had never -revealed himself a man of emotion. Yet scarcely had Mona gone when he -drew Peter into his arms, and his thin gray face shone with a strange -light as he looked over the boy's head into the sunset that flooded the -open door. - -"Peter--Peter McRae," he said as if speaking to himself. "Helen's -boy--and Donald's. It's been a long time since I've seen you, Peter, a -long time. And----" - -He held him off and looked at him in a way that puzzled Peter. "You -look like your mother, boy, when she was a little girl. I knew her -then." - -Peter was fishing in his pocket. - -"My father sent this to you," he said, giving Simon the bottle. - -The Scotchman opened it, and Peter watched his face as he read what was -on the paper. He saw the lines about Simon's mouth harden and little -wrinkles gather about his eyes. Then he turned, crushing the paper -tightly in one hand, and added half a dozen slices of bacon to those -already in the pan on the stove. After that he read the paper very -deliberately a second time, and burned it. He cut more bread, brought -out a pie, and while he added finishing touches to a feast that made -Peter's eyes shine, he talked--but not about the paper in the bottle. -When supper was ready he ate little himself, but watched the boy. Peter -was starved. When he was done Simon rose to his feet and passed a big, -lean hand over the boy's fair hair. His heart ached. Yet a duty had -been imposed upon him, and he did not draw away from it. Words which -Donald McRae had heavily underscored in the message he had sent kept -repeating themselves in his mind, like a voice which he could not put -off or deny. - -"Tell him _now_, tonight, as soon as he comes to you," Donald had -written. "Before the stars are over me again I want to feel that he -knows the truth, and understands, and has forgiven me. It may be I am a -coward because I do not tell him myself. But I cannot. I am afraid. I -want to think of him always as he has been. I cannot leave him with a -heart breaking or his faith dying. God will bless you, Simon. It is for -Peter's sake--and Helen's--even more than mine." - -They sat down on a bench, facing the last of the sunset, and Simon put -his arm about the boy's shoulders. He tried to begin, and something -rose in his throat and choked him so he could not speak. He tried -again, and said: - -"So Mona found you, and you fought Aleck Curry and whipped him?" - -"She helped me," confessed Peter. "But I was empty. I can lick him now, -when I'm fed up." - -Simon's arm tightened. His long fingers touched the boy's cheek gently. -"You like Mona?" - -"Yes, sir." - -Simon waited. Then he said: - -"Do you want me to tell you a story, Peter--a story about another girl -like Mona, who lived a long, long time ago?" - -Peter nodded, wondering whether Simon would then tell him something -about the letter that was in the bottle. - -The story was short, for Simon McQuarrie was a cold and--most people -thought--an emotionless man. But his heart was beating painfully as he -began his tale. - -"A long time ago there was another girl just like Mona, and just as -lovely and sweet, Peter, and there were three boys who grew up near -her. But one of these boys was almost a man, much older than the other -two, so that when the girl came to young womanhood he was really almost -old enough to be her father. And these three all loved her, every one -of them, but one of the three was very much like this Aleck Curry you -fought and had a heart in him that didn't know what clean love was. -Well, of course, she loved just _one_ of them, Peter, and he was the -best and noblest of the three. Her name was Helen." - -"My mother's name," said Peter quickly. - -"Yes, and the odd thing about it is the name of the man she married was -Donald, just like your father's. That's why I'm telling you the story, -Peter. It--it's queer." - -Peter was silent. - -"The man who was almost old enough to be her father was glad in a -way," went on Simon. "No one ever knew just how badly it broke him up, -but their happiness in time made him happy, and he was the best friend -they ever had. At least, I think he was. But the black-hearted one of -the three was different, and one day when Donald and the older man -were away he came to her cabin and insulted her, even though she had a -little baby in her arms. And just then the other two came back. What -would you have done, Peter?" - -Peter's body had stiffened. - -"If he was like Aleck Curry--I'd--I'd have killed him," he said. - -Simon drew in a deep, slow breath. - -"And that is just what happened, Peter. Donald killed him. He didn't -mean to do it. It was an accident. But it happened. And the other man -deserved it. He was better dead than alive. But it made a murderer of -Donald, and they hang murderers. So the older man cared for the woman -and the baby for three years, while Donald hid himself in the forests. -Then--Helen died. And Donald came back and took the boy, and for years -after that the law didn't know where he was, and they were happy -together, and would always have been happy if the law hadn't found him -again, and----" - -Simon's voice choked. His arm hugged Peter until it hurt. And then he -finished, almost whispering the last words, "Peter, I know it's all -true, because the older man's name was Simon McQuarrie--and I'm Simon -McQuarrie--and--the boy's name--_was Peter_." - -It was out. He bowed his grizzled cheek to the boy's face and fought -hard to choke back the thickening in his throat. It seemed a long time -to him that Peter did not move or speak. But he could feel the tremble -of the boy's body, and he knew that Peter understood. - -"So he won't come back," he said, trying to bring a note of comfort -into his strained voice. "At least not for a long time, Peter. And -he wants you to live with me. That's what he wrote on the paper you -brought in the bottle." - -Still Peter did not speak. He was staring through the door, and it was -hard for Simon to find more words. - -"We'll take good care of you here, Peter." - -Then Peter spoke. - -"Dad won't come back tonight or tomorrow?" - -"No." - -"Nor ever?" - -"Maybe he'll come, but it will be a long time." - -"And they're after him, like they were back there in the woods. They -want to--_hang him_?" - -"They won't catch him, Peter. That is why he left you here. He can -travel faster without you and is safe right now. But we must tell no -one else about him. We must keep it all between ourselves--a secret." - -Peter slipped out quietly from under Simon's arm. He had no more -questions to ask, and Simon made no effort to follow him as he went out -into the last glow of the day. Slowly Peter walked past the mill and -the yellow sawdust piles toward the timber which axes had not touched -at the edge of the clearing. But he no longer took notice of the sunset -glow or the twitter of birds or wondered at the molten gleam of the -Middle Finger. He entered into the shadowing twilight of the forest and -for the first time a sob broke from his dry lips. Then he called his -father's name aloud, and the silence that followed emptied his heart of -its last hope. He sank down in a huddled heap beside a tree, and his -grief found vent in a low sobbing that broke strangely and terribly -in the gloomy stillness of the trees. It was in this hour that Peter -needed the comfort of a woman's arms. His world was gone. Without his -father he wanted to die. - -The darkness crept closer about him. And then a little hand, timid, -soft, touched his cheek. - -"Peter!" - -It was Mona. Her beautiful eyes were glowing softly at him in the dusk -as he raised his head to look at her through his tears. She knelt down -beside him, and he choked back his sobs, struggling to hide his grief -and his tears from her. And then Buddy the pup snuggled under his arm -and kissed his cheek with his cool tongue. Mona was dabbing at his eyes -again with her little handkerchief, and her voice was soft and sweet in -its mothering gentleness. - -It was then Peter forgot Simon's warning, and there in the deepening -gloom of the forest, with Mona close beside him, he told what it was in -his heart to tell--all about the police, and the fight and the running -away, and now the losing of his father. - -"There isn't anyone else but my dad," he half sobbed at the end. "I -even lost my dog. I haven't got anything now--an' I wish I was dead!" - -"You don't," she reproved, her two hands holding one of his own -tightly, "and you _have_ got someone. You've got me. I'll take care -of you. I will, Peter. I promise. And you can have Buddy, and all my -pets--everything I've got. And--he will come back. Your father, I mean. -All we got to do is wait." Her eyes were glowing at him in the dusk. -"Why, your father is alive and he _can_ come back," she said straight -from the heart. "Mine can't. He is dead. And so is my mother." - -An emotion new and strange swept over Peter--a flash of dawning manhood -stirred to mysterious life by that note of something which had come -from Mona's lips, a woman of the future whispering to him, chivalry -calling, a boy's soul and a girl's rising for a moment above their -years to point out the way to a new tomorrow. - -Peter's heart grew warm again. He rose to his feet, and Mona stood -beside him. In the darkness they were very close. - -"I guess you're right," he said. "Dad won't stay away very long. And -I--I'm sorry about your father and mother, Mona. And if Aleck Curry -bothers you again, or kicks the dog----" - -And so they went back through the dusk to Five Fingers, and this time -it was Peter who held firmly to Mona's hand. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -His first night in Five Fingers would always remain an unchangeable -page in the history of Peter McRae. Time would not dim nor obliterate -it but would only mellow the memory of its loneliness and its torture. -In the hours when it seemed to him his world had come to an end, -years pressed their weight of experience and understanding upon his -shoulders, and for a little while pain and the poignancy of fears made -him old, and he ceased to be a boy of fourteen. - -Simon McQuarrie had left a candle burning in the loft of his cabin. -By its light he had made Peter's bed, and had hugged the boy to him -for a moment before saying good night; and in going, with his head -and shoulders above the trap in the floor, he had paused for a moment -to say: "Don't worry, Peter. They won't get your father. And you must -sleep, because Mona will be looking for you early in the morning." - -Then he had gone. - -And now, two hours later, Peter was alone and still awake. The candle -had burned out, but the moon was coming up over the eastern forests. It -was a splendid spring moon, big and round and full of golden fire, and -its glow came in a flood through the open window of the loft. - -At the window sat Peter, huddled and quiet. He knew Simon was sound -asleep. All of Five Fingers was asleep. From the window he counted six -or seven of the dozen log homes which made up the little settlement, -and their windows were dark. They were floating in a great, yellow sea -of moonlight. He could make out the dark walls of the forest and the -silvery sheen of Middle Finger Inlet. - -From beyond that sheen came the low murmur of Lake Superior beating -against the rocks half a mile away. In springtime there was always this -moaning of the big lake at Five Fingers, even on still nights when -there was no wind. - -And tonight it was so quiet Peter could hear his own heart beating. At -times it hurt him. It rose up in him somewhere and choked him. Once or -twice, if Simon had been awake, he could have heard the boy sobbing. - -But Peter was beyond that now. His pale, thin face looking at the moon -over the tree-tops had grown tense and set in its understanding and -grief. Out under that moon his father was being hunted. Men were after -him--men who would kill him or hang him if they caught him. He was no -longer puzzled. His father was gone forever, just as his mother was -gone, only she was dead. - -He gulped hard, and his fingers clutched at the rough wood of the -windowsill. He could not remember his mother except as a beautiful -dream. She had come to him sometimes that way, and he had felt the soft -warmth of her hands and the sweet breath of her kisses in his sleep. -In his brain he treasured a picture of her, but it was only a picture, -while his father had been very real. Since the first day he could -remember, it was his father who had made up his world, his father who -had been pal, comrade and mother to him all his life, and who now--out -under the light of the wonderful moon--was being hunted by men with -guns, just as they had so often hunted the big white rabbits in the -swamps. - -Again and again as he sat alone at the window his mind went over the -events which had passed so swiftly since the day before yesterday, when -his father galloped in from the railroad settlement with the officers -of the law at his heels, and together they ran into the safety of the -woods, leaving the little cabin in the clearing which had been their -home. After that had come the longer flight, two days and nights of -exhaustion and hunger, and the final parting when they heard the axes -of the men at Five Fingers. It was when he came to that point his heart -rose up and choked him, and he wanted to cry out in the stillness of -the night. If only his father had put greater faith in his strength -and years, and had let him go along! He could run, and hide, and live -without anything to eat for a long time, and he could sleep on the -naked ground, and swim streams, and he wasn't afraid. But his father -had sent him on alone to this strange settlement of Five Fingers, where -he had met Mona, and Aleck Curry, and Simon McQuarrie.... - -When his thoughts came to Mona a bit of comfort crept into Peter's -soul. It wasn't so bad, with Mona near him. She had come into his -life in a most unexpected and beautiful way, and had helped him whip -the beast of a boy who had kicked her dog. He could still feel the -warm thrill of her little hand as she led him through the woods and -slashings into Five Fingers and he could see her eyes glowing at him in -the dusk as she said: - -"Your father is alive and he _can_ come back. But mine can't, Peter. He -is dead. And so is my mother." - -Peter could almost hear her speaking those words now, whispering them, -as if she realized in that instant the sacredness of the trust he had -put in her. And she was right. His father was alive, and could come -back, while hers.... - -The distant murmuring of the lake came to him faintly. It made him -shiver. Out there, somewhere, her father and mother had been drowned. -He wondered if Mona was awake and was also listening to that sound, so -faint at times that it was like a breath of air. It must haunt her, he -thought. It was always telling her about what had happened, just as -she had told it to him, coming down the slope into Five Fingers, and -probably it made her cry when she was alone nights. It was terrible -to remember one's father and mother dying like that, both at once, and -Peter shuddered. - -It made him a little ashamed, too. The sense of manhood which his -father had planted and nurtured in him began to rise above his own -hopelessness and heartache, and he leaned out of the window to look at -the cabin of Pierre and Josette Gourdon, where Mona lived. That was -dark, too. But Mona might be awake. He hoped so. Next to his father she -was the biggest thing that had ever come into his life, and thought of -her, and of her nearness, and of her lying awake thinking about him, -sent a warm and comforting feeling through him, just as her gentle -hands and soft eyes had brought him a mothering consolation in the -earlier darkness of the forest that night. - -It seemed to him, now that the reaction had come in his mind, that -everything about the night was assuming a new aspect. - -It was the kind of night he and his father loved, and its stillness, -its shadows and floods of yellow moonlight brought him a new message. -_Their_ moon, they had always called it. - -"You were born on a night with the moon shining like that," his father -had told him. "It came in at the window to look at you, and it was -mighty pleased." - -So the moon had always been a personal thing to Peter, just as it -had been to his father. And the Man in the Moon, Peter observed, was -in a friendly humor tonight. There was a sly look in his eyes and an -odd twist to his mouth, as if he were winking at Peter and telling him -how beautifully everything was coming out, both for his father and for -himself. Between Mona and the moon the sickness grew less in his heart, -and remembering he had not said the prayer which his father had never -let him forget, he bowed his face on the windowsill and whispered the -words to himself. - -When he raised his head a big gray shadow was floating silently in the -air just outside his window. It was one of the huge owls which turn -snow-white in winter. He could hear the soft flutter of its wings as -it twisted and turned and disappeared, more like a ghost than a living -thing. And then a swift patter of little feet came on the roof of the -cabin. It was another of the night folk, a flying squirrel. A few yards -away was the big tree in which it must hide itself during the day. He -wondered if the owl and the winged squirrel were among Mona's pets. - -His ears began to attune themselves to the different sounds of the -night. It wasn't so empty, after all. There was always the murmur of -the lake, and he could hear the occasional soft thud of hoofs in the -meadow, and the mooing of a cow. A loon sent out its quavering love -call from somewhere beyond the dark wall of the forest, and a wolf -howled to the north. Now and then, deep in his sleep, Simon McQuarrie -gave a snort in the room below. It was as if he were under water and -came up at intervals for air, Peter thought. - -Then he heard an odd chuckling, and a porcupine came waddling through -the moonlight toward the cabin. Peter could see him clearly. He was -big and fat and stupidly happy, and chattered like a cooing baby as -he approached Simon's woodpile. And at last the tenseness went out of -Peter's face, and his eyes brightened in the moonglow, and he pursed -up his lips to whistle down softly at Porky. He wanted to warn him -of the doom which Mona had said hovered over all porcupines at Five -Fingers. But the creature was deaf and dumb and blind. He found the -axe which Simon had forgotten, and grunted his satisfaction. Then he -humped himself into a comfortable ball and his teeth began working like -swiftly beating little hammers upon the helve of the axe, which was -salty with the sweat of Simon's hands. Peter whistled. - -"Get out, Porky!" he called softly. - -He was considering the necessity of going down to save Simon's axe -when a second chattering shadow waddled in out of the moonlit open -between the cabin and the forest. It was another porcupine, a huge, -black fellow who was carrying on an animated debate with himself as -he advanced. Peter grinned. He loved to hear the porcupines talk to -themselves. But he had never heard one quite like the big black fellow. -It was as if a mother pig were coming with a litter of little grunting -ones at her heels, and he wondered if Simon would sleep through it all. - -The newcomer made straight for the woodpile and the gray possessor of -the axe helve turned to meet him. The axe was between them, a sweet -morsel for porcupine teeth. Low, throaty sounds floated up to Peter. It -might have been a meeting of brothers, or of sweethearts, or at least -of very good friends if one judged by those sounds. - -Then came a swift, flail-like movement of tails, followed by grunts -and squeals and blows that sent a thrill of excitement through Peter. -It was a glorious fight from the beginning, and somehow the big black -fellow made him think of Aleck Curry, and in his eagerness to see the -battle he leaned half out of the window. - -The fighters rolled directly under him and he heard loose quills flying -against the cabin as the tails struck out like clubs. - -For a time he could not see who was getting the bad end of it. Then the -black, who was more than ever like Aleck Curry, got a swing from the -gray's tail that must have filled him with quills wrong-side in, for he -let out a wail and began to retreat. - -Not until then did Peter hear a sound from the room below him. A door -opened. In another moment Simon McQuarrie came round the end of the -cabin. - -Simon was a tall and ghostly figure in his nightgown, which fell to -his knees, and in his hand he carried a club. The club rose and fell -and Peter heard a sickening blow. A feeling of horror shot through him. - -"Don't kill the white one!" he cried. "Don't kill it!" - -Simon McQuarrie, about to make for his second victim, looked up at the -window in surprise. Peter saw the gray porcupine ambling back toward -the timber, grunting and protesting as he went, and Simon made no -effort to overtake him. - -"They were having a fine fight," explained Peter. "That black one was -Aleck Curry, and the other was licking him. He was smaller, too." - -For a space the Scotchman stood silent in the moonlight. Then he asked, -"Have you been asleep, Peter?" - -Peter shook his head. "No." - -"What have you been doing?" - -"Just looking at the moon." - -Simon turned slowly, with a suspicious upward glance at Peter. - -"Better go now," he advised. "If you don't I'll ask you to come down -and sleep with me." As he disappeared round the end of the cabin, his -scant nightgown flapping above his long and bony legs, Simon muttered -under his breath: "Donald was wrong in having me tell the lad. Better -to have lied and never let him know. As it is----" - -An expression which only Donald McRae would have understood settled in -his face, and he paused for a moment at his door to look across the -open where Pierre Gourdon's home lay in the radiance of the night. He -could see the window of the room in which Mona slept, and the lines -about his stern mouth softened. - -"Poor little devils, both of them," he said, and went in to his bed. - -Peter heard the door close. It seemed easier for him now to lie down -upon the blankets. The moonlight streamed in upon him, and Peter could -_feel_ it. There was always that something warm and comforting about -the moon. He closed his eyes, and his thoughts no longer brought a -lump into his throat or hurt him. It was as if an older mind were -helping him over certain difficult places. It assured him his father -was safe. The police would not get him, and it would not be long before -he returned. If he failed to do that he would surely write, and Peter -could then go to him. - -He began to think of Mona. She was, after all, the pleasantest thing he -had ever had to think about, in spite of his happiness with his father. -He reviewed the fight of that day and grew warm with anticipations -of tomorrow and a renewal of hostilities. His hands clenched when he -pictured Aleck Curry with his ugly face and big, heavy body, but they -relaxed when he visioned Mona as she had taken part in the fight, -with her shining black hair streaming about her and flaming eyes so -beautiful he had at first been afraid to look at them. In his life in -the wilderness he had never had much to do with girls, but here was -one who pleased him completely, and all the ideals which his father -had built up in him were roused and set on fire. His mother must have -been like Mona when she was a little girl, because it seemed to him his -father had always pictured her like that. - -Then he grew uneasy and shame crept a little upon him. It made him -squirm in his blankets to think that Aleck Curry would have whipped him -if Mona hadn't joined in those last two or three minutes of the fight. -That Aleck was bigger and older than he, and that he had fought under -the disadvantages of hunger and exhaustion, did not satisfactorily -explain his own failure to Peter. He was glad his father had not seen -that fight, even though he had been taken at a great disadvantage. -But _Mona_ had seen it. She had seen him on the ground in those final -moments, with Aleck about to pommel him into disgraceful submission, -and she had come in to save him. - -There was only one thing to do under the circumstances, and the -inspiration of it comforted him. He would go out early in the morning, -hunt up Aleck Curry and lick him. He was sure he could do it now, even -though he was smaller and lighter than Aleck, for he would be rested -and would have a good breakfast to start with. - -He fell asleep. The big owl hooted softly from the top of a stub near -the mill, and the flying squirrel was joined by its mate in a game of -tag on the roof. The moon sailed higher, and under it a buck and a doe -crossed within a stone's throw of Peter's window. All this Peter missed -in an excitement of his own as his unsettled mind traveled swiftly -from one dream to another. First he was fleeing with his father, and -they were pursued by a horde of enemies, and all of these enemies were -Aleck Currys. After that he dreamed of Aleck and Mona, and he fought so -fiercely, with Mona's dark eyes and hair filling his vision, that Simon -heard him twisting and groaning and climbed quietly up the ladder from -below to look at him. - -For a long time the stern Scotchman watched Peter, and in the fainter -light of the moon which now filled the room a miracle of change passed -over his face and it became as gentle as a woman's. No one, since long -years ago, had ever caught that gentleness in Simon McQuarrie's face. - -"It seems only yesterday," he whispered softly to himself, in a moment -when Peter's pale face lay quietly in the crook of his arm. "Only -yesterday, Helen." - -Something trembled inside him, and he knew the mother was in that room -with Peter, watching over him as he had seen her many times in those -years when he had cared for the two, those beautiful but pitiless years -when he had hardened his heart against all hope for himself in his -devotion and duty to his hunted friend, Donald McRae. Only yesterday! -And yet many hard and tedious years had passed since then, and through -them he had gone like a piece of iron that is hardened into steel by -the alchemy of fire. Tonight had come the mysterious change. He climbed -down softly, his heart trembling. He loved Peter. He loved him as he -had loved the mother. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -Peter awoke with the dawn, and with that dawn he saw Five Fingers -rousing itself into life. All the sweetness of spring was in the air. -The delicious morning song of the robins was the first cheering sound -that came to him. It was like a beautiful chorus. - -"A man cannot be so wicked that the song of a robin will not stir some -good in his heart," Donald McRae had taught Peter. "God made that song -to begin the day with, and only those buried in the darkness of cities -cannot hear or understand the message. Always think kindly of people in -the cities, Peter. They are unfortunate." - -And Peter thought of that as he looked out of the window on the few log -cabins at Five Fingers. He had never seen a real city, but here, with -the rose-flush of the rising sun painting the eastern sky beyond the -forests, was everything of beauty and glory his mind could conceive. -"Here," he seemed to hear his father saying, "is God." - -Silvery wreaths of smoke were rising from the stone and clay chimneys -of Five Fingers. He heard the gulls and caught the flash of their white -wings over the Middle Inlet. Down there, too, was the squat, black -tug owned by Aleck Curry's father--the tug which came up from Fort -William three or four times a year to carry the lumber away. It was -the one ugly thing he could see, and he was glad it did not belong at -Five Fingers, and that Aleck Curry did not belong there. Already he -was taking a possessive interest in the place, and his heart felt a -gloating pride in the fact that he was a part of it, and Aleck Curry -wasn't. - -He saw men coming up from the bottoms, leading horses. A cheery whistle -came to him clearly. The mill, nearly buried in its big yellow piles -of sawdust, was only a little distance away, and a man was stoking the -boiler with wood. The cloud of smoke that rose out of the tall stack -was white and clean, and Peter knew how sweetly it smelled. He sniffed, -trying to catch it. And then a wriggling creature came under his window -and began making contortions as it looked up at Peter. It was Buddy, -the pup. He was just the kind of dog Peter loved, all knots and knobs, -with big feet and joints and a head twice too heavy for his body. - -"He's growing," thought Peter, as he called down to him. "He's going to -be a fine dog." - -A few minutes later Poleon Dufresne passed Simon's cabin with a pail -of milk and heard the Scotchman whistling. This was unusual, and he -paused to thrust in a curious face at the door, smiling good morning. -Simon was getting breakfast with an almost boyish enthusiasm, and when -Poleon saw Peter scrubbing his face his jaws fell apart in amazement. - -"Morning, Poleon," greeted Simon. "This is Peter--Peter McRae, and I've -adopted him. He's the son of an old friend of mine, and he came last -night as a sort of surprise. He's going to bide with me." - -This was a lot of information for Simon to give on any one subject -at any one time, and Poleon came in with his pail, grinning his -appreciation. He laid a hand affectionately on Peter's shoulder and -told him how glad the people in Five Fingers would be to have him among -them. Peter liked Poleon's round, rosy face with its cheery blue eyes, -and when about to go Poleon turned a third of the contents of his pail -into an earthenware crock and said to Peter: - -"That's for you, boy. Simon here doesn't care for milk, but he must get -plenty of it now for you. There's nothing like milk to make you fat and -healthy." - -It was Saturday. Peter learned that fact half an hour later while he -was helping Simon wash the breakfast dishes. It came from a voice -behind them, and Peter turned to find Mona standing in the door. - -"It's Saturday and there is no school," she announced. "So I have come -to get you acquainted with Five Fingers, Peter." - -An enormous thrill ran through Peter. She was even lovelier than -yesterday as she stood with her slim little figure framed in the -doorway. Her beautiful dark eyes were shining, and looking at him, -and her wonderful black hair was plaited in a braid that looked like -a rope of velvet. Even Simon's undemonstrative face broke into an -appreciative smile. - -Once he had told Pierre Gourdon it was not good for a child to be as -beautiful as Mona. But a new thought came into his mind this morning, -a strange and weird thought for a Scotchman of his nature, and he -chuckled softly as he told Peter to wipe his hands and go with Mona. -Then he went to her, and tilted up her pretty chin, and ran his hand -over her smooth hair that was like silk to his work-hardened palm. He -had never done that before, and Mona was surprised. She was surprised, -too, at the changed look in his face and eyes. He seemed to be a -different Simon McQuarrie from the one she had always known. - -"So you helped Peter whip that young rascal Aleck Curry, did you?" he -asked with a wicked note of exultation in his voice. - -She flushed a little and cast a swift glance at Peter. - -"Peter had him whipped when I went in," she replied loyally. - -"No, I didn't," corrected Peter. "He was just going to mess me up in -proper shape when you hit him with the stick. But I can lick him today." - -Mona smiled proudly at him. Then she looked sternly at Simon. - -"You killed one of my porcupines." - -"I had to," explained Simon. "He was eating my axe. Peter will take him -over to the cemetery for you." - -He returned to his work and Peter and Mona went to the dead porcupine. -Buddy was sniffing suspiciously at the corpse, and at sight of the red -stains on the earth Mona shivered. - -"He didn't need to kill it," she said. "I heard you call to him to let -the white one go. He could have let this one go, too." - -"You heard me?" - -She nodded. "I saw the candle in your room until it went out. Then I -sat at the window in the moonlight. I didn't feel like sleeping." - -"Neither did I," said Peter, his heart beating strangely. "I--I was -wondering if you were awake. Did you hear the lake?" - -"I always hear it." - -He picked up the dead porcupine, feeling that he had said something -wrong. Mona took the other foot and together they carried their burden -beyond the farthest cabin to a high little meadow at the foot of a -green knoll. Here, Peter observed, were many scores of green little -mounds, and many others over which the grass had not grown, and still -others very fresh. And everywhere among them flowers were growing. Mona -pointed out a spade, and he dug a hole. When the porcupine was buried, -Mona said: - -"That is the twenty-seventh this spring. I wonder why porcupines like -cabin doors and windowsills and axes and table legs when there are so -many nice things to eat in the woods?" - -"It's the salt," explained Peter. "They like to eat anything somebody -has handled. Once, when we were away, they ate our windows until all -the glass fell out." - -"I put salt in the woods, lots of it," said Mona. "The deer like it -too, and the rabbits, and the mice, and almost everything alive except -the birds. Uncle Pierre has the tug bring me a barrel of salt every -time it comes. Last time that beast of an Aleck Curry stole pepper from -the tug's kitchen and put it in my salt." - -"I'm going to lick him today," he assured her. - -In her possessive little way she took his hand as they walked back. "I -don't want you to fight him, not unless you have to, Peter. He isn't -worth it. You have nice eyes, and they don't look good swollen half -shut. I wish mine were blue." - -"I don't," declared Peter with a suddenness that startled him. -"They're--they're----" - -"What?" she insisted. - -"They're--awfully pretty," finished Peter bravely. "I never seen--I -mean I never _saw_ such pretty eyes." - -He felt like wriggling down into his collar, and looked away from her. -Mona blushed, and if Peter had observed he would have seen her eyes -sparkling. - -"And I wish I had light hair, too--like yours," she added. - -"I _don't_," he fought manfully. "Your hair is--prettier than your -eyes. When I first saw you, there in the sun, I thought----" - -"What did you think?" she asked with interest. - -"I dunno. I dunno what I thought." - -He was tremendously uncomfortable, and was glad the musical droning -of the sawmill began just then. That was another thrill, the clean, -high-pitched cutting of steel through wood. There is something chummy -and companionable about the sound of a sawmill at work in the heart of -a forest country. It is friendly even to a stranger and makes one feel -at home, and when Mona and Peter came to the mill the half-dozen men -there were going about their duties as if they were a pleasure instead -of work. They were a happy lot. Peter could see that with his boyish -eyes, and his heart responded quickly to the gladdening pulse of it. - -Then Mona ran up quickly behind a man who was twisting a log with a -long cant hook and tried to cover his eyes with her hands. In a moment -the man had turned and had her up off the ground, tight in his arms. -Mona kissed him, and Peter thought he had never seen the face of any -man filled with a happiness like that which he saw in Pierre Gourdon's. -And Mona, holding out her hand to Peter, said: - -"This is my Uncle Pierre. Come and kiss him, Peter." - -And there, with both the young folk in his arms, and the big, steel saw -laughing and wailing in their ears, Pierre Gourdon, into whose heart -God had put a passionate love for all children, kissed Peter. In thus -welcoming the boy he drew him so close that for an instant Peter's -face touched Mona's soft cheek, and so warm and sweet was it that -through all the years that followed Peter never forgot that wonderful -moment. - -Then Pierre Gourdon said, holding Peter off at arm's length, and -looking at his eye which was still dark, and his lip which was swollen: -"So you are the young man who whipped Aleck Curry for annoying Mona? -Why, Aleck is half again as big as you----" - -"And I didn't whip him," interrupted Peter. "Not alone. I was tired and -empty as a drum. He was licking me when Mona jumped in. She helped a -lot." - -Laughter filled Pierre's eyes, and then a shadow followed it. The -gentleness in his face gave way to a stern resolution. - -"Aleck is not a good boy," he said. "I will not have him troubling you, -Mona. If he does it again you must tell me." - -"She needn't do that," protested Peter quickly. "I'll take care of her. -I'm going to lick Aleck Curry today." - -Pierre Gourdon looked at the boy, and the sternness left his face. -"Peter, you're a man. I love boys like you." He ran his hand over -Mona's silken hair, just as Simon McQuarrie had done. "I guess I won't -worry over you and Aleck any more, _Ange_. I think Peter is going to do -what he says." - -"I won't have him fight Aleck," declared Mona. "If he does, I'll fight, -too!" - -When they had left Pierre and were going toward the Gourdon cabin, -Peter asked, "What did he mean when he called you _Ange_?" - -"It's a name he gave me the day he brought me out of the water when -my mother and father were drowned," explained Mona softly. "It means -something much nicer than I am." - -"I don't believe it," said Peter. "What does it mean?" - -"Angel." - -"Oh!" Peter was silent for several moments. Then he said: "I like it. -I guess that was what I must have been thinking when I saw you first -yesterday, there in the sun, with your hair all down and the flowers -around you. First off you sort of scared me." - -"I _must_ have looked ugly enough to scare anyone," agreed Mona -depreciatively. "But I like my hair down when I'm alone in the woods." - -"So do I," said Peter. "And you wasn't ugly. What's that building down -there, with the box-like thing on top of it? Looks like a church." - -"It is--and our school. Uncle Joe's wife, Marie Antoinette, teaches -us. She's beautiful, Peter. Uncle Pierre says she is as lovely as Aunt -Josette was when she was young. Aunt Josette is beautiful, too. You've -been to school a lot, haven't you?" - -"Not so much." - -"But you talk well." - -"My father taught me. Every day I studied, and he heard my lessons, -even when we were on the trail. My dad was----" He stopped, the odd -thickening coming in his throat again. - -"I love your father," said Mona gently. "Last night I prayed he'd come -back, and he will. Uncle Pierre says it was prayer that brought me to -him. He says prayer is always answered, if you believe hard enough." - -"My dad says that, too." - -"And I'm going to pray every night, Peter. I'm going to pray for your -father to come back. _And he will._" - -The little doubt which had planted itself like a seed in Peter's mind -was growing in spite of Mona and the beauty at Five Fingers. "If he -comes back they may catch him," he said. "And if they do that----" -She saw a queer, twisted look like a shadow in his face, and her -fingers tightened. "They'll kill him," he finished. "That's what Simon -McQuarrie says." - -After a moment Mona said: "I wish we could tell Uncle Pierre. He always -brings things out right. And this is coming out right, too, Peter. I -know it." - -Without logic, she was sweetly comforting. Her gentle assurance was a -buoy to which Peter's courage and hope clung tenaciously, and he stole -a hungry look at her when her eyes were turned away, and his heart beat -fast. In a vague and unanalytical way the thought was in his mind that -God could not help answering Mona's prayers. If He did not, there could -be no God. And he was sure there was one--just as sure as he was of the -trees and flowers and birds and blue sky all about them. Donald McRae -had planted that faith deeply in his boy. - -"Did you ever have many prayers answered?" he asked her. - -"Yes, when I prayed _hard_," she replied. "I'm praying for something -to happen to Aleck Curry, too. And it's going to happen, Peter. I know -it's going to happen." - -"What?" - -"Anything--almost. I wish the crows would pull his hair out!" - -Suddenly she stopped herself with a jerk. "There he is now--down there -on the Finger. He is throwing stones at my gulls!" - -"I'll stop him," said Peter, starting off. - -She caught him by the arm. "I won't like you if you fight. Aunt Josette -and Marie Antoinette are waiting for us, and they won't like you -either." - -She took possession of him again, and Peter gave himself up, though he -could hear a challenging shout coming faintly from Aleck. And then out -of the door of one of the cabins came a tall, slim woman with a face so -sweet in its smile of welcome that Peter smiled back shyly, even before -Mona had said, "This is my Aunt Josette." - -For an hour after that he was meeting people at Five Fingers. First -there was Marie Antoinette, who was younger than Aunt Josette, but only -a little prettier, Peter thought, and who said she would have a place -for him in school next Monday morning. From one cabin to another Mona -made him go with her, until he had met the Poulins and Dufresnes and -Croissets and Clamarts and children and babies until he began to have -trouble in remembering their names. - -Then they came to the last cabin of all, and this cabin looked like a -doll's house to Peter. And the person they found in it was like a doll, -too. At first Peter thought she was a playmate of Mona's, for she was -only a little taller, with blue eyes and red lips and gold-brown curls -tied back with a ribbon. Mona introduced her proudly. - -"This is Adette Clamart, Peter--Jame Clamart's wife, and she -_graduated_ from the school of Ste. Anne de la Perade before Jame -brought her to Five Fingers! And the baby----" She dragged him to the -side of a crib and Peter looked down upon the round, cheerful face -of young Telesphore Clamart, eight months old. Telesphore eyed Peter -speculatively for a moment and then his countenance broke into a smile -and he held up a pair of chubby arms. Mona uttered a gasp of delight. -"He likes you, Peter! Put your head down. He wants to hug you." - -Peter felt himself growing red and hot as he bowed his head to young -Telesphore. The baby dug his fingers in his hair and squealed in -triumph. It was the first baby he had ever touched, and suddenly he -forgot the two girls and his embarrassment as he felt a soft little -mouth touching his cheek. He laughed back at Telesphore, and when the -baby freed his hair and he stood up straight again he thought Adette's -eyes, bright with the glory of motherhood, were almost as beautiful as -Mona's. He fumbled in his pockets to find something for Telesphore and -produced his jack-knife. - -"You can have that," he said, speaking directly at Telesphore. - -When they were about to go Adette put her hand affectionately on his -shoulder. "Mona told us what happened yesterday in the woods, Peter, -and Jame and I love you for giving Aleck Curry that beating. It was -splendid of you to fight for Mona like that!" - -In the clearing Peter said to Mona: "It isn't true. I didn't lick Aleck -Curry. Why do you tell them that?" - -"It is true," retorted Mona with an obstinate little toss of her head. - -"I was getting the worst of it when you came in with the stick." - -"No, you weren't. He was almost choking for breath. I couldn't help -hitting him with the stick--that's all." And then she added: "Why is -it you don't want me to think you whipped him? I've told everybody you -_did_!" - -Her question and a quick flash in her eyes sent a little thrill through -Peter. Was it possible Mona really believed he was getting the best -of the fight when she began pommeling Aleck Curry with the stick? He -flushed as he thought of his position at that moment, flat on his -back with his legs in the air and his arms helpless under Aleck's -weight, and Aleck himself just on the point of annihilating him! -Surely Mona could not have been blind in those moments. She must have -seen his peril, even if Aleck was panting for breath. Peter looked at -her, trying to measure the truth of the matter. But Mona's eyes were -innocent. If she was lying to him, she was doing it beautifully. - -In a vague sort of way the problem weighed itself in Peter's mind, and -he saw even more clearly that it was necessary for him to whip Aleck -Curry that day. The responsibility had now become a grim and insistent -one, for if Mona really _thought_ he had whipped Aleck, he must do it -in fact to save his own self-respect; and if she was shielding him from -embarrassment and shame, as he partly believed, by spreading a false -report of the combat, then it was doubly necessary for him to retrieve -himself and prove his prowess by whipping the tug master's bullying son. - -From the corners of his eyes he began questing for Aleck, who had -disappeared from the strip of sand below them, though he did this in -such a way that Mona did not guess his intention. She showed him her -pets, and it was then Peter saw something which he had never seen -before, though he loved all wild things. At Mona's soft little calls -the big-eyed moose birds which Peter called whisky jacks fluttered -about her and ate crumbs out of her hands. Down on the white sand of -the Middle Finger the gulls gathered close about them, like a flock of -chickens, begging in soft, throaty notes for the tidbits which she had -brought from the cabin. She sat down in the sand and they climbed over -her lap. One huge white fellow pecked at her shining braid. - -"That's Bobo," she explained. "He always wants to eat my hair!" A -one-legged gull hopped on her lap and began eating greedily the handful -of bread-crumbs which she offered him. "And this is Dominique. I call -him that to tease Dominique Beauvais, who is so fat and round. I don't -know how he lost his leg, but I believe Aleck Curry must have shot -it off a year ago. I wish Aleck's father would never bring him here -again!" - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -It was almost noon when Peter left Mona and returned to Simon -McQuarrie's cabin. His head was in a whirl and his heart stirred -uneasily between joy and grief. Not for many minutes at a time had his -thoughts been away from his father. Even when Mona's dark eyes were -smiling at him and her sweet voice was talking to him, his father's -white and hunted face was a vision that never quite faded out of his -momentary flashes of happiness. Deep down in his heart was an emptiness -which even Mona could not fill, an aching pain which her beauty and her -gentleness softened but could not quite drive away. - -And Mona tried. In her heart, which was sometimes a woman's heart in -a child's breast, she knew that Peter was grieving and fighting to -hide his grief. The tragedy in her own life, and a sorrow which had -been deeper and more pitiless than Peter's, made her understand and -feel what even Adette in her young motherhood might not have sensed so -clearly. - -It seemed only yesterday to Mona that her mother had laughed and played -with her under the big, white sails of the ship, with her father -watching them, and only yesterday that the terrible thing had happened -in the sea. No one, not even Pierre Gourdon, knew how vividly those -hours and days came back to her at times. The forest and the wild -things shared her secret, but no others. Over the two graves in the -little cemetery at Five Fingers she had said quietly to Peter that -morning, "My father and mother, Peter"--and that was all. - -Something in her voice held Peter from asking for the story of that -frightful hour in the maelstroms of the Pit, where Pierre Gourdon had -saved her and her father and mother had died. But he felt it. It crept -into him and became a part of him, and even Pierre Gourdon would have -found it difficult to explain what was born in their hearts in those -moments when Peter looked at the big stone into which had been roughly -cut the words, "Paul and Mona Guyon, Died Sept. 27, 1900"--and then -said gently to the girl who stood fighting bravely at his side, "I'm -sorry, Mona." For to Pierre they were children. - -But there was something in Peter's soul that was struggling beyond -childhood as he returned to Simon's cabin. Three days, and this day -most of all, had shown him his first dim vision of the bridge which -spans the illusive way between boy and man. He had lost his father. -But his father was not dead, while Mona's was gone forever. Out of the -chaos in his mind these facts kept repeating themselves, and with them -came ever more insistently the desire to do something for Mona. And one -possible achievement loomed big--the whipping of Aleck Curry! - -Thought of it made his blood tingle. He did not ask himself what it was -that Aleck had done to incur Mona's displeasure. It was sufficient for -him to know that she was praying for calamity to fall upon his head. -She wanted the crows to pull his hair out. She had prayed for that last -night--when she had prayed for his father. And she was sure that God -answered prayer. - -But it was his own feud with Aleck that fired both his chivalry and his -hatred--memory of that moment in which the tug master's son had thrust -Mona's head back brutally in the edge of the forest, with his big, -coarse hands fastened in her hair. In his first encounter with Aleck -he had saved Mona but had failed to avenge the outrage. He was sure he -could do it now. - -Simon took him among the men after dinner and he became acquainted with -them all. They went back into the cuttings, and it was three o'clock -before Peter found himself alone. Then, instead of going back to Mona, -he circled in the edge of the timber until he came to the end of the -finger of evergreens that reached almost to the inlet. His heart gave -a jump when he saw Aleck on the tug shooting at the flying gulls with -a slung-shot. Peter had made up his mind to challenge his enemy calmly -and without excitement, as his father would undoubtedly have challenged -a man in a similar situation. But his plan changed suddenly. He picked -up a stone and hurled it with such accuracy that Aleck, seeing the -missile, dodged. Then he jumped ashore. - -Peter waited for him. He was not afraid, but his heart was beating -fast. Aleck seemed to have grown considerably overnight, Peter thought. -He was almost as big as Jame Clamart, and his face was red with an -exultant passion as he advanced, stuffing the slung-shot into one of -his pockets. There was no doubt this was just the opportunity Aleck -was looking for, and Peter retreated with caution into the balsams and -cedars. - -Aleck began to run--and Peter ran. He was light as a rabbit on his -feet, and as he hopped over logs and underbrush he heard Aleck crashing -like a big animal behind him. Twice he allowed his enemy to come almost -within reach of him, and then spurted ahead. At last, in the edge of a -little cut-over clearing, Aleck stopped. He was puffing and blowing and -his fat face was covered with sweat. - -"Runny-cat!" he choked derisively. "Runny-cat--runny-cat----" - -He caught himself in amazement as Peter turned and advanced toward him. -"Always smile when you're in a tight place," Peter's father had taught -him, and Peter tried bravely to live up to the rule. A fixed grin was -on his face. "I'm going to lick you," he announced cheerfully. "You're -nothing but a girl-beater and a windbag, an' your wind's all gone. I -wasn't running _away_ from you, Fatty--I was leadin' you _on_!" - -Aleck stood aghast, gulping hard to get his breath. It seemed -impossible that a boy so much smaller than himself would dare face him -with such monumental nerve. The bully in him was maddened by Peter's -next insult. "You're nothing but a girl-fighter--a hair-puller--a big -tub of fat," Peter informed him, "an' you'll be yelling for help when I -get half done with you!" - -And then Peter jumped in. He was quick. His fists were small but hard. -His wind was good. And the suddenness of his attack took Aleck off his -guard. The first blow was what Peter called a stomacher, and Aleck let -out a huge grunt. He bellowed anathema as he began to swing his heavy -arms. Peter reached his nose and one eye and his mouth. He was like a -hornet. His two small fists were swiftly moving hammers, and Aleck had -never experienced anything like the hail of their blows. They took away -from him what breath he had left; his nose began to bleed, his lip was -cut, and then Peter gave him another stomacher. Could he have lasted -for five minutes at the speed he was going, Aleck would have been a -wreck. - -But Peter was delivering all his metal in one smashing broadside. -Aleck floundered and puffed. One eye closed quickly. Blood smeared -his face and shirt. His big mouth began to swell. He was not fighting -muscle and brawn--but _nerves_. Every nerve in Peter's body was at its -breaking point, and he was like a thing gone mad. But he was beating -against a mass of dull and stupid flesh that had but few nerves to be -shocked into submission. His blows began to carry less force, and he -was compelled to breathe with his mouth open. He gave Aleck one last -slashing cut in the mouth and then his strength seemed to break. His -enemy's arms tightened around him and they went down together. Peter -was under, just as in that other tragic moment when Mona had saved him. -But there was no Mona to save him now, not even Buddy to nip at Aleck's -legs and heels. His one consolation was a final look at Aleck's face -close above him. He had done a pretty good job, anyway. In another -minute or two the bully would have quit. - -Both rested, gaining their breath. Then Aleck began to pommel, -weighting Peter down with his entire bulk. - -"I got you now," he managed to gasp. "I got you!" - -Peter saved his breath. He realized the futility of struggling against -that weight with what little strength was in him and concentrated -all his effort in shielding his face. Aleck was like a porpoise, and -every half-minute or so was compelled to cease his jabbing to get a -new supply of breath, a large amount of which he wasted in verbal -laceration of Peter's feelings as he pommeled with his fists. - -"I'm a tub of fat, am I?" he demanded at the beginning of each fresh -attack. "I'm a windbag, eh? A girl-beater, am I? Take that, an' that, -an' _that_! An' yell for your girl, Petey, yell for your girl to come -an' help you!" - -Then he would pause again to gather lung momentum for another attack. -Each assault left Peter a little bit more helpless than before. He -could feel himself swelling. One eye, he knew was entirely shut. The -other he saved by shielding it against his arm. His thoughts were -growing a little hazy, too, but all his mental and physical discomfort -was dissipated by the threat of a new horror which came in a sudden -inspiration of triumph from Aleck's swollen lips. - -"I'm goin' to yell for Mona," he said. "I'm goin' to have her come -and see what I've done to you! A tub of _fat_, am I? Take that--an' -that----" - -And he did yell when he got his wind again. In reality his challenge -for Mona to come and see her Petey licked was husky and not -far-reaching, but it seemed to Peter the whole world must hear it. -"An' when she comes I'm going to make you say you're licked or I'll -beat your head off," Aleck told him. And then he sat up straight, his -heavy bulk astride Peter's slim body, and called Mona's name again. -Peter's brain went hot. Was this to be the answer to Mona's prayer? Had -Mona really prayed, or had she fooled him? Faith rode over his doubt. -Mona wouldn't lie. She had prayed, and the trouble right now was with -him--and not with Mona's prayer. - -Aleck's swollen face was growing purple in its vociferous calling for -Mona. In a moment of safety Peter took a look at it with his one good -eye. A thrill shot through him when he found the weakness had left his -arms. He was breathing easily, too, in spite of Aleck's weight. If he -could only get up--if he could have just one more chance at that fat, -swollen face---- - -It was something quicker than Peter himself that moved him, an -intuitive flash, a lightning-swift call of his brain upon hidden forces -of self-preservation within him--a twist, a convulsion of his body, a -squirming upheaval so sudden and unexpected that Aleck lost his balance -with Mona's name half out of his mouth, and the other half never came. -He fell sprawling, and Peter was upon him again like a cat. Aleck's -face was his target, and he beat it--fast, furious and hard. He was -amazed at the return of his strength. It exhilarated and inspired him, -and in his mad enthusiasm he bit one of Aleck's ears. A roar of pain -came from the bully. Peter's fist lodged squarely in Aleck's eye, and a -second howl followed the first. - -At heart the tug-master's boy was a coward, like every bully, and in -another minute he was crying for quarter. But Peter's momentum was -too great to be stopped on such short notice. He continued, until in -the end Aleck Curry was a blubbering, wind-broken, thoroughly whipped -rascal, hiding his face in the earth. - -Not until then did Peter stand up, seeing the world dimly with one eye. -And then--in that glorious moment of triumph and answered prayer--his -heart stopped dead in his body for a single moment. Not ten feet away -from him stood Mona! Even with his fading vision he saw the wild flush -in her face and the joy in her eyes. The truth they betrayed turned his -darkening world suddenly into a paradise. _She had seen him whip Aleck -Curry!_ - -He turned to Aleck. "Get up!" he said. "Get up or I'll kick in your -ribs!" - -Aleck dragged himself to his knees, then slouched to his feet. He was a -pitiable sight. His eyes were little slits. His face was swollen until -it looked as though he had the mumps. He was blubbering and gasping for -his breath, and for a moment he did not see Mona. - -"Are you licked?" demanded Peter, coming close to him. - -Aleck drew back and put up a shielding hand. "I guess I got enough," he -conceded. - -"If you ain't sure--I mean if you _aren't_ sure--I'll finish it," said -Peter. - -"I got enough." - -"Then gimme the slung-shot." - -Aleck surrendered the weapon. In that moment he caught a dim vision of -Mona. He gulped and swallowed a lump in his throat. - -"Now promise Mona you won't bother her any more. Promise--or I'll lick -you again!" - -"I promise." - -"An' you won't throw stones at her gulls?" - -"No." - -"All right, Fatty. Now go on back to the tug. _And stay there!_" - -He watched Aleck until he had disappeared among the cedars. Then, his -business done, he turned toward Mona. A little shyly, with shining -eyes, she came to him. He wiped his eye. He could just see her. - -"Oh, Peter!" she whispered softly. He could feel her soft little -handkerchief at his face, just as he had felt it that first day in the -edge of the forest. And she was saying, "Peter--you're glorious!" - -And then something happened that sent a tremble through the world on -which Peter stood. Raising herself on tiptoe, Mona kissed him softly -and sweetly on his swollen lips. - -"There, that is what Aleck Curry has wanted all the time, and I'm -_giving_ it to you. Say thank you, Peter!" - -"Thank you," said Peter. - - - - -CHAPTER X - - -Peter was conscious of the fact that he had lived a long time in the -last three days and four nights. His adventures during that brief -period of time had run the entire gamut of human emotions, with the -possible exception of a desire to laugh, and his fourteen years of life -seemed entirely out of fact. This philosophy did not strike Peter, but -it did work into the troubled soul of Simon McQuarrie as he told Pierre -Gourdon why it was that Peter's father was a hunted man, fleeing for -his life, and how it had come about that Peter was now in Five Fingers -seeking refuge with him. - -"And I'm going to keep him," he said. "I love the boy." - -What Simon had to say struck deep into Pierre Gourdon's heart, for it -recalled the day of years ago when he had made his great fight in the -sea to save a strange woman and her little girl, and had succeeded -in bringing only the child, Mona, ashore. And Mona had grown to be a -part of his soul. So when Simon had finished, Pierre nodded his head -thoughtfully and said: - -"Mona brought Peter to me today. He has the making of a man in him. And -he has promised to whip Aleck Curry if he troubles Mona again." He -chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. "Aleck is almost twice as big as -Peter," he added. "But the boy has courage. It may happen. And--we will -make this a home for him, Simon." - -"And if that round-headed young blackguard of an Aleck sets upon Peter -again," said Simon slowly, "I'll make his father take it out of his -hide or never sell him another foot of lumber!" - -The gentle smile did not leave Pierre's eyes. A forest man, and son of -many generations of wilderness people, a warm thrill of superstition -and an immeasurable faith in the God that had made his beautiful world -lay deep in his soul. Simon guessed what was in his mind when he saw -him looking at a green patch of flower-strewn slope where lay the -graves of Mona's father and mother. - -The smile faded slowly from Pierre's face, and a little of anxiety, of -dread almost, replaced it. - -"The years have been kind to us," he said, speaking more to himself -than to Simon. "It has been a long time since Dominique Beauvais and -I brought our wives through these forests for the first time, and now -there are more than fifty of us here--all our own people and friends. -There has been little of tragedy and much of happiness. The plot up -there is empty--except for Mona's people. Sometimes--I am afraid." - -"Peace and comfort have been with us," agreed the Scotchman. Behind -them were the yellow piles of sawdust and the droning of the big steel -saw in Simon's little mill as it cut its way through the hearts of -timber. Simon loved the mill as Pierre loved the cabins he had helped -to build, for the mill had brought prosperity to the wilderness people. -It had also made necessary the ugly black tug which lay down in Middle -Finger Inlet. The creases grew deeper in Simon's hard face as his eyes -rested on the tug. "I wish some other man than Izaak Curry was taking -our lumber," he said. "Maybe I'd like him if it wasn't for his boy. If -that ugly lad ever puts his hands on Peter again, or on Mona----" He -hunched his gaunt shoulders with a suggestive grunt. - -Pierre was looking off toward the timbered line behind which Lake -Superior was hidden, half a mile away. For a moment after Simon's -threatening words he remained silent. His face was thoughtful. - -"It is strange," he said, giving voice to what was in his mind. -"Through children has come most of our happiness at Five Fingers, -Simon--and all of our tragedy. It was seven years ago that the strange -ship went to pieces out there and I saved Mona from the sea. She is one -of us now, and if she should be taken away our hearts would break. And -now comes Peter, whose mother is dead, and whose father is worse than -dead--for Peter--because he is an outlaw. It makes me think of a long -time ago when a boy came into Ste. Anne de Beaupré, away down on the -St. Lawrence, just as Peter came to Five Fingers three days ago. His -father and mother were dead of the plague back in the forest, and he -was ragged and starved, and the first person he met was a little girl, -just as Peter met Mona, and afterward he fought for her, and married -her when he grew old enough, and--she is Josette, my wife. It is almost -as if Peter was _me_. And I am wondering----" - -He did not finish. But Simon nodded understandingly. - -"Things happen like that," he said. - - * * * * * - -Out of the edge of the evergreen timber which ran down to the white -sands of Middle Finger Inlet Mona was leading Peter. One of his eyes -was entirely closed. His lips were swollen and his face was grimy -and red with the marks of battle. He was a little dizzy. There was a -ringing in his ears, and with his one good eye he could see the world -but dimly. The green forests were a blur. The sunlight was a mellow -glow. Mona's face, flaming with pride and joy, was an ethereal vision -of loveliness which he saw as if through a number of gossamer veils. -But in spite of his wrecked appearance his heart was beating with a -swift and glorious exultation. He had kept his promise to Mona, to -Simon McQuarrie and to Pierre Gourdon, for he had met and whipped Aleck -Curry. The tug-master's son had begged for mercy, and the riotous -thrill of it all was that Mona had looked upon that splendid battle and -the ignominious defeat of the overgrown bully upon whose head she had -earnestly prayed calamity might fall. - -Peter was fighting hard to maintain a calm and dignified mental balance -as they came out of the forest. Mona's fingers clung to his hand. Her -face was flushed and her eyes were shining like lovely stars. But it -was the kiss he felt most of all--that warm and sweet and amazingly -unexpected tribute she had placed on his lips in the moment of his -triumph. - -It was a new thing to Peter. Since his mother had died he had never -experienced anything like it and he could only faintly remember his -mother. Through the years since then his father had kissed him every -night before he went to sleep. But Mona's kiss was different. It -remained with him in a strange and embarrassingly persistent way. - -"I knew you could do it," Mona was saying, a tremble of pleasure in her -voice. "I just knew it, Peter! Does your eye hurt?" - -"Not much." - -"Can you see?" - -"Pretty good." - -She drew in a breath of deep and sincere appreciation. - -"I got there just in time to see you bite Aleck's ear," she said. "Oh, -how he did howl!" - -Peter's conscience smote him. - -"It ain't--I mean, it _isn't_ fair to bite another fellow's ear," he -explained, "but he stuck it in my mouth and I couldn't help it." - -"I wish you'd bit off his nose," said Mona. "If I were a boy and had -hold of his ear with teeth like yours, I wouldn't let go." - -A generous impulse filled Peter's breast. "I'll lick him again tomorrow -if you want me to," he offered. - -They went up the green slope from the inlet. Peter could hear better -than he could see. He could hear the soft croaking of the gulls and the -singing of the birds and the steely music of the saw in the mill. His -bad eye was toward Mona, so that unless he gave his head a full turn he -could not see her at all. A sweaty discomfort possessed him whenever -he believed she was making a fresh survey of the disfigurements Aleck -had fastened upon him. With his triumph rode the humiliating conviction -that his face was out of joint and not pleasant to look at. - -"It'll be better tomorrow," he said. - -"What will?" she asked. - -"My face. It must look sort of funny." - -"Not half as funny as Aleck Curry's," she comforted him. "And if anyone -dares to laugh at you--after what happened out there----" - -Peter caught the flash in her dark eyes. In spite of his protest she -pulled him through the open door of Jame Clamart's cabin. Adette was -bending over the crib of young Telesphore. Her big blue eyes widened -and she gave a little gasp when she saw Peter, his hand still held in -Mona's. - -And then, to his horror, she giggled. - -In an instant Mona was at her side. - -"Adette Clamart, don't you dare laugh!" she cried. "If you had seen it! -If you had seen him whip Aleck Curry----" - -"But his eye!" exclaimed Adette chokingly. "I mean _that_ eye, -Mona--the one that's open! It looks so--so funny!" - -"He's better-looking right now than Jame Clamart will ever be," -retorted Mona with fierce dignity. "He hasn't got a snub nose, -anyway--and that's what your baby is going to have when he grows up!" - -"But his _eye_!" persisted Adette, the giggling choking her. "Why is it -so round and glassy, Mona? It's just like the end of my new glass salt -shaker! Oh, oh, _oh_----" - -"_Adette Clamart!_" - -Peter, stunned and speechless, watched Mona drag Adette into the -kitchen. As if drawn by an irresistible magnet, his one eye followed -them, and Adette--looking back--gave a final little screech of laughter -before the door closed behind her. - -Peter heard the tittering beyond that door, and Mona's protesting voice -rising above it. He felt as if warm water had been poured down his -back. He was clammy, and his heart had sunk down into his middle. He -must be a terrible sight! - -Then he saw young Telesphore looking at him over the edge of the crib. -In one of his fat fists the baby clutched the knife which Peter had -given him earlier in the day. Peter went nearer and grinned at his -young friend. The effort hurt him. Telesphore's mouth fell slowly ajar -as he stared at Peter. He gave no sign of recognition. The jovial -comradeship of a few hours ago was gone and his gaze was steady and -perplexed. And then, as if desirous of possessing another strange -article of interest, he dropped his knife and reached for Peter's one -eye. - -Peter drew back. Adette was still laughing at him and Telesphore did -not recognize him! He remembered a little mirror hanging on the wall -and hurried to it. He was shocked. The thrill of triumph left him. -His pride sank--and he sneaked through the open door as quickly as he -could and trotted toward the big yellow piles of sawdust, hoping he -might reach them before Mona discovered his flight. Screened by the -piles, he came up behind Simon McQuarrie's cabin and almost bumped -into a little man with a great head of shaggy gray hair, a round face -with rosy cheeks, and eyes that were at first amazed and then twinkled -merrily as they looked at Peter. He was a stranger. But swiftly and -instinctively Peter liked him. Something in the way he rubbed his hands -together and chuckled built up a confidence and comradeship between -them immediately. Peter attempted a grin. - -"I been in a fight," he acknowledged cheerfully, for there was an -attitude and quality about this little man that demanded some kind of -explanation. "I been in a fight with Aleck Curry." - -"And he worsted you," guessed the merry stranger. - -"No, sir. I beat him up. I made him howl, and he promised never to -bother Mona or her pets again. Mona knows. She saw it." - -The little man placed a hand on his shoulder. It was a gentle hand. Its -touch comforted Peter. - -"Come in and let me fix you up, Peter. That is your name, isn't -it--Peter McRae?" - -"Yes, sir." - -They went into the cabin. The little man seemed at home in Simon's -place, for he found the medicine cupboard immediately, and was soon -busy poulticing and bandaging Peter's tortured face. - -"Aleck is a troublesome boy," he said. "I hope you punished him well. -But he is so much larger than you! Aren't you afraid of what may happen -next time?" - -Peter shook his head. "I know how to do it now. I run away from him -until he's winded, then beat him up. I'm going to lick him again -tomorrow if Mona wants me to." - -"Good!" smiled the little man. His face grew rosier and a light was -in his eyes that pleased Peter. "But I wouldn't try it on Sunday," he -advised. "It's bad luck to fight on the Lord's Day. If you'll wait -until Monday, I will take you out into the woods and show you a few -tricks that may help you! And if it can be quietly arranged, Peter, I -would like to see the next fight you have with Aleck Curry. - -"You like fights?" asked Peter. - -"In a good cause--yes." - -Peter was thoughtful as his cheerful and comforting companion fastened -a bandage over his closed eye. - -"Sunday isn't such a bad day for a fight," he argued. "You could get -Aleck Curry out in the woods somewhere, tell 'im you wanted to show him -something, an' I could sneak up--an' we could have it right there. I -ain't--I mean I'm _not_ afraid of Sunday!" - -"I'm not thinking so much of you as I am of myself," said the little -man, laughing softly. "I mustn't let pleasure come before duty--on -Sunday. You see, I have to preach tomorrow." - -"You have to--_what_?" - -"Preach. Down there in the little church. I'm Father Albanel, Peter." - -For the second time in the last half-hour Peter's earth seemed slipping -unevenly under his feet. _Father Albanel!_ Mona had told him about the -wonderful forest missioner who had no church and no set religion, but -who wandered through hundreds of miles of wilderness, preaching the -faith of God wherever he went, and who came every few weeks to Five -Fingers. "All the forest people love him, and he is so good I think -God must love him most of all," she had said. "He buried my father -and mother." And this was Father Albanel--this little man with the -jolly face and twinkling eyes, and he--Peter McRae--had invited him to -witness a fight on Sunday! He squirmed uneasily. He could feel the hot -blood rising up through his neck into his face. He wet his swollen lips -and tried to save himself. - -"I didn't know you was the preacher," he said. "I guess mebbe it isn't -right to fight on Sunday." - -Father Albanel's hands pressed gently upon the boy's thin shoulders. -"It's right to fight any time, Peter--when you have a just fight to -make. God loves a peacemaker but He also has no use for a coward--and -no one but a coward would refuse to fight for Mona. Will you come and -hear me tomorrow?" - -"I'll come," promised Peter. - -When Father Albanel had gone he climbed up the ladder to his bed of -blankets close under the sweet-smelling cedar roof and undressed. The -sun was low in the west and the afternoon song of the mill had ceased. -The robins were chirping their evening notes. It was supper time, and -Simon McQuarrie was late. Half an hour passed before Peter heard him -enter the cabin. He came directly to the ladder and climbed up. In the -twilight he bent over Peter. - -"Feeling sick, Peter?" - -"No, sir." - -Simon knelt upon the edge of the blankets. - -"I've heard about the fight," he said, in a voice which trembled a -little in its unaccustomed softness. "Mona told me, and then Adette, -and after that I went down to the tug to have it out with Izaak -Curry--and his boy. But--Peter--lad, when I saw Aleck I had no heart -to speak harshly to his father. I'm proud of you!" - -In the silence he bent his face nearer to Peter's. - -"Want something to eat, lad?" - -"I can't eat," explained Peter huskily. "My mouth is swollen shut." - -It was then Simon McQuarrie's hard lips touched Peter's cheek--the -first kiss he had given in many years. - -"Good night," he whispered. "You're Donald McRae's son--every inch of -you!" And Peter listened to his heavy feet as he slowly descended the -ladder. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - - -The moon did not come up that night. Darkness shut in the earth, -and with it came a warm and sullen stillness, broken only by low -intonations of distant thunder, advancing over the roofs of the forest. -A long time after Simon had gone Peter went to the window and sat -staring out into the gloom. The air was drowsily heavy and bore with -it the cooling breath of rain. After a little a swift whispering ran -through the forest and the first gentle patter of raindrops fell on the -cabin roof. The thunder crashed nearer and vivid flashes of lightning -cut like flaming knives through the blackness. In a moment, it seemed -to Peter, the storm broke in a deluge that set the log walls atremble. -It beat straight down, and did not come in at the window. Peter did not -stir. As long ago as he could remember his father had taught him to be -unafraid of the awesomeness and beauty of thunder and lightning, and -many times they had watched a storm together until the boy was thrilled -by the significance and the mystery of it. - -It was his father he missed tonight, the immeasurable thrill of his -voice, his presence and his love. Without reason his eyes strained -questingly in those brief moments when the lightning flashes filled -the world with a white radiance. In that light he could see the mill, -stark and vivid, like a skeleton illumined by fire, the trees, the -cabins, the stub in which the flying squirrels lived, and the edge of -the forest. He did not miss that half of his vision which he had lost -in his fight with Aleck Curry; he had forgotten the fight, and even -Mona Guyon. For a time his thoughts were alone with his father, and -with his yearning and his loneliness an unreasonable hope filled his -soul--the hope that his father would keep his promise and that out in -the glare of the lightning he would see him coming from the forest into -the clearing. His heart ached for that. He did not know it, but under -his breath he was sobbing a little. - -It was the truth, forcing itself upon him, the sullen, terrible -truth, driving him back from the window and sending him creeping -to his blankets, where he lay huddled and still. He had never -hated anyone, not even Aleck Curry. But he was beginning to hate -somebody--something--now. He hated the men who were after his father, -and he was beginning vaguely to hate that controlling force which both -his father and Simon McQuarrie had told him was the law. If his father -had only taken him! If they were only together now, away out there in -the forest, under a log or snuggled in the shelter of an overturned -root--anywhere--just so they were together! - -Why had his father lied to him, promising him he would come back in a -day or two? Why had he sent him on alone to Five Fingers? Peter choked -back the sob in his throat. _He knew._ It was because his father loved -him--because he knew that he could never return, and wanted him to have -a home with Simon McQuarrie. - -Burying his face in his arm, Peter gave up to his grief. It was a -silent, choking grief that ate into his heart but brought no cry to his -lips. - -The thunder and lightning passed and the rain settled into a steady -patter on the roof. It was like hundreds of gentle fingers tapping -within a few feet of Peter's head. It comforted him in his aloneness -and his grief. Mona was listening to that same friendly patter on the -cedar shingles. Tomorrow he would see her again, and his heart grew -warm. A part of her seemed to come into the darkness of his room, and -he could see her eyes shining and feel the touch of her hand--and -the kiss. And afterward he fell asleep, stirred by the strange and -comforting sensation that Mona was near him. - -But in sleep he lost her. He dreamed that he was trying to steal away -from Five Fingers to go in search of his father, but again and again -Simon McQuarrie caught him and brought him back. At last success came. -It was night, and he was crawling out through his window into the -moonlight, with a pack on his back. He jumped to the ground and made -for the woods. And then a strange thing happened. Where his father had -left him he found footprints on the earth. They were very clear, and -shining, as if made of bright silver, and they reached a long distance -ahead of him through the forest. It puzzled him that his own feet left -no trail at all while his father's trail was so clear. - -Days and nights seemed to pass as he followed persistently this silvery -trail. Then he came to a wonderful forest where the trees were so tall -their tops seemed lost against the sky. He walked on flowers. Great -masses of purple violets crushed under his feet, roses filled the air -with sweetness, wild geraniums nodded and bowed to him, and crimson -splashes of fire-flowers carpeted long aisles and broad chambers of -this mysterious paradise. - -He came at last to a waterfall. It did not roar, like waterfalls he had -known, but fell with a rippling song. Near the waterfall was a cabin, -and straight to the door of the cabin led the silvery trail! Peter -followed it. He opened the door and went in and his father was there. -He turned to greet Peter and did not seem surprised. His face was -smiling and happy, and tender with the old cheer and the old love. - -"_I thought you would come soon, Peter," he said. "I've been waiting -for you._" - -It was then Peter awakened. The patter of rain on the roof had ceased. -The night had cleared and was filled with stars, and a sweet warmth -came in through the open window. His dream had been overwhelmingly -real, and it left him with his heart beating strangely. He did not -sleep again but lay awake until the stars began to fade in the gray -light of dawn. Then he dressed himself, making no sound that might -disturb Simon. When he looked down from his window he almost expected -to see the marks he had made in his dream-leap. And it could be -done--that jump! He crept out backward, lowered himself full length -from the windowsill and dropped easily to the rain-softened earth. - -He went toward the stream which came down from the timbered hills and -ridges. The birds were beginning to sing, the robins first, twittering -their sweetest of all songs, with eyes half closed. It grew gently, -each soft note increasing in strength until the invisible chorus -filled the clearing with its welcome to the day. A thrush joined in. -Bright-winged bluebirds flew ahead of him, and sweet-voiced brush -sparrows cheeped and fluttered in their coverts, waiting for the sun. -Even the water dripping from the trees held in its sound the cadence of -whispered song. - -And as if this melody held a spell which they were powerless to -combat, or which inspired them to silence, the raucous jays were -still and aloof, the whisky jacks waited in fluffy brown balls, a -cock-of-the-wood clung to the side of a tree, his plumed head and -powerful bill making no sound upon the wood, and ahead of Peter a gray -owl retreated to a deeper and darker hiding-place. - -The forest was a cathedral, and its symphony seized upon Peter's soul -and lifted it on a great wave of anticipation and hope. - -His father was listening to the birds, too. He was waiting for the -sunrise. And a stirring thought came to Peter. If his father did not -return, he would do what he had done in his dream--go in search of him. -He was sure he could find him. - -He undressed at the edge of a pool in which the water was warm enough -for a swim, and came out of it a little later shivering--but still -thinking. The early rays of the sun were breaking over the tree-tops -when he returned to the clearing. His bad eye was half open and most of -the swelling was gone from his lips. Simon was getting breakfast and -was surprised that Peter should come through the door instead of down -the ladder. - -During the next hour his shrewd eyes saw a change in the boy. Peter was -restless and asked questions. Where would his father be likely to go? -Had he said anything about it in his letter to Simon? - -The Scotchman shook his head, guessing a little of what was in Peter's -mind. He explained the vastness of the forests. They reached a thousand -miles north and twice that far east and west, and one might lose -himself in them all his life. Their bigness did not discourage Peter. - -"I think I can find my father," he said. "If he doesn't come back I'm -going to try." - -The thought gripped him more tenaciously as the early hours of the -morning passed. Simon brushed and mended him, and said he should have -new clothes as quickly as they could be brought from the settlement on -the railroad, and he talked of Aleck's defeat, and of Mona, and of the -wonderful beaver colony two miles away, but the new thrill in Peter's -blood swept over all other things that might have interested him. - -He would not tell Simon, but he was going in search of his -father--soon. It might be that night, or the next, if he could get -things together for a pack. - -The sun was well up when he saw Mona come out of the Gourdon cabin, -and he went across the clearing to meet her. He was a little upset, -for he would have to apologize for running away from her in such a -boorish fashion yesterday. Mona's appearance this morning set his heart -aflutter. She seemed almost as old as Adette Clamart, and not at all -like the little fighting comrade who had helped him whip Aleck Curry at -their first meeting. She was dressed in spotless white, and her long -hair rippled and shone in the sun, and her dark eyes were so beautiful -that for a moment or two Peter could find nothing to say as she looked -at him. - -Mona was not entirely unconscious of her disconcerting loveliness, and -her eyes shone and the color grew prettier in her cheeks when she saw -its effect on Peter. - -"This is my Sunday dress," she said, helping him out of his -embarrassment. "Do you like it?" - -Peter shifted, and thought quickly. "You look like a snowbird, one of -the kind with a black topknot," he complimented her. "What do you think -of _me_?" And he turned so that she could see where Simon had mended -his rusty clothes. - -The sparkle died out of Mona's eyes, and in the moment when his back -was toward her Peter did not see the look of pity and tenderness that -took its place, and with it a shadow of something else, as if he had -hurt her. - -"I put on this dress for you. That's what I think of you, Peter." - -"I got better clothes," he explained, "but we came away so fast we -didn't have time to bring them." - -"I'm glad you didn't. I like you the way you are. Do you like me, -Peter--really?" - -"A lot." - -"How much?" - -Peter turned over various terms of measurement in his mind. "Next to my -father," he said. - -"Then why did you run away from me when I was in the kitchen with -Adette Clamart?" she asked. - -Peter flushed. "I dunno. Guess I didn't like to be laughed at. And the -baby--he didn't know who I was." - -The soft notes of a bell tolled over the clearing, and Peter drew -himself erect and breathed a little tensely as he listened to it. "I -used to hear a church bell like that, a long time ago," he said, -softly. "I can just remember it." - -She touched his arm as they listened. "I was coming to take you to -church. Father Albanel says you promised." - -She started down the slope, walking slowly, with Peter at her side. He -thought it was interesting how the sound of the bell suddenly opened -the doors of Five Fingers. - -Pierre Gourdon came out of his cabin with his wife, and Josette was -dressed in white, like Mona; and Marie Antoinette, waiting with Joe and -their two children to greet them, looked like a slim white angel to -Peter. Even Geertruda Poulin, who was almost as wide as she was high, -wore a dress as white as the gull's wings down in Middle Finger Inlet. - -The children were prim and starched and the men were in clothes which -Peter had not seen them wear before, their faces shining with the -effect of lather and sharp razors. - -And loveliest of all the girls and women, Peter thought, was -Mona--lovelier even than Adette Clamart, who came hurrying to them -with laughing eyes and red lips and rebellious curls dancing about her -pink cheeks to beg Peter's pardon for laughing at him the preceding -afternoon. - -To Peter's infinite dismay Adette seized his head between her two small -hands and kissed him squarely on the eye which had looked so funny to -her yesterday. - -"There, I'm sorry, Peter," she said. "But you did look so funny." - -She was gone like one of the dainty, golden canaries that nested in -the clearing, running to catch up with Jame, her husband, who had -Telesphore in his arms. - -Fire leaped into Mona's cheeks. - -"I won't have Adette Clamart doing that," she protested indignantly. -"If your eye needs kissing----" - -Peter was wiping it with the back of his hand. - -"That's right, wipe it away," she encouraged spitefully. "I hate her!" - -Peter said nothing. But he saw Mona's lovely eyes flash in Adette's -direction when they were seated on one of the wooden benches in the -little church. Adette smiled mischievously and nodded her head, but -Mona made no response except to tilt her pretty chin a little higher -in the air and look straight ahead of her to the platform where Father -Albanel was ready to begin the service. - -The little missioner's face was even rosier and jollier than yesterday, -it seemed to Peter, and he was smiling and nodding and rubbing his -hands as if this particular hour was the happiest of his life. - -Peter, looking secretly about him, was impressed by the fact that this -was unlike any other Sunday meeting he had ever attended. He missed the -serious and almost awesome solemnity of the other similar occasions he -could remember. Here everyone was free and easy and refreshingly happy. -Even Simon McQuarrie's emotionless face was more gentle, and he smiled -when he saw Peter, and a ripple of laughter ran easily through the -gathering when young Telesphore crowed delightedly and waved his arms -in an embracing greeting to all about him. Then came the tinkle of a -bell, and suddenly the room was very quiet. - -What happened after that was like a dream to Peter, and it seemed -constantly to be awakening something new and happier within him. He -had never heard singing like that which filled the little church. -Mona's voice was clear and soft as the crested warbler's song which he -loved; and when she looked at him and whispered, "Sing, Peter," his -courage came to him, and a little at a time he lifted his voice until -his boyish tenor rose clearly at her side. When they sat down she was -nearer to him, so near that her wonderful white dress crumpled close -against him and a tress of her shining hair fell upon his hand. - -"I love your singing, Peter," she whispered to him again. - -His heart beat fast and his hand twitched nervously under the silken -caress of her hair. Until now--this hour when they sat so close -together in the church--he had not felt the deeper stir of that emotion -which was growing in him. Surreptitiously his fingers closed about the -soft tress of hair. Mona did not know it, no one knew it but himself, -and he looked straight ahead while his heart beat still faster and the -warm thrill of his secret sent the blood into his face. - -Father Albanel was talking. And in a trance Peter listened. What struck -him, and what he remembered so clearly afterward, was the way in which -the little missioner talked about all living things, as if the flowers -and trees had hearts and souls, and God loved the forests and all wild -things just as much as He loved people. Peter had heard his father -say many of those same things, only in a different way--for Father -Albanel's voice was like deep music that reached down into the soul, -and there was no whisper or stir among those who listened to him. - -He seemed to be looking straight at Peter when he talked about Faith, -and what faith meant in the lives of men and women and children; -and to make this clear to the children of Five Fingers he told the -legend of Nepise, the beautiful Indian maiden, who was known as the -Torch-Bearer. It seemed to Peter the missioner was describing Mona, -for Nepise was the loveliest girl among all her people, with eyes that -were pools of beauty and hair that fell about her like a shining black -garment. The story became a tragic and living thing to him; he saw the -plague-stricken Indian people, and when Nepise died the effect upon -him was like a shock. But she had made her dying people a promise--a -wonderful promise!--to come back in spirit, bearing with her the Torch -of Life, and with this flaming torch she would go from tepee to tepee -and from village to village, and all who had faith in her would see -her and to them would come health and happiness. And Nepise kept her -promise, and forever after that, and up to this very day, the Indian -maiden was known throughout the wilderness as the Torch-Bearer. - -When Father Albanel had finished Peter looked at Mona. Her red lips -were parted, her eyes were aglow, and in her white throat a little -heart seemed beating. And when they stood up again to sing his fingers -still held the soft tress of hair, and this time Mona saw it, and -smiled at him, and Peter was no longer afraid of his secret. - -After Father Albanel's benediction Mona led Peter a little hurriedly -from the meeting-house, but without losing her prim dignity so long as -she thought Adette Clamart's eyes might be upon her. - -"I shan't speak to her all day!" she confided in Peter. - -They passed near the tug and saw Aleck Curry fishing from the stern, -and Mona told him that neither Aleck nor his father ever came to -church. Then they came to a narrow foot trail that was new to Peter and -for half an hour walked slowly out on a green-timbered point of land -until they reached the big lake. It was the finest view Peter had ever -had of Superior. The great sea seemed to engulf the world, and away -out there were three white dots which were ships under canvas. It was -warm and calm, and he was puzzled by a sullen, booming roar until Mona -led the way down a break in the cliff and showed him the Pit, where -the surf and undertows boiled and rumbled even in fair weather. And in -storm---- - -She tried to tell him what it was then, when the great rocks were like -so many monsters, grinding things to pieces, and when nothing that -lived could exist for more than a minute or two in what Pierre Gourdon -called the maelstroms. They found a clean white rock, worn smooth by -the water, and sat down, and Peter wondered at the change which came -into Mona's face. - -"Can you remember your mother, Peter?" she asked softly. - -He was silent for a moment, and then said, "I've seen her a good many -times when I was asleep." - -"Do you still see her?" - -"I did two nights ago." - -"Is she pretty?" - -"Yes." - -"So is mine." She folded her hands in her lap and added quietly: "Out -there is where my mother and father were drowned. Uncle Pierre tied me -to his back and brought me ashore." - -Then she told him the story of the wreck of the sailing ship, and how -Aunt Josette and Marie Antoinette and Father Albanel and all the people -of Five Fingers said it was a miracle that even one should come ashore -alive. And she was that one. - -"Father Albanel sometimes comes down here with me," she said. "I love -him. He always tells me about Nepise. Isn't that a pretty name, Peter? -It means Willow Bud. But after she died and her spirit came back with -the torch they called her Suskuwao, which means the Torch-Bearer. I -love her, too. Do you?" - -Peter nodded. "I was thinking of you," he said desperately, trying to -get the choking thought out of him. "Father Albanel was looking at you -when he told about the Indian girl. That's what you've been to me since -I come--a--a sort of torch-bearer, like he said she was. I dunno what -I'd have done if it hadn't been for you." - -It was out, and for a moment or two the suffocating realization of what -he had said made it difficult for him to breathe easily. Mona did not -look at him. Her shining eyes were fixed steadily upon the vastness of -the lake. - -"Was that why you touched my hair, Peter?" - -"I guess so." - -"You like me--_like that_?" - -He nodded again, finding the moment too tremendous for words. And this -time Mona was looking at him. There was an earnestness in her face -which made her seem older to Peter. Her eyes were a woman's eyes, calm -and steady in their gaze, as they studied him for a moment. - -"And I like you, Peter," she said then, "I like you so much--that I -never want you to go away from Five Fingers." - -"And I never want to go," he said. "Not if my father comes back." - -"He will come!" - -Her voice was quick and sure and filled with a vibrant ring that sent a -little tremble through him. She was sitting very straight, and a gust -of wind stirred her hair so that it rippled and floated about her, and -Peter--looking at her with wide eyes and swiftly beating heart--thought -of Father Albanel, and of Nepise the Torch-Bearer, and the beautiful -faith the little missioner had visioned entered into him and he -believed. And the strange and thrilling impulse came to him to put his -hand to that soft cloud of Mona's hair and tell her that he believed. -But he did not move, nor did he speak. For a space Mona seemed to be -far away from him, gazing at something which he could not see out -beyond the turmoil of the Pit. Her fingers were interlocked in her lap, -and not until the voice of Jame Clamart hallooed down from the top of -the cliff was the spell of silence broken. - -Mona started but did not look up. She knew Adette was there, smiling -down at them and ready to wave her hand. Quite calmly she said to Peter: - -"It's that Adette Clamart. Will you promise never to let her kiss you -again?" - -"Sure--I promise," said Peter. - -"As long as you live?" - -"As long as I live." - -"Cross your heart, Peter!" - -Devoutly Peter took the solemn oath. - -"I'm glad," said Mona. "I don't like kissing--but if it has to be done -I'll do it!" And a fiery little note in her voice was so combatively -possessive that Peter suddenly felt himself a helpless but willing -slave in chains. - -And in the days and weeks that followed his first Sunday in the -settlement this bondage was stronger than the hungering loneliness for -his father which pulled him at times toward the big forests of the -north. Mona's world became his world. He began to fit into its play, -its duties, and the family communism of its environment. He went to -school. At odd hours he worked about the mill and helped in the spring -planting, and later in the tilling of the soil. - -In the passing of the summer Mona and Peter spent much of their time -together in the cool depths of the forests. On these adventurings -they were inseparable, and their favorite haunt, specially on Sunday -afternoons, was a beaver colony a mile and a half up the shore of -the lake and a little back in the rough ridges and hills. The beaver -settlement was Mona's own property, and it was one of the laws of Five -Fingers that no one should despoil it with trap or gun. It was five -years ago, Mona told Peter, that four old beavers emigrated from some -one of the colonies back in the hills and she and Pierre discovered -them building a dam at this place. There were now over thirty of them. -A long time ago they had ceased to be afraid of her, and some of them -were so friendly she could touch them with her hand. But they were -alarmed when Peter came with her and for days scarcely a head would -show when he was about. Very slowly and with extreme caution they -began to accept him as a part of Mona, and the first cool breath of -autumn was in the nights before they would openly disclose themselves -or play on their slides or proceed with the varied duties of their -lives when he was watching the big dark pool in which they had built -their homes. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - - -In September a sinister and foreboding gloom seemed to creep out of the -wilderness surrounding Five Fingers. - -The golden autumn, with its soft Indian summer and its radiance of -color, died almost before it was born. The birch leaves did not turn -yellow and gold but stopped at a rusty brown; the poplar leaves curled -up and began to fall from their stems before the first frost; mountain -ash berries were pink instead of red, and heavy fogs settled like wet -blankets between the ridges, while in the swamps the rabbits were dying -in hundreds and thousands of the mysterious "seven years' sickness." - -The men at Five Fingers, and especially Pierre Gourdon and Dominique -Beauvais, who read the wilderness as if it were a book, regarded these -matters with anxious eyes. It was Pierre who called attention to the -going of the bluebirds a month before their time, and noted first that -the red squirrels were gathering great stores of cones, and that the -robins were restless and uneasy and were assembling in the flocks which -presaged sudden flight. - -Then, one sunset, a great flock of wild geese went honking south. They -were high and flying very fast. - -Pierre Gourdon pointed up. "When the wild geese race like that in -September--it means a bad winter. Only twice have I seen it. The last -time was two years before we came to Five Fingers--a year of starvation -and plague; and the other time----" He shuddered, and shrugged his -shoulders, for that other time was in boyhood, when his mother and -father had died back in the forests, and he had dragged himself -starving and nearly dead to Ste. Anne de Beaupré. - -Colder nights came, filled with moaning winds, and the days were -darkened by ash-gray skies through which the sun seldom shone warmly, -and more and more frequently came the honk of geese racing south. Peter -could hear them at night, in darkness and when the stars were shining, -coming from the north, crying down their solemn notes of passage from -the high trails of the air. - -And these same nights he heard the wolves howl back in the hollows and -ridges and deeper hunting grounds of the forests, and Pierre Gourdon -listened uneasily to the cold, hard note in their voices, and said to -Dominique: - -"The wolves will run lean this winter, and when hunger trails the -wolves, famine is not far behind." - -But it was the dying of the rabbits more than the crying of the wolves -that worried them at first. The plague-stricken animals were lying -everywhere, even up to the steps of the cabins, and one day Peter -counted so many in a corner of the swamp that Simon McQuarrie's eyes -widened a little with doubt when he told his story. Once every seven or -nine years had the rabbit plague swept on its devastating way through -the wilderness, but never had Pierre or Dominique or Simon seen it so -destructive as this year, and the nearer howling of the wolves and -the strange, clammy nights with their deathlike fogs roused in Pierre -Gourdon's heart the ghosts of old superstitions and old fears put there -in tragic days when he was a boy. - -And then came a night when the world seemed filled with wet smoke, -and on that night the gray Canada geese came down from the north in -a multitude so great that they filled the sky over Five Fingers with -a winged deluge, and thousands of them dropped into the inlet and -the clearing to rest. Their honking was a bedlam which made sleep -impossible, and with the dawn Peter could see them darkening the fields -and the water of Middle Finger Inlet. When the various companies and -regiments began taking wing the sound they made was a steady thunder -that sent a weird and thrilling shudder through earth and air. There -were ten thousand pair of wings in that southward moving host, Pierre -Gourdon said. Peter had never thought there were so many wild geese in -the world and it puzzled him that not one of them was killed by the men -at Five Fingers. - -"A wild goose mates but once," Pierre explained. "If his mate dies, -he does not take another, but lives alone for the rest of his life. -Memory and loyalty like that men do not have, and so it is a crime to -kill them." Then he added, looking up thoughtfully at one of the winged -triangles racing through the sky, "And the gray goose lives a hundred -years!" - -In October what were left of the big snowshoe rabbits began to turn -white, and the wind kept steadily in the north. Snow fell early. All -through November the big lake was lashed by fierce gales; the Pit -roared and whipped itself into furies, and the gulls were gone entirely -from Middle Finger Inlet. In a single night, it seemed to Peter, winter -came. And from the beginning it was a black, ominous winter. For days -at a time there was no sun. The sky was shut in by a gray canopy of -cloud. When snow fell it was hard and biting, and riding with the wind, -it stung the flesh like fine shot. - -In December came a change. The winds died, the skies cleared a little, -and day and night it snowed until the wilderness was smothered and -the evergreen forests bent to the snapping point under their burden. -Trails were closed and the hollows between ridges were filled. One day -Poleon Dufresne snowshoed in from the railroad settlement, half dead -from exhaustion and bearing the news that all the world was shut out by -snow, and that it lay twenty feet deep in the open places. And quietly -he gave other news to Pierre Gourdon and Dominique and Simon McQuarrie. -The dreaded plague of the wilderness--the smallpox--had already begun -to stalk through the northland. - -Following the deep snows came a cold so intense that the men no -longer ran the hazard of frosted lungs by working in the woods, and -all wild life seemed to have become extinct. Between the lake and the -settlements along the line of steel one could scarcely have found the -trail of a cloven hoof, for the deer and moose were yarded deep and -struggled breast-high against snow for the bush-browsing that kept them -alive, while the caribou, milling against wind and storm, had left the -snow-smothered country for feeding grounds farther north. It was a -winter that began--first of all--with starvation. The icy coating of -the trees left no budding for the grouse; small creatures smothered -in thousands under the hardening snow crust which could soon bear the -weight of a man; foxes and ermine gnawed bark in their hunger; with the -rabbits gone, owls died of a sickness which ravages them in times of -forest famine--and the empty stomachs of wolves brought them nearer and -nearer to the clearing until frightened horses broke halters in their -stalls and cattle bellowed in their terror. - -Peter had never heard wolves as they cried out now. Sometimes their -wail of hunger was almost a sobbing in the night, and again it was -bitter and vengeful as hoof and horn beat them back from some yarded -stronghold of moose and deer. - -Each day and week Peter came to understand more of the tragedy through -which he was passing. It was one of the "black years." Father Albanel -came to the settlement early in January; he was thin and haggard, -his eyes deep-set, the rosy color gone from his face. In the little -church he asked the people of Five Fingers to offer up prayer for the -thousands who were sick and the hundreds who were dying through all the -great wilderness from Hudson Bay to the Athabasca and from Big Lake to -the Barren Lands. Over all that country the plague was raging, sweeping -like a forest fire from tepee to cabin, until in certain far places the -great Hudson Bay Company could no longer bury its dead, and masterless -dogs ran with the wild things in the forests. Pierre Gourdon's face -was almost as haggard as Father Albanel's, and Mona called Peter's -attention to it, with a tense and strange look in her eyes. - -"I overheard Uncle Pierre and Aunt Josette when they were talking last -night and they said they weren't afraid for themselves but that they -were afraid for me," she said. "Why should they be, Peter? I don't get -sick easily." - -"You're a girl, that's why," he explained. - -"But if I should get sick--what would you do? Would you dare to come -and see me?" - -"I'd come." - -"Even if it was the plague?" - -"I'd still come." - -[Illustration: - - _OLD SIMON_ held Peter off at arm's length, his - stern face working in a strange way -] - -[Illustration: - - _PETER McRAE_ had come home and a whisper - of gladness ran among the crowd -] - -"I'd like to have you, Peter. If I was sick and you didn't come, I -think it would make me feel so badly I wouldn't get well." - -And that night, with the wolves wailing at its doors, the blighting -hand of the red plague fell upon Five Fingers! - -It touched Geertruda Poulin first, and Jeremie, her husband, nailed -a red cloth over his cabin door to keep the children at a distance, -and that rag, fluttering in the winds, soon filled their hearts with -a greater terror than if they had seen a _loup-garou_ haunting the -edge of the forest or the grim hunters of the _Chasse-galerie_ riding -through the gloomy sky, for they were told that to go near it meant -death. And then, three days later, little Tobina fell ill, and with -a pale, brave face and eyes in which there was no sign of fear Marie -Antoinette went into the plague-stricken cabin to nurse them. After -that Joe Gourdon's face was like a mask carven out of stone until the -night when Jame Clamart pounded at his door and cried out the terrible -news that Adette was down with the fever. And that midnight Josette -calmly kissed Pierre and Mona good-by and went to her. Until she was -gone Pierre held back the sob in his throat--then it escaped him, and -he held Mona close, so close that it hurt her. It was on a Sunday -morning, bitterly cold and filled with gusty winds, that Jeremie Poulin -staggered out from his door and flung up his arms to the sky, and the -word passed from cabin to cabin that Geertruda was dead. - -Alone, barring all others from their company, Simon McQuarrie and -Father Albanel dug with picks and grub-hoes the first new grave in the -little cemetery. Chunk by chunk they broke out the frozen earth, and -when it was dark--so dark no eyes could see them--they helped Jeremie -Poulin carry his dead over the clearing and upon their knees prayed -with him at the grave-side. After that they lived in one of the barns, -visiting only the sick and the dead, and each morning and evening Simon -would shout to Peter through the megaphone of his hands, asking him -if he felt pain or dizziness or fever, and warning him to stay in the -cabin. Then Sara Dufresne and two of her three children were stricken -and Jean Croisset died so suddenly that the shock of it stopped every -heart in Five Fingers. Pounding of hammers came from the barn, and -the next morning there was another mound of brown and frozen earth in -the cemetery. A day later Dominique Beauvais, with his house full of -children, nailed up the red badge of sickness over his cabin door. - -Each day Peter saw Mona. They spent their hours together, and Pierre -Gourdon watched them as a hawk watches its young. At night they sat -at their windows, for after Jean's death the skies cleared and a -glorious moon filled the world with light. And one night Peter heard -the hammers pounding again, and in the gray of dawn--still sleepless -and wide-eyed--he saw Father Albanel and Simon and Jeremie Poulin come -from Dominique Beauvais's cabin bearing a long, grim thing among them; -and when they had reached the burial slope he saw them turn back, and -enter the cabin again, and come forth once more with their shoulders -bent under a burden. Peter's heart choked him. He sobbed and clutched -his hands at his breast. It was Félipe and Dominique, the two youngest -of the Beauvais children, whom he had seen carried to the burial plot. - -Sobbing, he ran toward Mona's home. The door opened and Pierre Gourdon -came out. Peter stopped a few paces away, for there was something in -Pierre's face that frightened him. At first he thought it must be the -madness of the fever; then his ears caught words, strange, hard words -that froze his blood and that seemed to come with a mighty effort from -Pierre's ghastly face. Mona was sick! She was in bed--and he must -return to Simon McQuarrie's cabin and not come again within breathing -distance of the house! Peter moved closer to the door, powerless to -speak, and Pierre thrust him back so roughly that he fell to the ground. - -"Go away!" he commanded, raising a hand as if to strike the boy. - -Through the open door Peter had a glimpse of Josette's face looking out -at him, so white and haggard that for a moment he thought it was an old -woman's face. He cried out to her but in the same moment she was gone -and there came no answer. - -Then he spoke half defiantly to Pierre. - -"I want to see Mona," he said. "I promised her I'd come if she was -sick." - -"Go!" said Pierre again, pointing sternly toward Simon McQuarrie's -cabin. "You can come halfway to learn how Mona is, but if you come this -near again I shall have you taken from Five Fingers!" - -Peter drew slowly away, staring in horror at Pierre and the cabin -behind him. He slumped down on the doorstep at Simon's place and did -not feel the bitter cold. He saw Pierre enter the cabin, and then he -watched the gray figures in the distant cemetery as they moved slowly -about, piling the last of the frozen clods upon the burdens they had -carried through the dawn a few minutes before. And Mona was down with -that same sickness--which meant death! - -In his torment he picked and twisted at his clothes until his thin -fingers were blue with the cold. Pierre came out again and put up -the red cloth, and then he went to intercept the three men who were -on their way from the cemetery to their quarters in the barn. Father -Albanel and Simon McQuarrie returned with Pierre and entered the cabin -where Mona was sick. In a few minutes Simon came out and seeing Peter -huddled on the doorstep, approached as near to him as he dared. He -asked the same questions, and gave the same warnings, and assured -Peter that Mona was only slightly ill, and that she would get over it -very quickly. But there was in his face the same look that had been in -Pierre's, and Peter knew he was lying. - -"She is going to die," his heart kept crying, and he dragged himself -into the cabin and flung himself upon Simon's bed, and when Joe Gourdon -came in he was crying, his head buried in his arms. With his beloved -Marie Antoinette keeping guard in Jeremie Poulin's house of death, Joe -was making a courageous fight. "Tobina Poulin is past all danger, and -if things go well Aunt Marie Antoinette will come home in a few days, -and then you can come to us," he comforted Peter. "Meanwhile I'm going -to stay with you." - -But Joe's cheerfulness was mostly forced. News came early in the day -that Adette Clamart was very close to death, and that Jame and Father -Albanel were constantly at her bedside. - -That night sheer exhaustion brought sleep to Peter. He was awakened -by a pounding at the door. Joe's voice called out below and another -answered it from outside. It was Jame Clamart, going from cabin to -cabin in a madness of joy, telling the people of Five Fingers that the -crisis was over and Adette would live. - -Peter could hear the running crunch of Jame's boots in the hard snow -as he hurried on to the next neighbor and for a long time after that -he lay awake in the cold darkness of his room, thinking of Mona. -Fear of death had not gripped him so terribly before. In the tragedy -of others he had felt shock; its suddenness and horror had stunned -him and filled him with dread, but the physical grief of it had not -touched him deeply until now. He was sick, but the sickness was in his -heart, as if something had been cut out of it, leaving in its place -an emptiness which made breath come to his lips in smothered sobs. And -that something which had been taken away from him was Mona. - -When he closed his eyes he could see her clearly on her white bed, her -long hair streaming about the pillow, her face pinched and thin, and -all the time she was wondering _why he did not come_. She was going to -die; he could think of nothing but that, and after a little one thing -persisted in traveling through his brain so frequently and so terribly -that he called aloud for Joe. The maddening picture was that of Father -Albanel and Simon and Jeremie Poulin marching through the gray dawn to -the burial plot with the bodies of Félipe and Dominique Beauvais. - -Joe came up, and for the rest of that night Peter lay in the shelter of -his arm and fell asleep again. - -The next day came with good omen. A bright sun rose over the forests, -clearer and warmer than it had been for many weeks. Herman Vogelaar, -whose laughter had gone with the death of his daughter, Geertruda, came -at breakfast time with the word that Adette was entirely out of her -fever, and that Poleon Dufresne's wife and three children were much -better than yesterday. Father Albanel, he said, had spent the last -half of the night with Mona. Mona was very sick. She was worse than -Adette had been, or even Geertruda, in the same length of time. He was -afraid----But Joe gave him such a fierce scowl he did not finish. -Peter saw the scowl and the nervous twisting of Herman's fingers at -the lapels of his coat as he tried to think of something with which -to cover his blunder. He wanted to ask Herman to speak what had been -on his lips, but instead he put on his coat and cap and heavy mittens -and went out into the day, hoping that somewhere he would see Father -Albanel. - -As if his hope were a prayer quickly answered, Father Albanel came from -the Gourdon cabin. The little missioner advanced, keeping the wind well -in his face, and when he was fifty paces from Peter he stopped and -called to the boy to stand where he was. Peter tried to speak bravely -when he asked if Mona was going to die. - -"She is very sick," said the missioner. "We must pray for her, and -believe with all our might that she is going to get well. I think God -will let her live." - -"I promised I'd come if she was sick. I got to keep my word. I'm not -afraid." - -Father Albanel shook his head. - -"It is impossible, Peter. There are too many of us down now." - -"I won't get sick," said Peter doggedly. - -Father Albanel spoke sharply. "Keep to your cabin, my boy, and be as -brave as Jame Clamart has been. If Mona grows worse, I will tell you." - -Each morning after this he brought news of Mona to Peter. For a week -there seemed to be no change. On the eighth day she was worse; on the -tenth Pierre and Josette and Father Albanel were fighting desperately -to save her life. - -The tenth night came. It was past midnight when Peter crept softly to -his window and opened it. With as little sound as he could make he drew -himself through and dropped to the ground. He ran away quickly, the -brilliance of the stars sending his shadow along with him. He did not -stop until he reached the Gourdon cabin, and there he hugged closely -against the log wall, his heart beating wildly as he waited. Above him -a light glowed feebly against the curtain in Mona's room. He wanted to -call to her; he puckered his lips and almost gave the whistling signal -which she knew. Then he heard a sound, a movement of some kind, and -stealthily he approached a lower window. He could see Josette very -clearly. She was seated in a chair with her face bowed in her hands, -and Pierre was standing at her side, gently stroking her hair. Father -Albanel was behind them, his face white and torn with grief. Then Peter -saw that Josette was crying. - -A terrible fear gripped him as he drew away from the window. What he -had seen could mean only one thing. Mona--_was gone_. He looked up -at the dim light above him again, and in that moment his soul cried -out against all those who had kept him away from her. He went to the -kitchen door, opened it, and entered. This time he would scream and -fight if they tried to keep him back. But no one heard him. Father -Albanel's voice came to him faintly. He was praying. - -Peter reached the stair and went up quietly. The door of Mona's room -was open. A lamp, turned low, was burning on the table. - -He approached the bed, scarcely knowing that he was moving toward it. -His heart was crushed, his world crumbled and gone, for Mona must be -dead or they would not leave her like this, and Josette would not be -crying down below. Even his father could not have helped him now. -Nothing could help him, with Mona _gone_. He stumbled to his knees -beside her and his cold fingers twined themselves about the soft braid -of hair that fell over the side of her bed. - -A stifled, despairing sob broke from him then as he stared at the thin -face that lay so still and lifeless in the pale light of the room. He -had a great desire to touch it but a moment of dread made him hesitate. -Then his hand crept slowly over the coverlet until it rested against -Mona's cheek, and the sobbing in his throat was choked back, for the -flesh he touched was hot. His heart thumped until the sound of it -seemed to fill the room. Mona's eyes were opening! They were looking at -him! And then---- - -Two thin, white arms reached up and encircled Peter's neck, and very -faintly he heard his name whispered. He pressed his face down close to -Mona's. - -"I'd have come sooner," he apologized, "but they wouldn't let me in!" - -And somehow, in that great moment of their lives Peter's lips touched -Mona's, and as the girl's flagging spirit came at last in triumph back -from the edge of death Father Albanel entered the room; and when he saw -what had happened he spoke no word, but in silence made the sign of the -cross upon his breast and stood with his gray head bowed in voiceless -prayer. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - - -It was many minutes before Peter looked up and saw Father Albanel -standing at his side. The little missioner made no movement except -to place a hand gently on the boy's head. Mona's eyes were wide open -and in them was a light of almost unearthly happiness as she looked -at Peter. In the pale lamp-glow it seemed as though death had already -possessed her, except for those great, shining eyes out of which Father -Albanel saw all fever had gone. - -In a voice that was low and choking he said, "You must come away now, -Peter--for a little while." - -Mona's hands rose in weak protest to Peter's shoulders, and he bent to -meet them, pressing his face down again without shame or embarrassment -so that her soft cheek lay close against his own. - -Joy and gentleness fought with a gathering fear in Father Albanel's -face, and a little at a time, but firmly, he drew Peter away, while -between the words he was speaking he breathed a prayer to Sainte Anne -and the Mother Mary asking that the boy might be spared the curse of -the deadly malady with which he had come in contact. - -At the door Peter turned, and Mona's eyes were so strangely and darkly -beautiful that he reached back his arms to her with a little cry. "I'll -come again, Mona! I will! I'll come _soon_!" - -They went down into the room where he had seen Josette and Pierre, -with his hand held tightly in the little missioner's. He had never -seen a face more terribly white than Josette's, and Pierre was like a -haggard old man. He looked up at Father Albanel. The missioner's face -was streaming with tears, and through the tears he was smiling. Then -he began to speak. He told how Peter had stolen into the house and had -gone to Mona. - -"God sent him," he said. "He has done more than all the physicians and -medicines in the world could have done, for he has brought Mona back -from the very gates of death. _She will live!_" - -The last three words drowned all others for Peter. His breath came in -little jerks. Then he found himself crying--in Josette's arms. - -Josette pressed Peter to her and covered his pale, cold face with -kisses. Her great eyes seemed to drown him with their nearness, and -then she too was sobbing, with his face hugged close to hers. It all -passed in a very few moments, it seemed to Peter, and Josette went with -Father Albanel to Mona's room. She came back in a little while. Her -eyes were shining and the whiteness was gone from her face. - -"It is true--God has been good to us again," she said, looking into -Pierre's wildly questioning eyes. - -"The fever is broken. Her skin is soft and moist. And--she--_wants -Peter_!" - -Josette and Pierre understood the look that came into Father Albanel's -face. They waited for him to speak. - -"Please let me go," begged Peter. "I won't make a noise. I'll sit -quiet." - -Father Albanel swallowed a lump in his throat. - -"And mebby--if I ask her--she'll go to sleep," urged Peter. - -The missioner nodded his gray head. "That's it," he said, looking first -at Pierre and then at Josette. "I think if Peter were there, she would -sleep. The boy has already been exposed. It cannot be worse. It is -God's will. Let him go and sit beside her." - -A joyous thrill went through Peter. Father Albanel turned to him and -put his hands on the boy's shoulders. - -"You must tell her you can stay only if she will try very hard to go to -sleep. After that you mustn't talk to her. And just as soon as she is -asleep you must slip away quietly and come back to us here." - -"I promise," said Peter. - -Josette helped him off with his coat. Then she kissed him, and Peter -went softly up the stair. - -Though he came with scarcely more sound than a shadow to her door Mona -heard him. Her eyes were watching for him, so big and shining in her -thin white face that to Peter she seemed all eyes. He did not trouble -with a stool or chair but knelt beside her bed. Mona's hands went up -to his face and their gentle touch drew him down until she kissed him -on the lips. There was no hesitation in her act. It was as if she had -always kissed him. - -"Please kiss me, Peter," she said. - -He kissed her. - -"I was dreaming that over and over," she smiled at him faintly, "and -you didn't come. Now it's true. And--I'm--so--glad----" - -"You mustn't talk," he warned, remembering his duty. "They said if -_you_ said anything after I told you this I'd have to go downstairs. -They want you to sleep. - -"An' I want you to _sleep_," he added courageously. "You mustn't say -another word--not one!" - -Mona started to speak, then put a finger to her lips, and her eyes -glowed at Peter until he felt creeping through him an overwhelming -desire to kiss her again. She tucked her hand in his, and he settled -down, sitting on the floor. Mona closed her eyes and gave a deep sigh. -Her fingers squeezed Peter's, and Peter's fingers squeezed back. - -Half an hour later Josette tiptoed up the stair. Quietly she came -through the dim light to the bedside. Mona was asleep. She was -breathing evenly for the first time in many days. Peter had leaned over -so that his cheek was resting on the thick, soft braid of her hair. -Mona's hand was still clasped in his. And he too was asleep. - -Josette drew back as quietly as she had entered and returned to Pierre -and Father Albanel. - -Hours later Peter awoke. He thought he was dreaming at first. Then he -found his fingers buried in Mona's braid, and saw her pale face against -the pillow. Everything returned to him in a moment, and he moved his -cramped legs an inch at a time, and very quietly got on his feet. Mona -was asleep. He bent over and listened to her breathing. Then he looked -at the little clock that was ticking on a shelf above her table. It was -four o'clock. Almost time for the gloomy dawn to come. He must have -slept a long time! And Mona had slept too. His heart beat joyously as -he backed slowly toward the door, careful not to make the slightest -sound. - -In the room below he found Father Albanel sitting with his gray head -bowed over a book which had fallen into his lap. But Josette heard him, -still as he had been, and came out of her room. She was in a white -nightgown with soft arms bare to her elbows and her hair in two long, -loosely plaited braids. - -To Peter she was more than ever like an angel. - -"Sh-h-h-h!" she whispered, putting a finger to her lips. "Everyone is -asleep, Peter--except you and me!" - -She took his hand and led him into the spare room which had once been -Joe's, and sat down with him for a few moments on the edge of the bed. - -"You are going to stay with us for a while," she said in a voice so low -and sweet that it was like music to Peter. "Will you like that?" - -He shook his head affirmatively. "I wanted to come all the time. I -promised Mona I would--if she was ever sick." - -Josette drew his head gently against her breast. He could hear her -heart beating. - -"I am Mona's mother. After this--how would you like me to be _your_ -mother?" she asked softly. - -"I--I'd like it. But I gotta live with Simon. Dad told me to--until he -comes back." - -The arm about his shoulders tightened a little. - -"Yes, you must live with Simon. I wouldn't take you from him. But I'm -going to be your mother, Peter--just the same. From now on, all the -time, you belong to me just as Mona does." - -"I guess that's why Mona likes me--because I haven't got a mother," he -tried to explain. "But my dad's coming back. He'll love you too. Nobody -can help loving you, can they?" - -"I don't know, Peter." - -"Simon says they can't. My mother was just like you. I've dreamed of -her lots of times." - -"Does she look like me--in your dreams, Peter?" - -"Last time I thought she _was_ you. We were out in the woods picking -flowers, an' Mona was there. Then she faded away. She always fades -away, just sort of melts until you can't see her--my mother, I mean." -Suddenly he asked, "Did you ever see Mona's mother?" - -"Yes, Peter." - -"Was she pretty?" - -"All mothers are pretty, Peter." - -Peter pondered for a moment. "I guess mebby they are," he said, and -then added a little dubiously, "except now and then. I'll bet Aleck -Curry's mother isn't pretty!" - -"To Aleck--she is beautiful," whispered Josette, and drew herself -gently away from him. "You must undress and go to bed now, Peter. Good -night!" - -For a while after she was gone he sat on the edge of his bed wondering -what she had meant in saying that thing about Aleck Curry and his -mother. A beast like Aleck _couldn't_ have a pretty mother. But her -words troubled him even after he was undressed and in bed. If by any -chance Aleck _did_ have a pretty mother--why--it wasn't right for Mona -and him to hate Aleck as they did, that was all! - -He didn't sleep much between then and morning, and when he came out of -his room, just as the first cold light of the winter sun was falling -in the clearing, happier faces greeted him. Mona was better. In the -reaction of joy that had swept over the household there was once more -laughter in the kitchen. Josette went up the stair singing. And when -at last she called down for Peter he found Mona bolstered up in her -bed, and Josette was brushing her hair, which streamed about her in -long, beautiful cascades of silken softness. Mona's eyes and face were -different this morning. She was more like the Mona he had known, only -thinner and whiter, and she smiled at him when he came through the door. - -With Josette so near, Peter was a little self-conscious and clumsy in -his greeting. But Mona held out her arms, just as she had done last -night, and pulled him down to her, and kissed him. - -From that day the great fact in the lives of the two children was -accepted in Five Fingers. Mona and Peter belonged to each other. And so -sure was Father Albanel of God's intention in the matter that he felt -no worry about Peter, in spite of the fact that the boy had come in -fearfully close contact with the deadly malady. - -"He will not catch the sickness," he said confidently. "God didn't send -him for that." - -And as day after day passed, and only good news continued to come from -the Gourdon cabin, those who had at first doubted also came to believe; -for Mona's coming back from death, and Peter's escaping the plague, -were miracles like those which happened at the precious shrine of Ste. -Anne de Beaupré, and only God could have brought them about. - -In two weeks Mona was out of bed and on her feet. And from that day, -Peter noticed, she did not hold out her arms to him again, or ask him -to kiss her. But her eyes were always soft and full of happiness when -he was near her. - -The last of winter passed, and spring came. May followed April, and -flowers sprang up in the clearing. The birds returned, work began in -the fields, and in the sweetness and promise of life Five Fingers rose -out of the grimness of its tragedy. - -One warm day when they had gone to the big beaver pond, just a week -after Mona's fourteenth birthday, Peter said something that he was -_thinking_, and didn't mean to say at all. He had been thinking it off -and on for a long time, and the words slipped out of him before he knew -it. - -"You never ask me to kiss you any more," he said. - -"Girls don't ask boys to kiss them--not unless they're sick," replied -Mona, looking at him with eyes so bright that Peter felt every drop of -blood in his body rushing to his face. - -"Then I--I sometimes wish you was sick again!" blundered Peter. - -"Peter!" - -"Yes, I do," he affirmed stubbornly. - -Mona's cheeks were flushing until they were the color of a rose. - -Suddenly her eyes flashed and she stamped a little foot. - -"You don't want to kiss me _or you'd ask for it_!" she cried. "I always -had to make you!" - -It was a new thought for Peter to ponder upon. Half an hour later, -when they were almost home, he came to a decision. - -"I do!" he exclaimed suddenly. - -"You do _what_?" asked Mona, who had been livelier than ever in hunting -for flowers. - -"You know." - -"I don't." - -"You can guess." - -"I'm not going to guess." - -"I'll give you three chances," offered Peter. - -"I don't want them." - -Peter was desperate. "You didn't mean what you said, then?" - -"What did I say?" - -"You said I didn't want to kiss you or I'd ask for it." - -"Well--you haven't asked." - -"I did. I just asked." - -Mona's lovely eyes opened wide. - -"Did you, Peter? I didn't hear it. Please ask again!" - -Peter gulped. - -"Will you?" he asked. - -"Will I _what_?" - -"Let me kiss you?" - -For what seemed at least an hour to Peter she stood looking at him. - -"If I do--will you promise never to kiss any other girl?" - -"I promise." - -"And never let any other girl kiss you? I mean Adette Clamart, too!" - -"Sure I do." - -"As long as you live?" - -"As long as I live." - -With a little gesture of gladness and satisfaction Mona Guyon held up -the prettiest mouth in all Five Fingers, and Peter kissed it. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - - -In the weeks and months following the plague at Five Fingers Father -Albanel did not forget his promise to Peter, and back in the shelter -of the woods, where their secret was safe between them, he taught the -boy "how to fight like a gentleman--if he had to fight at all." It -was then Peter learned there was something more helpful than brute -strength, and as his skill increased and he mastered one after another -what the little missioner called "the tricks of the fighting game," his -enthusiasm rose to a point where he could scarcely keep his secret from -Mona. Their boxing-gloves, which Father Albanel had smuggled from the -settlement, they kept securely hidden, and not until years later did -Peter know that the holy man who was teaching him had at one time been -regarded by fighting men as the handiest man with his fists between -Fort William and Hudson Bay. - -What he had learned he did not fully realize until early in June, when -Aleck Curry and his father and the hateful black tug returned to the -settlement. Using the influence of a brother who had been successful -in politics, Izaak Curry had obtained timber concessions in several -directions about Five Fingers, and now built himself a cabin near the -shore, but hidden back in the spruce. This he tenanted with a third -brother and his wife, and with them Aleck lived while the tug was -making its trips between Five Fingers and Fort William. - -Aleck had grown still bigger, and in spite of Peter's resolution to -make friends with him he would have none of it. His hatred for Peter -was like some deadly thing that had poisoned every drop of blood in his -veins, and Mona's growing beauty, and her quite open affection for his -rival, stirred something that was more than hatred--more than brooding -vindictiveness--in Aleck's heart. His father was rich, and he knew what -that meant back in town; and his uncle was a power in politics, and -had recently become Commissioner of Provincial Police. It enraged him -that these facts carried no weight in Five Fingers. His own importance -as the son of a rich man and the nephew of a Commissioner was utterly -unrecognized here, while in town it had given him a position of first -rank in spite of his bullying nature. This lack of appreciation, as he -thought of it, he laid entirely at Peter's door, for it was Peter who -had robbed him of his chances with Mona in the first place, and it was -Peter who was keeping her away from him now. - -So it was not long after Aleck's arrival before the climax came. It -happened well out of sight of everybody, where Aleck had schemed that -it should be, for he wanted no interference in his "beating up" of -Peter. In the end both boys returned to the settlement with bleeding -noses and black eyes. Neither was whipped. Aleck was dumbfounded. That -his size and weight and all the training he had given himself during -the winter had failed to beat Peter was unbelievable. - -For two weeks after the fight there was not a day, excepting Sundays, -when Father Albanel and Peter did not "take a walk" in the woods -together. And along with these secret sessions Peter took advantage of -every opportunity to run and swim that he might add to his wind. Almost -daily he accepted insults from Aleck in order to avoid a fight, and -never a day passed that Father Albanel did not repeat his warning to -Peter to postpone further combat as long as possible. But the time came -when Aleck once more followed up insult with physical action, with the -result that he suffered a defeat so completely decisive that in August -he returned to Fort William, fairly laughed out of Five Fingers. - -Mona now made up Peter's world, and in his heart she kept constantly -burning the faith that his father would return. But when winter came -again, and another spring, and there was still no word from Donald -McRae, Peter came at times to believe that his father was gone out of -his life forever. - -Aleck Curry again returned to Five Fingers in this third summer of -Peter's life there. He was nineteen now, and was commissioned by his -father to take an interest in his lumber business along the coast. A -year had made a big change in him, and his hatred for Peter and his -passion for Mona he kept more to himself. His father told Simon that in -another year Aleck was going to join the provincial police, and would -soon hold a commission in it.... - -Early in September, when Mona was in her sixteenth year, the event -against which Peter had been steeling his heart for many months -became a fact. Pierre and Josette had long planned that after Marie -Antoinette's teaching in the little settlement school Mona should -spend a year, and possibly two, under the tutelage of the Sisters in -the Ursuline Convent in the city of Quebec. On the day Mona left, -accompanied by Joe's wife, who went to see her safely settled in the -distant city, Peter's world went as black as on that other day when his -father disappeared out of his life. - -The winter that followed was an endless one for Peter. Once each week, -as surely as the weeks came round, he received a long letter from Mona, -and five times during the winter he made the trip to the railroad -settlement alone that he might not miss the love and cheer which came -from her. And he was at the train to meet her, with Pierre and Josette -and Marie Antoinette and Joe, when she came from the school in June. - -At first he was dazed by the change in her, she had grown so much -taller, and more beautiful, and he stood as if turned into wood while -she greeted and kissed all the others. Then she turned to him, and her -face was flooded with a color which he had never seen in it before. -And after that--he could never remember how it happened--their arms -were around each other, and Mona was crying--crying until tears blinded -her--and he was kissing her, and she was kissing him, and then ran away -from him to hug all the others again. - -This summer in Five Fingers decided the lives of Peter and Mona. She -was almost seventeen. She would go to school one more year, because -that was the desire of Josette and Marie Antoinette. She would be -nearly eighteen then. And when she was nineteen--on her nineteenth -birthday, if Peter liked it that way--she would marry him. - -During the second year of her absence Peter devoted every energy of -soul and body toward making himself worthy of her. He worked and -planned and studied hard under Marie Antoinette and Father Albanel. -During this year several changes came to Five Fingers. Simon McQuarrie -ended his dealings with Izaak Curry, and to rid their paradise of a bad -memory Adette Clamart deliberately set fire to the Curry shack after -he had gone, so that nothing remained but a square of ash and charred -timbers. "And the wild phlox will cover that next summer," said Adette -with a grim little shrug of her pretty shoulders. - -Aleck Curry joined the police. In a day and a night, it seemed, he -sprang into a great bulk of a man, heavy-faced, huge-shouldered, a -giant in strength and physique, and with a hatred for Peter in his -heart that had grown more merciless with the passing of years. He saw -Mona each summer, and when she returned from her second year at school -her beauty stirred in him a passion which submerged all other instincts -and desires. He became a watchful, waiting beast, hiding the flame that -was consuming him, preparing himself for the opportunity which he was -determined should some day come his way. - -As each week brought nearer the day of their own supreme happiness -Mona and Peter no longer sensed this menace, or even thought of it, -and because Aleck was so utterly outside all the possibilities of her -life the deeper sentiment of womanhood growing in Mona compelled her -to treat him more kindly. Even Simon's suspicions were dulled, for -during the winter preceding her nineteenth birthday Aleck visited the -settlement only twice. Another spring and summer followed. The twelfth -of the coming October was Mona's birthday. On that day she would become -Peter's wife. It was planned that they should live with Pierre and -Josette until the good logging snows came, when all of Five Fingers -would join in building their home. - -It was on a day in August that Mona set out alone for the beaver pond, -carrying a basket in which was her own and Peter's supper. Peter, -returning from a trip up the shore, had promised to meet her before -sundown in their old trysting-place, where two winters before he had -built her a little "play-house" cabin. - -And on this same afternoon, as Mona left the settlement, a stranger was -making his way toward it. - -An attitude of unusual caution and a haunted way of looking about him -were the two things one would have noticed first as he came out of a -swamp into an open forest of white pine. He drew in a deep breath of -the freer air, and with a gesture of relief wiped his face with a hand -that was rough and twisted and scratched by contact with briers. He -was oddly disheveled and smeared with swamp oil. His gray head with -its grizzled and uncut hair wore no hat, his shirt was in rags at the -throat and sleeves and his trousers were tucked into high boots which -bore evidence of having gone through mud and water to their tops. Upon -his shoulders he carried a pack, and though the tenuity of its folds -emphasized its lightness in weight, the man freed himself from his -burden with an audible gasp of relief. - -Then he leaned against a pine and looked back at the swamp from which -he had come, listening with singular intentness for any sound which -might strike with warning or unusual import upon the languorous -stillness of the afternoon. His face was pallid under its stubble of -beard even after the heat and exertion he had passed through; his -cheeks were sunken as if by sickness or hunger, and his lips were drawn -and thin. In his eyes seemed to lie all the strength that remained in -the man. They were furtive and questing as they watched, missing no -shadow that moved. - -The sweetness of ripened summer, its lazy whisperings and the stillness -which comes in a deep wood when the sun is overhead lay about him or -trembled softly in the air. For hours he had been in an oven of swamp -heat and winged pests; here it was cool. In the pine tops a hundred and -fifty feet above his head was a faint stir of the breeze that came from -Lake Superior. It reached down and touched his hot cheeks. He could -taste the invigorating freshness of it, and there came slowly a change -in his restless eyes, a softening of the tense lines about his mouth, -a lighting up of his face where before it had held only suspense and -watchful uncertainty. He picked up his shoulder pack, carrying it in -his hand as he turned away from the swamp. - -The transformation in the man's face was strangely at odds with the -painful physical effort which accompanied his tedious progress. He no -longer looked behind him but kept his eyes ahead, as if anticipating at -any moment the appearance of something of vital importance toward which -he was struggling with the last bit of strength that remained in his -body. When at last he came to a little brook, gurgling between the pine -roots, he fell rather than knelt beside it, and drank like one dying of -thirst. Then again and again he plunged his face into hands filled with -cold water and wet his head until his gray hair was dripping. - -He followed the brook. Several times he stumbled and fell in the -rougher places and once his toe caught a root and he plunged into -the stream itself. At the end of an hour he had traveled a mile. -Then he came to a knoll of hardwoods, crossed it and made his way -down through a lacework of yellow birch until he arrived at the edge -of a deep, still pond that began in sunlight and lost itself in the -almost cavernous coolness and shadow of a spruce and cedar forest. -Instinctively the man knew it was a beaver pond, and almost instantly -he had proof it was alive. A warning tail lashed the water with the -sound of a paddle struck sideways, and across the pool, a short stone's -throw away, an object moved through the water. - -Dizzily the man sat down. His vision was clouded so that it was -difficult for him to see even the moving object. He fell upon his side -and stretched himself out on a couch of thick green grass. In another -moment he was lying with his eyes closed but with ears keenly alert. -During the next half-hour he heard every sound about him; then his pale -eyelids closed heavily and a weariness of brain and body which he could -no longer combat dulled his senses to a physical and mental inertness -which was almost sleep. - -In this state of somnolence he had lain for possibly a quarter of an -hour when a sound reached his ears which first opened his eyes and then -brought him in a quick and defensive movement to a posture that was -half sitting and half crouching. - -The sound came again, and amazement replaced the alarm in his face. -What he heard was a feminine voice, strangely soft and subdued in this -place of coolness and shadow and mysterious stillness. It was a note -of laughter, almost birdlike in its sweetness, and the man's fingers -clutched at the breast of his ragged shirt as he listened. Then he -began to crawl slowly in the direction of the sound, making his way -through a green thicket of willows, careful that no twig snapped under -his weight to give warning of his approach. Suddenly he came upon a -scene whose unexpectedness was almost a shock to him. - -He had reached the farther edge of the willows, and before him was a -little meadow not more than half an acre in extent, green and filled -with wild flowers. Almost within reach of his hands was a mountain ash -weighted with ripening fruit, and under this tree, close to the edge of -the pool, a girl was seated on the grass, partly facing him. His first -glimpse of her was of a bowed head crowned by a wealth of coiled hair; -then, as she looked up, he saw her face. Her cheeks were flushed, her -dark eyes shone, and as she laughed again she snuggled her face close -down over a furry thing scrambling about in her lap. The man saw there -were two of these creatures--baby beavers. His eyes wandered a little. -At the edge of the pond, half out of the water, was a full-grown -beaver. And this older inhabitant of the place was conscious of his -presence in the willow thicket! - -The girl was talking and laughing with the little ones, calling them by -name. One was Telesphore and the other Peterkin--and the man drew in -his breath with a gasp. He watched her tease them with a carrot. One -scrambled up and tangled a foot in her hair. - -"Peterkin!" she cried. "Peterkin--you little ruffian!" - -The old beaver remained stolid and motionless, watching the menace -in the willows. A companion swam lazily past, scented the danger and -struck the water a blow with his tail before he dived. - -The girl looked up quickly and spoke to the old beaver. "What is the -matter, Peter?" she cried. "Don't be foolish. Come and get your carrot!" - -It was then she heard a little cry behind her, and turned and saw the -man's face in the willows. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - - -Mona Guyon was not afraid. She was startled, and thrilled by an instant -intuitive sensing of the unusual and the significant in the man's -unexpected appearance. Yet the color did not leave her cheeks nor did a -cry come to her lips. She thrust the baby beavers from her lap and rose -unexcitedly to her feet, tall, slim and amazingly beautiful. - -She was looking steadily at the man, and as she looked her heart beat a -little faster, for the wilderness had taught her a quick and definite -understanding of the story she saw written in the wild face among the -willows. Its tragedy flashed upon her before her parted lips had found -words--hunger, sickness, the emaciation and weakness of a man who found -less discomfort upon his hands and knees than upon his feet. - -As she looked at him a change came into his face that the man himself -could feel as there swept over him a slow and inundating sense of -shame. Every instinct of chivalry in him revolted at the ridiculous and -alarming figure he must be making of himself. But even in this moment -of surprise and distress he did not entirely lose his sense of humor. -He tried to smile. The effort was nothing short of pathos. - -"I beg your pardon," he said as he rose a little unsteadily to his feet -and came out of the willows. His raggedness and the coarse stubble on -his face could not conceal the consciousness of pride with which he -straightened himself and bowed to her. "I have come upon you like a -wolf, and I know I look like a wolf. But I assure you I am as harmless -as a sheep, and if you don't mind dividing your carrots with me----" He -nodded toward the little yellow pile of carrots she had brought for her -beaver pets. - -His voice was pleasant. It made her think of Father Albanel, and as he -spoke a smile was in his eyes and on his pale lips. She went quickly -to his side and put a hand on his arm. Its firm young touch seemed to -steady him. - -"What has happened?" she asked. "You look----" - -"Sick--and a little mad," he finished for her, when she hesitated. "But -I'm mostly hungry, and if I may have the carrots----" - -She helped him to the foot of the tree and he dropped down beside it -with a weakness that made him hunch his shoulders in disgust. - -"I have something better than carrots," she said. "Please sit here and -I will get it." - -She hurried across the little meadow to a deeper shade of thick-growing -jack pines on the farther side, and the man turned his head to follow -her movements with his eyes. Her beauty was twisting at something in -his heart. A long time ago he had known someone like her. The slim -figure, walking swiftly across the open, took him back twenty years, -and he could almost hear a sweet voice calling his name, and in a place -very much like this, with the coolness of the wilderness all about and -the sun shining through the trees. His hand touched the scrub of beard -on his face and he shivered. The thought came to him that the girl -was afraid of him and was running away. As she disappeared among the -banksians he reached for one of the raw carrots and began to eat it. - -Mona returned so quietly that he did not hear her until she was at -his side. She brought a basket and a small pail of cold spring-water. -She spread a napkin on his lap and loaded it with the contents of the -basket. He was sensitively conscious of her eyes upon him and he tried -not to appear ravenous as he began with meat and bread. - -"I'm spoiling your picnic, child," he said, speaking to her feebly like -a man who was very old. "I'm sorry." - -"You're not spoiling it," she cried, leaning toward him with a gesture -full of sweet tenderness. "Oh, I have been so happy today--God has made -me happier by bringing me here in time to help you!" - -"Happy," he whispered, as if to himself. "It is wonderful to be happy. -I have known--what it is." - -It was her struggle to appear natural now as he ate. She had never been -so intimately close to starvation and pathos and weakness in man. - -"Were you lost?" she asked. - -He caught quickly at her suggestion. "Yes, lost--in the woods and the -swamps between the railroad and here. I was trying to find a place -called Five Fingers." - -She gave a little exclamation. "I'm from Five Fingers. It is not far. -Uncle Pierre calls it a mile and a half." - -Mona wondered at the strange silence which came over the man, and the -suddenness with which his hunger seemed to be satisfied. - -"You have been an angel to me," he said, when he had finished. -"And--things love you. Even the wild creatures." He was looking at the -baby beavers, humped into furry balls at the edge of the pond. "You -called one of them Peterkin, and the old beaver Peter. I wonder--why?" - -"And there is a bear cub I call Pete," she added. "It is because--" - -"Yes----" - -Her eyes were shining. - -"Because I am going to marry a man whose name is Peter." - -It did not seem strange to her that she should be confessing the secret -of her happiness to a man she had never seen before. - -There was something in his eyes which made her want him to know, a -mysterious gentleness that seemed to plead for her confidence and her -friendship. It gave her a pleasurable thrill to tell someone that she -loved Peter and was going to be his wife. And this man was unlike any -other who had ever come from the outside world into the wilderness -isolation of Five Fingers. - -In his rags and misfortune and his whitening hair and pale, thin face, -she saw something which stirred more than her pity. And it was more -than faith. - -Just what it was, in that moment, she did not know. She was puzzled by -the tremor which ran through his body coincident with her mention of -Peter. - -"And this Peter----" he began feverishly. The words seemed to choke in -his throat, and he passed a hand over his eyes as if to wipe away a -mist. Then he said: "He is a lucky lad. Is his name Peter McRae?" - -"Yes. How did you know?" - -"And--you love him?" - -She nodded. "I was only thirteen then, but I loved him the first day he -came to Five Fingers and fought Aleck Curry for me. Aleck was a bully -and was pulling my hair." - -The mysterious stranger bent his gray head so that she could not -see his face. "That was six years ago last May, in the afternoon. -And--Peter--did he ever tell you about--his father?" - -"Yes, that same night. It was in the edge of the forest, and it -was growing dark. He had brought a letter from his father to Simon -McQuarrie, and Simon had told him the truth. He said his father had -killed a man--accidentally--a long time ago, but that the police -wouldn't believe it was an accident and were after him, and would hang -him if he was caught. And ever since then----" - -She was at his side, staring at him as he slowly raised his head, -the color gone from her face and her white throat beating with the -sudden mad pounding in her breast. "Ever since that night--that very -hour--we have prayed together for Peter's father to come back. And -you--_you_----" - -He could not escape the wild questioning in her eyes and their demand -to be answered. - -"Would you have _me_ Peter's father?" he asked uncertainly. "This -way--an outlaw--ragged--dirty--a beggar----" - -There was an almost tragic note of hopefulness in his voice. - -"Yes," she cried, her voice breaking in excited entreaty from her lips. -"If you are Peter's father, tell me. We have waited. And I have told -him you would come. Oh, I have _promised_ him that, and have asked God -every night to make it come true. Are you----" Her hands were reaching -out to him. - -"Yes, I am Peter's father." - -There was no flash of joy or pride in his acknowledgment of the truth. -His head sank upon his breast as if a sudden weariness had overcome -him, and a moan of protest was in his voice. And then a thing happened -which swept the bitterness and grief from Donald McRae's heart. He -caught a glimpse of Mona's face, gloriously flushed in this moment of -her answered prayer; and then her arms were about him, her soft cheek -against his rough stubble of beard, and for an instant he felt the -swift pressure of her lips against his. - -He raised his hand and touched her hair. "Child," he cried brokenly, -"dear child----" - -She sprang up from him, half laughing and half sobbing, and ran out -from under the mountain ash tree and stood in the edge of the clearing. -With her hands in the form of a megaphone she called: "Peter! Peter! -_Oh, Peter!_" - -With a protesting cry he climbed to his feet and went to her. She saw -the white, almost frightened look in his face and eyes. "Don't do -that!" he exclaimed. "For God's sake--don't! Peter must not know I am -here." - -In her amazement her hands fell slowly from her face to her side. -"Why?" she demanded. - -"Because----" He stopped, listening to a voice that came faintly from -out of the forest. - -"That is Peter," said Mona. "We are going to eat our picnic supper -here--at the pool." - -"It is Peter--_coming_----" - -"Yes." - -He tried to breathe steadily, tried to speak calmly as he took her hand -and stroked it with nervous gentleness. "What is your name?" - -"Mona Guyon." - -"Mona--Guyon. It is a pretty name. And you are sweet and good and -beautiful. Peter's mother was like you. And--I am glad you love my -boy." A new strength seemed to possess him. - -The voice came again out of the forest, a little nearer this time, and -Donald McRae held the girl's hand closer, and a tremor went through him -as he smiled at her in the way he used to smile at his boy in the old -days of their comradeship and happiness. - -"That is my call," he said evenly. "Peter's mother and I used it twenty -years ago, and afterward I taught it to Peter. It carries a long -distance in the woods." - -It was not his poverty and his weakness that affected Mona most. -Something more than pity overwhelmed her--his forced calmness, the -strange light in his eyes, the almost superhuman fight he was making to -rise up out of his rags and his misery in the most tragic hours that -could have come into his life. His words and his appearance set her -heart pounding fiercely. She was a little frightened and wanted to put -her arms about him again and hold him until Peter came. What did he -mean? - -"Why mustn't Peter know you are here?" she demanded. "_Why?_" - -He led her back in the willows. In a moment they were hidden. - -"Are you brave enough to hear? And do you love Peter enough to -help--me?" he asked her. - -"Yes, yes, I will help you." - -He stood so that he could look out of the willows and across the meadow -through which Peter would come. A moment of despair and hopelessness -twisted the muscles of his face. - -"He must not see me," he said in a voice that was hardly more than a -strained whisper. "Child, you must understand--you most of all. Don't -you know why I ran away from Peter that day near Five Fingers, and sent -him on to Simon McQuarrie? It was so Peter might have a chance in life -that he never could have with me, even if I escaped the law. I, too, -have prayed--every day and every night through the years that have been -more than eternities for me; prayed that good and happiness might come -to him, and that in time even the memory of his father would wear away. -But never for an instant have I been able to forget my boy. He has been -a part of my soul and body, walking with me, sleeping with me, sitting -with me beside my hidden camp-fires at night, until at times the desire -to see him once more was so strong in me that it almost drove me mad. -And all this time I was hunted, running from place to place, living in -swamps and hidden depths of the forests, avoiding men and places of -habitation--but with Peter always at my side, just as he looked that -last terrible day at the edge of Five Fingers when he pleaded with me -to take him along----" - -His lips trembled and a shiver ran through his body. - -"And through those years Peter _was_ with you--Peter and I," replied -the girl. "Summer nights we used to ask the moon where you were, and -when it was cold and stormy we--we prayed. And on Christmas--Peter -always got a present--for _you_." - -A joyous light passed over his haggard face. "You thought of me--on -Christmas?" - -"Yes, always. And Peter asked me to keep the presents carefully in my -cedar chest, for we knew you would come back some day. And now----" - -It was Peter's voice that came to them again, much nearer. Donald's -arms fell away from the girl, but she raised her face quickly and -kissed him. Her eyes were filled with tears. - -"Peter is wondering why I do not answer. Please--please----" - -In his indecision he bowed his face in his hands. It was with an effort -that he shook himself free of temptation. - -"I must tell you quickly, and you must understand," he said -desperately. "The police are close after me again. That is why I was -in the great swamp to the north--to get away from them. If I come back -into Peter's life now it can only be for a few hours, and you know what -it will mean--a fresh tragedy for him, a new grief, pain, disgrace, a -black cloud of unhappiness over the paradise which you have made and -can make for him. I have come back to see him, to look at him, to carry -away a new picture of him in my heart. But he must not know. And if -you love Peter--if you care a little for what is in the heart of his -father--you will make it possible for me to look upon my boy. I will -hide here, in the willows; and you two, there under the ash tree----" - -"It is wrong," broke in Mona. "Oh, it is terribly wrong!" - -"No, it is right," he persisted. "It will make me happy--to see him so -near to me, hear his voice and know that life and God and _you_ have -been good to him. If I see Peter, child, if his hands touch me, if we -are together again--it may cost me my life. For those things would hold -me; I could not go away again after that, and the police are near, very -near, and if they should catch me----" - -The sag that came into his shoulders gave eloquence to the thing which -he did not finish, and Mona's eyes burned with a fire which dried up -her tears. "If I bring Peter down there, under the tree, will you -promise not to go away until I have seen you again?" she asked. - -"Yes, I promise that." - -"Even if it is tomorrow, or the next day?" - -"I will wait." - -It was hard for him to lie, looking into the beautiful eyes that were -fixed upon him so steadily. But he did it splendidly; so well that Mona -did not guess the falsehood back of his last great fight. - -She turned from him swiftly with her face toward the meadow. - -"I will bring Peter--down there," she said. - -She ran to the mountain ash tree and in a few breathless seconds -rearranged the luncheon basket and tossed half eaten bits of food into -the pond. Then she hurried across the meadow. Peter's call came to her -again, and this time she answered it. In the deep shade on the farther -side of the meadow she stopped and pressed her hands to her face. Her -cheeks were hot. She was fighting against a sense of overwhelming -guilt, for in this hour, this very minute, she knew she was not only -betraying Peter, but committing the sacrilege of repudiating answered -prayer. And Peter must not know! - -He could not fail to see her excitement, unless--she laughed softly as -the old, sweet thought came to her. Peter loved her hair. He loved to -see it down, as on that first day six years ago when he came upon her -in the edge of the forest near Five Fingers. She paused again, and her -fingers worked swiftly among its lustrous coils until they fell about -her. Peter would guess nothing now--when she came to him like this, in -a way that shut his eyes to all the rest of the world. - -She could hear him coming through the brush. He was running, and she -guessed at the alarm which was urging him because she had failed to -answer his calls until that last time, when she knew her voice had not -sent forth the old cry in just the way it should have greeted Peter. - -She stood very still, so that when Peter leaped over a fallen tree not -twenty paces away from her he did not see her. He stopped, his head -thrown back, breathing quickly, and listening; and in this moment Mona -recalled the other day of years ago when he came into the cutting near -Five Fingers and found her struggling with Aleck Curry, the bully of -the settlement. - -He was the same Peter, only now he was a man. His hair had not darkened -and his eyes were the same blue. He was the clean-cut, fearless, -sensitive Peter who had gone into battle for her against a boy nearly -twice his weight and years older. The years had given a splendid change -to his body. He was still slim, like the old Peter, and there was a -litheness and alertness in him which filled her with pride. She held -her breath, watching him, and exulted when she saw the anxiety in his -face. Then he called again, and in the moment of silence which followed -she suddenly clapped her hands and laughed. - -Peter turned in amazement, and when he saw her standing as she was, -with her long hair streaming about her, he drew in a deep breath, and -the blood surged into his tense face as he came to her. The happiness -which swept his anxiety away brought a responsive glow of joy into her -eyes, and as she held out her arms to him she forgot for a moment the -man hidden among the willows near the mountain ash tree. For a little -while Peter held her so close she could feel the thumping of his heart, -and not until he had kissed her hair and her lips did he seem to have -breath to ask why she had not answered his calls. - -"To punish you for making me wait so long at the pond," she said. -"But"--she raised a soft tress to his lips--"I was sorry, at the last -moment, and did _this_ for you, Peter. Will you forgive me?" - -She was thinking of Donald McRae again, and slipping her hand into -Peter's, she led him toward the pond. And Peter, in the sweetness and -joy of her presence, guessed nothing because her fingers tightened in -his hand or because her breath came more quickly than usual. - -They drew nearer to the ash tree and the willows. She knew that Donald -McRae was now looking upon the face of his boy; she could see the clump -of twisted bushes behind which he was hidden, and caught a movement in -their tops, as if an animal or a breath of wind had disturbed them. - -They were under the ash tree when she flung back her hair, no longer -making an effort to hide from Peter the distress in her face. He was -shocked, even a little terrified at her appearance. Involuntarily her -glance went beyond him to the thicket which concealed Donald McRae. It -was only a few steps away, and she knew Peter's father could distinctly -hear what they said. Then she looked at Peter again, and smiled gently -at his suspense as she raised one of his hands to her lips in the soft -caress that always wiped away his troubles. And in that same moment she -drew him a step nearer to the willows. - -"Something happened before you came," she said, speaking so that Donald -McRae would not lose a word of what she was saying. "I think I must -have had a--a--dream--and it was terrible!" She shuddered, and listened -to the breaking of a twig in the willows. "I am foolish to let it -frighten me." - -His arms were about her, his fingers smoothing back her shining hair as -relief leaped into his face. - -"You were asleep, _Ange_--with me bursting my throat to make you hear -from the forest?" - -She did not answer his question. Instead, she said: "Peter, you have -not lied to me? You believe in prayer?" - -He bent his lips to her white forehead. "Yes, _Ange_, and yours most of -all. God has answered you, and always will." - -"And we have prayed a long time for your father to come back?" - -He nodded wonderingly. "Yes, a long time." - -She spoke slowly then, and her words were for Donald McRae and not for -Peter. - -"And if your father does not come, if you never see him again, your -faith in the God we have prayed to for so long will be a little broken, -will it not, Peter?" - -She waited, holding her breath for fear even that sound might come -between Peter's answer and the man in the bushes. - -"He will come--some day--Mona." - -"That was what he promised you--the day he sent you on alone to Five -Fingers, and ran away from you? And you have always told me that next -to your faith in God you believed in your father. You have never -thought that he lied to you that day in the edge of the forest?" - -He stared at her, speechless, and in that moment she faced the willows -with a glow of triumph in her eyes. - -"Down in the little church at Five Fingers Father Albanel has always -taught us not to lie and to be true to our promise," she said, speaking -directly at the willows. "Peter, if your father should break his -faith, or I should break mine, it would be terrible. And that is what -happened--in my vision--and it has frightened me." She rested her cheek -against his arm so he could not see her face. "I was here--under the -tree--when in this vision your father came. He was ragged and tired and -sick--and so hungry he ate carrots I brought for the beavers. He had -come just to look at you, Peter, but not to let you know. He said it -would make you unhappy; that it was best for you that he should never -come into your life again--and he made me promise not to tell you that -he was here. - -"And I promised. I did--I promised him I would be a traitor to you, -after all the years we have waited for him, and prayed for him, and -_believed_ in him." - -Her arms crept up to his shoulders. "If I should do a thing like that -God would never forgive me, and you--if some day you found out what I -had done--would never have faith in me again. Would you?" - -She hid her face against his shoulder, her heart beating wildly, her -body trembling. For she had seen another movement in the willows and -she was afraid that Donald McRae was going away. - -"It was only a dream," Peter was saying, holding his arms closely about -her. "You are not afraid of dreams, Mona?" - -And then from behind them came a voice. - -"_God forgive me my weakness!_" it cried. "_Peter--Peter----_" - -Donald McRae stood out in the open at the edge of the willow thicket. -He had forgotten the rags and mud that covered him, and was no longer -a fugitive with the lines of a hunted man in his face. The present was -for a space obliterated--the present with its menace of the law, its -exhaustion and its poverty; and he was standing once more in the warm -glow of that day of six years ago when he had said good-by to Peter. -In those seconds, when Peter stood shocked into deathlike stillness by -the sound of the voice behind him, Mona could see Donald McRae with his -outreaching arms; but as Peter turned slowly, facing his father, the -strain broke in a hot flood of tears that blinded her vision. - -And then---- - -"_Dad!_" - -It was the strangest cry she had ever heard from Peter's lips, and -with an answer to that cry in her own choking breast she turned away -as the two men came into each other's arms. She passed out of sight -along the edge of the pond, scarcely seeing the path ahead of her, and -unconsciously she kept repeating Peter's name in a whisper, as if--even -though she had prayed so long for this hour to come--she had never -quite expected its fulfilment. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - - -Under the ash tree, for a few moments Peter was the boy again; the boy -of yesterday, of years ago, when the world had held nothing for him -but his father; and there was no change in the touch of the hands that -had always given him comfort and courage and a love that was almost -like a woman's in its gentleness. Not until Donald McRae held his boy -off, with a hand on each shoulder, did something besides the madness -of joy at his father's homecoming begin to thrust itself upon Peter. -Then he saw the change--the naked breast, the half-bared arms, the mud -and the rags, and the face and hair in which years had stamped their -heels unpityingly. He tried to choke back his horror, to keep it out -of his face, and to do this he laughed--laughed through the tears and -sobbing breath--and pointed to a white birch tree in which a blue jay -was screaming. - -"The blue jay, dad!" he cried. "Remember that day--behind the log--with -the blue jay in the tree-top, and the sapsucker pecking at our elbows, -and the violets between my knees----" - -The hands on his shoulders were relaxing. - -"I've never seen a blue jay but what I've thought--of you," said -Donald McRae. "And the river--behind us--and how we got away from -the police--and the rabbits we roasted--and--and----" The world was -twisting and turning round again. He tried to smile, and reached -out gropingly for Peter. "The swamp was hot, Peter. And I am -tired--tired----" - -Peter's arms caught him as he swayed. His thin face was whiter, and his -eyes closed as he still tried to smile at his boy. - -Mona, braiding her hair as she waited beyond the willows, heard Peter's -frightened call. When she came running to him he was kneeling beside -his father, cooling his face with water from the pond. Donald McRae lay -upon the grass. He was scarcely breathing, and under the scrub of beard -his emaciated face was like wax. An agony of fear and grief had driven -the happiness out of Peter's face, and he tried to speak as he looked -up at Mona. - -She saw what had happened as she knelt beside him and took Donald -McRae's head tenderly in her arms. Excitement and his last great -effort to fight down his weakness had given a semblance of strength to -this shell of a man. But it was gone now, and the full measure of its -tragedy struck like a charge of lead to Peter's heart. - -Mona, feeling Peter's grief, and guessing swiftly the thought that -had made his wordless lips white and trembling, said to comfort him: -"He hasn't been this way long, Peter. It was the swamp. He told me -the police were after him, and he hid himself there. The heat--bad -water----" - -She tried futilely to explain away the horror of the thing--to make -Peter believe this wreck of a man was not the product of months and -years of hardship and suffering, but had reached his condition because -of a passing torment that had covered only a few days in the swamp. -But she knew she was failing, and she stopped before she had finished, -with her head bowed before Peter's eyes. She heard his tense lips -whisper "the police" as if the words choked him as they came out, and -then he went down again to the edge of the pool for water. She wet her -handkerchief when he returned and held it over Donald's eyes, and Peter -unlaced the worn-out, muddy boots--and suddenly a sound came from him, -a little cry of unutterable understanding as his hand found in the -trampled grass the half-eaten carrot which his father had dropped. - -She had never seen Peter's face so white, and never before had she seen -a look in his blue eyes so unlike the Peter she had grown up with, and -played with, and loved. - -"He is breathing easier," she said. "It was the excitement, the -shock----" - -He nodded, and replied in a dead, even voice: "I know what it was, -_Ange_. I know." He took one of his father's hands and held it between -his own, looking at the face in Mona's arms into which life was -beginning to return and breath to come more evenly. "It has been a -long time, dad. Six years--six years like those three days when the -police were hunting us in the forest, and you caught rabbits for me to -eat. But it is ended now." - -Mona's heart throbbed. "We will keep him with us, Peter--always! We -will hide him--somewhere--never let him go away again! Oh, it will be -easy for us to do that, and Father Albanel--and Simon--will help us----" - -A deeper breath trembled on Donald McRae's lips, but it was not that -breath, or the faint moan that came with it, that stopped her before -she had finished. Peter was looking over her head at something beyond -her. He dropped his father's hand, and what she saw in his face drew -a gasping cry from her even before she knew its cause. She turned and -looked. And then, in an instant, she was on her feet with Peter. - -So quietly that no sound of footfall or breaking twig had given warning -of his approach, a man had stolen upon them. He stood not a dozen feet -away, dressed in the field service uniform of the Provincial Police. -That was the first terrible fact which telegraphed itself to her brain; -the man was an officer, he was after Donald McRae, and he had caught -them! But this first alarm gave place to a greater shock as her eyes -saw the face above the uniform. It was a large, coarse face streaming -with sweat; the lips were heavy, the nose big, and the eyes were small -and too close together for one who bulked so large. It was a face -filled with triumph--an exultation which the man made dramatically -poignant as he stood with his heavy hands on his hips, looking from one -to the other with a smile that was deadly in its promise twisting the -corners of his mouth. - -He did not speak, did not even move, but waited while his presence -crushed like a weight of horror upon the two who were staring at him. -His eyes rested on Mona, and the wicked gleam in them--the thought -which they could not hide, merciless, sure, almost gloating--drew -his name from her lips in a cry that was filled with fear, with half -disbelief, with a note that almost called for pity. - -"_Aleck--Curry!_" - -The man's heavy head nodded, but he did not speak. It was still too -great a moment of triumph to be broken by voice. He looked at Peter, -and then, slowly, significantly, at the unconscious form of Peter's -father. God could not have given him a greater hour than this! For if -it had not been for that man and for Peter, he might have had the girl. -It was Peter who had come in his way from that first day when they had -fought over Mona in the edge of the clearing; it was Peter who had -whipped him, Peter whom he had grown to hate above all other things on -earth--and it was Peter's heart and soul and happiness, almost his very -life, that he now held in the hollow of his hand! - -And he would make him pay. - -"Yes, _it is ended now_," he said, repeating Peter's words of a few -moments before. "And I'm rather glad. The swamp was hot and filled with -mosquitoes." - -Something clinked as he fumbled at his belt and the sound sent a chill -of horror through Mona. He held out the manacle irons so that she could -see them. - -"I've got to do it," he said, a mocking apology in his voice. -"Distasteful, but necessary." He faced Peter. "Your father knew we -were close behind him, and it won't do him any good to play dead. He's -slippery, and I'm going to put these on him. I guess----" He swung his -heavy head toward Mona again. "I guess Father Albanel and old Simon -can't help him very much from now on. It was nice of you to think of -it, though, Mona. You were always so tender-hearted--when it came to -Peter!" - -He was still the old bully and his voice trembled with the suppression -of his triumph. This was his master stroke. It was not capture of the -man whom the law would condemn to hang that thrilled him most; it was -the twisted beauty in Mona's face, the shock and terror in her eyes, -and the helplessness and despair he saw in Peter's. He did not hurry, -did not call for an instant upon the dignity of the law, but twisted -the knife of his vengeance slowly. - -When Mona's eyes turned from him to Peter her heart stood still. He -was gray. There was no blood in his lips. He was looking down upon the -still, upturned face of his father, and his hands were clenched. When -he raised his head she saw that his eyes were no longer Peter's eyes. -He advanced slowly toward Aleck Curry, and the manacles rattled as -Aleck dropped them to his belt and shifted a hand to his pistol holster. - -Peter did not hear the click of steel or sense the menace of the -shifting hand. One thought pounded maddeningly in his brain; his father -had come back to him, he was _home_, and in the first hour of his -return this beast had come into their lives again to break down every -hope and prayer they had built up during the years. In Aleck Curry he -saw not only that merciless law which had run his father like a rat -from hole to hole, but a monster of vicious hate, a lustful, bullying -boy grown into a still more vicious giant--and Peter's desire was to -kill him. - -Mona saw the deadly intent in his slow advance even as Aleck Curry -saw it. She saw more--the hand on the pistol, the tightening fingers, -the dangerous gleam that flashed in Aleck's eyes--and Peter with only -his naked hands! A cry of warning came to her lips--of a terror which -robbed her of the power to move. The cry ended in a scream, for as -Peter leaped in, Aleck raised the pistol and fired. A terrible sickness -came over her, a sickness which for an instant swept away her strength. - -Peter felt the hot breath of the pistol in his face and the explosion -was so near it fell like a blow against his eardrums. It was not a shot -intended only to frighten him, for death had missed him by less than -the width of his hand. Aleck released the trigger of his automatic -and crooked his finger again, but even quicker than that movement was -Peter, who flung himself with all his weight under his enemy's arm -as the second shot was fired. He did not strike, but with both hands -clutched Aleck's wrist, and at the same time tripped his foe so that -they went to the earth together, with Aleck on his back. - -In this instant there came upon Peter a crushing realization of the -almost deadly odds against him. Into every nerve of his body flashed -the truth--that he was fighting a man who wanted to kill him, who in -reality had the right to kill him, and whom the law would not only -vindicate but would commend for killing him. He was an outlaw, fighting -against the almighty omniscience of that law, and what the world would -regard as justice. And his survival now, like that of his father, -depended upon beating it. He must break his enemy's wrist. Get the gun. -Kill or be killed. - -Every ounce of his strength he exerted upon the wrist as Aleck flung -his free arm in a powerful and throttling embrace about his neck. He -drew the wrist in, twisted it, and tried with a sudden effort to give -it the final breaking snap, but it was like a piece of steel that would -not break. The thick fingers did not loosen their hold on the pistol, -and in spite of his desperate effort Peter's staring eyes saw the black -muzzle of the weapon forcing itself a fraction of an inch at a time -toward his body. - -Now, when it was too late, he knew that in this close embrace he was -not a match for Aleck. His quickness and his tirelessness counted for -nothing. Aleck, slow, heavy, with not a quarter of his endurance, but -with the brute strength of three men in his coarse body, could crush -the life out of him in close quarters. Yet these first few thrilling -instants Peter knew this thought was not in the other's mind. All of -his enemy's great strength was being exerted in an effort to point the -pistol at his body. - -Those two or three minutes in which he knew he was fighting to save his -life seemed like an eternity to Peter. He saw Aleck's face, twisted in -a leering grin, its bloodshot eyes laughing at him, its thick mouth -mocking him as the powerful arm and wrist broke down with a slow, -torturing sureness all the force he was putting against it. The gun -was already at right angles to his body, and suddenly Peter realized -why Aleck Curry had not used the choking force of his other arm before -this. He had waited for the right moment--and that moment had come. The -arm tightened. It was like a half-ring of steel, crushing Peter's neck -and twisting his head so that his widening eyes left the pistol and -stared into the lower branches of the ash tree. - -In that moment he saw Mona. She was staggering up from the edge of the -pond with something in her hands which looked like a chunk of mud. Her -face passed over him, desperately white, and then she had fallen on her -knees and he could hear the _beat_, _beat, eat_ of that something in -her hands close to his ears. A terrible cry came from Aleck Curry, and -the throttling arm about Peter's neck relaxed until he could turn his -head again, and he saw Mona pounding his foe's pistol hand with the -stone that had looked like a chunk of mud. He saw the hand redden with -blood saw the thick fingers loosen their grip on the pistol, and then -swift as a flash Mona had snatched the big automatic and was backing -away with it in her hand. - -With a mighty, upward heave of his body Peter freed himself, and with -that movement came a wild cry out of him, a joyous approval of what -Mona had done. Aleck lunged after him. They came to their feet. Peter's -fist shot out to the other's jaw, and as Aleck staggered backward, -almost falling under the force of the blow, Peter turned to take the -pistol from Mona. She was halfway to the pond, and even as he cried out -in warning and dismay the weapon left her hand, circled through the air -and disappeared with a splash in the water. At his cry she faced him -and ran back and thrust the mud-covered rock in his hand. Then he saw -the terror in her eyes--the agony of fear that had made her throw away -the weapon that had almost taken his life. - -He let the rock slip from his fingers and fall to the ground in spite -of the exclamation of protest which came from her white lips. He did -not see her stoop quickly and pick it up as he advanced to meet Aleck -Curry. His foe was hunched forward, like a gorilla, his head lowered, -his huge fists clenched, his face distorted by the shock of Peter's -blow and a rage which gave him a terrible aspect. - -Then he rushed in, his arms apart, his great hands reaching for the man -he hated. With the quickness of a cat Peter met his attack, avoiding -the arms and the huge hands, leaping in, striking and darting back. -He drove blow after blow, and one of them, catching Aleck again on -the jaw, had behind it all the weight and force of his body. But even -that scarcely more than rocked the brutish head on its thick neck. -He advanced slowly and steadily, taking the blows as he moved like a -juggernaut upon Peter, driving him an inch at a time toward the edge of -the pool. - -Suddenly Mona ran in from behind, and with both hands she raised her -stone and beat it between Aleck's shoulders. She raised it again, -trying to strike his neck or his head, when with a bellow Aleck flung -himself around, his great arm flying out like a beam. The blow caught -Mona with all its force and sent her in a crumpled heap to the earth. -Not a cry came from her lips, but a yell of fury burst from Peter's. He -rushed in, and a hurricane of blows smashed into Aleck's face, cutting -his lips, blinding him and choking the breath in his throat. But in -that blindness and pain his hand reached out and caught Peter as their -feet sank in the mud at the edge of the pond. A cry of triumph came -from his bleeding mouth. At last his moment had come. - -As Peter felt himself dragged into the deadly embrace his mind worked -swiftly. His one chance now lay in the depths of the pool, and unless -he could get his enemy there he was lost. Thrusting up his hands, he -clenched them in Aleck's hair and put all his weight in dragging the -head downward. The movement had its effect, and a step was gained -toward the edge of the muddy shelf that terminated abruptly in eight -feet of water. Unconscious of the trap, Aleck bent himself forward, -putting all the crushing strength of his arms in the grip about Peter's -body, and as Peter flung the weight of his head and shoulders in the -same direction their balance was upset and they plunged into the pond. - -As they struck the water Peter drew a great breath into his lungs, -and in the same moment his foe relaxed his grip and began to flounder -wildly in an element in which, even in the days of their boyhood, he -had never been at home. His face rose above the surface for an instant, -and Mona saw it as she staggered to the edge of the pond. It was then -a deadly weight attached itself to one of his kicking legs, and not -until Peter had dragged his burden to the muddy bottom of the beaver -stronghold did he release his hold. He shot up for air, and scarcely -had Aleck's body struggled to the surface when he dived again, and a -second time bore his victim under. This time he expelled most of the -air in his lungs, and for a few seconds hung on like an anchor. - -A third and a fourth time, Aleck rose, fighting for his life, but -the fifth time it was Peter who buoyed him up and brought him nearly -unconscious to the shore. He noticed the livid mark made by Aleck's -hand on Mona's forehead as she helped him drag the heavy body out of -the water. In another half-minute he had the manacles intended for his -father about Curry's wrists, and with his belt he securely lashed his -prisoner's legs together. Then he faced Mona. - -The same question was in their eyes. In Mona's it was a wordless -terror. Peter looked at his father. He was stirring. A hand rose weakly -from the grass. He had seen nothing of the struggle, heard nothing, and -thought of him was first to leap into Peter's mind. - -"He doesn't know what has happened!" he panted. "We must get him -away, Mona. If anything would kill him now, it would be knowledge of -this--that the law has found him--and that I--in helping him--have -become an outlaw myself." - -She came to him quickly and put her hands to his face, just as she -had done on that other day years ago when he had fought his great -battle with Aleck. "They can't blame you alone, Peter. I helped." She -held up her lips, but instead of kissing them he pressed his own to -the reddening mark on her forehead. "There is the little cabin," she -whispered. "We can take your father there. And--I love you, Peter!" - -She stood back from him, her eyes shining with sudden inspiration. - -Aleck Curry had coughed the water out of his lungs and was twisting -in his bonds. His voice called loudly as Peter bent over his father. -Donald's eyes were opening. - -"We must hurry!" urged Mona. "We must get away--where he is safe--where -he cannot be found!" - -Peter raised his father in his arms. The weight of the emaciated body -sent a stab of pain through him. It was as if he had picked up the limp -form of a boy. - -Mona, close at his side, smiled into the grief-filled eyes he turned -toward her. Together they hurried across the meadow. And then Mona ran -on ahead, following a scarcely worn path through deep timber until in a -few moments she came to another little meadow; here, under a clump of -hardwoods, was a tiny cabin of logs--the "play-house" Peter had built -for her two winters ago as a refuge and rest place for her when she -came to visit her beaver pets. Inside a screened porch was a couch of -saplings, and on this she had spread blankets and cushions by the time -Peter arrived. - -Donald's eyes were wide open, and he was smiling up wanly at Peter. -"Never thought the day would come when you'd be lugging your dad -around like this, did you, Peter?" he asked, and tried to laugh. But -the moment his head touched the soft cushions his eyes closed again. -Peter drew Mona away. "There is a boat down on the shore of the lake," -he said, his voice steady again. "I'm going to force Aleck Curry -into it and take him out to that little rock island two miles from -the mainland. No one ever goes near it, and we can keep him there a -prisoner until dad gets well, and then----" An angry yell came from the -beaver pond. "Aleck is getting nervous," he finished. "You stay with -dad, Mona. Tell him I've gone to Five Fingers for things he needs. I'll -come back that way, and will get here before dark. Good-by, _Ange_!" - -He kissed her. For a moment Mona clung to his hand. - -"When you are down by the big stub--and if everything is all -right--send me back the call," she entreated. - -She watched him until he disappeared. Then she sat down close beside -Donald McRae and held one of his limp hands. After what seemed to be a -long time there came back to her clearly Peter's signal-cry, telling -her that all was well, and that he was on his way to the prison island -with Aleck Curry. - -Over the forest fell a deep and quieting silence. Never had it seemed -so intense to Mona, as she sat with Donald McRae's hand held closely -in her own. The man's fingers were intertwined with hers as if he was -afraid she would leave him; and his breath, coming more evenly and yet -as faintly as the breath of a child, told her that complete exhaustion -had at last overcome him with a sleep that was almost like death. - -Twilight dusk began to fill the aisles of the woods, and with this dusk -the last red glow died out of the west, and with it came the hour Mona -loved more than all others--when darkness began to close in a velvety -mantle over the world. The stillness, the soft whisperings of the -forest and the peace that always came with night gave her courage and -strengthened her faith. And at last, from beyond the beaver pond, she -heard again Peter's cry. He was returning. - -And as if he, too, had heard that cry, Donald McRae stirred softly and -whispered Peter's name. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - - -Quietly Mona went out to meet Peter. "He is sleeping," she said, as -Peter's arm closed about her in the thickening darkness. "If he can -only pass the night that way he will be strong and well again in the -morning." Yet her voice trembled as she tried to bring him comfort. -"Aleck is safe?" she whispered. "He is on the island?" - -"Yes, he is safe for tonight--and maybe for a number of days. After -that----" - -He stopped, not knowing how to finish, and Mona's soft hand caressed -his cheek. "We will tell Simon, and Uncle Pierre, and Father Albanel," -she suggested. "Surely they will know how to help us!" - -"I've been thinking about that," he said slowly, with his lips against -her hair. "You must promise me not to tell them, Mona. I think it is -necessary. At least they must not know until tomorrow or the next day. -Will you remember that?" - -"You are sure it is best?" - -"I believe so." - -"Then I will remember." - -They drew near to the door of the cabin and listened. Faintly they -could hear Donald McRae's breath as he slept. - -"I must take you home," he whispered. - -They hurried through the gloom, hand in hand. In half an hour they -had reached the cliff trail that led to Five Fingers, and here Mona -insisted that Peter turn back, while she went on alone. She was glad -Pierre and Josette were at Joe's house when she came to the settlement. -She called good night to them through the open door, and went to her -room, with the excuse that she was tired. - -She sat down at her window, and watched the moon come up. Later she -heard Pierre and Josette when they returned. And after that, one after -another, the lights went out in Five Fingers until the cabins lay like -great shadows in the slumbering stillness. In this stillness she heard -the clock in her bedroom tick off every second of the hours. - -Until now she had never believed that answered prayer could bring with -it a grimness and torture of tragedy like that which had descended -upon her life and Peter's. Passionately she sobbed out her hatred for -Aleck Curry, the monster who at last had descended upon them with his -vengeance. - -As the hours dragged on she found herself fighting more and more -desperately against the desire to steal quietly from her room, tiptoe -down the stairs and go to Simon McQuarrie's cabin that she might -confide in him all that had happened that afternoon. Only Peter's -warning to keep their secret locked tightly in her own breast held -her back. Yet in Simon rested her last hope, for from the first day -Peter had come into the old Scotchman's life he had found home--and a -protection and love which in Mona's thoughts made him almost of Simon's -flesh and blood. The impulse to go to him--to be false to Peter for -the first time in her life--was a torment in her brain, and where -one little voice had urged her at first, a hundred added to their -insistence now. Slowly the revolt became a conviction that it was right -and reasonable she should go to Simon, in spite of her promise to Peter. - -Quietly she opened the door to her room and went down the stairs, -making no sound to disturb Pierre and Josette Gourdon. A slim, pale -figure, she crossed the clearing and paused in the shadow of the cabin -where the Scotchman lived. Instinctively she looked up at Peter's -window even though she knew he was in the forest with his father. -Then she knocked on the door. Her heart throbbed as she listened for -a response inside. It seemed to beat loudly, as if crying out against -her faithlessness in breaking a promise to Peter. She knocked again, -and in a moment she could hear McQuarrie moving. She counted his slow -footsteps as they came across the floor. Then the door opened, and his -tall, gaunt figure stood above her, swathed in a nightgown that fell to -the toes of his feet. At any other time Mona would have laughed at the -grotesqueness of his appearance as he stared down into her white face, -with a nightcap on the back of his head. - -He reached out a hand. "_Ange!_" he gasped. "_You!_ What is the matter?" - -She slipped past him and closed the door. - -"Please light a lamp," she said. "Please----" - -Simon struck a match. The flare of it illumined his face, tense and set -in its amazement. When the lamp was lighted he took down a coat from a -peg in the wall and put it on. Then he turned to Mona again. She stood -before him with her hands clasped at her breast, and in her dark eyes -was a look that alarmed him. And he could see in her bare throat the -little heart-beating throb that always came when she was stirred by -deep emotion. - -With a desperate little cry she caught his hand. "Something terrible -has happened," she whispered. "Something--you should know. But I -promised Peter. I promised him I would tell no one--not even you. But -I've got to turn that promise into a lie. If I don't----" The words -broke on her lips. And then: "Peter's father has come back. He is with -Peter now in the cabin near the beaver pond!" - -Simon McQuarrie stood back from her, his hands dropping slowly and -limply to his sides. Then he raised one of them as if to brush a -shadow from his forehead, and his nightcap fell to the floor. "Donald -McRae--has come back!" he repeated, and the deep lines in his face -softened as Mona looked at him, and joy trembled in his voice when he -spoke. "Thank God, _Ange_! Why do you think it is so terrible? We have -waited and hoped for a long time----" He stopped. What he saw in her -face and eyes swept a sudden change into his own, and he caught her arm -as the gladness died on his lips. "Has anything happened?" he demanded. -"Has anything happened--to Peter--or to Donald McRae?" - -She began telling him in a low voice, while Simon stared at her with -his big hands reaching out as if to grip at something in the space -between them. - -"I was at the beaver pond when Peter's father staggered out of the -willows and almost fell at my feet. I didn't know who the man was, but -he was sick and tired and starving--so hungry he ate carrots I had -meant for the beavers. I gave him our lunch, and while he was eating I -learned he was Peter's father. It made me happy. Peter was coming to -join me, and I told Donald McRae. He begged me not to let Peter know -he was there. He wanted to hide in the bushes, and look at him without -being seen, and then go away again. He said that was why he had come -back--just to get a look at his boy. He told me the police were after -him again, that they were driving him like a rat from hole to hole, and -that his presence could only bring unhappiness and tragedy to Peter. So -he hid in the willows, and Peter came." - -"And then?" - -"In the end Peter's father staggered out of the bushes, and I left -them together. Peter called me a little later and I ran back. Donald -McRae was on the ground and at first I thought he was dead. Not until -then did I realize how terribly sick and weak he was. We were on our -knees beside him when he looked up, and there--there--grinning down at -us--was the man Peter's father had been running away from. Oh, he was -terrible--big and sweaty and leering down at us, almost laughing in his -triumph, and--Simon--Simon--it was _Aleck Curry_!" - -Her despair broke in a sobbing cry, and now the bones of Simon's great -hands made a snapping sound as he clenched them, and his thin, hard -face was gray in the glow of the lamp. "What happened then, Mona?" - -"When Aleck went to put the manacles on Peter's father there was a -fight--a terrible fight--and Aleck tried to kill Peter with a gun. He -shot twice. I helped with a stone, and at last Peter got him into the -pond, and almost drowned him. His father was still unconscious when we -carried him to the cabin. Then Peter took Aleck down to his boat and to -the little rock island two miles out from the shore. He is there now--a -prisoner. And--what will happen to Peter? What can the law do to him?" - -Simon paced slowly back and forth across the floor. His face was a mask -of iron. His long nightgown flapped about his feet, and again his big, -hard hands hung limp and straight at his sides. - -"If Aleck escapes from the island and arrests Peter, or reports -the affair to headquarters, it means the penitentiary," he said as -if speaking to himself rather than to Mona. "And that is what will -happen--if Curry has his way. He hates Peter. He would like to see -Donald McRae hung, and Peter in prison, and _you_----" A tigerish gleam -was in his eyes as he faced her. "Why didn't Peter kill him when he -had the chance?" he cried, as for a single moment his self-control -broke its leash. "As a boy he was a brute and a bully, and as a man his -soul is that of a monster--even though now he is a part of the law. -He wanted you--always. I know it and could see it even when you were -children. And for what he wants he would wreck the world. Why didn't -Peter kill him? Why--with these two hands----" He reached out his long -arms and his fingers closed like talons of steel. Then he checked -his passion. His arms dropped again. "But it is best he didn't," he -finished. "It is best--even though a snake has a better right to live -than Aleck Curry!" - -He continued his pacing across the floor, and with each step his stern -face grew harder until at last it seemed to have no emotion at all--the -hard, set, fighting face which Simon McQuarrie always turned upon his -enemies. For a few moments he seemed to forget Mona. Then he asked: -"What is Peter going to do? What does he _plan_ to do?" - -The question was so sharp it sent a little shiver through her, and -Simon's eyes were looking at her with the steely coldness of ice. - -"I don't know. Peter doesn't know--except that he means to keep Aleck -Curry on the island until his father is well and can get safely away." - -Simon grunted. "You mean the rock with nothing on it--two miles -straight out from the beaver pond?" - -"Yes." - -The fingers of Simon's hands were twisting again. - -"Constable Carter dropped in on us late this afternoon," he said -shortly. "He told Pierre and Dominique he was on his way into the -Georgian Bay country and would rest here for a few days. He lied. He's -working with Aleck Curry, and if Aleck doesn't show up soon--if he -starts smoke signals going out on the island, and Carter sees them----" - -"Aleck hasn't any matches," Mona interrupted him quickly. "Peter took -them away from him." - -Simon's face was lightened for an instant by a flash of exultation. -"Peter is improving," he conceded. "If he had only used as good -judgment at the beaver pond, when he could have rid us of this snake -forever----" - -Mona's cry of horror stopped him. In a moment he was at her side, and -his long arms were about her tenderly. "I didn't mean that, Ange!" he -cried, trying to laugh as he saw the agony of fear in her eyes. "It's -a bad situation, so bad that I don't see a way out for Peter just -now--but we won't kill Aleck, and we'll get Peter out of it somehow. -He was right in making you promise not to tell anyone, and I'll keep it -all to myself--even from Peter and my old friend Donald McRae--until -Carter leaves the settlement. I'll manage to get him away in a day or -two. And meanwhile you and Peter must keep Curry on the island, and -watch every step you take so that Carter won't get suspicious. And -above everything else--_most important of all_--don't tell Peter you -have confided in me. Let me know everything that happens, but don't -tell Peter that I know. Do you understand, Mona?" - -She felt the suppression of something in his voice that was unlike -Simon McQuarrie, something that thrilled and frightened her, yet she -nodded her head and said: "Yes, I understand. I won't let Peter know. -And I'll tell you--everything." - -His arms drew her a little closer, and in him above all other men -she had faith in that moment. She did not see his face above her, a -face which for a single instant darkened with a look so pitiless and -menacing that even Simon sensed the danger of its betrayal, and held -her for a moment longer. Then with the gentleness which love for Mona -and Peter had bred into his stern nature, he led her to the door. - -"You must go home now, and to bed," he said. "It is your fight as -well as Peter's, and you mustn't let anyone see that you are worried -tomorrow--especially Carter." He opened the door. "Good night, _Ange_!" - -"Good night!" she whispered as she slipped out. - -He closed the door and listened for a moment to her retreating -footsteps. When he faced the lamp and looked up at Peter's room, a new -and strange light was in his eyes, and he spoke softly, as if to the -spirit of someone who was waiting and listening up there. - -"It's my turn now, and I'll care for Peter," he said. "A long time ago -Donald McRae killed the man who insulted his mother, and it is no more -than right and just that Simon McQuarrie should kill the man who would -destroy her boy." - -Then, slowly, he began to dress. - -For a little while Mona hesitated in the shadow of the tall spruce tree -that grew not far from Simon's door. She could hear her heart beating -as she looked back at the light in the cabin. She was glad it was over, -glad she had told Simon the truth, even as she thought of her promise -to Peter. - -Yet one thing she had kept to herself, and for a moment she felt the -urge to go back and confide in the iron-willed Scotchman her own -personal fear of Aleck Curry. Never until this night had she been -afraid of him. She had defied and hated him as a young girl, and as -she grew older had loathed and repulsed him for the persistence of his -passion. To fear him had never entered her head, even in the days when -once or twice she had used her hands in defending herself against, his -unwelcome attentions. - -But now she knew that Aleck's hour had come. Even though he was -temporarily a prisoner on the island, he held her happiness and Peter's -fate in the hollow of his hand. That fact, its significance, its -terrible import for her, she had seen in Aleck's exultant face and eyes -at the pool. In that hour his joy and triumph was not that he had run -down Peter's father, but that _she_ at last had come within the reach -of his desires. And the fight had added to his mastery, for it had -outlawed Peter and had given to the man she hated the final power to -wreck her world. And she, of all that world, was the only one who knew -what Aleck's price for the freedom of those she loved would be. - -The thought was a monstrous thing in her brain. She had fought it, -had beaten it back with the strength of her will, and she struggled -with it again as she turned away from the light in Simon's window. -Her hands clenched and a bit of savagery leaped through her blood as -she went again through the moonlight. She had seen the deadly fire in -the Scotchman's eyes, and that fire was now in her own. Over and over -she told herself that she was still unafraid of Aleck Curry. Her lips -whispered the words. But in her heart, fixed and implacable, remained -the fear. - -She had almost reached the shadow of Pierre Gourdon's cabin when -a figure stepped out to meet her. It was Peter. His startled face -questioned her in the moonlight. - -"I thought you were asleep," he said in a low voice. "And so--I was -passing under your window. I wanted to be near you for a few moments." - -He put his arms about her and looked anxiously into her face, and then -he laid his lips against her soft hair. - -"It was impossible." She shivered against him. "I undressed, as you -told me to do, and I went to bed. But I had to get up. I kept thinking, -thinking--until I felt like screaming, or jumping out of my window and -running to you." - -"You are a little frightened, _Ange_--after what happened at the pool. -But it will all come out right. Aleck is safe. He can't harm us----" - -She looked up quickly, and saw in his eyes the same look that had been -in Simon's. Her arms tightened about him. - -"Peter, you don't need to hide anything from me," she protested. "We're -both thinking the same thing--afraid of the same thing. It's Aleck -Curry--and what he will do when he gets off the island. We can keep him -there until your father is well, and safe. But after that--what will -happen to you?" - -Peter tried to laugh. "They can't do anything worse than send me to -prison, and if they do that--would you mind waiting for me, _Ange_?" - -She knew the effort he was making to speak lightly, almost playfully, -and her heart throbbed with the eager quickness of her answer. "I would -wait for you all my life, Peter." - -With a sudden movement he drew her into the shadow of the cabin. His -eyes were searching the farther edge of the clearing. - -"Look!" he said. - -Her eyes pierced the moon glow. And then, dimly, she saw a moving -shadow. It came nearer, and turned toward Simon's cabin. Instinctively -she guessed who it was, but waited for Peter to speak. - -"I found him nosing around when I returned to the settlement," he said. -"A little while ago he was here, looking up at your window; then he -went to Simon's, and afterward sneaked off into the edge of the forest. -I don't know who he is, but I was within ten feet of him and he wears a -uniform like Aleck's. He is watching for dad. He is also suspicious and -is wondering why Aleck doesn't show up." - -"His name is Carter," said Mona. "He came to Five Fingers this -afternoon." - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - - -For a long time they stood in the shadow of the cabin, and the sleepy -stillness of the night with its soft chirping of crickets and gentle -murmuring of the lake surf brought a soothing peace to Mona. With -Peter's arms about her she was no longer afraid. He told her what had -happened since she left his father. Twice Donald McRae had awakened -from his sleep of exhaustion and had asked for her. A thrill of -pleasure was in Peter's voice as he told her this; it made him happy -to know that his father loved her, and that he even whispered her name -in his feverish slumber. Some day the whole of their prayer would be -answered; things would turn out right; and they would all be happy. - -Not until he had gone, and she was alone in her room, did Mona note how -swiftly the time had passed. The hour hand of the little clock was at -three. She did not undress, but sat down at her window, with her face -turned toward the coming of the dawn. And now that Peter's love and -the unbreakable strength of his optimism were no longer at her side, -her thoughts began pressing upon her again, dispelling the comfort he -had given her and weakening once more her faith and hope in what the -day would bring. She was glad she confided in Simon, for he was the -rock to which she clung in these hours of her own helplessness. And -yet--what could Simon do? Wherein was he less helpless than herself--or -Peter? She shivered as she recalled the grim and terrible look that -had last rested in his face. And that same look had been in Peter's--a -flash which he had tried to hide from her! Her heart jumped and for an -instant her fingers clutched at the sill of her window. Would one of -them--Simon or Peter--_kill Aleck Curry_? - -It seemed to her that a terrible truth rushed upon her all at once and -caught like a living thing at her throat until it was difficult for -her to breathe. There was no hope for Peter as long as Aleck lived! -The words almost came from her lips. Unless Peter ran away, wandering -and hiding like his father, no power could keep him from going to -prison. But if Aleck should never leave the little island--if he died -there--and no one knew of the fight at the pool---- - -She bowed her face in her arms. It would be so easy of -accomplishment--so terribly and frighteningly easy! Peter might do it! -And Simon--the look in his face--his eyes--what he said---- - -"No, no, no," she whispered to herself. "Anything--anything but that!" - -She raised her head to meet the first rose-flush of the dawn. But this -morning there was no responsive thrill in Mona's breast. A question -was repeating itself in her brain. Would she be able to go through -the day without giving herself away? Could she meet Pierre and Josette -Gourdon, and Marie Antoinette, and Father Albanel, and Adette and Jame -Clamart--and not let them see her torture? Would it show in her face -when she met Carter, of the Provincial Police? - -Until the first white spirals of smoke began rising from the cabin -chimneys she sat at her window. Then she rose, and her beautiful face -was almost stern in its resolution. She let the sunlight stream into -her room, and in its radiance she unbraided her hair and brushed it -until it lay about her in the rippling glory that made Peter the -happiest and proudest of all men. She dressed it carefully, and -tried to sing as she made herself ready to help Josette with the -breakfast--for she always sang in this first hour of the day. But the -notes seemed to stifle her this morning. - -It was then, looking out from her window, that she saw a grayish haze -rising between her and the face of the sun, and the smell of it came to -her faintly. It was smoke. - -When she went below it was Pierre she met first. He kissed her. But -anxiety was in his face. - -"It is happening again this year," he said. "The forests to the north -and west are afire. It will not come near Five Fingers, but it makes my -heart ache to know that a world is being turned dead and black because -of someone's carelessness!" - -So it was the fire which gave Mona an excuse for what was lacking in -her eyes when she went to help Josette with the breakfast. And it was -this same fire, with its thickening gloom of smoke, which helped her -through the day. For to Mona a living tree had life and soul, and to -see trees destroyed in countless thousands was a tragedy in her life -only a little less terrible than the plague of smallpox which had once -cast its shadow upon Five Fingers. - -She went to Simon's cabin as soon after breakfast as she could make -an excuse, and there she met Carter. Her first glimpse of him filled -her with uneasiness and dislike. He was a hawk-nosed, shifty-eyed man -in whom nature seemed to have sacrificed every softening quality to -an uncompromising sense of duty, and his eyes rested upon her face so -intently as Simon introduced them that she felt her heart tremble. But -if he knew of her previous visit to Simon's cabin, or of her meeting -with Peter, he gave no evidence of it, and after a casual remark or two -about the fire he left her alone with the Scotchman. - -A worried look was in McQuarrie's eyes. - -"I've found out more about Carter," he said. "He is the best man in -this division and is never sent out on minor affairs. Leaving us so -quickly right now shows how clever he is. He doesn't want to create -suspicion. He dropped in to ask me the best trail northwest, and says -he is going to leave in half an hour to make a report on the fire. -That's another lie. In the woods he is like a cat, and he won't go -half a mile from the settlement. He is wondering where Peter is, and if -he once gets on his trail----" Suddenly he drew his hands together, and -a grim smile gathered about his mouth. "If Carter goes to that fire, -I'm going with him!" he exclaimed. "Five Fingers is interested, and he -cannot very well turn me down." - -In a few words Mona told of Peter's visit; and then, standing so near -that he could not avoid the directness of her eyes, she gave low voice -to her suspicion that either he or Peter was planning to kill Aleck -Curry. - -The effect of her words on Simon startled her. He stood dumb, staring -at her. Then one of his bony hands reached out and rested on her -shoulder. Its fingers hurt her. "Don't even whisper that anywhere--but -here," he said. "You understand? _Don't!_ Peter won't kill him. And I'm -not worrying about Aleck Curry now. It's Carter." - -He left her without another word, and went out to overtake Carter. -There was something so grim and foreboding in his movement that it -chilled her, and as she dropped a few steps behind him she noticed his -boots. At midnight she had seen them in his cabin, clean and freshly -oiled. Now they were frosted with half-dried mud to their tops. His -sourness, the harshness of his fingers on her shoulder, his silence -now and the aggressive hunch of his shoulders, together with the mud -on his boots, tightened her breath. Had Simon already accomplished the -thing she feared? Was that why he was so anxious to follow Carter, go -with him--get him away from Five Fingers? She ran up to him, meaning to -demand the truth. - -He anticipated her intention and spoke almost roughly. "Don't ask -questions, Mona. Carter has stopped, and is looking. Go home--and stay -in if you can't keep control of yourself." - -The rest of the morning Mona waited anxiously for Peter. At noon, when -they were at dinner, Pierre Gourdon talked of little but the fire. It -had surely crossed the line of rail thirty miles north, he said, and -was traveling steadily eastward. If the wind should quicken and swing -into the south there would be danger to the forests about Five Fingers. -But the settlement itself was safe, protected as it was by fire-lines -and cultivated fields on three sides, and Lake Superior on the other. - -He wondered where Simon McQuarrie was, and asked Mona if she had seen -Peter. He surmised they had gone back to the crests of the high ridges -to make a closer observation of the fire. He had already sent out Jame -Clamart and Poleon Dufresne to guard the northern ridges, and if the -fire threatened to break coastward, all the men in Five Fingers would -go out to fight it. He had made preparations. But he didn't like the -way Peter and Simon were missing, without leaving any word behind them. -Carter was gone, too. - -Afternoon saw smoke settling like a thin fog about the clearing. The -sun was entirely hidden. Animals and fowls came up to the buildings, -and men and women gave up their work to discuss with one another the -possibilities of the next few hours. A dozen times Mona repressed the -desire to steal away and go to the little cabin where Donald McRae was -hidden. She knew Peter was there, and now that the smoke was thickening -she believed he would soon leave for the settlement. - -She noticed how hot and sultry it had grown in the last hour. Scarcely -a breath of air was stirring, and in the middle of the afternoon Adette -Clamart insisted that she go with her for a swim down in the inlet. -While they were in the water Peter came up from the lake in a boat. -His sail was down and he was rowing. Adette Clamart covered her pretty -eyes with her two hands while he bent over to kiss Mona, and in that -moment he whispered, "I want to see you in the cabin." He was acting -strangely, Mona thought. - -A few minutes later she joined him in the cabin. - -"Dad is better," Peter said. "But tonight I'm going to get him -away--somewhere. I'm afraid of the fire. With a bad wind it would be on -us in an hour or two. Right now I want to take some supplies over to -Aleck Curry. Then I'll come back and see you before I return to dad. -There's a little breeze on the lake, and I can make the island in an -hour. Have you seen Carter?" - -"This morning. He hasn't been here since then." - -"And Simon?" - -"He is gone, too." - -She got a bundle she had prepared and said good-by to Peter but not -until he had promised to return directly from the island by way of the -inlet. She watched him until he disappeared in the gray haze that hung -over the water, and then looked at the clock to mark the time he would -be returning. Scarcely had she done this when a figure stalked past one -of the windows. Instantly she recognized it as Simon McQuarrie. He went -straight to his cabin, entered it and closed the door. _And Carter was -not with him!_ - -Her heart throbbed as she went outside, determined to follow him. But -something held her back. Then she forced herself to follow her first -impulse, and a moment later was knocking at Simon's door. There was no -answer. She persisted, knocking loudly and calling his name, and still -there was no response. Then she tried the door and found it locked. -Where there had been fear in her breast there was now conviction. The -tiger in the old Scotchman had been at work, and in his own way--_and -the only way_--he had solved the great problem of her life and Peter's, -and had made the world free again for his old friend Donald McRae. He -had rid the island of Aleck Curry, and had done away with Carter. And -now he wanted to be alone--alone in his cabin! - -Not for a moment did she question the reasonableness of her -conviction. It seized upon her like a many-tentacled thing, choking -back her doubt and overwhelming her with its certainty. It made her -steal pantingly to the edge of the forest, and then to the beginning -of the long finger of spruce and cedar that reached away out to the -entrance of Middle Finger Inlet. Half an hour later she was on the sand -and gravel beach under the big cliff, waiting for Peter's return. And -now she noticed a change in the wind. Loose tresses of her hair blew -seaward. That meant the fire would come over the ridges! - -In another quarter of an hour she could scarcely see the farther side -of Middle Finger Inlet. A black pall of smoke was creeping closer in -the north and west. Then, very faintly, she saw something creeping -up like a ghost out of the smoke gloom of the sea. She knew it was -Peter. He was coming with nerve-racking slowness, it seemed to her. Yet -she did not want to cry out to him until he was nearer. He was using -his oars, and at times there was a half-minute interval between his -strokes. Why was he so slow? Was it because of what he had found on the -island? Surely Simon would have left no telltale signs. So far as Peter -was concerned Aleck Curry could only be _missing_--nothing more! - -A shudder ran through her. Then she cried Peter's name. Her voice -carried strangely clear. There was silence in the boat. The oars were -resting without a sound. - -"Peter," she cried again. "Peter! I am here--on the point!" - -He must have heard her, and it was unusual that he did not answer. -But the oars rattled again, and she could see the shape of the boat -turning slowly, and then growing larger as it came toward her. It was -odd, too, that Peter did not come directly to the point, but grounded -his boat among the big rocks fifty yards below her--a place where he -knew it was difficult for her to go. So she stood on the white sand, -waiting for him. She could hear his boots on the rocks; then she saw -him approaching through a dusk of early twilight thickened by the smoke -of the fire. - -"Here I am, Peter," she called softly. - -It did not seem like Peter, for the figure was grotesquely large, and -slower of movement. She held out her arms, and her eyes were glowing. -It was the smoke and the dusk that made Peter look like that! And then -her heart stopped beating. The figure was within ten feet of her. It -was not Peter. _It was Aleck Curry!_ - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - - -In that moment Mona felt for the first time in her life the giving -way of living tissue under the sudden overwhelming stress of complete -shock. Strength left her body, her arms dropped limply, and she felt -herself swaying, as if about to fall. Had there been anything near her -she would have caught at it. She did not know that to Aleck Curry she -was betraying no physical sign of her weakness--that she was standing -like a lifeless creature carved out of rock, except that her wide eyes -were blazing and her lips parted. What seemed an age to her covered -but a few seconds. Then her mind leaped back, fierce in its command of -her. She was wrong! Simon had not been to the island! He had not harmed -Aleck Curry--and Aleck had returned in Peter's boat. _What had happened -to Peter?_ - -She did not ask the question. It blazed out of her eyes as Aleck -advanced until he was almost within arm's reach of her. He had on only -shirt and trousers, and he was barefooted. She could see his naked -throat. And surprise, joy, the knowledge of his mastery lay in his -heavy face. It was transformed. He smiled at her, and his great arms -reached out as if he were Peter and she would come into them. - -"I made a bargain with Peter," he said, "and he changed places with me. -I made him see how much it meant for him, and for his father, and for -you. I'd let his father go and forget everything--for something I want. -So he changed places with me, and I've come to see you. Lucky you're -here. Lucky you called." - -It was a clumsy lie, and stumbled on his lips. The menace of him -filled her with horror. But she did not let him see it--now. He came a -step nearer, and she backed away from him. Suddenly her mind whipped -inspirational words from her lips. She looked up swiftly to the top of -the cliff. "I don't want Carter to see you here," she cried quickly. -"He walked down the point with me, and I think he's up there." - -The significance of her words was not lost upon Aleck. He moved nearer -to the cliff, so that one above could not see them. She followed him, -fighting back her fear. - -"Why don't you want Carter to see us?" he asked in a throaty whisper. - -"Because--if he saw us--everything would be lost. You would not dare -help me then. And you will, Aleck--you will help me, won't you?" He was -stunned by the change in her. She had laid a hand on his arm. Her eyes -were shining at him. "But you must tell me the truth. There isn't any -need to lie. What did you do to Peter--when he came to the island?" -Her fingers pressed his flesh. There was almost a smile on her lips. - -"The smoke was thick," said Aleck. "I heard him coming and hid in -the water. Then I stunned him with a club. He ain't bad--not badly -hurt--but he's safe enough on the island!" - -Mona crushed back the little cry of relief that wanted to come to -her lips. Her eyes glowed at Aleck, and suddenly one of his big -hands closed about the one she had laid on his arm. She could feel -his breath as he bent over her. "I told you my time would come," he -cried in a husky, exultant voice. "_My day!_ And it's here. I got 'em -both--safe--one to hang, the other----" - -"_Sh-h-h!_" - -She placed a finger to her lips. It was an excuse to draw away from -him, get her hand free--and not let him hear the terrified beating of -her heart. She looked up again at the cliff. - -"Did you hear anything?" - -"No. And if anyone hears _us_ it's going to be your fault and not mine!" - -It was impossible to escape the look in his face and eyes. It was -not necessary for him to use words. But Mona did not flinch from her -peril. It was not only her danger, but Peter's, and Donald McRae's, -and Simon's if he had harmed Carter. It had suddenly and unexpectedly -become her fight--all hers, and she knew that Aleck Curry thought she -was yielding, and that the brute in him was held in leash only by this -belief that was beginning to possess him. If he guessed the truth, -guessed that she was fighting to trick him, nothing would save her, -not even her assertion that Carter was on the cliff above them. So she -smiled again at Aleck, and laughed very softly, with a nervous twisting -of her hands. Her eyes had never looked at him as they were looking at -him now. They were like glowing stars, velvety-soft--hiding hate and -desperation behind them. She had never looked half so beautiful, or so -unresisting, to Aleck Curry. - -Her fingers pressed his arm again. - -"I must get Carter away," she whispered. "I've got to do it, Aleck! He -mustn't know. I'll hurry. And then I'll come back. I promise!" - -Horror seized her as she felt him drawing her toward him. But still -she did not resist. With a low cry his great arms were about her. She -felt herself almost broken against him, and then she was helpless, -her head bent back, and his thick lips killing her with kisses. Again -her strength left her, and she lay limp in his arms, smothered in his -passion. Those moments of helpless and agonized passiveness saved -her. To Aleck it was surrender. His arms loosened and allowed her to -breathe. Weakly she pressed against him, and he allowed her partly to -free herself. But she could still feel his hot breath like a poisonous -fume in her face. He bent forward and kissed her again--on the mouth. -It almost choked her. - -"I must--must get Carter away!" she gasped. "Then I'll come back. If -you won't let me do that, I'll--I'll scream--and Carter will hear us. -But if you'll let me get him away, so he'll never know--never be able -to tell Peter----" - -It was unnecessary for her to finish. Aleck's face was transformed by -an iniquitous joy. He looked close into her face, and she looked back -at him, unafraid. - -"I'll let you go--and get Carter away," he said. "If you don't come -back soon, I'll go to Five Fingers--and you know what that means for -Peter and his father." - -"I'll come," she lied. - -She climbed up the narrow footpath to the top of the cliff, and getting -her breath there, she called Carter's name--loudly enough for Aleck to -hear. - -Then she began to run. She was still weak, and it seemed to her that -the poison of Aleck Curry's embraces and kisses followed her. She began -to sob under her breath. There was no turning of the ways for her now. -She must tell someone the truth--anyone--the first man she met. But -Simon first of all. On the little island Peter might be dying. Maybe -Aleck had killed him, for it was in his power to do so and still be -within the law. She began to moan his name. Then she came to the crest -of a high knoll which was bare of trees, and what she saw ahead of her -stopped her, gulping for breath and almost falling in her exhaustion. - -A wind was in her face. And northward there was no longer a black pall -of smoke but a world afire. The glow of the conflagration reached from -the earth to the sky. It swept in a great arc, and red seas of flame -were leaping from peak to peak of the farther ridges. Pierre Gourdon's -fear had become a reality. The fire was racing with the speed of the -wind itself upon Five Fingers! - -She ran on. Her hair caught in the brush, and she clutched it in front -of her. She came at last to the edge of the clearing and staggered -across it. There were lights in the cabins, in her own home, in Adette -Clamart's, in Dominique Beauvais's and half a dozen others. But Simon's -was dark. Yet she swayed toward that, hopeful to the last--and almost -at the door she came upon Simon. He was rigid and still, like a shadow. -She could see his gray, hard face. Then he heard her panting, heard -her trying to gasp out her terrible news, and his arms reached out and -gathered her to him--and she told him what had happened to Peter. - -Ten minutes later Simon was leaving in a sailboat. - -"It's so dark Curry won't see me when I pass through the mouth of the -inlet," he said. "And I'll reach Peter in half an hour." - -Mona went back to McQuarrie's cabin, climbed to Peter's room and -lighted a lamp. In a cedar box she found Peter's thirty-eight-caliber -automatic and loaded it with skilful fingers. Then she extinguished -the light, descended the ladder and left the cabin in the direction of -her tryst with Aleck Curry. There was only one thing for her to do, -and her mind was quite fixed. It was her right to be at the end of the -point waiting for Simon and Peter. And if Aleck threatened her--or put -his hands on her again--she would kill him. That was the one way out. -It would save Peter, and Peter's father, and herself. - -It was not a monstrous thing but a just and righteous act--this wiping -out of existence of a creature who threatened to destroy everything -that made her world a fit place to live in. - -She had nearly passed the Clamart cabin when a white figure ran out of -the gloom, and she had only time to hide the pistol in her dress when -Adette Clamart was holding her excitedly by the arm. Adette's lovely -face was white, and she was half out of breath from running. - -"It is terrible!" she cried. "Jame says the fire will be at your -beaver pond within an hour, and he has just started in that direction -with Jeremie Poulin and Carter--to keep it from coming over the last -ridge----" - -"Carter!" gasped Mona. - -"Yes. Jame told him about the cabin Peter built, and Carter said -it was a shame not to save it, and the beavers. Jame says it is -impossible--that a hundred men couldn't keep the fire back--but Carter -insisted, and they've gone!" - -Mona tried to force words from her lips, and thanked God that Adette -hurried on, crying back to her that she was making an effort to -overtake Jame before he got out of the clearing, to give him a lunch -which he had forgotten. Carter had returned--and was on his way to the -cabin in which Peter's father was hidden! And that cabin, Jame said, -would be in the heart of the fire within an hour! With Peter dead or -wounded on the island, and Simon gone, what hope was there now for -Donald McRae? If the fire did not reach his cabin first, Carter would -get him, and if the fire beat out Carter---- - -Mona's dry lips gave a little cry. Through the pitch-filled evergreen -forest about the beaver pond the fire would sweep in a destroying -inundation which no living creature could outrace if the wind was -behind it; and Donald McRae, sick and helpless, would be the first -human victim in its descent upon Five Fingers. - -The peril which was threatening Peter's father from two directions -worked a swift and thrilling change in Mona. She must beat out -Carter--and she must beat out the fire! Thought of Aleck Curry became -secondary to this more immediate necessity. She could settle with Aleck -later. But she must reach the cabin _now_. There was not a minute or -a second to lose if she was to get there ahead of Jame and Carter. -She began to run again, following a path through the meadow into the -strip of forest between the settlement and the shore of the lake. Her -feet and Peter's had worn this trail smooth, and she knew that in -the thickening gloom of smoke and night she was traveling faster than -Carter and Jame Clamart, who were going by the rougher tote-road. In -ten minutes she reached the cliff which ran westward along the lake. - -Here she was high, and there were no trees to shut out her view of the -ridge country. What she saw appalled her. Nowhere in the north was -there any longer a wall of blackness. The world was red, with lurid -flashings that came and went like mighty explosions. Westward, beyond -the beaver pond, she could see the leaping of the flames in the thick -spruce and cedar timberlands where ten thousand barrels of pitch and -resinous oils were turning sleeping forests into boiling caldrons of -fire. The smell of this oil and pitch was heavy in her nostrils, and -she could hear the moaning, distant roar of the conflagration as one -hears the roar of great furnaces when the fuel doors are opened. But it -was the wind that brought quicker fear to her heart. It was beginning -to blow strongly from the north and west, and carried with it a heat -that was stifling. And with this heat and wind came also a thickening -cloud of ash particles, until at last, afraid of their increasing -sting, she stopped to take off her skirt and fasten it about her hair -and face. - -Halfway to the pond, with still another mile to go, she saw the flames -leaping over the last ridge, and her heart seemed suddenly to give way -in a sobbing cry of agony and despair. She was too late. Between that -ridge and Peter's father was less than a mile of spruce and cedar and -balsam forest, with pitch-sodden jackpines interspersed so thickly that -no power less than God could hold back the speed of the holocaust. With -the wind that was behind them the flames would be at the cabin before -she could cover a quarter of the distance to Peter's father. - -For a few moments she sank down helpless and without strength, sobbing -for breath as she stared at the merciless red death which had beaten -her--and Carter. And in these moments her agony was greater than when -Aleck had told her about Peter, for now she was picturing a man, -creeping out on his hands and knees to face that sea of flame--a man, -sick and helpless, crying out for Peter, for her, and dying by inches -with their names on his lips. - -She staggered to her feet and went on, and in her dazed mind lived a -prayer that Donald McRae might be given strength to drag himself to the -shore of the lake. If that strength had not already come to him, it was -now too late, for as she toiled over a high and craggy point in the -cliff the wind blew hot in her face, and where the beaver pond should -be was a red hell of flames. - -The trail descended as she forced herself on--descended from the -ramparted ledge to the smooth, sandy level of the beach, and suddenly -she was conscious of the crashing of bodies in the thickets and the -frenzied sound of living things. A great moose swept so near her that -she sprang from his path--a monstrous beast with flaming eyes and -snorting nostrils, closely followed by a darker, rounder object that -she knew was a bear, racing for the safety of the water. She came to -the sandy open where the trail swung straight ridgeward toward the -beaver pond, and stopped, knowing she could go no farther unless she -defied the death from which all other living creatures were flying. - -Piteously Mona cried out--to Peter, to Simon, to Donald McRae, and then -to God; and at last she fell down with her face buried in her skirt, -ready to welcome death itself in this hour when not only her world but -all that she loved in it were doomed to destruction. - -It was a sound close to her that uncovered her face, a sound that came -strangely above the moaning roar of heat-wind and flame, and staring -through the gloom and against the red glare of the burning forests, -she saw a grotesque shadow--something that was not moose nor deer nor -any four-footed thing she had ever seen in the wilderness; and rising -up before it she saw that it was a man bent under a huge, limp burden -which he carried. She cried out, and a choking voice answered her--a -strange, terrible, unhuman sort of voice, yet the sound of it nearly -split her heart, and when the figure deposited its burden in the white -sand and stood up she saw that it was Peter. She stumbled toward him. -His arms caught her, and she could hear him sobbing under the strain of -his fight, and his heart was beating so hard that each throb of it sent -a tremor through his body. In his weakness her own strength returned, -and in a moment her hands had left his face and she was at the side of -the man who lay upon the sand. - -It was Donald McRae. Now a great light was flaming in the sky over -their heads, and she saw that his face and hands were black, and his -eyes were closed, though he was breathing. She tore the skirt from -about her head and ran to soak it in water, but when she returned Peter -was kneeling beside his father, and held back the dripping cloth. - -"Not water," he said. "We must get--something else. He is burned." - -She put her arms about Peter, and his face rested for a moment on her -shoulder. In that moment he told her that Aleck had tricked him, and -had left him on the island. With the aid of a piece of dry driftwood -he had managed to swim ashore, but too late to reach the cabin ahead -of the flames. He found his father halfway to the lake, fighting his -way on hands and knees in the van of the fire. His face and hands were -badly burned, but that was all. Another minute and he would have been -too late. His voice choked, and Mona's hand stroked his face gently, -and she kissed his hot forehead. - -Then they carried Donald McRae under the shelter of the cliff, where -they were free from smoke and heat, with the water rippling in and out -among the stones at their feet. And here Mona told Peter of Aleck's -coming to the point, though she kept to herself what happened there, -and that Simon McQuarrie had gone to the island in a sailboat and would -surely come straight to this beach when he found Peter gone. And as -they made Donald easier, and waited in the coolness of the cliff for -the fire-storm to burn itself out, she told him also of Carter and that -no time must be lost in getting away to a place of greater safety. - -Peter knew what that meant as he bent over his father. In scarcely -more than a whisper he told Mona. He, too, must go. It would not be -for long--maybe a week, a month, or a little longer. It was not for -himself. He was not afraid of either Aleck or the law, because he had -done at the pool just what he would do again if it were before the eyes -of the whole world. But his father needed him, and never would his -heart beat the same, nor would she ever again look at him with a bit of -the pride and love which made him so strong, if he failed to do what -was right in this hour. Without him his father was lost. He hoped Simon -would come with the boat, for in that boat they would escape into the -wilderness farther west. - -Mona made no answer to these things, for it was hard enough for her to -breathe with the thickness that was in her throat. But her hand stroked -Peter's, and her cheek lay against his, and above the grief in her -breast rose a great pride in this man who loved her. And a thought -came to her of Sir Nigel, the chivalrous young knight who looked so -much like this Peter of hers with his sensitive boyish face, and of -how Mary so bravely sent him away to the great wars in which through -long years he rose to undying fame; and she subdued her heart, as Sir -Nigel's sweetheart must have conquered her own, and at last told Peter -it was the thing to do--the one thing to do--and that God and she would -love him for it. And even as she did this there was creeping over her -an unutterable foreboding, and death seemed to pierce her heart when -she heard Simon McQuarrie's boat grounding on the sand. But she smiled, -and kissed Peter--and then Simon stood before them. And in another five -minutes he was gone again--this time to the settlement for the supplies -and medicines which would go with Peter and his father. - - * * * * * - -For an hour they were alone, and Donald McRae tried to keep back the -moans of pain that came to his lips. But he could not open his eyes, -and Mona fanned him gently with a piece of her wet skirt, and told him -Simon was hurrying with ointments which would make him comfortable. -Peter even laughed and spoke of the sudden on-sweep of the fire as if -it were an exciting adventure, and it was good that Donald could not -see their tense and grief-filled faces in the gloom. - -The fire roared through the last of the evergreens and burned itself -out against the bare stone knolls and ledges of the lake shore. And -then came again the sound of Simon's boat on the sand. - -"Carter has returned to the settlement and was preparing to come this -way in a boat when I slipped out through the inlet," Simon whispered to -Mona. - -With Peter she went to the boat, leaving Simon alone for a few moments -with his old friend. And it was Simon who came at the end of a brief -interval bearing the burden of Peter's father in his arms. Very -tenderly he laid him on the blankets in the boat. - -"God be with you, Donald," he whispered, a broken note in his voice. -"God be with you--always." - -The stricken man raised a burned hand to the other's face. - -"They have always been with me, Simon," he whispered back. "God--and -Helen. And now that you have made such a fine man of Peter I hope I may -go to them--soon." - -In the darkness Mona crept out of Peter's arms. - -"Peter, you must wait no longer. You must go." - -"In a little while I will come back, _Ange_." - -"And I--by the sweet spirit of Ste. Anne--I promise to be waiting for -you when you come, Peter--though I wait until new forests grow where -yours and mine have burned. So go--good-by--lover--sweetheart----" - -And then she had slipped away from him and he made no effort to follow -her into the smoky gloom, though a sobbing cry came back to him -faintly. - -For a moment Simon stood aside with Peter. Their hands gripped in the -darkness and a strain was in the old Scotchman's low voice as he said: - -"I've put ointment on your father's face and hands and he is easier. -I don't think he is badly burned. Everything is in the boat, -lad--provisions, blankets, medicines, a pack and what money I had at -hand." He hesitated and the grip of his fingers tightened as he added: -"In the bow is your rifle with extra ammunition in the buckskin sack -beside it. You'll need it. But don't fight the law unless they force -you to it, boy. Remember that. The law finds no excuse, even though -scoundrels like Aleck Curry and blood-sucking ferrets like Carter are -sometimes a part of it. And let me tell you that I saw with my own -eyes when your father killed a man years ago when you were a baby in -your mother's arms. It was for your mother he did it and he was right; -but in spite of that the law won't rest until it lands him. And it's -your job now to beat the law, but without the use of a gun. I love -you, lad--but I'd curse you for a coward if you didn't do what you're -doing now. For years you and Mona have prayed that God would send your -father back to you--and now he has come--and it's God's will behind -it. All that is left in a body that was once stronger than my own is -his worship for you and his memories of your mother. Take care of him, -Peter. And--God bless you both!" - -Never had the iron-natured old Scotchman said so much in all the years -since Peter had come to live with him as a son. And without a word -Peter went to the boat, for his throat was thick and choking, and -Simon shoved the craft out into the sea until he was waist-deep in the -water. Simply he said good-by as if Peter were going only to the nets -or the islands outside the mainland, and no tremor in his hard, calm -voice betrayed the tears on his cheeks which darkness hid. And as Peter -raised the sail McQuarrie waded ashore and was met by a pair of arms -and a sobbing voice that cried out in its grief and despair against his -shoulder. - -Another sound came before they turned to the cliff trail that led along -the unburned shore of the lake to Five Fingers. From the direction of -the settlement a light skiff bore down swiftly upon the strip of sandy -beach. - -Carter, who sat in the stern, was old in the service of the provincial -police, a ferret on the trail, a fox in his cleverness, cold-blooded, -unexcitable and merciless--and when the bow of the skiff ran into the -sand and Aleck Curry leaped ashore he remained quietly in his seat -and waited. In a moment he heard voices--the cold, unemotional voice -of the Scotchman first and then Aleck Curry's in fierce demand and -Mona Guyon's in answer. He went ashore, his thin, hard face smiling -in the darkness, and heard Simon tell Aleck that the law no longer -had a work to do at Five Fingers, for Peter and his father had died -somewhere out in the heart of the fire. He heard Mona's sob, close to -Simon's shoulder. Then he opened his flashlight, but not upon them. It -illumined Aleck's face, thick-lipped and bestial in its disappointment -and passion. What he saw was amusing to a man like Carter and a spark -of chivalry made him leave the others in darkness. But he stepped back -and cast his light upon the wet sand of the shore. And then he said -quite casually, as if his discovery was a matter of small significance: - -"You lie, McQuarrie! We have come only a quarter of an hour too late. -Peter McRae and his father have gone in your boat, and as this breath -of wind will scarcely fill a sail, I think Aleck's enthusiasm and a -light skiff should make it possible for us to overtake them within an -hour!" - -He chuckled as he switched off his flashlight, and that chuckle was -like the rattle of a snake to Mona, deadlier than all the hate and -animal passion she had seen in Aleck Curry's face in the one swift -moment when it had flashed out of the darkness into light. For Carter -was more than a representative of the law. He was its incarnation, and -more than Aleck Curry--more than any other man in the world--she feared -him now as the skiff sped in the direction taken by Peter and his -father. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - - -For a few minutes after leaving the shore Peter did not trust himself -to speak. He could see nothing but a gray chaos except landward, where -the red sky and the darker blot of the cliff were visible through -the smoke gloom. Even the weather-stained canvas of Simon's boat was -indistinguishable, and where his father lay on a pile of blankets at -his feet he could make out only a shadow. Now that the fire had burned -itself out of the forests between the shore and the ridges the heated -winds gave way quickly to a growing calm. The smoke hung like a dense -fog and with this change came a strange stillness in which sound seemed -to multiply itself until he heard clearly the wailing of a dog at Five -Fingers. - -Then the faint rattle of oarlocks came to him and his hand tightened -on the tiller. It was Aleck Curry again--Aleck and the man-hunter, -Carter, hurrying to cut them off before they could leave the shore! -And suddenly in fierce passion he wanted to shout back his defiance to -them just as years ago--three days before he came to Five Fingers--he -had felt the desire to kill the men who had driven his father into the -forest. Something in these moments brought that day back to him--a -vivid memory of the big log behind which they were sheltered, and armed -men in the thickets, the blue jay screeching at them, his thirst and -hunger and his father's pale, strong face waiting with courage for -darkness to come; then the dusk, their escape on a log in the flooded -river and their first fugitive camp in the big woods. How wonderful -his father had been in those hours of peril which he as a boy could -scarcely understand! And now he was lying at his feet, a pitiable wreck -because of that same merciless and unfair law which had pursued him -then---- - -Peter cried out. It was not much more than a throat sound, as if the -smoke had made him gasp for breath. But a hand rose out of the darkness -and touched him. - -"Peter!" - -"Yes, dad." - -"It has all gone wrong, boy. If only I hadn't been so heartsick to see -you--if I had never come back----" - -Peter bent over and his hand rested tenderly against the face which -Simon had cooled with ointment. - -"If you hadn't come I'd have lost all faith in the God you used to -tell me about," he whispered. "I wanted to give up but Mona wouldn't -let me. She said you would surely come. And this isn't half as bad as -that day behind the log when I was a little kid. Remember how you cared -for me then--kept me above water when we went into the river, caught -rabbits for me to eat afterward and tucked me into bed every night -near the camp-fire? Well, it's _my_ turn now. And I'm almost glad -you're sick--just so I can show you how much I've grown up since that -afternoon you sent me on alone to Five Fingers so many years ago. You -lied to me then, dad. You made me believe you'd come back that night, -or the next day. Haven't you ever been ashamed of that?" - -The strain was gone from his voice. It was his _dad_ he was speaking -to again, his pal and comrade of the old days, and the thrill of that -comradeship was stirring warmly in his blood. - -"I knew Simon would give you a good home," said Donald. "And he has -made a splendid man of you. But I'm sorry, Peter--sorry I came back. -After all those years I was hungry to see you. I just wanted to look -on your face and then go away again without letting you know. I didn't -mean to break into your life like this----" - -His hand was stroking Peter's and for a moment Peter bent down until -his face was close to his father's. Donald was silent but his hand -continued its caressing touch. After a little he said: - -"Did I hear something, Peter?" - -"I think it was thunder. A storm must be following in the trail of the -fire." - -"I mean out there--near at hand. It was like wood striking on wood." - -He sank back and Peter reached down and made his head comfortable. -"This makes me think of that last night in the woods when you tucked me -in my cedar-bough bed and told me to sleep," he whispered gently. "And -I'm telling you that now, dad. It's what you need. Try and sleep!" - -Even as he spoke he heard the distant sound again and knew it was the -clank of oarlocks. He fastened the tiller so that Simon's boat was -heading for the open sea. Then he crept forward and returned with a -blanket, and this blanket he quietly unfolded in the darkness, taking -from it the weapon which Simon had loaded and placed there for his use. -And Simon's words were running over and over in his head, as steady as -the ticking of a clock. "Take care of him, Peter. It's your job now to -beat the law." - - * * * * * - -As the minutes passed it seemed to Peter that sound became a living, -stealthy part of the night, creeping about him in ghostly whispers, -hiding behind the canvas sail, rustling where the water moved under the -bow, purring at his feet and in the air. This impression of sound by -its smallness and its secretiveness served to emphasize the hush which -had fallen upon a burned and blasted world. Its muteness bore with it -a quality of solemnity and a quickening thrill as if subjugated forces -were muffled and bound and might unleash themselves without warning. In -this stillness Peter heard the thunder creeping up faintly behind the -path of fire. But the sound of the oar did not come again. - -He strained his eyes to pierce the gloom even though he knew the effort -was futile and senseless. The red line of the fire was steadily -receding. In places it was lost. Where he had left the cliff and the -sandy strip of beach was a black chaos, and it was this darkness with -its silence which seemed to reach into his heart and choke him with its -oppression and foreboding. - -Through the stillness a sound came to him, floating softly over the -sea, sweet and distant. His fingers slowly unclasped and he bowed his -head. It was the bell over the little church of logs and Father Albanel -was tolling it. Even now in this smoke-filled hour of the night he was -calling the people of the settlement together that they might offer up -in prayer their gratitude because homes and loved ones had been spared -by the red death that had swept the land. It was like a living voice, -gently sweet and soothing as it brought him faith and reverence. _There -was a God!_ Every fiber in his body leaped to that cry of his heart. -Without a God his father would have died, the whole world would have -burned, there would be no Mona, no hope, no anything for him in the -darkness of the freedom which lay ahead. His lips moved with Mona's -prayer and he stood up quietly so that he might hear more clearly until -the last peal of the bell died away. And when the gray silence shut him -in again he felt as if a protecting spirit had come to ride with him in -the gloom. - -Softly he spoke to his father but there was no answer. Exhaustion and -the peace of the open sea had overcome the stricken man and he was -asleep. - -Encumbered by stillness and smoke, the night passed with appalling -slowness. The distant thunder with its promise of rain died away. Half -a dozen times Peter lighted matches and looked at his watch. At last it -was three o'clock and the horizon of murk and smoke that shut him in -receded as dawn advanced. Then came a sudden keen breeze, like the last -sweeping of a great broom, and he could see the coast. His own heart -was thrilled by the sight of it, for behind the menacing headland of -barren rock that rose like a great gargoyle hundreds of feet above the -lower cliff was a strip of water which he had once hazarded in a dead -calm and which led back half a mile between towering walls of rock and -naked ridges into that very chaos of wildness which he had wanted for a -hiding-place. - -Scarcely had this moment of exultation possessed him when the wind died -again. At the same time a clearer light diffused itself over the sea. -The horizon drew itself back like a curtain and half a mile away he saw -an object that sent his heart into his throat. - -For a few moments he neither moved nor seemed to breathe as he stared -at a swiftly approaching skiff. Then he looked at his father. Donald -McRae had not awakened. A livid scar lay across his eyes as if a -red-hot iron had burned out his sight. His hands were blistered, his -lips were swollen and his neck and shoulders were scarred and covered -with the ointment which Simon had used. Yet--even then--_his father -slept_! The horror of it choked Peter and his soul cried out for -vengeance against those who had made this wreck of a man. He turned and -his hand rested upon his rifle. He no longer feared the law or Aleck -Curry or Carter, the ferret. His desire at first was to kill them. With -astonishing calmness he waited, watching the approaching skiff. When it -was two hundred yards away he picked up his rifle. - -He chose the small of Aleck's back for his first shot and raised his -gun. In the same moment he observed that with Carter in the stern and -Aleck amidships the bow of the skiff was high out of water. It was this -situation which saved Aleck and Peter's first bullet crashed through -the boat an inch or two below the water line. He followed with two -other shots. The effect was almost instantaneous. Aleck Curry lurched -away from the oars and the skiff came within an ace of upsetting. In -another moment the quick-witted Carter had called Aleck into the stern -and there both crouched, their combined weight raising the shattered -bow above the water line while Carter stripped himself of his shirt. - -The shots roused Donald, and with an effort he drew himself up beside -Peter. - -"What is it?" he demanded. He turned his scarred face toward Peter and -then with a strange cry covered his face with his hands. "My God, I -can't see!" he cried. "Peter--I can't see!" - -In that darkest moment of his life Peter thanked God the wind came -and filled the sail of Simon's boat and that neither Carter nor -Aleck Curry shouted after them or made a sound that his father might -hear, and like an inspiration a lie came to his lips--he had done -some poor shooting at a flock of mallards! He spoke cheerfully of his -father's efforts to see, telling him it would be days before he could -hope for vision when his eyes were swollen and scarred by burns. And -Donald, seeing nothing of the agony in Peter's bloodless face, smiled -cheerfully up at the clearing sky in spite of his pain. He did not -mind so much about his hands, he said, but it was a hardship to have -his eyes covered as Peter was bandaging them now because he wanted -to see as much as he could of his boy in the short time they would -be together. There was a note of happiness in his voice which was in -strange contrast to the pathos of his appearance and his helplessness. - -And Peter fought to keep up that spirit of cheer and of gladness that -was in Donald McRae's heart. But his own heart was breaking--for he -knew that his father was blind. - -Hours later Simon's boat came stealing back to shore in the sunless -dusk of the evening. This time the sail was down and with muffled -oars Peter rowed cautiously for the break in the cliff. Blended with -the deepening shadows of the sea, he worked his boat into the narrow -maw of the crevasse whose rock walls rose two hundred feet over their -heads. In utter darkness, with the thin streak of light far above, -he felt his way for half an hour. Then the fissure widened and after -another fifteen minutes of slow progress its walls bulged outward, -losing themselves in the gloom, and ahead stretched the hidden inlet, -smothered on all sides by precipitous crags and cliffs and towering -forest ridges. - -On a narrow strip of sand he grounded the boat and lighted the lantern -which Simon had placed in the outfit. Its illumination threw up grimly -the black shadows about them, and questing among these, he found huge -masses of torn and twisted rocks so wildly thrown together that among -them were many little caverns and grottoes thickly carpeted with white -sand. One of these he chose for a camp, but not until he had gathered -an armful of bleached driftwood and had started a fire did he return to -the boat. It was then, in the yellow light of flaming cedar and pine, -that he noted a strange and startling change had come over his father. -Donald McRae no longer bore the appearance of a sick man. He stood -straight and was breathing deeply. His lips were smiling as he faced -Peter and quite calmly he removed the bandage from his eyes. - -"At last we are home," he spoke softly. "And just beyond you--_I see -your mother_!" Instantly he seemed to sense the shock of those words to -Peter, for he said: "Don't let that frighten you, lad. Every day and -night she is at my side. Only--now--_she is nearer_!" - -He reached out his hands and almost fiercely Peter's arms closed about -him. - -Donald stroked his hair. It was the old caress, and he spoke to Peter -as if to a little boy again. - -"You're not afraid, Peter?" he asked. - -"Afraid----" - -Peter's heart stopped beating. - -"They can't hurt you," said Donald soothingly. "I won't let them do -that, Peter." - -Peter drew slowly away. His face was gray in the firelight and in his -eyes was a growing horror. He tried to speak but no words came from his -lips. Donald's scarred face was strangely tranquil. It seemed to Peter -that years had dropped away from it. In it was no fear, no sign of -strain, no consciousness of the terrible hours they had passed through -or of the tragic future which lay ahead. And the truth came to Peter, -a suspicion at first, a whisper, growing and overwhelming him until at -last it was a dizzying sickness that set him swaying on his feet. In -this hour Donald McRae was not the man who had returned after years -of wandering to see his boy. His mind had gone back. It had returned -to the days of Peter's childhood and his voice was repeating words -almost forgotten--a sacred promise of days when Peter had built mighty -castles in the air and his father had helped him plan them with the -understanding smile that was on his lips now. - -For he was saying: "They won't hurt a boy, Peter. We'll get away. And -then we'll go through the big woods to the mountains just as we've -always wanted to do." - -Peter raised clenched hands to his face to stifle his agony. - -In the torturing slowness of the hours which followed Donald McRae -lived again in the precious years when Peter was a boy, recalling -forgotten incidents as if they had happened yesterday, bringing forth -their old dreams, painting their pictures of the future as he had done -so often with Peter at his side in the afterglow of evenings long ago. -And Peter, with his soul torn and bleeding, talked with him. Together -they were hunting again. They followed the old trap-lines. They heard -the song of birds and planted seeds and flowers in the little garden -back of their cabin home, and Peter was kneeling at his father's knees -when he said his prayers at night. These things Peter had dreamed -of and treasured in his years at Five Fingers, but now they were -horrors--coming out of the past with a voice that trembled with the -thrill and joy of a strange madness. - -At last Donald slept. It was after midnight and the last embers of the -fire had burned out. Peter rose to his feet and walked up the shore, -staring into darkness. The rock walls that inclosed the inlet rose -sheer above him, making of the place a deep and sombrous pit. He could -see the stars and their distance lent an abysmal solitude to the gloom. -About him was no movement and no stir of life; the water lay still; no -whisper came from dark forests on the ridge tops; the black walls were -dead and in the soft sand his feet alone disturbed the sepulchral quiet. - -To Peter this strangeness seemed naturally a part of the change that -had come into his life. Everything was changed. His world had gone into -atoms and now it was reassembling itself; and with deadened emotions, -almost dully, he was beginning to accept it. His yesterdays, it seemed, -had existed an infinitely long time ago. Five Fingers was no longer -home or a necessity and even Mona seemed a vast distance away from -him in these hours when his own soul was remolding itself to fit the -grimness of a new existence. His mind no longer questioned the path he -was to take and no shadow of revolt rose in it. - -One thought was as steadfastly fixed in him now as life itself. He -belonged to his father and his father belonged utterly to him. He must -go on with him, care for him, fight for him, save him from that one -dread brutality of the law if his own life paid the forfeit in the end. -That was settled. Even his love for Mona could not change that duty and -older love which urged him. It was more than a resolution; it was as -immutably a part of him as the beating of his heart and his own flesh -and blood. - -The stars faded and day broke swiftly above the walls of the inlet. He -returned and found his father on his hands and knees groping in the -sand. He was gathering sticks and placing them with the remnants of -last night's fire, and when he heard Peter's footsteps he paused in his -labor and raised a face out of which once more the years of grief and -hopelessness seemed to have gone. - -"Are you hungry, Peter?" he asked. - -And Peter, as he knelt beside him, knew that he was speaking to Peter -the boy and not to Peter the man. - -Together they built the fire. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - - -Nine days Peter and his father spent in their hiding-place under the -walls of the lagoon. At the end of that time Donald's burns were -healed and his strength had returned. He had taken on flesh and his -shoulders were straighter. His eyes were clear again but their vision -was strangely shadowed and at a hundred yards the wall of the lagoon -was like a dark curtain. For a time it was impossible for Peter to -believe that his father's mind was not keeping pace with his physical -revivement. Yet with the passing of each day Donald's mental grip -concentrated itself more and more on the past until he seemed not to -have lived at all beyond those years when Peter was a boy. Together -they picked up old threads as if they had never been broken or lost, -and in those occasional dark and brooding intervals when Donald's mind -dragged itself back into the haunting tragedy of the present Peter -found himself praying for the return of that partial amnesia which at -first had terrified him. - -On the evening of the ninth day Peter once more set out to sea. Fifty -miles westward he ran ashore in the illusive, gray dusk of morning and -burned Simon's boat. - -Now that their flight northward had actually begun there were moments -when his father's attitude almost frightened him. At first Donald's -mind was keenly alive to the nearness of danger and in his half -blindness he became more watchful and alert than Peter. But it was the -peril of years ago that haunted him--the menace of the men who had -driven them from their cabin home and who had nearly killed them when -Peter was a boy. - -After the third day Peter began to mark the beginning of the final -change in his father. Donald became less watchful and sounds no longer -seemed to disturb him. Instincts which warned him of peril became -ghosts and at last faded away entirely. By the end of the seventh day -there remained only one consciousness of living in Donald's soul; Peter -was his little boy, and he was with Peter. Physically he betrayed no -sign that his mind had crumbled. His scarred eyes, in which vision -had grown even dimmer, held in them a deep and abiding clearness and -a strange gentleness grew in his face. And Peter, holding tight to -keep his own heart from breaking, knew what it meant. His father was -forgetful of all things now but his boy, and was happy. - -This change more than anything else killed in Peter's breast his last -hope of returning to Five Fingers. Sheer madness with its darkness and -its misery might have driven him back to Simon and Father Albanel, -taking Donald McRae to asylum doors instead of to the hangman. But -this which he saw growing in his father was to him a quietly working -miracle of God instead of breaking down of body and soul and brain. - -As day followed day and one cool, dark night added itself to another, -a warm and thrilling reaction came to replace with new emotions the -gloom and desolation in his heart. Not for an hour did he stop thinking -of Mona; her face was with him, her voice, the touch of her lips and -hands; she walked with him in the thick aisles of the forest, slept -near his side at night, wakened with him in the morning and became in -each increasing hour of their separation more completely a part of -him. But with this thought of her returned also the old passion of his -childhood--his love for his father. His heart stirred strangely to the -gentle caress of Donald's hand as it had thrilled when he was a boy. -The old chumship rose out of its ashes, smoldered for a while and then -burned steadily as if the broken years had never been. Home, mother, -father, all the joys and dreams of childhood and early boyhood crept -upon him a little at a time, until at last he knew that to sacrifice -his father was as unthinkable as to surrender that part of his heart -which Mona filled. - -Between these two loves, encouraged on one side by duty and on the -other by desire, lay his grief. Until the end of the third week he did -not give up fully his resolution to send word back to Mona. By that -time the hazard of such an act had fully impressed itself upon him. He -no longer feared Aleck Curry, whose stupidity he had fully measured, -but almost as frequently as Mona filled his mind came also dread of -Carter. A cold and abiding fear of this man entered into him and he was -confident it would not be long before this human ferret of the forests -would in some way find their trail. At times he was oppressed by the -feeling that Carter was close behind them and he tried to establish -in his mind the certainty of his action if his father's enemy should -suddenly appear. Thought of what might happen--what probably would -happen--made him shudder. For there could be no halfway measures with -Carter now. - -Always on the alert, with his rifle never far from reach of his hands, -he swung still farther north and west. Autumn found him in the Dubaunt -River country, and the beginning of winter on the Thelon. Here he -traded his watch in a Dogrib camp for a score of traps, blankets and -new moccasins, invested the last of his money in flour, sugar, salt -and tea, and took possession of an abandoned cabin in the neighborhood -of Hinde Lake. All through the winter he trapped and set deadfalls and -snares. - -A hundred times during the long winter he fought against his desire to -send a word to Mona. Months had not dulled his caution and as soon as -the spring break-up made it possible to travel he led his father into -the Artillery Lake country. Through the spring and early summer they -were constantly on the move, always making a little southward. By the -time August came they had completed two-thirds of an immense circle -and south of the Athabasca country found themselves in the unmapped -region between the Cree River and the McFarland. Here, in a country of -ridges and swamps and deep forests, Peter made up his mind that at last -they were safely hidden from Carter and all the rest of the world. - -He breathed easier and began the building of a cabin. This was on a -dark-watered, silent little stream, with a vast swamp at their back -door, ridge country to right and left of them and an illimitable forest -reaching out in front. The nearest point of habitation that Peter knew -of was a Hudson's Bay Company post sixty miles away. - -And this cabin with each log that went into it became a closer and more -inseparable part of Donald McRae. Out of that forgetfulness which could -scarcely be called madness began to creep memories so warm and vivid -that they seemed to breathe with life itself. For Donald was building -the old home again, the home of Peter's mother, where the moon had -looked in through the window on the night he was born--a home, sweet -and whispering with the presence of a woman one had worshiped in the -flesh and the other had visioned as an angel in his dreams. After a -little it was Donald and not Peter who was building the cabin, and by -the time it was finished it seemed to Peter that a strange and unseen -spirit of life, gentle as prayer itself, had come to dwell in it with -them. - -Autumn came again with its paradise of color. The cedars, spruces and -balsams took on a deeper, richer green; each sunrise bathed the ridges -of poplar and birch in new splendor of red and yellow and gold; the -nights grew colder, the days were filled more and more with the autumn -tang that made blood run red and warm. God was with them here. Donald -said that, as in the days of old. And Peter began to believe--and -as faith rose in him hope and dreams returned. _Mona's prayer was -answered_--the prayer they had said together for years asking that his -father might be returned to him, and that they might all find refuge -together somewhere in the wilderness world which they loved. And this -was the refuge, given to them through the sweet and charitable guidance -of God. All that was needed to complete it was Mona. - -He began to thrill with a greater excitement as the first snows came. -Would it be safe to return for Mona _now_? There were times when his -whole soul cried out in the affirmative and he was almost ready to -begin the long journey. But his caution never quite died and he always -pulled himself back in time. Sixteen months had seemed an eternity to -him but prudence warned him not to hurry. He would wait until spring. -By that time, if Carter were on their trail, the climax would surely -come. If the winter passed safely, he would go to Five Fingers and -bring Mona back with him. Not for a moment did he doubt she would -come, and he continued to add to the glorious castles he built in his -mind, shadowed only now and then by oppressing thoughts of the many -things which might have happened at Five Fingers in almost two years of -absence. - -Late in February he left for the trading-post with two Indian dogs and -a light toboggan to sell his furs. It was not unusual now for Donald -to remain alone for several days at a time, for Peter knew the home -they had built had become a part of his heart and soul and that nothing -short of actual force or his own wishes and plans could drag his father -from it. On this trip to the post he expected to be gone five days. - -It was very cold. Trees cracked and snapped with the piercing bite of -the frost and the snow crackled underfoot. For a long time after Peter -had disappeared Donald stood in the little clearing staring over the -trail where his boy had gone. - -Something unknown to Peter was finding its way into Donald's brain. -Through the night it had worked, gnawing its way slowly and stealthily, -and now that Peter was gone it grew bolder. Even as he turned the cabin -took on a new aspect for Donald. Though the sun was shining and the sky -was clear, a shadow seemed to have fallen over it and the welcoming -spirit which had always clasped him closely to its heart was missing -when he entered through the door. As the day passed a change came in -Donald's face. He was restless and uneasy. Sounds startled him again. -In the dusk of evening he did not light a candle but sat quietly in a -corner, staring into darkness with his half-blind eyes, and all that -night he did not go to bed. - -The next day there was no sun; the sky was heavy with gloom, the air -thick and difficult for Donald to breathe. Mysterious shadows crept -about him and at times he tried futilely to seize these with his hands. -As the hours passed his mind became more and more like a broken limb -from which the last prop had been taken. A hundred times he whispered -Peter's name. Then came the beginning of the storm. It broke in -mid-afternoon and by night was a howling blizzard. In darkness the -cabin shook and the wind screamed overhead and the snow beat like shot -against the window. It would be a long time before the forest people -would forget this storm because of its ferocity and the tragedy which -it left in its wake, but to Donald it was more than a storm--it was a -personal thing. In it was the cumulative chaos of all the evils from -which he had been a fugitive through the years, and now, cornering him -at last, they were fighting to break through the log walls of the cabin. - -He built up the fire until it roared in the chimney and lighted candles -until the cabin was aflame with light. And then, suddenly as a bolt -of lightning, some thing came to him. It was _voice_--voice screaming -at the window, voice howling over the roof logs, voice moaning and -wailing and dying away in the sweeping of the wind. "_Peter!_ _Peter!_ -_Peter!_" It was crying--nothing but Peter's name, repeating it a -thousand times in its laughing, taunting, moaning efforts to make him -understand. - -A half-savage cry rose out of his breast. He was not afraid, not when -his boy needed him--and hatless and coatless he flung up the birchwood -bar to the door and faced the storm. - -"_Peter!_" he called. "_Peter!_ _Peter!_" - -It all had but one meaning for Donald now. The storm had Peter. It -was playing with him, killing him, and these devils in the wind had -come to tell him about it in their glee. He could feel them clawing -and striking at his breast and face; the snow struck his eyes like -tiny spear points and he found it difficult to get his breath in the -face of the blast which tried to overwhelm him. He called again as he -fought his way out into the blackness and snow. His words drifted away -in shreds, whipped to pieces by the wind. Creatures seemed picking up -handfuls of snow and hurling it in his face--he could hear their swift -movement, the hissing of their breath, their evasion as he struck out -at them, and he called Peter's name louder than before to give his boy -courage and let him know he was coming. - -That Peter was near the cabin, that he had turned back and was making a -desperate fight to reach its shelter was as firmly a part of Donald's -mind as the conviction that all the forces of the darkness and evil -were trying to keep him away from his boy. - -His head was bare and his woolen shirt was unbuttoned at the throat, -but he did not sense the terrible cold that came with the blizzard. -Among the trees his feet found instinctively the beginning of the -trail that was blazed through the forest and he reached out his naked -hands and plunged knee-deep through windrows of snow that lay in his -way. The thickets whipped and beat at him and branches, ambushed in -darkness, reached out from twisting trees to strike him, but he did not -feel sting or pain. - -At last he was sure he heard an answer to his calling but the wind came -and roared in his ears and the snow beat so fiercely in his face that -he could not locate the quarter from which it came. Then he tricked the -wind. He stumbled in the snow behind a tree and lay there until a brief -lull followed in the wake of it, when he called again as loudly as he -could. But he had the direction of it now and a hundred paces brought -him to the edge of a rocky ravine which ran near the trail. Down this -he clambered and in the pit-like darkness at the bottom found what he -was seeking. Beside a figure rumpled and twisted in the snow he fell -upon his knees, moaning Peter's name. - -Half an hour later Donald came back to the light in the clearing, -staggering under the weight of his burden. He opened the door and -together the two crashed in upon the floor. On his hands and knees -Donald turned and shut the door against the storm. Then he crept to -the younger man whose wide-open eyes were staring at him from a thin, -white, strangely contorted face, and put his arms about him, holding -his head closely against his breast. - -"You're all right now, Peter," he comforted in a broken, gasping voice. -"You're all right----" He tried to laugh as his frozen fingers wiped -the snow from the other's hair. "We're home and it's warm and I'll get -something to eat----" - -He crawled to the stove, almost crooning in his joy, and opened the -iron door to thrust in more wood. The flames lighted up his face, -bloodless from the cold and wet with snow that had already begun to -melt and trickle down his cheeks to his bare neck and chest. His hair -glistened white--whiter, it seemed, than an hour ago; his breath came -huskily as if driven through a sieve; he was a crumpled, frozen, -wind-broken wreck, and yet as he turned from the flaming door of the -stove to look at the man on the floor there was a strange miracle of -triumph and happiness riding over the torture in his face and a smile -was on his lips. The storm might beat and howl outside and all the -evils of darkness might scream and rage to get in for all he cared now. -He had saved his boy! - -He rose to his feet and stood swaying for a moment, smiling, trying to -speak. Then he fell upon a cot. - -The man on the floor had pulled himself to his elbow. He put a mittened -hand to his throat as if to free himself from fingers that were -gripping him there. His face too was bloodless. It was a thin face, -driven white and hard by exhaustion and pain. He was a man who had been -close to death and the shadow of it was still in his eyes. - -He drew off his mittens and a foot at a time dragged himself across the -floor. When he reached the cot he pulled himself up to it and put his -arms over the stricken form of the one who had saved him. - -Donald felt the nearness and raised a hand weakly to the other's face. - -"You--Peter?" he asked. - -"Yes, it's me." - -Donald's blue lips smiled. - -"They didn't get us, did they, boy? We got away from them----" - -"Yes, we got away." - -"And you're warm now--good and warm?" - -The head over him bowed itself slowly until almost reverently it -touched Donald's breast. It was not Peter's head. It was not Peter's -voice that answered. But Donald gave a deep sigh of contentment as -his fingers found a hand which he thought was Peter's and for a time -neither one nor the other spoke again, while near them the fire -crackled merrily in the stove and the candles sputtered and flared -as if laughing at the storm which was lashing itself into a wailing -madness outside the cabin walls. - - * * * * * - -For three days and nights no living creature could stand against the -storm which swept the Athabasca country, nor could they travel in the -intense cold which followed in its wake. - -It was the fifth of March, twelve days after he had left the cabin, -before Peter crossed the Pipestone on his return into the region where -he and his father had made their home. - -His mind was a torment of unrest as he visioned a hundred tragic -happenings, any one of which might have visited his father during his -absence. The last twenty-four hours he traveled without an hour of -sleep. - -It was midday when he came to a high ridge from which he could look -down into a cup of the forest where the cabin stood, a mile away. For -the first time he breathed easily when he saw a spiral of blue smoke -rising straight up into the clear sunshine of the day. - -He laughed in his gladness as he came to the trail which led past the -spring near their home. He would stop and drink there and then give the -old-time halloo for his father. He could see Donald hurrying through -the sunshine to welcome him as he heard that cry. - -As he came round the last turn in the trail he stopped suddenly. -Someone was at the spring. The bent figure was less than a hundred -yards from him and he could see it rising slowly, lifting a pail filled -with water. He shifted his rifle and made a megaphone of his mittened -hands at his mouth. It would be a rousing surprise for his dad! - -But the cry died before it reached his lips. The man at the spring was -not his father. Tall and thin and hooded, and walking with a stick as -he advanced, the stranger came toward Peter. He progressed slowly and -with difficulty, limping with each step he took. His head was bowed and -not until they had approached within a few paces of each other did he -raise it so that his face was clearly revealed. And then Peter gave a -startled cry and swift as a flash swung the muzzle of his rifle upon -the other. - -"_Carter!_" he gasped. - -A wan smile played over the ferret's face as he raised a hand and -thrust back his hood. - -"My name is not Carter," he replied. "Since twelve days ago I have been -Peter McRae--Donald McRae's son." - -Something in his thin face and strangely sunken eyes sent a cold chill -to Peter's heart. - -Carter had stopped with the muzzle of the rifle touching the pit of his -stomach. He made no effort to thrust it aside but stood looking calmly -into the other's eyes. - -"It happened just that long ago," he said. "I was trailing you when I -slipped over a ledge and almost broke a leg among the rocks. The storm -came and I was about done for, when your father wandered out into the -night, calling your name, and I answered. He got me into the cabin and -I've been there ever since. From the beginning he thought I was you. I -understand now, McRae. I know what I've done--and I wish you would pull -that trigger. I deserve it." - -Peter lowered the gun. - -"You have not harmed him?" - -"_Harmed him!_" A dull look of agony filled Carter's eyes as he turned -slowly toward the cabin. "No, I haven't harmed him--not since twelve -days ago. It was all done before that. Only God will ever know how -gentle and good he was to me, thinking I was you--and if by dying I -could return what I've taken away from him I'd kill myself. And if I -were in your place, Peter--standing where you are--_I'd shoot_!" - -He gave a stifled cry as Peter hurried past him. In it was a note of -appeal that choked and died in his throat. But Peter did not hear it -nor did he see fully the look of dread that was in Carter's eyes. He -unshouldered his pack at the cabin door, laid his rifle beside it and -went in. He was no longer afraid of Carter. Something tighter and more -terrible was gripping at his heart. - -Carter came limping up the trail and when he reached the door he bared -his head and quietly followed Peter into the cabin. - -Peter was on his knees beside the bunk in which Donald was lying. His -arms were spread out and his head was bowed upon Donald's breast. - -White-faced, Carter knelt beside him and put both his hands about his -shoulders. "Until _he_ brought me into this cabin twelve days ago I -never believed in God," he said huskily. "But I do now, Peter. For -twelve days _your father was my father_. I loved him. And I know, if he -could have understood, that from the beginning he would have forgiven -me--the man who hunted him to his death. If by any merciful chance -_you_ can do that, Peter--if you can find it in your heart to let -him remain my father and you my brother----" One of his hands found -Peter's, clasping it tightly, and the other crept to Donald's face, -where it lay cold and lifeless on its pillow. "In God's name say you -forgive me!" he whispered. - -In answer Peter's fingers returned the pressure of Carter's hand and a -sob broke on the man-hunter's lips. - -After a moment of silence he said: "It was the terrible cold and -exposure of that night in which he was hunting for you. It reached his -lungs. Until yesterday I was not afraid. Then the change came--swiftly. -He died this morning, Peter, in _your_ arms, and the last word on his -lips was _your_ name--and Mona's." - -A long time there was stillness in the cabin as the two men knelt -beside their dead. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - - -In the long days and weeks which followed Peter's return to the cabin -and the death of his father a change which seemed to him a little -short of a miracle came over the man-hunter. The pitiless Carter, the -human ferret, whose years of duty had never been tempered with mercy -or conscience, was gone, and in his place was a new Carter, dragging -himself a little at a time out of the paths of tragedy and misery which -he had followed for so long. - -Through those years Peter knew that Carter had been a Nemesis and -a destroyer. He had not known pity, but only the grim exultation -of achievement. Women, love, the extenuation of circumstance, even -motherhood in its most beautiful sacrifice, had not stayed his hand -when once the law had set him like a hound upon the scent of his -victim. He had broken men and women. He had opened doors of blackness -and despair to a hundred human souls. Yet the law had been always at -his back, urging him on and exulting in his triumphs; he had committed -no crime, no sin, and the world had applauded his exploits when -it heard of them, visioning him as a splendid part of that mighty -mechanism of legal force which made peace and good will on earth -possible among men. Yet Carter, in these strange days of his mental and -spiritual transformation, knew differently. - -He knew that he had served too well, and for that reason he hated -himself, and called himself a fiend. It was now, after he had hunted -Peter's father to his death, that his successes began to dig themselves -out of their graves and reappear to him as haunting ghosts. And he -prayed God to keep Peter, of all men, from hating him. - -"I killed your father," he said to him frankly. "I hunted him until his -mind and his body broke down and he died. And in the end he accepted -me as a son, and I loved him. If I had only known! But I didn't, and -my life belongs to you. I give it willingly as the price of a great -mistake." - -And as the sullen winter's end passed Peter found it impossible to hate -Carter. Instead, there grew in him a slow and irresistible feeling of -brotherhood for the man who had trailed them to their hiding-place at -last, and who, in the hour of his deepest grief, had knelt with him -in prayer over the frozen grave of his father. In those moments he -had learned that it was not Carter who was accountable. It was the -system--the law and its inalienable right to strike and kill. - -Now, late in April, they were going home. - -Six hundred miles behind them lay the wilderness of the Pipestone and -the McFarland, where the hunt had ended and the final tragedy had been -enacted. - -Ahead of them, beyond four hundred miles of still deeper forests was -Five Fingers. - -On this night, as they sat in the yellow glow of a birchwood fire which -they had built in the chill of sunset, Carter had drawn a rough map in -the edge of the ash. The somber depths of a moonless night lay like -a curtain of heavy velvet behind him, and against this his thin and -hawk-like face was set so vividly that Peter saw the odd twitch of his -lips as he said: - -"One week for Jackson's Knee, another for the country of Lac St. Joe, -two more for the Height of Land, and then you'll be looking down on -Five Fingers! They'll all be glad to see you, Peter. And Mona----" He -shrugged his shoulders and a little throb came in the pit of his throat -when he spoke of Peter's sweetheart. "God knows a man should be happy -with a girl like her waiting for him at the end of the trail." - -"I've been away two years," replied Peter, for it was always that -thought which kept pounding at his heart. "At times I am afraid of what -may have happened since that night you and Aleck Curry almost got dad -and me in the edge of the burned lands." - -Carter made no sign that he had heard. He was staring into the deep, -red embers of the fire. - -"Your mother was an angel," he said, so quietly and unexpectedly that -his words fell upon Peter almost with the effect of a shock. "In the -last of those days when your father and I were shut up together by -storm and cold in the cabin, and he was accepting me as his son in his -madness, he talked of her almost as if she were alive and we were going -home to her." - -"She has been dead twenty years," said Peter. - -"I know. Dead, and yet living. I can scarcely believe that I hunted -Donald McRae until I drove him mad--for doing a thing which I would -have done had I stood in his shoes that day when he killed a man! It -was justice, Peter. My mother I cannot remember. But _your_ mother he -made very near and real for me in those last days of--I can't call it -his madness!--it was----" - -"Forgetfulness," said Peter. - -Carter bowed his head. "Yes, forgetfulness. Yet some things lived so -vividly--things of the past. He made them live and breathe for me--and -one picture makes me want to kill!--that picture of the little cabin -in the clearing more than twenty years ago--your mother--you in her -arms--Donald McRae's homecoming and the vengeance he dealt out to the -snake who had come to take advantage of his absence. When I see that -vision I want to choke the life out of a human beast I know--Aleck -Curry!" - -Peter made no answer. - -"I can't undo what I've done," Carter went on. "I tracked your father -until his mind broke under the strain, but I can't help that now. It -is over. All I can do in the way of reparation is to help you--you and -Mona Guyon. And between you two--between your happiness and hers--is -one man, a slimy, conscienceless serpent, waiting and watching for -your return." - -"You mean--Aleck Curry?" - -"Yes, Aleck Curry." - -Carter stood up, his tall, catlike form bathed in the fire glow, and -his hard lips were tightly closed as he stared off into the darkness of -the forest. - -"Sounds queer--that word 'conscienceless' coming from me," he mocked -bitterly. "I've never had a conscience or a heart in obeying the word -of the law--but I've never thought bad of a woman in the way Aleck -Curry thinks of Mona Guyon. He would sell his soul, if he had one, to -possess her--even if she came to him for only an hour as the price of -your safety and freedom. And you're going home--_an outlaw_!" - -"By that you mean Curry will hold me in his power when I reach Five -Fingers?" - -"Yes." - -"And will attempt to force from me a price----" - -Peter stood looking straight into Carter's eyes. - -"Yes, partly from you, but mostly from Mona. That is why I've been -holding you back, a drag from the beginning. Curry's uncle has become -a power politically, and Aleck was given a corporalship a year ago. I -would stake my life that he is keeping his secret about you and the -part you played in your father's escape two years ago. The knowledge is -too precious for him to divulge. You assaulted him, almost killed him, -and freed your father; you kept him--an officer of the law--a prisoner -on an island; later you fired upon Curry and me with the rifle which -Simon McQuarrie gave you--and all this means from five to fifteen years -in prison for you, and Curry knows it. The fact that your father was -almost blind, and that his mind had broken down, won't help you. Law -is law, especially in Canada. Our judges and juries go by the code and -not by emotions. And this law, its inviolability, is why Aleck Curry is -a greater menace to you now than all the dangers you have encountered -since you led your father into the north. - -"He is moved entirely by two passions, one his desire for Mona Guyon -and the other his hatred for you. On the night when we almost caught -you both in your escape from Five Fingers he offered me a thousand -dollars and his uncle's influence in getting me a sergeancy if I would -keep the secret of your capture, and turn our prisoners over to him. -It was my humor to let him think he had bought me. And then, in the -dawn of that morning, you filled our boat full of bullets--and got way. -That's the story, Peter. There is no escaping the trap if you return to -Five Fingers. Curry will descend upon you, demand marriage of Mona, or -probably worse--and if she refuses----" - -"She can visit me occasionally in prison," said Peter. - -His face reflected no trace of the white heat that had mounted into -Carter's; he spoke quietly and his hands had lost their clenched -tenseness. For a moment Carter gazed at him in silence. - -"You mean that?" - -"I do. Aleck Curry holds no power over me that can in any way endanger -Mona. If I owe a debt, I am willing to pay it. Neither Mona nor I have -anything that we want to sell, and Aleck Curry has nothing that we want -to buy." - -Carter drew in a deep breath. - -"If you look at it in that way----" - -"There is no other way." - -"But Curry and I are the only two men on earth who can swear that you -have done these things. The smallest restitution I can make to you for -all the wrong I have done your father is to keep my knowledge secret. -Torture could not tear it from me. Now--if we can silence Curry, tie -his tongue, break him----" - -"None of which we can do," interrupted Peter. "He has hated me -since the day we first fought over Mona when we were boys. Only one -thing could stop his vengeance. I would have to kill him, and that -is inconceivable. For my father I would have done that. I had even -prepared myself to kill you, Carter, if such an act became necessary to -save him. But for myself--_no_!" - -Carter thrust out his hand, but as it gripped Peter's he turned his -face away. "You're a lot like your dad," he said. "I see it more every -day. I'm going to bed. Good night!" - -Caution and habit had made the ferret spread his blankets in the pit -of gloom outside the glow of firelight. He disappeared in the darkness -and a moment later Peter heard him as he stretched himself out for the -night. - -But Carter had no idea of sleeping. For days past a thought had been -building itself up slowly in his brain, and tonight he had almost -revealed that thought to Peter. He watched him now, and in the -firelight the drooped figure and pale, sensitive face of the man he had -hunted and whose happiness he had helped to destroy tightened something -at his heart until he found it hard to breathe. He had never loved a -woman, and had never felt the bond of a great friendship for a man, -but for Peter something more than the friendship he had known--a thing -that was very close to a man's love for a man--had begun to possess -him body and soul. In this one warm emotion of his cold and merciless -life Carter felt a deeper thrill than in the hour of his greatest -man-hunting triumph, and as he lay in stillness, strengthening that -thought which was becoming a larger and more definite thing between -Peter and Mona and the tragedy which threatened them, his lips parted -in the grim and humorless smile which in all the years of his service -had made men fear and avoid him. - -And with that smile, deadly and uncompromising, Carter whispered to -himself: "I guess maybe you needn't worry, Peter. I don't think Aleck -Curry and the law are going to get you--not if I can help it." - -With this settled, it was easier for Carter to give himself up to sleep. - -For a long time Peter sat near the fire. The birch logs burned down -into a mass of coals, and as deeper shadows closed in about the camp he -felt himself alone except for the visions which came and went in the -dying embers. With a clearness that brought almost physical pain the -years passed before his eyes, and when they had gone they had taken -with them his boyhood, the father he had worshiped, his dreams and -happiness, leaving behind in the ash of the fire only memories shadowed -with the gloom of tragedy. But calmly and with a courage inspired by -his own grief he was ready to accept what lay ahead of him. The fight, -as a physical thing, was over--and he was going home. On that point his -mind was fixed and no sense of self-preservation could move it. What -was to happen to him when he reached Five Fingers was a matter which -Fate should decide. - -Even in these moments of his decision he felt Mona's nearness and her -protest. If in defense of his father he had become an outlaw, there was -still a wide world in which he could hide, and Mona would come to him. -So the persistent voice of caution whispered to him, and at times that -voice was Mona's. - -Haggard-faced, Peter went to bed, and in the morning it was Carter, -cold and mechanically efficient, who pointed out the same way to him. - -But even as he pressed his reasoning home, Peter observed there was a -still deeper and more mysterious change in his companion. It lay more -in Carter's eyes than in his voice or the unemotional lines of his -face. - -"You've learned how big the woods are," he said. "Go north, into the -Yukon or Alaska. I will see that Mona comes to you--safely." - -Peter shook his head. - -"I've also learned what it means to run from thicket to thicket, -guarding a hunted thing you love. That would be Mona's share--years of -it, until the end. And the end would come sometime. I'd rather pay the -debt--and have free years left to me afterward." - -It was Carter's last effort. From that hour he traveled steadily -homeward with Peter, making no protest against this new code which had -come into his life of giving, instead of taking, a tooth for a tooth -and an eye for an eye. - -The middle of May found them halfway between Lac St. Joe and the Height -of Land, with Five Fingers still a hundred and eighty miles ahead of -them. - -"We'll make it in seven days," said Peter. - -"Unless the melting snows flood the streams," said Carter. - -Spring was breaking gloriously. Scents filled the air. Crushed balsam -and cedar gave out a redolence that was tonic. The poplar buds were -bursting. Birds were returning. On the sides of slopes where the sun -struck warmly the snow was gone, grass sprang up lush green, and -flowers that budded while the earth was still white began to bloom. Sap -dripped from broken limbs, and the whispered breath of a wakening life, -of growing things, and of matehood, hope and happiness, seemed to rise -between the earth and the sky, night and day. - -Both Peter and Carter sensed the thrill of these things, yet neither -felt their joy. The floods held them back, so that at first their -loss was in hours, and then in days. Carter was glad, but he gave no -betrayal of that fact. His face in these last weeks had grown quietly -and splendidly different from the old Carter's. It was cold, deeply -lined, austere, but its sharpness was mellowed and there was no longer -the ferret-like gleam in his eyes or the grim hardness in his lips and -chin. Not a day passed that his hand did not rest on Peter's shoulder -or arm, and in his touch was a gentleness that at times was reflected -in the look of his eyes. But in the secrecy of his own thoughts was a -dread of the day they would arrive at Five Fingers. Dread--and yet not -fear. - -Peter did not reveal his own fears except as they became a part of his -face and eyes in certain moments which a man like Carter could not -fail to observe. These fears were not inspired by visions of personal -danger, for in adjusting his mind to the necessity of paying his debt -to the law he had eliminated the menace of Aleck Curry in so far as it -could possibly affect the future of Mona or himself. - -What he dreaded were the changes which nearly two years might have -brought to Five Fingers, and the evil which Aleck Curry could have -accomplished in that time. Just what outrage his enemy could have -successfully consummated he had no definite idea. Yet the thought -seized upon him at times and held him under a dark and oppressive -apprehension. - -On the last day before crossing the Height of Land Carter spoke of what -he knew to be in Peter's mind. - -"You will find Mona safe and well, and as true as the day you left -her," he said. "And lovelier, too, Peter, for she needed these two -years to round out her glorious womanhood. I'm not worrying about her. -I'm putting all my faith in another gamble." - -"And that?" - -Carter gave his thin shoulders a suggestive shrug. - -"Has it occurred to you how nice it will be if--in these two years of -change you have anticipated--something has happened to Curry? Death, -for instance?" - -Peter looked at his companion to see if he was joking. Carter's face -was set and unsmiling. - -"Why not?" he argued. "Aleck, although a brother of the Devil, isn't -calamity-proof. With him under six feet of good, honest dirt, or -mysteriously missing, or kicked out of the force by an authority -greater than his uncle--you would be a free man, and Father Albanel -could ring the wedding bell the day you reach Five Fingers. Maybe it's -only a dream I've had--but I seem to see Aleck Curry safely out of your -way, now or very soon. If he has tried to take advantage of Mona Guyon -during your absence----" - -"Simon McQuarrie or Pierre Gourdon would kill him!" - -"Exactly!" And Carter lighted his pipe and said no more, nor did he -raise his eyes to see the strained look which he knew was in Peter's -face. - -That night they slept on the northward slope of the ridge that -separated the waterways of a continent. - -Two days later, on the first of June, they crossed the southern line of -rail and camped in the deep wilderness between it and Lake Superior. - -Carter made his bed with more than usual care. - -"Our last night," he said. "Tomorrow we should pass the high ridge -country before dark and reach Five Fingers in the early light of the -moon. Are you a little excited?" - -"I should like to go on," said Peter. - -Carter smiled a bit wistfully. Now and then this flash of gentleness -had crept into his face of late. "I'd be willing to give up the rest of -my life if for a few hours I could have someone waiting for me as Mona -Guyon is waiting for you," he answered in a low voice. "Strange that -I've let all the years go by without thinking of that, isn't it? But -I'm thinking now. And I'm sorry--for a lot of things." - -"You say you are going to resign from the police as soon as you -can," said Peter, looking into the darkness that lay between him and -home. "When you do that--come to Five Fingers. Simon McQuarrie and -Pierre Gourdon and Joe and Father Albanel and all the others will -make it home for you. And Mona and Marie Antoinette and Josette will -love you because you were four-square and helped _us_. And after -that--somewhere--maybe at Five Fingers--there will be a girl----" - -A cough came from the gloom behind Peter, a thick and husky cough -as if Carter were choking something back that was in his throat. -"One of the few things I remember from years ago is a song called -'The City Four-Square,'" he said. "And when you, of all men, call me -four-square--why----" Darkness hid his face. "Good night, Peter!" - -"Good night," said Peter. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - - -Carter, as usual, had made his bed in deep shadow, and there after -a time he slept. The moon rose, but still the shadow enveloped him, -while Peter lay in a glow of light when the man-hunter roused himself. -He looked at his watch and found the hour a little after midnight. A -second time he slept, and a second time he awakened, and thick darkness -had come in place of the moonglow. This he knew to be the dark prelude -to dawn, and he rose out of his blanket and crept cautiously away from -the camp, moving a foot at a time and making no sound. In a quarter of -an hour darkness and distance had swallowed him. He waited then. Dawn -broke first over the tree-tops and filtered down softly and swiftly -into the lower depths of the forest until Carter could see to travel. -He lighted a last match to look at his watch and compass and struck due -south. - -He traveled fast, free of pack and gun. Dawn grew into the grayer -softness of day. Peter would be awakening now, he thought, or very -soon. In an hour, or two at the most, he would know he had been -tricked. Even with his advantage Carter sensed the thrill of an -impending race and the tragedy of it, if he should lose. Peter was -swift and sure in the woods and it was a long way to Five Fingers. - -High up in the sky a fleet of white clouds took on a crimson flush. The -sun rose, and it found Carter's face settling into the hard and grim -lines of the hunter whose game had so frequently been the lives of men. -In a small leather pouch he had stored some food, and a part of this he -ate as he traveled. He lost no time in seeking log and driftwood dams -to pave his way over streams but plunged waist-deep into water that -was still cold with the chill of snow and ice. It was noon before he -stopped to rest and eat what was left of the food in the leather pouch. - -A second time a miracle of change swept over him, and in his face, his -eyes and the lithe swiftness with which he moved he was the ferret -again, hot on the trail of game. Late in the afternoon he felt the cool -breath of Lake Superior in his face. The sun sank lower. Dusk came. In -the beginning of that dusk he emerged from the last rim of the forest -and stood with the water of the big inland sea moaning under the dark -cliffs at his feet. - -A sense of exultation and of triumph swept over him. It was something -to have mastered the wilderness in this way and to have come out within -half a dozen miles of Five Fingers. Peter could not beat that, even in -this country which was his own. - -Thickening darkness made these last miles more difficult and for two -hours Carter progressed slowly. The sky was beautifully clear, but -rocks and slides and ragged cracks and pits at the cliff edge made his -feet wary, and countless stars only served to deepen their shadows. -When the moon came up he had reached the huge cliff whose sheer walls -rose two hundred feet above the sea, less than half a mile from Five -Fingers. - -A last time he sat down, and with a strange smile on his thin lips -watched the full moon as it rose swiftly over the forests, as if -eager to reach its higher and more permanent place in the arch of the -heavens. He was tired and wet and his clothes were torn. Until now, -when the settlement was only a step ahead, he had not realized how -exhausted he was or what a fight he had gone through. Surely he had -beaten Peter by many miles and could afford to rest for a little while -before finishing his task! - -His eyes closed in restful stillness. In half a dozen minutes he could -have slept, but each time that his body wavered on the rock where he -sat he forced himself into rigid wakefulness. The temptation persisted, -and at last he gave himself five minutes and slept thirty. - -The rattle of a stone roused him, and he gathered himself up, blinking -at the moon. Then he heard iron nails scraping on rock. Instantly he -was wide awake. Someone was advancing along the face of the cliff from -the direction of Five Fingers. He could see first the shadow of that -person, growing in the illusive light mist of moon and stars. It was -big and grotesque and the tread of its substance was slow and heavy. -He heard a cough which was as unpleasantly heavy as the tread, and -a few steps more brought the advancing figure to the little plateau -of rock where he sat. Not until then did he rise. The other stopped. -The moon laughed down into their faces. The stars seemed to send upon -them a more brilliant light. A dozen paces separated them. Then, -uncertainly, they shortened it to half the distance. Carter's heart -gave a great throb. He would not have to go down to Five Fingers now, -_for this was his man_! - -"Curry!" he greeted. - -The other stared, half disbelieving. "Is that you--Carter?" he gasped. -He advanced again, peering into the other's face. "By Heaven, _it is_!" - -Carter was very white and thin and strange-looking in the moonlight, -and Aleck Curry was heavy and huge, even to his neck and face. He -thrust out a hand, but Carter did not touch it. - -"Yes, it's me," he said, in a voice cold as ice. "Queer why you should -be coming this way, Curry. I was going down there to find you." - -Aleck's eyes pierced the blanket of moonlight behind him. "What luck?" -he asked. His voice thrilled with nervous eagerness. He bent his big -shoulders toward Carter, looking into his face, his thick lips parted -and his narrow eyes gleaming anxiously as he tried to read an answer -before words came. "Any?" - -Carter's slowness was an insult, and with that insult his eyes and lips -were smiling. - -"Yes, I've had luck," he said, when the tenseness of the other's -silence seemed about to break. "Donald McRae is dead, and Peter is back -there--my prisoner!" - - * * * * * - -Half an hour later, down in Five Fingers, the bell over the little log -church rang out sweetly and softly the good news that Father Albanel -had come in from his monthly trip into the farther wilderness, and that -services would be held tomorrow, which was Sunday. In the stillness -of the night the music of the bell carried far through the forests, -creeping in and out and high above the hidden places, bearing with it -the peace and gentleness of benediction and prayer to all things. - -Peter heard it, far back in the hollows between the ridges, and he -paused to offer his gratitude to God for this voice that was welcoming -him home. - -And at the edge of the cliff where the moonlight and the starlight made -a vivid arena of the table of rock its message seemed to beat with the -clearness of a silvery drum. Then it stopped. Its echoes melted away, -and the two men who had heard it there remained unchanged. - -Carter seemed straighter and harder, his face more like carven stone. -But he was ready. And Aleck Curry was like a huge gorilla gathering -himself for a leap. - -"Carter--if you mean that--I'll kill you!" he said in a voice that was -thick with passion. - -"I mean it," replied Carter, biting his words short. "I've taken the -trouble to tell you the whole story. But you can't understand and -you never will. You're a snake. You're a traitor to both justice and -the law. You think your power over Peter will give you vengeance and -something from Mona. But it won't. And I warn you again that if you -try to use your knowledge, if you offer Peter as a price to Mona, if -you give him up to the law when she strikes you in the face--as she -will!--then I shall go to the highest authorities and strip you to the -skin. The truth will blast you. I will tell how you offered me bribes, -and then threatened; I will tell of your affair in the home of Jacques -Gautier and expose the horrible trail you have left wherever your slimy -soul has gone. I shall investigate the death of the young Indian girl -on the Arrowhead. I----" - -He did not finish. Curry, the man who had waited, the fiend who had -kept the fires of hatred and passion burning until they were madness, -saw more than the threatened ruin for himself. Reputation, family, -his place in the service meant nothing to him. What he saw now in the -white and almost deathlike face and gleaming eyes of the Ferret was the -end of the dream he had built up--the end not only of his power over -Peter but of his last chance to possess Mona. If Carter carried out -his threat, if he told the story of Gautier's wife and laid naked the -truth of the Indian girl's death on the Arrowhead--then all that he -might say against Peter would be discounted in the eyes of the law, and -punishment would fall upon himself. - -But he was not thinking of this punishment. At times the evil mind -in his heavy head worked with amazing swiftness--and in this last -moment of Carter's threat and defiance he saw the yawning abyss of the -cliff behind the Ferret, and its overwhelming temptation. With Carter -down there, dead, and Peter walking straight into the trap at Five -Fingers, his own power and triumph would be more complete than he had -ever dreamed it could be--_for he would make Peter also the Ferret's -murderer_! - -The moon revealed the monstrous thought that leaped like flame into his -face, and it was then Carter cut his words short to meet the avalanche -of flesh and fury that descended upon him. - -Swift as a flash he sensed Curry's intention of throwing him over the -cliff, and twined his arms about his enemy's neck as they crashed upon -the rock. For a moment after that a great shadow of fear darkened the -Ferret's soul. A hundred times in their associations on the trail he -had witnessed the tests and measured the possibilities of Aleck's huge -body and herculean strength. And now he was at death grips with it. -That day he had seen a wood-mouse in the fangs of a weasel, and he was -the wood-mouse now. And then he thought of Peter--of Peter and Mona and -the battle at the pool two years ago when they had beaten this great -hulk of a man. Fear went out of him. His biggest thrill in life was in -the main chance against death. And this was the biggest of all! - -A queer thought shot into his head, a surging back of his old pride. He -was not the wood-mouse, nor was he the weasel. He was the _ferret_, and -Aleck Curry was an unknown beast, ponderous and mighty, but with that -vulnerable spot which the ferret always found in its prey. And this -time Carter knew he was fighting for more than himself. He was fighting -for a man who was dead, and whose spirit was there on the rock watching -them. He was fighting for Peter. And he was fighting for a woman. - -His thin arms and legs fastened themselves about Aleck like things made -of wire steel instead of flesh and bone. Over and over they rolled, -twisting, bending, breaking, heads and faces gouging on the rocks, and -always Carter's quickness made up for the other's weight and strength. - -Their breath came in panting gasps as the nails in their boots struck -fire from the rock. A moan of anguish came from Curry when Carter got -the terrible thumb gouge in his eye, and a gasp of agony from the -Ferret when Aleck bent his head back until his neck nearly broke. There -was something merciless and horrible in the struggle. - -A little cloud ran under the face of the moon. It was followed by -a larger and darker one, as if spirit hands were drawing a curtain -between it and the tragedy on the rock. The light of the stars seemed -to grow dimmer, as if they, too, shrank from this thing that was -happening between the sea and the sky. And over the edge of the cliff -came a wailing sob of wind that was already beginning to croon its -death song for the victim. Minutes were hours. Gasps, chokings, blows -and the panting of breaths were the ticking of the seconds. Moments of -stillness, when the two lay crumpled and twisted as if they had died -together, were like eternities. And foot by foot they had rolled until -they were close to the edge of the cliff. - -Then it was that a shudder of deeper horror seemed to creep through the -night. A black cloud swept under the moon, hiding entirely what was -happening at the cliff's edge, and this cloud moved away with appalling -slowness. When the moon looked out again one object remained where -there had been two. For a long time it lay crumpled there, sobbing for -breath. Then it crawled away slowly, dragging itself painfully over the -rock, and disappeared at last into the thick growth of the burned-over -lands which reached far to the north. - - * * * * * - -Under that same moon, hours later, Peter came to the edge of Five -Fingers. Out of the sky all sign of cloud was gone and the stars glowed -in radiant constellations. Peter knew that it was midnight, and as he -looked down from the crest of the slope, where he had first walked hand -in hand with Mona when he was a boy, a strange and gentle silence rose -up from the bottom-lands to greet him. Five Fingers was asleep. He -could see no light and at first he heard no sound. Then came to him -the old familiar tinkle of silver bells on distant cattle, and the soft -murmur of the sea that was never quite still where it ran in and out -among the rocks of the Pit at the end of Middle Finger Inlet. - -For a space he stood looking down where the dark shadows of the cabins -lay in a great pool of mellow light that was like a gossamer mist of -silver and gold. His heart beat fast, so fast that he clutched a hand -at his breast and swallowed hard to get his breath. Down there, within -sound of his voice, was Mona--and all at once his manhood seemed to -leave him and he wanted to shout wildly through his hands like a boy, -calling her name, rousing her from sleep, shrieking at the top of his -voice that he had come back. A sort of thrilling madness possessed him, -but of all his desire only a choking sob rose in his throat. - -He walked down the slope and he saw Pierre Gourdon's home among the -scattered cabins. It was there he would find Mona, if---- - -His heart skipped a beat. If anything had happened, -_anything_--sickness--accident--if she had gone away! Two years was a -long time. Two years might have brought--a change. - -His feet seemed to stumble, and then suddenly he stopped, and a cry -came to his lips. For he had come to the smooth little patch of green -meadow where Mona had made the men of Five Fingers bury the scores -of marauding porcupines they killed each year, and he saw here and -there freshly made little mounds of soil. Near one of these, which -was scarcely dried by a day's sun, was a spade. Eagerly he seized -it in his hands. It was _their_ spade, with its broken edge and the -iron rod handle which Simon had put on it to replace the wooden one -which porcupines had eaten away. Mona was in Five Fingers! She was -alive--well--sleeping in her little room where he had visioned her at -prayer every night of his life! - -He took off his pack and dropped it near the freshly made mound. Then -he went on, and stopped under Mona's window. - -It was partly open. He could hear the soft flutter of a curtain in the -breath of wind that came up from the shore. Almost afraid to break the -stillness he called her name in a low voice. - -"_Mona!_" - -The curtain fluttered back at him. It seemed to be laughing at him, -seemed to be signaling to him like a hand from the window. - -Then he saw on their nails against the log wall the long bamboo poles -which Pierre Gourdon used in his fishing. A hundred times when he had -come in from the woods late at night he had tapped at Mona's window -with one of these poles, and she had thrust out her head to blow him -down a kiss and say good night. And now, with two hearts seeming to -beat in his breast in place of one, he seized one of the poles and -gently tapped the old signal on the window-pane. And all at once -the curtain ceased its fluttering and he could hear the two hearts -pounding mightily against his ribs. - -He tapped again--_tap-tap-tappety-tap!_ and stepped back into the deep -shadow that hung around the edge of the Gourdon cabin in a heavy fringe. - -Someone came to the window. He knew it--yet he could not see straight -up above his head. He held himself back, waiting for some response to -his signal. In a moment he would step out in the moonlight, and then---- - -He heard the curtain fluttering again. Sound came from her room. It -continued for a few moments, and ceased with the quiet opening of -a door. Then he heard footsteps, quick, light, almost frightened -footsteps, and a slim figure came around the end of Pierre Gourdon's -cabin and stood white-faced and trembling in the moonlight. - -It was Mona--Mona as he had left her an hour ago--yesterday--two -years ago--unchanged--except that she seemed taller to him, more -beautiful. She had thrown a long cloak about her and he could see her -hand clutching it at the throat as her wide eyes strained to solve the -mystery which the misty chaos of the moonlight was hiding from her. -For a space he seemed powerless to move. Then he tried to speak as he -revealed himself, ragged and torn and bronzed to Indian darkness by his -long fight through the wilderness, but it was only an incoherent cry -that stumbled on his lips. Mona saw him. For an instant she swayed -like a tall flower, with the whiteness of lily petals in her face as -he went to her. And then she gave a cry that even Pierre Gourdon might -have heard if he had not slept so deeply--and Peter's arms closed about -her. - -A minute later she held back his face with her two hands. Her eyes were -filled with the glory of the stars and her lips were red with the wild, -sweet passion of their kisses. Slowly a shadow came, and with it an -unutterable tenderness in the words which she whispered to him: - -"Peter, _I knew_. Carter sent me word--about your father--and _you_----" - -She drew his head down until she was holding it against her breast. Her -heart beat against his cheek. Her lips kissed his hair. - -"Only you--you and God--know how sorry I am," she whispered. - -And Peter felt once more like the small boy in the edge of the forest -years ago, when Mona had come to him in the dusk of evening to mend -his broken heart. For in these first moments of his homecoming it -was Mona--again--who thought first of his grief, and not of her own -happiness; and holding his head close, pressing his rough cheek in the -palm of her soft hand, she told him how Carter had sent word to her -all the way down through the wilderness, and how she had kept Carter's -message to herself--as he had asked her to do--and had waited night and -day for his coming with prayers of gratitude in her heart, and sorrow -for him. - -"And Carter promised to bring you to me," she whispered, "because he -said that in the end he had learned to love your father--and you." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - - -Where the shadow of Pierre Gourdon's cabin fell deepest a man had -dragged himself and lay like a dark and lifeless blot. Since Peter had -tapped at the window this man had scarcely moved, except to breathe and -change his position a little as he watched the lovers out in the light -of the moon and stars. They were very near to him, so near he might -have touched them with a pole less than the length of that which Peter -had used. And he heard the girl speak of Carter, and of what Carter had -done. - -It was then he drew himself slowly away, moving with the stealth and -caution of one to whom freedom from discovery meant a great deal. Not -until the cabin was fully between him and those he had spied upon did -he rise to his feet. This movement was slow and brought a gasp of -pain from him. He did not stand straight. His shoulders were bent. He -was hatless and ragged and his arms and breast were half stripped of -clothing. In his hand he carried a heavy stick, and with this stick he -helped himself to walk as he struck out in the moonlight. - -He tried to hurry, but at best his progress was not fast, and to make -up for lack of speed he kept the cabin between him and the two from -whom he was running away. In the shadow of a second cabin he stopped -to rest, breathing deeply, as if what he had accomplished had cost him -great effort. One at a time he passed the dwellings in the settlement -and made his way across the green open to the little log church. Here -he rested for a longer period, and in these moments he noted with -satisfaction that trees threw a deep and continuous shadow between him -and the edge of the forest. - -The door of Father Albanel's church was never locked and after a little -he opened it and entered. But he bolted it carefully behind him. Then -he groped his way through the moonlit seats and opened a window. After -that he found the rope which rang the bell. - -Never in its history had Five Fingers roused itself to the ringing of -the bell as it was rung tonight. It was not the Sabbath message. It was -not Father Albanel's sweet, slow tolling of peace on earth and good -will toward men, nor was it the sad and slumberous requiem for the -dead. It was, instead, a wild exultation, an almost savage triumph, a -pealing alarm that called upon every soul in the settlement to rise up -in instant wakefulness. It filled the forest until its notes beat one -upon another and the hills and ridges caught them up and flung them -back as they had never done before. Men rose out of their sleep and -stumbled for matches; a light appeared here, another there, and still -the bell continued to ring until not a cabin in Five Fingers remained -in darkness. - -Not until then did the man who had rung the bell drop from the window -of the little church and steal through the shadows of the trees into -the forest. There he did not pause but went on with the slowness of -either age or exhaustion until he was swallowed in the deeper secrecy -of the woods. - -Pierre Gourdon came first out into the night, bareheaded and in his -shirt-sleeves, and in front of his cabin he found Mona ahead of him -with her long hair streaming down her back and a strange man's arms -tightly about her. Almost fiercely he tore them apart--and then he saw -it was Peter. - -Jame Clamart came running up a moment later, and it was Jame who first -sent the news abroad in a shout which, next to the mad ringing of the -bell, was the wildest thing ever heard in Five Fingers between the hour -of midnight and one o'clock in the morning. - -"Peter McRae has come back!" he yelled. "Peter -McRae--_has_--_come_--_back_!" - -Swifter almost than men could travel word passed that this was the -reason for the ringing of the bell--Peter McRae had come home after two -years, and Father Albanel, or some other, had wakened them from their -sleep to welcome him. - -Pierre's women were first to take Peter away from Mona--Josette, -coming first, and then Marie Antoinette. And after them came Adette -Clamart. When she saw Peter she gave a little screech and threw her -arms around his neck, kissing him before her husband and all, and then -she fell upon Mona and cried hard in her gladness. The little group -grew larger; voices, glad laughter, tremulous excitement filled the -air, but suddenly a hush fell as a tall and gaunt-faced figure stalked -up through the silvery haze of the night and old Simon McQuarrie -shouldered his way among them. - -He said nothing when he came face to face with Peter, but for a moment -held him off at arm's length, his stern face working in a strange sort -of way, and then, as Mona crept to his side, he clasped them both in -his arms and stood for a few moments with his head bowed close down to -theirs. - -And then a whisper of gladness ran among the women, for Father Albanel -stood beside Mona and Peter and the little gray missioner's face was -streaming with tears of happiness as he, too, put his arms gently about -them. - -"It was Father Albanel who rang the bell," the women whispered softly -among themselves. - -And to this day the people of Five Fingers believe that he did. - -But on this night, Father Albanel was neither crooked nor bent, nor did -he walk with the aid of a stick. - - * * * * * - -To Peter it was like a dream, a glorious dream of friendship and of a -love that lifted his soul above all thought of fear and tragedy, and -not until he was alone with Simon in the cabin which had been his home -for so many years before he went away with his father did he think of -Aleck Curry or of the payment he had promised himself to be ready to -make to the law. But the thing which happiness had held back came out -now. - -The old Scotchman heard Peter's story from the night of the flight -almost two years ago, when the forests were burning in the great fire -about Five Fingers. And then Peter learned, in turn, that Aleck Curry -had built himself a shack in the edge of the timber and was quite -frequently at Five Fingers, usually remaining for a week or two at a -time. He was there now. That very evening Simon had met him face to -face in company with one of the half-dozen government surveyors who for -a year or more had been working up and down the shore. He was surprised -that the ringing of the bell and the excitement had not brought Curry -upon the scene. Probably he was with the surveyors at their camp. -Tomorrow he would show up. - -"And you haven't any idea what became of Carter?" Simon asked. - -Peter shook his head. "He simply disappeared. I cannot guess why. Maybe -he, too, will show up tomorrow." - -"Peter, who rang the bell?" - -Peter flushed under his darkened skin. "I think Father Albanel saw Mona -and me in the moonlight. He always loved to wander about late at night, -when the moon was bright." - -Simon's gaunt face broke into a strange smile. - -"It wasn't Father Albanel who rang the bell," he said. - -"No?" Peter looked at him sharply. "Then it was you, Simon! You saw us?" - -"No. I was asleep--sound asleep. But I know who rang the bell. It was -Carter!" - -A little thrill leaped through Peter. "It is impossible. Carter would -not have run away from me for _that_. Besides----" - -He did not finish, for Simon had risen and was looking out through the -window in a way that puzzled him. - -"I'm going down to the church," he said. "And I'm going the back way, -along the edge of the woods, so that no one will see me. Want to go?" - -They stole forth through the moonlight into the shadows of the forest. -When they came to the church Simon tried the door. - -"Locked!" he said. "That is unusual!" - -A few seconds later they stood at the open window. Through this they -climbed and one after another the Scotchman lighted a dozen matches -until they knew that no one could have remained hidden inside. Simon -then closed the window and led the way out through the door, leaving it -unlocked. - -"Careless of him," he grunted. "We'll leave the place just as he found -it. Fewer questions will be asked." - -He did not speak again until they were once more in their own cabin. -Peter, feeling the completeness of his exhaustion now, was about -to ascend the ladder to his own bed when Simon rested a hand on his -shoulder. - -"Boy," he whispered, "whatever happens after this, forget that Carter -came down from the north with you and that he ran away from you back -there on the trail. Understand, laddie? _Forget it!_ Lie about it if -you have to. For I believe it was Carter who rang that bell tonight, -and if he did, and it should so turn out that something has happened -to Aleck Curry--why--you see--it might be a suspicious circumstance, -pointing to a thing which you and I, with God's blessing on us, will -always know could never be true!" - -Even these words, making significantly clear the suspicion which was -in Simon's mind, could not keep Peter from thinking of Mona, and of -Mona alone, when he went to bed. But he awoke with the first crowing -of Simon McQuarrie's roosters, three hours later. He was going to take -breakfast with Mona, he told Simon, and as he was an appalling mess he -needed a lot of time to prepare for it. For two hours he scrubbed and -shaved and shampooed and manicured himself, and then dressed in the -best outfit he had left behind him two years ago. - -It was only a quarter of six when he finished, but an hour before, -he had seen a light in Mona's room and now smoke was rising from the -chimney over Josette Gourdon's kitchen. - -He went out the back way, as he and Simon had gone a few hours earlier, -and was sure he had succeeded in coming up behind Pierre's cabin -without giving any evidence of himself. But Mona's eyes were bright and -her cheeks were flushed as he stood very still for a few moments in the -doorway, though her back was toward him, and she seemed to be absorbed -in a number of purposeless little details at the kitchen table. Peter -made no sound, unless the pounding of his heart could be called that. - -There was a change after all--a change which the silvery radiance of -the moon had veiled from him last night. Mona _was_ taller, and--even -as he was looking at her now, without clearly seeing her face--she -was so much lovelier than when he had left Five Fingers that he was a -little frightened. Carter was right. It had taken those two years to -make her even more beautiful than Marie Antoinette. And he continued to -stand where he was, thinking himself undiscovered, worshiping her in -silence from the heels of her little feet to the top of her lustrous -head as if a word or a movement from him would destroy the transcendent -reality of it all. - -Mona's cheeks grew pinker and her eyes brighter. - -Then she turned upon him so suddenly and with such an unexpected -knowledge of his presence filling her eyes with laughter and joy that -in one swift moment Peter had her in his arms, and kissed her so wildly -on eyes and lips and hair that she was compelled to hide her face -against his breast to get breath. - -"You are--breaking me," she protested. "You have grown so strong, -Peter. And you are tumbling my hair down that I put up with so much -care, because this is Sunday!" - -She leaned back and shook her head so that the loosened coils of her -hair flooded down about her shoulders in a radiant protest to her words. - -"The two happiest days of my life have been Sundays," he said, holding -her more gently. - -"This is one, Peter?" - -"Yes." - -"And the other?" she asked, as if she had forgotten it entirely. - -"Was that first day you took me to church, when I thought you were a -little white angel, and sang with you, and dared to take a tress of -your hair in my fingers when I thought you didn't know it." - -"And since that day I've loved you, Peter. Yes, I loved you in that -very hour when you bit Aleck Curry's ear!" - -He filled his hands with the loosened masses of her hair, crushing the -soft coils between his fingers. - -"_Kiss me._" - -"Sh-h!" She put a finger to his lips. "It is Aunt Josette! I hear her -coming! I must run up the back way and fix my hair!" - -"It is unthoughtful of Aunt Josette----" - -"But she is coming!" - -"_Kiss me!_" - -She pressed her warm lips to his, and he let her go. Scarcely had she -escaped when Josette's light footsteps sounded in the dining-room, and -a moment later she appeared in the kitchen. Peter was stirring pancake -batter. - -"Mona gave me this job," he tried to explain. "She'll be back in a -minute." - -Josette smiled at him sweetly, and then quite innocently picked up -several hairpins from the floor. "How careless of me to lose these!" -she exclaimed, but there was a roguish light in her dark eyes which did -not quite escape Peter as she tucked the pins in her own thick tresses. - -To Peter it was as if he had gone away yesterday, and returned today. -Pierre came in yawning, and found him helping with the breakfast. When -Mona reappeared her hair was in a long braid. Never had he seen such -lovely, velvety softness in her eyes or such sweet color in her face. - -Josette, with a sly signal to Pierre, maneuvered them to the open door. -"When we are ready for you children we'll call you," she said. - -They walked toward the forest. And there, in the edge of the beautiful -green meadow which had always been hallowed as their playground, he saw -for the first time a new cabin nearly finished. Mona was looking at -him. She saw the surprise and then the cloud that gathered in his face. -She took his hand, and her fingers clung to his. - -"You don't like it?" she asked. - -"It is a nice cabin, but----" - -He did not know how to finish. She looked down, very demurely, so that -he could not see her eyes for the long lashes that hid them. - -"It is my cabin." - -"_Yours!_" - -"Yes, mine. Maybe I shouldn't tell you the secret, Peter, but I'm going -to be married." - -It seemed impossible that a human heart could rise up and choke one as -quickly as Peter's did. - -Mona was still looking at the ground. - -"You see, Carter told me in his letter to confide in Simon. And when -Simon knew you were coming, and would of course have to marry me very -soon, we planned this cabin together and Simon is going to give it to -me as a wedding present. Then I'm going to let you live in it. Don't -you think I'm nice?" - -Peter stopped. Mona looked up, frightened. - -"Don't, Peter--don't!" she entreated. "Aunt Josette is looking, and -Uncle Pierre will see you, and all the rest of Five Fingers----" - -But all the rest of the world could not have stopped Peter. He crumpled -her in his arms. - - * * * * * - -That day was one in which Peter could not bring himself to reveal to -Mona the uncertainty which had been a part of his homecoming. Her -happiness completely possessed him, and as hour after hour passed he -found himself further than at the beginning from carrying out his -resolution to tell her the price which he fully expected the law would -ask of him. That he could expect no mercy from Aleck Curry, he assured -himself through Simon. But he did not see Aleck, nor did he mention him -to Mona. She sensed no danger. No one in Five Fingers could guess at -the menace which hung over him, for he believed that even Simon did not -know of that first morning of his father's flight when he had committed -the fatal sin of firing upon the law. From the fact that Aleck had kept -this crime a secret he realized the nearness and deadliness of the trap -which would soon spring upon him. - -But Aleck did not appear. It was not until after morning service in -the little church that Mona mentioned him quite casually. He was -bigger and coarser and more detestable than ever, she told Peter. He -had tried to pay some attention to her, and she knew that he and Simon -had frequently had words. It was through his uncle, she said, that he -had been given this lazy assignment, covering the country between the -railroad settlements and Five Fingers. - -In the afternoon Peter met Simon alone. - -The lines in the old Scotchman's face seemed to have grown deeper since -morning. They were like little creases cut in stone. - -"I have been over to the surveyors' camp," he said. "Curry hasn't been -there since yesterday morning. And he didn't sleep in his bed last -night." - -"He has gone to the settlements," suggested Peter. - -"His pack and traveling dunnage are in his shack," answered Simon. "He -hasn't gone to the settlements." Simon did not once let his eyes meet -Peter's squarely. He spoke even carelessly as he looked away. "You -haven't forgotten what I told you about Carter?" - -"No." - -"That is well. I wouldn't be surprised if something happened to Curry -last night. I saw him dead drunk at dusk--starting out alone along the -cliff to the west. I told him to come back, and he cursed me." - -Simon McQuarrie could not hide a lie. And Peter knew he was lying. - -A little later Simon struck off into the woods to the east and did -not return until after dark. At bedtime Peter asked if he had found -anything of interest. - -"Only a hungry man. I happened to have a lunch in my pocket. The poor -devil was so weak he was hobbling along with a stick." - -"Who was he?" - -"I didn't ask his name." Simon turned his back to Peter as he prepared -for bed. "Queer I didn't ask his name--but I didn't." - -On the third day after this night Five Fingers received a stupendous -shock. Simon McQuarrie and Father Albanel, in seeking lost net buoys -under the Big Cliff, had found the body of a dead man. It was Aleck -Curry. He was terribly broken and almost unrecognizable by the pounding -of his body in the surf that washed in and out among the rocks. The -story of his end was quite clear. He had evidently stumbled over -the edge of the cliff while drunk, inasmuch as Simon had seen him -staggering in its direction on the night he had disappeared. - -"We'll take him to the nearest railroad settlement and let his friends -have him," Simon said to the men of Five Fingers. - -But to Father Albanel he added, in a voice which others did not hear, -"It would be unpleasant, _mon père_, to have him always in our own -little cemetery where only those we love are at rest." - -And so, on that same day, all that was left of Aleck Curry was borne -northward through the hills and ridges to his people. - -Three weeks later Mona and Peter were married. Five Fingers will never -forget that day. It was in the full glory of June, and the robins and -thrushes were singing outside the little church. In spite of Peter's -protest Mona teased him by insisting that she would not tell him where -she wanted to spend her honeymoon until the little missioner had said -the last words, and they were man and wife. And then, putting her soft -mouth to Peter's ear, she whispered, "I want to stay in the new cabin -which Simon is giving us." - -So there, from the beginning, they found their new happiness, and -Pierre Gourdon and Josette would walk in the twilights of summer -evenings, lovers still, and never grow tired of painting for each other -the beautiful and unforgetable pictures of many years ago when they -had come through the pathless wilderness to make this paradise in which -God, in His great goodness, had made the last of their dreams come true. - - * * * * * - -It was on an afternoon in August that Adette Clamart came to Mona's -home with her cousin, Adele, who had come from the French country of -Quebec to live with her, and announced that a stranger had arrived in -Five Fingers and was talking with Simon in his cabin. - -"Adele met him on the settlement trail," she said. "He carried a basket -of flowers for her, and was so very nice that she has fallen in love -with him. Haven't you, Adele?" - -"He was very stiff and frightened every time I looked at him," replied -Adele, "and I felt sorry for him. But he was nice--yes. And he had--how -do I say it, Adette?--such a strange, stern face, with sadness in -it--and----" - -"Ugh!" shuddered Adette. "He was dangerously hungry, Adele. I know -because Jame gets that way." - -"Whoever he is--_he is coming_!" said Mona, looking through the open -door. - -And so he was, with the old Scotchman on one side of him and Peter on -the other, as if they were pulling him along against his will. And as -they came nearer Mona's heart gave a sudden flutter, and then a great -jump, for this stranger who had carried Adele's flowers was Carter the -man-hunter. - -She ran out to meet him, and though she said only a few trembling words -of welcome a light which Carter saw in her eyes made him draw in a -quick breath of gratitude and joy. - -"The new superintendent of the mill," announced Simon a little -pompously, when Adette and Adele had joined them. "I'm getting lazy and -he is taking my place. Quite a surprise! But we've been planning it a -long time, haven't we, Carter?" And Simon laughed mysteriously. - -Then came a sudden interruption. The bell over the little church began -to ring as it had rung on a certain midnight weeks ago. And this time -it was surely Father Albanel who was tugging at the rope. In his face -was a flush of benevolent joy, and the louder the bell rang the rosier -his cheeks grew, and there alone in the church he laughed like a boy. - -Nudging Carter, whose face had grown strangely fixed and staring, Simon -McQuarrie chuckled softly at his shoulder: "Someone rang the bell like -that on the night Peter came home. And _now_, Carter, it is ringing our -welcome to _you_!" - -Observing Mona a few moments later, Adette wondered what had happened -to make her eyelashes wet with tears. - -Peter understood, and his hand found Mona's and held it tenderly. With -an inspiration born of words which Carter had once said to him about -a girl waiting at the end of the trail, he found the opportunity to -whisper, "Ask Carter to have supper with us, and also _Adele_." - -This Mona did in her own sweet fashion, making sure of Carter first, -and after his acceptance calling upon Adele to lend herself to his -entertainment in a way which gave her no possible excuse for a refusal, -had such a thought come into her mind. Simon looked shrewdly at Mona -and Adette. Then he turned toward the green ridges to the north over -which billowy white clouds were rising. - -"It's going to rain," he said. "I smell it in the air. It will come -tonight." - -"The crops need it," said Peter. - -"And most of all--the flowers," added Adele, looking at Carter. - -"Yes, the flowers--and the woods," he nodded. "It is very dry in the -timber for this season of the year." - -Mona and Peter turned toward their cabin, and Mona's eyes shot a sly -signal to Adette. Jame's wife took firm hold of Simon's arm. "If you -know what is good for you--come with me!" she whispered, with her back -turned to Adele and Carter. - -For a moment Carter stood helplessly. Then he moved to Adele's side and -they followed Mona and Peter. - -"You like flowers, Miss Adele?" - -"I love them, Mr. Carter!" - -As they passed through the door Mona squeezed her husband's hand. - -"It was a wonderful thought, Peter. Do you think you can kiss me very -quickly before they come in?" - -"I am sure that I can," replied Peter--and kissed her. - - -THE END - - - - -TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: - -Obvious printer errors have been corrected. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: A Gentleman of Courage - A Novel of the Wilderness - -Author: James Oliver Curwood - -Illustrator: Robert W. Stewart - -Release Date: January 4, 2017 [EBook #53885] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GENTLEMAN OF COURAGE *** - - - - -Produced by Chris Whitehead, Roger Frank and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -book was produced from images made available by the -HathiTrust Digital Library.) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img style="margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em;" src="images/cover-image.jpg" id="coverpage" width="500" height="731" alt="A Gentleman of Courage" /> -<div class="transnote covernote"> -<p class="center" style="margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em;">The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain. The illustration used -in the cover is the frontispiece.</p> - -</div></div> - -<hr class="chap" style="page-break-after: always;" /> - -<h1 style="margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 3em;"><i>A</i> Gentleman <i>of</i><br /> -COURAGE</h1> - - -<hr class="chap" style="page-break-after: always;" /> - - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 415px;"> -<img style="margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em;" src="images/image1.jpg" width="415" height="644" alt="List of books by James Oliver Curwood" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" style="page-break-after: always;" /> -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 415px;"> -<img src="images/image2.jpg" width="415" height="606" alt="Frontispiece--PETER was the same Peter, but now he was a man" /> -</div> -<p class="center" style="margin-top: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1.5em;">Frontispiece--<i>PETER</i> was the same Peter, but now he was a man</p> - -<hr class="chap" style="page-break-after: always;" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 415px;"> -<img src="images/image3.jpg" width="415" height="617" alt="Title page for A Gentleman of Courage" /> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" style="page-break-after: always;" /> - - -<p class="center" style="margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 3em;"> -<i>Copyright, 1923, by International Magazine Company.</i><br /> -<br /> -<i>Copyright, 1924, by International Magazine Company.</i><br /> -<br /> -<i>Copyright, 1924, by Cosmopolitan Book Corporation, New<br /> -York. All rights reserved, including that of translation into<br /> -foreign languages, including the Scandinavian.</i><br /> -<br /> -<br /> -<i>Printed in the United States of America by</i><br /> -J. J. LITTLE AND IVES COMPANY, NEW YORK<br /> -</p> - -<hr class="chap" style="page-break-after: always;" /> - - -<p class="center" style="margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 3em;"> -<i>The Illustrations<br /> -consist of<br /> -A Frontispiece and a Centerspread<br /> -reproduced in Color from the<br /> -Original Paintings by</i><br /> -<br /> -ROBERT W. STEWART</p> - -<hr class="chap" style="page-break-after: always;" /> - -<h1 style="margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 3em;"><i>A</i> Gentleman <i>of</i><br /> -COURAGE</h1> - -<hr class="chap" style="page-break-after: always;" /> - - - - -<h2 style="margin-top: 3em;">CONTENTS</h2> - -<table class="centered" border="0" cellpadding="10" style="max-width: 60em" summary="CONTENTS"> - -<tr> <th></th> <th class="chappage"><span class="smcap">Page</span></th></tr> - -<tr><td class="chapname"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a></td> <td class="chapnum">1</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="chapname"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a></td> <td class="chapnum">16</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="chapname"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a></td> <td class="chapnum">26</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="chapname"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a></td> <td class="chapnum">41</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="chapname"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a></td> <td class="chapnum">60</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="chapname"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a></td> <td class="chapnum">68</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="chapname"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a></td> <td class="chapnum">87</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="chapname"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a></td> <td class="chapnum">100</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="chapname"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</a></td> <td class="chapnum">115</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="chapname"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</a></td> <td class="chapnum">125</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="chapname"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</a></td> <td class="chapnum">137</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="chapname"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</a></td> <td class="chapnum">155</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="chapname"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</a></td> <td class="chapnum">171</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="chapname"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</a></td> <td class="chapnum">182</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="chapname"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV</a></td> <td class="chapnum">193</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="chapname"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</a></td> <td class="chapnum">211</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="chapname"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII</a></td> <td class="chapnum">227</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="chapname"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII</a> </td> <td class="chapnum">240</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="chapname"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX</a></td> <td class="chapnum">250</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="chapname"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX</a></td> <td class="chapnum">268</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="chapname"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI</a></td> <td class="chapnum">281</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="chapname"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII</a></td> <td class="chapnum">297</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="chapname"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII</a></td> <td class="chapnum">311</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="chapname"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV</a></td> <td class="chapnum">325</td></tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap" style="page-break-after: always;" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> - - - - - - - -<h1 style="margin-top: 3.5em; margin-bottom: 3em;"><i>A</i> Gentleman <i>of</i><br /> -COURAGE</h1> - - - - -<h2 style="margin-bottom: 2em;"><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Pierre Gourdon</span> had the love of God in his -heart, a man's love for a man's God, and it -seemed to him that in this golden sunset of a July -afternoon the great Canadian wilderness all about him -was whispering softly the truth of his faith and his -creed. For Pierre was the son of a runner of the -streams and forests, as that son's father had been -before him, and love of adventure ran in his blood, and -romance, too; so it was only in the wild and silent -places that he felt the soul in him attuned to that fellowship -with nature which the good teachers at Ste. -Anne de Beaupré did not entirely approve. Nature -was Pierre's God, and would ever be until he died. And -though he had crept up the holy stair at Ste. Anne's -on his knees, and had touched the consecrated water -from the sacred font, and had looked with awe upon -mountains of canes and crutches left by those who had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> -come afflicted and doubting and had departed cured -and believing, still he was sure that in this sunset of a -certain July afternoon he was nearer to the God he -desired than at any other time in all his life.</p> - -<p>Josette, his wife, slender and tired, her dark head -bare in the fading sun, stood wistful and hoping at -his side, praying gently that at last their long wanderings -up the St. Lawrence and along this wilderness -shore of Superior had come to an end, and that they -might abide in this new paradise, and never travel again -until the end of their days.</p> - -<p>Back of them, where a little stream ran out of the -cool forest, a tireless boy quested on hands and knees -in the ferns and green grass for wild strawberries, and -though strawberry season was late his mouth was -smeared red.</p> - -<p>The man said, pointing down, "It makes one almost -think the big lake is alive, and a hand is reaching in -for him."</p> - -<p>"Yes, they are Five Fingers of water reaching in -from the lake," agreed Josette, seating herself wearily -upon a big stone, "though it seems to me there should -be only four fingers, and one thumb."</p> - -<p>And so the place came to be named, and through all -the years that have followed since that day it has tenaciously -clung to its birthright.</p> - -<p>The boy came to his mother, bringing her strawberries -to eat; and the man, climbing a scarp of rock, -made a megaphone of his hands and hallooed through<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> -it until an answering shout came from deep in the -spruces and balsams, and a little later Dominique -Beauvais came out to the edge of the slope, his -whiskered face bright with expectancy, and with him -his little wife Marie, panting hard to keep pace with -his long legs.</p> - -<p>When they were together Pierre Gourdon made a -wide and all-embracing sweep with his arms.</p> - -<p>"This will be a good place to live in," he said. "It -is what we have been looking for."</p> - -<p>With enthusiasm Dominique agreed. The women -smiled. Again they were happy. The boy was hunting -for strawberries. He was always empty, this boy.</p> - -<p>Pierre Gourdon kissed his wife's smooth hair as -they went back to the camp they had made two hours -earlier in the day, and broke into a wild boat song which -his grandfather had taught him on his knee in the -wicked days before he had known Josette at Ste. -Anne, and Dominique joined in heartily through his -whiskers.</p> - -<p>The women's smiles were sweeter and their eyes -brighter, for fatigue seemed to have run away from -them now that their questing men-folk were satisfied -and had given them a promise of home.</p> - -<p>That night, after supper, with their green birch -camp-fire lighting up the blackness of the wilderness, -they sat and made plans, and long after nine-year-old -Joe had crawled into his blanket to sleep, and the -women's eyes were growing soft with drowsiness,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> -Pierre and Dominique continued to smoke pipefuls of -tobacco and to build over and over the homes of their -dreams.</p> - -<p>Young and happy, and overflowing with the adventurous -enthusiasm of the race of <i>coureurs</i> from which -they had sprung, they saw themselves with the rising -of another sun pitched into the heart of realities which -they had anticipated for a long time; and when at last -Josette fell asleep, her head pillowed close to her boy's, -her red lips that had not lost their prettiness through -motherhood and wandering were tender with a new -peace and contentment. And a little later, while Pierre -and Dominique still smoked and painted their futures, -the moon rose over the forest-tops in a great golden -welcome to the pioneers, and the wind came in softly -and more coolly from the lake, and at the last, from -far away, rose faintly a wilderness note that thrilled -them—the cry of wolves.</p> - -<p>Dominique listened, and silently emptied the ash -from his pipe into the palm of his hand.</p> - -<p>"Where wolves run there is plenty of game, and -where there is game there is trapping," he said.</p> - -<p>And then came a sound which stopped the hearts of -both for an instant, a deep and murmuring echo, faint -and very far, that broke in a note of strange and vital -music upon the stillness of the night.</p> - -<p>"A ship!" whispered Pierre.</p> - -<p>"Yes, a ship!" repeated Dominique, half rising to -catch the last of the sound.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p> - -<p>For this was a night of forty years ago, when on the -north shore of Superior the cry of wolves in the forest -was commoner than the blast of a ship's whistle at -sea.</p> - -<p>The pioneers slept. The yellow moon climbed up -until it was straight overhead. Shadows in the deep -forest moved like living things. The wolves howled, -circled, came nearer, and stopped their cry where the -kill was made. Mellow darkness trembled and thrilled -with life. Silent-winged creatures came and disappeared -like ghosts. Bright eyes watched the sleeping -camp of the home seekers. A porcupine waddled -through it, chuckling and complaining in his foolish -way. A buck caught the scent of it, stamped his -foot and whistled. There were whisperings in the tall, -dark spruce tops.</p> - -<p>Caverns of darkness gave out velvety footfalls of -life, and little birds that were silent in the day uttered -their notes softly in the moon glow.</p> - -<p>A bar of this light lay across Josette's face, softening -it and giving to its beauty a touch of something -divine. The boy was dreaming. Pierre slept -with his head pillowed in the crook of his arm. -Dominique's whiskers were turned to the sky, bristling -and fierce, as if he had taken this posture to -guard against harm the tired little wife who lay at his -side.</p> - -<p>So the night passed, and dawn came, wakening them -with the morning chatter of a multitude of red squirrels<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> -in a little corner of the world as yet unspoiled -by man.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>That first day from which they began to measure -their new lives the axes of Pierre and Dominique struck -deep into the sweetly scented hearts of the cedar trees -out of which they were to build their homes at Five -Fingers. But first they looked more carefully into -the prospects of their domain.</p> - -<p>The forest was back of them, a forest of high ridges -and craggy ravines, of hidden meadows and swamps, a -picturesque upheaval of wild country which reached for -many miles from the Superior shore to the thin strip -of settlement lands along the Canadian Pacific. Black -and green and purple with its balsam, cedar and -spruce, silver and gold with its poplar and birch, -splashed red with mountain ash, its climbing billows -and dripping hollows were radiantly tinted by midsummer -sun—and darkly sullen and mysterious under cloud -or storm. Out of these fastnesses, choked with ice and -snow in winter, Pierre knew how the floods must come -roaring in springtime, and his heart beat exultantly, -for he loved the rush and thunder of streams, and the -music of water among rocks.</p> - -<p>At the tip of the longest of the five inlets which -broke like gouging fingers through the rock walls of -the lake half a mile away they decided upon the sites for -their cabins. Against those walls they could hear -faintly the moaning of surf, never quite still even when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> -there was no whisper of wind. But the long finger of -water, narrow and twisted, as if broken at the joint, -was a placid pool of green and silver over which the -gulls floated, calling out their soft notes in welcome to -the home builders, and in its white sand were the prints -of many feet, both of birds and of beasts, who played -and washed themselves there, and came down to drink. -Between these two, the open and peaceful serenity of -the inlet and the cool, still hiding-places of the forest, -were the green meadowland and slopes and patches of -level plain, a narrow strip of park-like beauty at the -upper edge of which, in the very shadow of the -forest, Pierre and Dominique struck off their plots -and squared their angles, making ready for the logs -in which the afternoon saw their axes buried.</p> - -<p>The days passed. Each dawn the red squirrel chorus -greeted the rising sun; through hours that followed -came the ring of steel and the freedom of voice which -is born of love and home. Pierre sang, as his grandfather -had sung long years ago, and Dominique bellowed -like a baying hound when the chorus came. -Women's laughter rose with the singing of the birds. -Josette and Marie were girls again, and the boy was -forever leading them to newly discovered strawberry -patches hidden among the rocks and grass and -ferns.</p> - -<p>It was a new thing for the wilderness, this invasion -of human life, and for a long time it fell away from -them, listening, frightened and subdued. But the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> -birds and the red squirrels gave it courage, and softly -it returned, curious and shy and friendly. The deer -came down to drink again in the dusk, and moose -rattled their antlers up the ridge. Pop-eyed whisky -jacks began to eat bannock crumbs close to Josette's -hands. Jays came nearer to scream their defiance, like -wild Indians, in the tree-tops, and thrushes and warblers -sang until their throats were ready to burst, and -twenty times a day Pierre would pause in his labor -and say, "This is going to be a fine place to live in, -with the sea at our front door and the woods at our -back."</p> - -<p>He called Superior "the sea," and twice in the first -week they saw far out in its hazy vastness white and -shimmering specks which were sailing ships.</p> - -<p>Log upon log the first of the cabins rose, until the -roof was covered, and scarcely was it done when -Josette and Marie were planting wild morning glories -and crimson splashes of roses about it, and were -digging in the dark, cool mold of birch and poplar -thickets for violet roots, and out in the sheltered fens -and meadow-dips for hyacinths and fire-flowers; and -in the hour before dusk, when the day's work was over -and supper was eaten, they would go hand in hand -with their men-folk to study and ponder over the fertile -patches of earth here and there where next spring they -would plant potatoes and carrots and turnips and all -the other fine things they had known back in the land -of Ste. Anne.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was August when the two cabins were finished, -small in dimensions but snug as dovecotes, and in the -eyes of Josette and Marie grew a deeper and more -serious look. For they were housewives again, with -little to do with, but with a world full of endeavor and -anticipation ahead of them. And it worried them to -see that the fruits were ripening, red raspberries so -thick the bears were turning into hulks of fat, black -currants and saskatoons among the rocks, and all over -the ridgesides great trees of wild plums and mountain -ash berries, waiting for the first frosts to make them -ready for preserves and jams.</p> - -<p>So Dominique, one day, set out to blaze a trail to the -nearest settlement, thirty miles away; and thereafter -their men-folk took turns, one and then the other, -going with empty pack and returning with sixty pounds -of burden, and berries were put into cans and dried and -preserved—until Pierre and Dominique began to tease -their wives and ask them if they wanted their husbands -to turn into bears and sleep on their fat all winter. It -was this banter which reminded Josette of candles, and -in September they killed two bears and made several -hundred of them.</p> - -<p>With the first frosts of autumn Pierre said even more -frequently than before, "This is a fine place to live in," -and Josette and Marie, seeing what the frosts were -doing, rose each morning with new wonder and new -joy in their eyes. For if these frosts were giving to -the waters of the lake a colder and harder sheen, with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> -something of menace and gloom about it, they were -also painting the ridges and hollows and all the forest -land as far as they could see with a glory of color -which they had never known at Ste. Anne.</p> - -<p>Breath of winter came in the nights. Higher grew -the great birch piles of firewood which Pierre and -Dominique dragged close to the cabin doors, and very -soon came the days when the carnival of autumn color -was gone and all but the evergreen trees assumed the -ragged distress of naked limbs and branches, and -winds broke down fiercely over the wilderness, and the -moan of the lake, beating against its rock walls, grew -clearer and at times was a muffled and sullen roar half -a mile away.</p> - -<p>But these changes were not frightening to Pierre and -his people. Canadian winter was, after all, the heart -of their lives; long months of adventure and thrill of -deep snows and stinging blizzards on the trap lines, of -red-hot stoves, and snug evenings at home telling the -tales of the day, and appetites as keen as the winds -that howled down from the north.</p> - -<p>This season, of all seasons, they would not have -changed. It was then the wolf howl took on a new -note, the foxes cried out hungrily at the edge of the -clearing in the night. The call of the moose floated -awesomely through the frost of still evenings, and the -bears hunted their dens. One after another songbirds -departed, leaving the whisky jacks and the jays behind, -and the ravens gathered in flocks, while in the thickets<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> -and swamps the big snowshoe rabbits turned from -brown to gray and from gray to white. All hunting -things were astir, from the wolf and the fox and the -little outlaw ermine to the owl and the dog-faced fisher-cat, -and in November Pierre and Dominique dipped -their traps in hot bear grease and prayed for the first -snow.</p> - -<p>It came in the night, so quietly that none heard the -breathless fall of it, and the world was white when -little Joe got out of his bed at dawn to look at his rabbit -snares in the edge of the timber. That was the -beginning of their first winter at Five Fingers. It was -a cold, dry winter, and there was never a day that a -haunch of venison or moose meat was not hanging -behind the cabins. Trapping was good, and the store -of pelts grew as the weeks went on, until Pierre and -Dominique both swore in the same breath that it was -a paradise that they had found on this north shore of -Superior, and each day they made new promises of -what they would buy for Josette and Marie in the -spring. The snow piled itself deeper, and the lake -froze over. In January it was thirty degrees below -zero.</p> - -<p>The white world, Josette called it, and at times they -all played in it like children. There was Christmas, and -then New Year's, and a birthday for Marie, and games -and stories at night round the crackling stoves in the -cabins. Pierre and Dominique built toboggans, and -from the crest of the ridge where they had first looked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> -down upon the Five Fingers they sped in wild races -over the open and halfway across the snow-crusted ice -of the middle finger. And yet when Dominique came -in one day and said quite casually that he had heard -the chirp of a brush warbler back in the big swamp -Marie gave a little cry of delight and Josette's eyes grew -suddenly bright.</p> - -<p>It meant spring. A day or two later Pierre said the -coats of the snowshoe rabbits were turning rusty, which -meant early spring. Then came discovery of the first -bear track, the track of a foolish bear who had come -out hungrily, like a woodchuck, only to hunt himself -a den again when he saw his shadow freezing in the -snow. After this there was more sun in the morning -and less of the cold of sullen twilight each night, and -before even the crust of the snow had begun to thaw -Pierre brought in a poplar twig to show how the buds -were swelling until they seemed ready to pop. "I -have never seen them fatter," he said. "It means spring -isn't far away."</p> - -<p>When the first robin came Josette told her husband -she could already smell the perfume of flowers. He -was a cold-footed and crabbed-looking bird, forlorn -and disappointed at the world's chill aspect, and for a -few minutes he sat humped up on the roof log and then -flew away.</p> - -<p>This was the beginning. The snow began to thaw on -the sunny sides of the slopes, and after that the change -came swiftly. In April a steady and swelling murmur<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> -ran through the forests, the music of the gathering -waters. Meadows and flats became flooded, little creeks -changed suddenly into rushing torrents, lakes and -ponds crept up over their sides, and the tiny stream -which passed near the cabins, quiet and gentle in summertime, -was all at once a riotous and quarrelsome outlaw, -roaring and foaming in its mad rush down to -the Middle Finger. Half a mile away was a larger -stream whose flood sounds came to them like the -distant roar of a cataract. It was glorious music, with -something in it that stirred the blood of Pierre and -his people like tonic and wine. Pierre, in his optimism -and love of life, explained it all by saying, "It is good -to have a long, cold winter that we may fully enjoy -the spring."</p> - -<p>The birds seemed to return in a night and a day—robins -perky and glad to get back from the lazy southland, -thrushes and catbirds and a dozen kinds of little -brown warblers and brush sparrows whose voices were -sweetest of all the spring songsters. The earth itself -began to breathe with swelling roots and tips of green; -the first flowers popped up; the poplar buds exploded -into fuzzy leaves, and Pierre and Dominique worked -from morning until night, clearing the patches they -were to plant this year, and spading up the rich, dark -soil.</p> - -<p>It was about this time Pierre gave voice to a -thought which had been growing in his head all winter. -He was standing with Josette at the tip of the green<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> -ridge from which they had first looked down upon -Five Fingers.</p> - -<p>"Ste. Anne was never as fine as this, <i>chérie</i>," he said.</p> - -<p>"No, not even before the woods were cut," agreed -Josette.</p> - -<p>He took her hand and held it softly in his own, and -Josette laid her cheek against his shoulder so that his -lips could touch her smooth hair. Pierre always liked -it that way.</p> - -<p>"I have been having a dream," he said, his voice a -little queer because of its secret, and because he knew -how its confession would thrill the one at his side, -"and I have said nothing about it, but have done much -thinking. Would not a little church look pretty down -there, just where the tip of the evergreen forest -reaches to the Middle Finger?"</p> - -<p>"A church!" whispered Josette, her heart giving a -sudden swift beat.</p> - -<p>"Yes, a church," chuckled Pierre softly. "And over -there, in that green bit of meadow—what a place for a -home for our old friend Poleon Dufresne, and Sara, -and all the children. And there is room for the -Clamarts, too, and Jean Croisset and his wife. It is -a big land, with plenty of fur and game and good rich -soil underfoot, and I have thought it is not right to -keep it all to ourselves, <i>douce amie</i>."</p> - -<p>From the door of her cabin some distance away -Marie Beauvais wondered just why it was that Josette -threw her arms so suddenly round her husband's neck<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> -and kissed him. And Pierre, with a heart full of -happiness, little guessed that with the fulfilment of his -dreams would come tragedy into the wilderness paradise -at Five Fingers.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2 style="margin-top: 3.5em; margin-bottom: 2em;"><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was five years later that Simon McQuarrie and -Herman Vogelaar came to Five Fingers. They -were a queer but lovable combination. Simon was a -Scotchman, tall and spare, with a thin face which -seldom broke into a smile and which had the appearance -of being made of flint. His companion was a -Dutchman, short and round as a dumpling, with a -pink, smooth face, light blue eyes and a great habit of -puffing when he exerted himself a little, which came, -Simon said, from overeating. They had been boys -together more than thirty years ago in a little Ontario -town, and now they were partners, timber-looking, -prospecting and bartering and saving a little money -as the years went on. Herman was a widower, and -his only daughter, Geertruda, had married Jeremie -Poulin back in Quebec, and Jeremie was a cousin of -the Clamarts and lived now at Five Fingers. It was -Herman's first visit. He had come to see the new -baby and had brought Simon along with him.</p> - -<p>The instant Simon's shrewd eyes came upon the -clearing and the little settlement, with the fingers -of water reaching in from the big lake, he began having -thoughts which he did not at once announce to Herman.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p> - -<p>The years had brought changes to Five Fingers. -The single-room cabins which Pierre and Dominique -had built were gone, and in their places stood larger -buildings of clean-cut and nicely squared logs, with -flowers and garden plots around them, and rows of -smooth stones painted white. Josette, now almost -forty, was still slim and pretty, and Pierre was more -than ever her lover, in spite of a great disappointment -which he kept shut up in his own heart. He wanted -children. His love for them was a passion, but for -him stalwart young Joe, now fourteen years old, was -the first and the last. Pierre had implicit faith in -prayer, and ever since that first summer at Five -Fingers he had prayed devoutly that God might send -more children.</p> - -<p>And God answered, though somewhere there was a -slip that puzzled Pierre, for the more he prayed the -more children came to Dominique and Marie. First -there was a pair of them, Louis and Julie, then three -singles as regularly as could be—Aimé and Félipe and -Dominique—and with each one of them Marie grew -plumper and jollier and began questing about in her -head for a name to be given the next.</p> - -<p>But Pierre was happy, for if they were not entirely -his own there were at least children all about him. -Poleon and Sara Dufresne had come with three children -and had built their cabin a stone's throw away; -Jeremie and Geertruda had a baby, and at the edge of -the green bit of meadow which he had pointed out to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> -Josette five years ago were the homes of Jean Croisset -and Telesphore Clamart, and Aleck Clamart was courting -Anne Croisset. With Pierre he was secretly making -plans for a home the following year, after one more -season of trapping.</p> - -<p>And right at the tip of the evergreen forest, where -Pierre had promised, was the little log church in which -they gathered each Sunday, and to which Father Albanel, -a wandering minister of the forests, came once -and sometimes twice a month.</p> - -<p>As the population had grown, so had the clearing -expanded. There were a good dozen acres or more -under careful tillage, and in the open were cattle and -several horses, and in every wild meadow for miles -about a stack of harvested hay in season. There were -chickens and geese and a community flock of turkeys, -and at all seasons plenty of eggs and milk and cream -and the sweet butter, and the dug-out cellars were filled -to the brim with good things to eat when the first cold -blasts of winter came. Pierre and Aleck had built a -boat, and the six families had combined in the purchase -of two nets, so there was no lack of fish either winter or -summer at Five Fingers.</p> - -<p>For two winters, much against his desire, young Joe -had been sent back over the new Canadian Pacific to -attend school at Ste. Anne.</p> - -<p>Simon McQuarrie made note of all these things with -the judgment of a fox and the keenness of a weasel. -No one would have judged Simon for what he really<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> -was, at least not on short acquaintance. In him was -a heart so honest he would have cut off a little finger -before taking a mean advantage of any other man or -woman. But, as Herman put it, he was always looking -around to see what he could pick up. Herman furnished -the laughter, the jollity, the never-ending good -humor and four-fifths of the stomach of the partnership, -and Simon was the ferret who smelled out the -dollars; so when Simon said one day, "I never knew a -better place than this for a little mill, Herman," the -proud grandfather of baby Tobina knew something -was in the air.</p> - -<p>First of all, with his native shrewdness, Simon took -stock of the happiness at Five Fingers. This contentment, -the community affection which brought all -together like members of one family, was a big asset -in the very beginning. The mill itself could be made a -sort of family affair, and a boat arranged for twice or -three times a year to run up from Duluth or Fort William -and carry away the lumber. There was enough -fine birch and cedar and spruce right about them to -keep going for years, and the mill would bring even -greater prosperity than trapping, which was sure to -wear out now that the settlements were filling up -rapidly along the line of the railroad.</p> - -<p>At last he talked over the matter with Pierre, and -Pierre called in Dominique, and there was a meeting -of all the men-folk of the families at which it was -agreed nothing could be finer for Five Fingers than a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> -mill. Simon promised the first thing to be made from -its lumber should be a schoolhouse, and they would have -to see to it the schoolhouse had a teacher, for if -Dominique and Jeremie and Poleon kept up the pace -they were going there surely must be teaching at Five -Fingers.</p> - -<p>This was on Saturday. The next day Father -Albanel came, a little, gray-haired, rosy-cheeked man -who loved life and all living things, and who had no settled -church because he saw in nature a greater God than -he had ever been able to find in the Book written by -man, a freedom of thought which had been labeled -heresy by those who traveled the old and unchangeable -paths. But Father Albanel was loved by every man, -woman and child who knew him, and while his stricter -brethren chanted and prayed in their vaulted cathedrals -and little mission houses, his Church was ten thousand -square miles of forest land. And on this Sunday -Father Albanel prayed that Simon McQuarrie might -be able to keep his promises.</p> - -<p>So the mill came. There was not much to it, but -when on a certain September afternoon a tug and a -scow came creeping up the middle inlet every soul in -Five Fingers was down to meet them, and every heart -was beating with the biggest excitement that had ever -come into the lives of Pierre and his people. With the -tug came Simon McQuarrie, proud as an admiral in -command of a fleet, and with him a Norwegian -engineer and his wife, two mill-hands, and a sallow-faced,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> -anemic-looking young man who was to teach -Jeremie Poulin's children and Dominique's kindergarten -during the winter for fifteen dollars a month -and board.</p> - -<p>The mill was set up, with only pieces of tarpaulin for -roof at first. Axes rang merrily in the woods, and the -three horses at Five Fingers dragged in the logs at the -ends of chains. Even the women were excited, and the -children waited eagerly for the set day when smoke -would pour from the tall boiler stack and the saws -would begin to hum and grind. This happened on the -fifth day, and when at last steam was up, and the long -belt began to turn, and the big, shining saw to whirl, -there rose a great hurrah, and even Baby Tobina waved -her tiny fists and crowed as loudly as she could. Then -the sharp teeth of the saw touched the end of the first -log, and there came the first of that beautiful, droning -song—the song of live steel cutting through sweet -wood—which was to last for many years at Five -Fingers, and which may be heard at times to this very -day.</p> - -<p>No one, not even his sweetheart wife, Josette, was -permitted to look deeply and completely into the heart -of Pierre. As time passed he saw his beloved forest -dragged in, a log at a time, to be cut into pieces by that -droning, merciless saw. He watched the life's blood -of the timber pile up in great golden heaps of sweet-smelling -sawdust in which the growing children loved -to play, and down on the shore he saw his wilderness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> -garnered in huge piles of boards, waiting for the little -black tugs to come in and drag them away. He knew -that it was all as it should be, for new prosperity came -with the mill, more comforts and happiness for the -women and children, and a few more people to Five -Fingers. This was progress. Yet an ache was in his -heart which he kept to himself, and which would never -quite die away. For with a passion next to his love for -children he loved his forests, and with him every tree -was a word of God.</p> - -<p>Yet he would not have changed conditions, for he -knew it was himself who was wrong. Everything told -him that. Even the wild things seemed to love this -more intimate companionship with man, for the birds -and squirrels were never more numerous about Five -Fingers. They sang and chattered with the music of -the mill, ran over the roofs of the houses and built their -nests under the eaves, and in winter came to the very -doorsteps to eat crumbs and grain thrown out for them. -It was Pierre whose word was unwritten law at Five -Fingers. One of his laws was that no living thing that -was not a pest should ever be harmed near the settlement, -and when ice and snow were heavy in the hills -and between the ridges deer came out shyly to eat with -the cattle.</p> - -<p>Pierre went no more on the trap line but attended to -the business of the mill, and Josette pleased him by -saying this made her happiness complete. In spare -hours one could always find children about him, and in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> -the evenings, when the droning of the mill saw had -ceased, there were games and races and fun among the -sawdust piles, and never a day passed that the home of -Pierre and Josette was not filled with childish laughter -and the patter of little feet, although the little girl they -prayed for never came to bear their name. "But she -will," said Pierre, keeping up that undying hope in his -heart. "Some day, my Josette, there will come a little -girl to be a sister to Joe."</p> - -<p>Even Joe, his one child, seemed to be getting farther -away from him, for as time passed the boy needed no -urging to return to Ste. Anne, but was restless and ill -at ease when back home from school, and was excited -when the day drew near that would take him from Five -Fingers again. He was eighteen when Josette learned -his secret, and she laughed softly, and kissed him, and -told Pierre so that he would not worry any more. The -girl was none other than Marie Antoinette, the beautiful -little daughter of Jacques Thiebout, whom they -had known years ago on the St. Lawrence. She was a -year younger than Joe, and had told him he must wait -until she had finished completely with the school of Ste. -Anne de la Perade, for that was her ambition, and her -father's, too. Then she would come with him to Five -Fingers.</p> - -<p>Tears of joy filled Pierre's eyes the night Josette -whispered the secret to him, for if the little girl they -both wanted persisted in not coming they would at least -have grandsons and granddaughters to make up for it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p> - -<p>"And it may be this is the answer to my prayers," -Pierre said to himself. "For Joe's children will be of -our own flesh and blood, and we shall love Marie -Antoinette as our own. And as Joe is younger and -stronger than Dominique, who is growing fat, I do -not see why he should fall behind him in the matter of -family."</p> - -<p>Few changes came to Five Fingers as the years rolled -on. The little mill continued to hum and the axes to -ring farther and farther back in the forest, and twice -or three times in a season the boat came up with loads -of supplies and carried away the lumber.</p> - -<p>Not a single year did the stork fail to build his nest -somewhere about the sawdust piles. Twice he visited -Aleck Clamart, who married Anne Croisset; two little -Dutchmen he brought to Geertruda Poulin, and there -were nine pairs of feet to shoe in the home of -Dominique and Marie when young Joe Gourdon -brought Marie Antoinette to Five Fingers as his wife.</p> - -<p>The mill did not run that day, for it was a day of -feasting and rejoicing, and all the world held no -prouder monarch than Joe. Marie Antoinette, tall and -slim, with her great dark eyes, her glad smile and her -outreaching arms of love for the people who had now -become her own, was as sweet and beautiful as his -mother had been in the days of her youth. And Pierre, -in his joy, found in her a rival, for the children -gathered round her in dumb worship, and in her pretty -arms Marie Antoinette gathered every one, kissing each<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> -in turn, even to bashful Louis, the eldest son of -Dominique. And when, in their cabin, she flung those -same pretty arms around Josette's neck and called her -Mother, Pierre winked hard and went outside to puff -at his pipe, for he felt like a boy who wanted to cry.</p> - -<p>God had been good to him. God had blessed Five -Fingers. In the going down of the sun his eyes rested -upon a green slope where no plow had touched and no -cabin had been built. Religiously that sacred little plot -had been held for the time when death might find its -way among them. And death had not come. Gratitude -welled up in Pierre's heart and choked him—gratitude -and pride and faith, for all this was the handiwork -of the great and good God he believed in, the God of -his forests, the open, the sun and the sky. And the -thought came to him that when at last there was a -break in the little green slope it was only right that he -should be the first to go, for God had filled his measure -to the brim, and it seemed to him he could hear the -whisper of a message from the violets and red roses of -that little knoll in the setting of the sun.</p> - -<p>Marie Antoinette, coming to him so quietly he did -not hear, put her little hand in his and whispered, "It -is beautiful here, my father!"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2 style="margin-top: 3.5em; margin-bottom: 2em;"><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">As</span> long as men remain to tell the story of the Inland -Seas the great autumn storm of 1900 will -not be forgotten. It has been set down as a matter of -history, and a hundred tales could be told of the ships -that went down and the men who died in those days -when the Five Lakes were like five mighty churns, -whipping and tossing their waters in maelstroms of -destruction.</p> - -<p>It was not cold. A part of the time the sun shone -brightly, and back in the woods from the Superior -shore birds sang, and flowers still bloomed. To Pierre -and his people this was of strange and mysterious -portent, for though they had seen many storms at Five -Fingers there had never been one like this, with that -terrific roar of enraged waters against rock walls and -birds preening themselves and chirping in the sunshine -of the forest.</p> - -<p>On the second day Pierre took Josette and Marie -Antoinette down to the tip of the wooded peninsula that -lay between the Second and Middle Finger that they -might see the lake as they had never seen it before. It -was fun for the women. The wind choked them at -times, and they had to scream to be heard, and it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> -whipped their long hair loose until they were like panting -naiads, clinging to Pierre's hands, their eyes shining -and their hearts thrilled with the excitement of the -adventure. Pierre, laughing, told Josette she was as -lovely as a girl with her shining hair all about her in a -windblown tangle and her cheeks as pink and soft as -Marie Antoinette's. But he was only half heard, for -the seas were roaring among the rocks below them like -the steady thunder of countless guns.</p> - -<p>When they came out of the last rim of sheltering -spruce and looked beyond the black and dripping rampart -of rock that held back the raging waters Josette -clung to him in sudden fear, and Marie Antoinette gave -a cry that cut like a knife above the wind.</p> - -<p>Pierre's heart went dead and still as he stared gray-faced -out to sea. There was a twist on his lips where -laughter suddenly died.</p> - -<p>Out from the shore lay an entanglement of reef and -rock, jutting up like great heads of sea-monsters in -the quiet and calm of summer, a resting-place for gulls, -and strangely quiet and beautiful at times when the -water rippled between them in wide paths of green -silver. Through this network of waiting traps ran the -channel in which the tug made her way to and from -the Middle Finger. But there was no channel today. -It was lost in a fury of thundering flood, lashing itself -into ribbons, and among the rocks, half a mile from -where Pierre and his women stood, a ship was beating -herself to pieces.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p> - -<p>In his first moment of horror Pierre knew they had -come just in time to see the end. She was a schooner -of possibly three hundred tons, and had plunged broadside -upon the long, low reef which Josette herself had -named the Dragon because of the jagged teeth of rock -which rose from it like the spines of a huge fin. Her -tall masts were gone. A mass of wreckage tangled her -deck, and Pierre fancied that even above the roar of -the surf he could hear the crash of her rending timbers -as she rose and fell in mighty sledge-hammer blows -upon the reef. As he waited, struck dumb with horror, -the vessel was raised half out of the sea, and when she -fell back her stern split asunder and the foaming water -engulfed her until only her bow was held up by the projecting -spines of the Dragon.</p> - -<p>Marie Antoinette cried out again, and her face was -waxlike in its fear and horror, for very clearly in that -moment they saw a moving figure in the bow of the -ship. In an instant the figure was inundated and gone.</p> - -<p>Life leaped back into Pierre.</p> - -<p>"If any live they may sweep into this pit of the -Middle Finger," he shouted. "We must help them." -Then he turned to Marie Antoinette and placed his -mouth close to her ear. "Go back," he cried. "Go back -and bring help as swiftly as you can!"</p> - -<p>Scarcely were the words spoken when Marie -Antoinette was gone with the quickness of a bird, her -long hair streaming about her like a veil as she ran. -Pierre looked at Josette. She was not frightened now.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> -Her face was white and calm and her eyes were pools -of steady fire. She was looking on death. She could -almost hear the cries of death. Her glance met -Pierre's, and her lips moved, but he did not hear her -words. It was then, looking again toward what little -remained of the schooner, that they saw something -sweeping in toward them among the nearer reefs. It -came swiftly, now almost submerged, then popping up -for an instant, and was swept at last upon a rock where -the waters split like a mill race at the very edge of the -smoother sea that ran through the mouth of the Middle -Finger.</p> - -<p>"It is a raft," shouted Pierre, "and someone is on -it!"</p> - -<p>Josette's cry rose shrill and piercing:</p> - -<p>"<i>It is a woman!</i>"</p> - -<p>They could see the figure flung upon the rock, with -a hand clutching at its slippery sides, and Pierre's -breath came in a sudden gasp of despair when he saw -it was a woman. Her face was a ghost's face in the -surf mist, and her drenched hair streamed upon the -rock as the water ebbed away. She seemed to see them -as they stood at the cliff edge, and Pierre thought he -heard her voice rise faintly above the thunder of the -water, crying out for her life.</p> - -<p>He turned and ran to a ragged break in the cliff and -climbed down swiftly to the narrow shore line at the -edge of the Finger, shouting for Josette to remain -where she was. But Josette was close behind him when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> -he began tearing off his clothes. She was terribly white. -Blood streaked one of her soft cheeks where she had -stumbled against a sharp-edged rock coming down. -But her eyes were filled with a strange and unchanging -fire, and she fell upon her knees among the stones to -unlace one of Pierre's boots while he freed himself of -the other. She looked up at him. A glory of strength -shone in her face even as her heart was breaking in its -agony. For she knew that Pierre Gourdon, her -husband, was going into the pit of death; and she tried -to smile, and Pierre kissed her lips swiftly and sprang -into the sea.</p> - -<p>She stood up straight and watched him as he fought -his way through the shore surf toward the seething -maelstrom where the woman lay upon the rock. Josette -could see her clearly. She could see the water and -white spume leaping up about her, reaching for her, -thrusting her up and then dragging her back, and -almost she prayed that God would take her and cover -her completely with the sea so that Pierre might turn -back. For a little her courage left her and she called -wildly upon Pierre to return, telling him she was his -wife and that the woman on the rock was nothing to -him. And then the woman who was fighting for her -life seemed to look into the eyes of Josette through the -distance that separated them—and Josette held out her -arms and cried encouragement to her.</p> - -<p>All sound but the roar of water was lost to Pierre. -He was swimming now, and a hundred forces dragged<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> -at his body, beating him one way and then the other, -while with all his strength he fought to keep himself -in the right direction. He knew what it meant to be -carried beyond the rock into that deadly place which -they called the Pit. There he would die. He would be -pulled down by the undertows, and a little later, when -they were done with him, his body would be thrown up -at the foot of the cliff. The thought did not fill him -with fear. It gave him strength to know Josette was -watching him in this struggle against death, and that -she was praying for him—and for the woman on the -rock.</p> - -<p>Only Josette and the other woman could measure the -eternity of time it took him to win the fight. In the -last moment a mighty hand seemed to gather him in its -palm and sweep him up to the rock, and he found himself -clinging to it, facing the woman. She was as white -as he had seen Josette. Her eyes were as dark, and -there was something in them that was more terrible to -look at than fear. Pierre was exhausted. He drew -himself up a few inches at a time, trying to smile the -encouragement he could not speak. His eyes reached -the level of the rock, and he looked over and down—and -saw then what it was the woman was holding in the -crook of her arm.</p> - -<p>It was a little girl, six or seven years old, and forgetting -in his amazement the thundering menace of the -sea Pierre thought that in all his life he had never seen -anything so beautiful as this child. She was not hurt.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> -Her eyes were wide open—great, dark eyes that were -velvety pools of terror—and her face, lovely as an -angel's, looked at him from a mass of jet-black hair -that dripped with water and clung about her neck and -shoulders like silken strands of seaweed. It was as if -a vision had crept up from the foaming surf to taunt -him, a vision of a face he had painted in his dreams -and had prayed for and hoped for all through the years -of his life, and he dashed the water from his eyes to see -more clearly. Then he reached down and drew the -child to him and held her fragile, slim little body in his -arms. The woman's face changed then. Its fierce -resolution died out. She became suddenly limp, and -seeing her weakness Pierre caught hold of her so that -the surf would not beat her from the rock.</p> - -<p>"I will get you ashore," he shouted. "You must not -give up! You must hold to the rock!"</p> - -<p>He bent his face to the child's.</p> - -<p>"And you——"</p> - -<p>She lay against his breast. Her eyes were looking -up at him steadily, and words choked in Pierre's throat. -Those eyes, it seemed to him, were too beautiful for a -child's eyes. Her lips were still red. But her face was -the color of a white cameo in its frame of wonderful -black hair, and the thought came to him again that it -was an angel the storm had blown in from the sea.</p> - -<p>The woman was drawing herself up beside him. -Another wave broke against the rock, smothering them -in its surf. Out of it came her voice.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I am Mona Guyon," she cried, so close that her head -touched his shoulder. "This is my baby. Her father—went -down—there—beside the rock—a few minutes -ago. Take her ashore——"</p> - -<p>A roaring flood inundated them. When it was gone -Pierre drew in a deep breath.</p> - -<p>"You must hold to the rock," he shouted again. "I -will come back for you. It will be easy—easy for all of -us to get ashore—if you will hold to the rock!"</p> - -<p>When the roar of the surf died away for a moment -he told the child what to do. She must put her arms -round his neck and ride ashore on his back and draw -in deep breaths whenever her face was out of the water. -They would swim to the shore very quickly, and then -he would come back for mother. He even laughed as -he told her how safely and quickly it could be done. -And then he kissed her; there on the rock Pierre -Gourdon kissed the soft little mouth he had prayed for -so many years, and bowed his head a moment, asking -God to help him. Then he lay flat on his face and drew -her into just the right place on his back, and when her -arms were round his neck he tied her hands tightly -together under his chin with a strip which he had torn -from his shirt. She could not get away after that. -They would go ashore together, one way or the other.</p> - -<p>Slowly he lowered himself over the slippery lee of -the rock, and again he smiled at Mona Guyon. The -hour of his Calvary had come, and his heart beat -fiercely with the strength of two praying women as he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> -slipped into the sea with his precious burden. The -twisting undercurrents reached out like the tentacles of -an octopus and tried to drag him into the doom of the -Pit. But it was not Pierre Gourdon alone who was -fighting for the right to live. The woman on the rock -was fighting for him, and the woman ashore—standing -to her waist in the boiling surf—no longer had heart -or soul or strength of body, for all had gone to him; -and about his neck were the arms of a child that gave -to him the courage, not only of those who loved and -prayed, but of the good God who had called upon him -to play his part in this day and hour.</p> - -<p>So he fought, and won at last to the place where his -beloved Josette reached out and caught him and helped -him to the stony shore, where he sank down weakly, -with the child in his arms and her face looking up at -him from his breast. He had kept her above the water—that -had been the never faltering thought in his -mind; and now there seemed to be something of awe, -of reverence, of unspoken worship in those strangely -beautiful eyes of l'Ange, as Pierre called her in his -heart, and suddenly her arms tightened round his neck -and with a little cry she kissed him.</p> - -<p>Then she was in Josette's arms, and Pierre rose to -his feet.</p> - -<p>A sudden dread swept over him as he looked out at -the rock again. It seemed to him the seas were higher, -and the woman was not as he had left her. Her face -was down, she was limp, a dark blot without life or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> -resistance, and he saw a huge wave drive up and move -her like a sodden chip a little nearer to the edge of the -Pit. She was not <i>holding on</i>, as he had prayed God she -would! A few more waves like that last one, a taller -crest, an angrier thrust from the sea—and she would -go.</p> - -<p>He turned to Josette. She was on her knees among -the sharp stones with her arms about the child, and both -she and little Mona were looking up at him, waiting, -knowing that only Pierre Gourdon was master of himself -and of life and death in this hour. He had never -seen such eyes as theirs—Josette's in their agony of -fear for him, little Mona's so strangely, gloriously -beautiful, saying more to him in their childish terror -and entreaty than human lips could have spoken.</p> - -<p>"I am going back," he said. "It will be easy this -time!"</p> - -<p>They heard him above the smashing fury of the Pit, -and Pierre, catching an unknown note in his own voice, -knew that he was lying. As he faced the beat of the -sea he made as if he did not hear Josette calling wildly -to him that help would surely come in a few minutes, -and he must wait. A few minutes and it would be over, -for he could see that with each thrust of the frothing -surf over the crest of the rock the woman was a little -nearer to death.</p> - -<p>It was a harder fight this time. At least it seemed -so to Pierre, for the old strength was no longer in his -limbs, and something seemed to have gone out of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> -heart. If he could reach the rock, just reach it and -cling to it and hold the woman until Marie Antoinette's -message brought the men! That was all he prayed for -now, all he hoped for. It was inconceivable for his -imagination to go beyond those things—the rock, the -woman, a jutting tooth of reef to hang to for their -lives. He could feel death all about him as he fought -and swam. It struck at him, choked him, blinded him, -dragged at his breath until it seemed as if he must give -up and go riding with it into the maelstroms of the -Pit. It laughed and jeered at him and roared in his -ears, but through it all he saw the rock, and at last the -same strange current caught him with the force of a -gargantuan hand and flung him to it.</p> - -<p>He tried to climb up, and slipped back. He tried -again and again, and then began to make it, an inch at -a time. Something was singing in his ears. It was -like the droning hum of the saw in the mill. For a -moment he rested. He could not see the top of the -rock, but he could see the shore, and there were many -figures on it now—men running down to where Josette -was again standing waist-deep in the water.</p> - -<p>With new courage he pulled himself up, and then he -gave a cry—a madman's cry of horror, fear and futile -warning. The woman had slipped to the very edge of -the rock—the edge that lipped the fury of the Pit. She -was half over. And she was slipping—<i>slipping</i>....</p> - -<p>He scrambled toward her, flinging himself down the -treacherous dip to catch at her long hair. He caught a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> -strand of it, but it pulled away from him—and he -thrust himself another foot and buried his fingers in -the wet mass of it. In that moment the sea took her. -It dragged her down, and Pierre, holding fast to her -hair, went with her into the black death of the Pit; and -as he went his wide eyes saw once more the blue of the -sky and the tops of his beloved forests, and out of his -soul came a soundless cry, the faith and gratitude of a -man who was not afraid to die, "After all—God has -been a long time good to me—Pierre Gourdon!"</p> - -<p>Even then, in that roaring baptism of death, his mind -was on the woman. It would not do to let her body -beat itself among the rocks alone, and in some way—as -they were twisted and torn by the rending currents—he -got his arms about her. He made no effort to fight, -except to hold her. To fight against the forces which -had him in their power was impossible. He was like a -chip in a boiling pot, twisted and turned, now thrust -downward and then up, but never far enough to snatch -a breath of air. He felt the blows of the rocks. Then -he began going down, until it seemed in the last moment -that he was falling swiftly through illimitable space. -Consciousness of the woman's presence was gone, but -he still held her in his arms.</p> - -<p>Only the strong hands of Joe Gourdon and Simon -McQuarrie held Josette from joining her husband in -the heart of the Pit. She struggled against them, -crying out her right to go to him, until they brought her -to the narrow rim of beach under the cliff and her eyes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> -fell on little Mona. The wind had blown the child's -wet hair back from her face, and a bitter cry came to -Josette's lips and resentment burned in her for an -instant like a fire. Pierre was gone because of <i>her</i>, -because of this beautiful, star-eyed child and the -woman! They had taken him from her. And here -was the child, living, staring at her with those eyes -which had made Pierre call her <i>l'Ange</i>—staring at her—while -Pierre—and the other woman—dead and -beaten among the rocks.... And then....</p> - -<p>"<i>My mother!</i>"</p> - -<p>It was the child's voice, two words crying out to her, -faint and yearning and filled with agony above the -lash of the sea, and with an answering cry Josette fell -down sobbing upon her knees and opened her arms and -held the little stranger tightly against her breast. For -a space after that she was blind to what happened about -her. Dominique stood between her and the sea, even as -he saw the grim joke which the fiends of the Pit were -playing upon them this day. For these fiends were -seldom known to give up their playthings, whether logs -or sticks or living things. Once he had known them to -keep the body of a dog for days, and at another time a -strong-limbed buck had died there, and it was a week -before they had tired of him and had thrown him -ashore. But this day there was a change. Joe -Gourdon and Jeremie Poulin and Poleon Dufresne had -leaped waist-deep into the surf and were bringing out -the bodies of Pierre and the woman!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was Marie Antoinette who knelt beside them first, -and unclasped Pierre's arms from about the woman. -And then Josette saw them. She staggered to her feet -and ran past Dominique, and the first she looked upon -was the white, dead face of the mother. Very tenderly -then she took Pierre's head in her arms, and bent her -own over it until both their faces were shrouded in her -long hair.</p> - -<p>"He isn't dead," she whispered. No one heard her, -for she was saying it only to herself, and then to -Pierre. "He isn't dead. He isn't dead." She repeated -the words, swaying her body gently with Pierre, and -the others drew back, and Marie Antoinette hid little -Mona's face against her while Simon McQuarrie and -Telesphore Clamart bore the dead woman between them -round the end of the cliff. And Josette kept repeating, -"He isn't dead, he isn't dead," and she kissed Pierre's -lips, and pressed her cheek against his cheek, and the -women and men of Five Fingers stood back and waited, -none daring to be first to break in upon these sacred -moments which belonged to Josette and her dead.</p> - -<p>At last Marie Antoinette came up softly and knelt -beside Josette and put a loving hand about her shoulder. -Josette's eyes turned to look at her and they were soft -and glowing and so strange they frightened Marie -Antoinette. "He isn't dead," she was still saying, and -she bowed her face down again to Pierre's.</p> - -<p>Choking the sob in her throat, Marie Antoinette put -her hand to Josette's face—and a great shock ran<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> -through her. She had touched Pierre's cheek. She -felt with her other hand, and drew back Josette's hair, -her heart suddenly throbbing like an Indian drum. -Then she saw it was not the madness of grief that kept -Josette repeating those words, but the intuition of a -soul which had felt the nearness of its mate, for -Pierre's eyes slowly opened and the first vision which -came to him out of a roaring sea of dreams was the -face of his wife.</p> - -<p>From the group of tensely waiting people Mona had -come, sobbing in a strange, quiet way for her mother, -and as Marie Antoinette drew a little back Josette -caught the child close to her, along with Pierre, and as -Pierre reached his arms up weakly to them both the -thought came to him again, "<i>God has been a long time -good to me—Pierre Gourdon!</i>"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2 style="margin-top: 3.5em; margin-bottom: 2em;"><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was the blue jay that mellowed the fear of death -in the swiftly beating heart of Peter McRae. He -had always been a friend of the blue jays, and this -particular bird had perched himself in a spruce top a -hundred feet away, screaming defiance at Peter's -enemies and telling him to keep up his nerve and not -be afraid.</p> - -<p>Without going beyond his fourteen-year-old power -of reasoning Peter had a strange and abiding faith in -the Canadian blue jay tribe. He was a boy's bird, if -there ever was one, with his everlasting cocksureness, -his persevering courage and his hundred and one little -tricks of outlawry and piracy—a bird who was always -ready for a fight, never ran away from trouble, and -who lived up beautifully to the man-made law, "Do -others before others do you." He was a gentleman and -a sportsman even if he was a robber and a pest, and -Peter loved him.</p> - -<p>He could see this particular blue jay very clearly. -Shouting voices and the crack of rifles had not -frightened him away, and he was making a great commotion -in the spruce tops, screaming until it seemed his -raucous cries must split his throat. Then, too, there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> -was the cheerful little sapsucker who persisted in pecking -for grubs in the end of the big log behind which -Peter and his father were hidden, and two newly mated -red squirrels who chattered and ran up and down a tree -a little farther on, one chasing the other. A big yellow -butterfly slowly opened and closed its fan-like wings -almost within reach of Peter's hand.</p> - -<p>These things kept the madness of utter fear out of -the boy's brain. His thin, rather frail face was very -white; his blue eyes were round, and staring; his body, -not so strong as it should have been, was doubled up -behind the log, and his heart throbbed like a hammer -inside him—but his courage was not gone. There were -no tear stains about his eyes. In one of his hands he -clutched a twisted stick.</p> - -<p>From the blue jay and the sapsucker and the yellow -butterfly his eyes rested upon the face of Donald -McRae, his father. That father, so far back as Peter -could remember clearly, had been not only a father, but -mother and brother and pal as well. "One thing you -must live up to all your life, Peter," this father had told -him a hundred times, "and that is to be a pal to your -own boy when you have one, just as you are now a pal -of your dad's. If a dad and his boy are not pals they -shouldn't have been born." So they had been that, -with no secrets between them except one that had led -up to this tragedy of today, and which the boy had not -yet begun to understand. All he knew was that for -some mysterious reason they were fighting for their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> -lives, and were now sheltered behind a log, and that -men a little distance away were watching and waiting -to kill them with guns.</p> - -<p>The man smiled at him and chuckled in a way Peter -loved. But the smile and the chuckle did not hide the -flame smoldering deep in his eyes, nor the pallid tenseness -of his face, nor the trickle of blood that persisted -in running down his cheek and wetting the soft roll of -his collar. He was bareheaded and sweaty; his blond -hair, very much like Peter's, was wildly disheveled; -his hands gripped a gun, and lying on his stomach, -he had made himself a loophole by digging leaves -and mold from under a crooked elbow in the log. -Through this he had watched for his enemies. His -grin was chummy and companionable as he turned to -Peter.</p> - -<p>"Everything all right?" he asked. "Not afraid, are -you?"</p> - -<p>Peter shook his head. "I'm not much scared."</p> - -<p>"Getting hungry?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Thirsty?"</p> - -<p>"A little—not much."</p> - -<p>The man laughed. He did not feel like laughing. -But he laughed, fighting to make it appear natural and -unstrained.</p> - -<p>"You're a trump, Peter. God knows you're a -trump!"</p> - -<p>A rifle cracked in the thick fringe of balsams and jack<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> -pines a hundred and fifty yards from them, and a bullet -struck the log with a sodden <i>chug</i>. The man wiped -the blood from his cheek with a handkerchief that was -stained red.</p> - -<p>"Does it hurt, dad?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing but a scratch, Peter."</p> - -<p>He put his face to the ground and peered under the -log again.</p> - -<p>Peter changed his position, uncramped his legs and -doubled himself up in another fashion, hugging the -earth closely. The blue jay was having a fit, and the -sapsucker perked his bright-eyed little head at him not -more than a dozen feet away. He could hear a bird -singing, and one of the red squirrels was chattering his -late afternoon song in a mountain ash tree overhanging -the river. Between his knees was a clump of -violets.</p> - -<p>The log was almost at the edge of the river, which -was a swollen flood, and the stream bent itself around -like a hairpin, shutting them in on three sides. That -was why they were safe, Peter's father had told him. -No living thing could swim it to get behind them, and -in front of them was a narrow neck of land which was -open and clear right up to the thick edge of the swamp -a rifle shot away. Across that open no one had dared -to come.</p> - -<p>A dozen times during the past hour Peter had wished -the river was not there, for it held them prisoners even -if it did keep their enemies back. Across it, not much<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> -farther away than he could have thrown a stone, was a -deep, dense forest of primeval darkness, low and -swampy, in which he conceived a thousand hiding-places -for himself and his father. Peter's mind sometimes -traveled beyond his years, and as he looked at -the stream, yearning for the safety of the other side, -he wondered why the blue jay and the sapsucker and the -singing brush sparrow should have wings while they -had only legs and arms.</p> - -<p>Only wings could carry them over the stream. In -the dry months of summer it was not much more than -a creek, with sand bars and pebbly shores and polished -rocks sticking out of it. Now, in this flood time of -spring, it had no shores and was a thing gone mad. It -was deep and black, and swept past with a steady, -growling roar, eating into the banks on its way, uprooting -trees and slashing itself into caldrons of boiling -fury where the channel narrowed or where it leaped -over the great boulders and rock débris of rapids. -From where he crouched Peter could see one of these -places a quarter of a mile below, and there the water -was not black but white, and leaped and spouted as if -huge monsters were churning it. Under ordinary conditions -the swollen stream would have lured and fascinated -him. It came out of a vast and mysterious -Canadian wilderness, and it disappeared into an adventure -land of forests equally vast and strange. With -it rode many things of interest—huge piles of driftwood, -shooting down on the crest of the flood like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> -islands; big logs that sped with the swiftness of -monster serpents; and great trees, freshly torn out by -the roots, and with their tops trailing and swishing like -whips urging on a living thing.</p> - -<p>Peter was staring at it when a hand rested itself -gently on his head. Donald McRae was watching him, -and a slow torture had burned itself like the scar of a -living coal in his eyes and face. More than the earth -he walked upon and more than the God he believed in, -he loved this boy. It was Peter, with his thin, quizzical -face, and his mind and courage developed beyond his -strength and years, who had made life bearable and -joyous for him. As he had worshiped the mother, -linking his soul with hers until it had been taken away, -so he worshiped this one precious part of her she had -left to him. Without Peter....</p> - -<p>He choked back the thickness in his throat as he -placed his hand on the boy's head. It was a habit with -him to talk with Peter at times as if he were a man, and -the man-way in which Peter's eyes met his now gave -him courage.</p> - -<p>"They won't try to cross that open before dark," he -said. "They're afraid of us in the light, Peter. But -they'll come when it's dark. And we can't wait for -them. We've got to get away."</p> - -<p>The boy's face brightened. He had a consummate -faith in this father of his. He waited, keenly expectant, -twisting one of the blue violets between his -thin fingers.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Does the creek frighten you, son?" asked the man.</p> - -<p>"It's pretty swift, but I'm not much scared of -it."</p> - -<p>"Of course not. You wouldn't be your dad's boy, if -you were. See that log down there, the big dry one, -half in the water?" He pointed, and Peter nodded. -"When it begins to get dusk we'll crawl down and take -a ride on that. It won't be hard to get away."</p> - -<p>For the first time a tremor came in the boy's voice.</p> - -<p>"Dad, what are they trying to shoot us for? What -have we done?"</p> - -<p>Donald McRae made a pretense of peering through -his loophole again. He wanted to cry out with the -sickness that was in his heart, and in the same voice call -down the vengeance of God upon the makers of that -grim and merciless law which at last had come to corner -and destroy him where he had built his little cabin -home in the edge of the wilderness. It was impossible—now—to -answer that question of Peter's, "<i>What -have we done?</i>"</p> - -<p>He raised his head, and faced his boy.</p> - -<p>"It's five o'clock. We'd better have a bite to eat. -When we take to the water it will spoil our grub."</p> - -<p>From the pocket of a coat which lay at his side he -took some biscuits and meat. Peter made a sandwich -and munched at it, yearning for a little of the black -river-water to go with it. When the man had finished -he drew from an inside pocket of the same coat a -wallet, a pencil and a corked bottle half filled with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> -matches. In the wallet he found a sheet of paper, and -on this he wrote for several minutes, after which he -folded the sheet of paper very tightly, thrust it into -the bottle with the matches, and corked it in securely. -Then he gave the bottle to Peter.</p> - -<p>"Put that in your pocket," he said, "and remember -what I'm telling you now, Peter. We're going to make -for a place called Five Fingers. A man lives there -whose name is Simon McQuarrie. Don't forget those -two—Five Fingers and Simon McQuarrie. What I -have written and put in the bottle is for him. If anything -should happen to me——" He broke in upon -himself with a cheerful laugh. "Of course nothing -<i>will</i> happen, Peter, but if it should—you promise to -take that bottle to him?"</p> - -<p>"I'll take it."</p> - -<p>"Where?"</p> - -<p>"Five Fingers."</p> - -<p>"Who?"</p> - -<p>"Simon McQuarrie."</p> - -<p>"Right. Now keep watch through this hole while I -cut some leather strings out of the tops of my boots. -We may need them to harness the log with when we -go to sea. Won't they be surprised when they come -and find us gone—eh—Peter?"</p> - -<p>"You bet they will!" agreed Peter fervently.</p> - -<p>Quietly he began watching the open through the hole -which his father had made under the log. He breathed -a little more tensely, for he realized the deadly importance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> -of his vigil. Yesterday one of his ambitions had -been to wear a uniform when he was old enough, one -with stripes and brass buttons, and with a big revolver -fastened to a cord hung around his neck. He had -looked upon the wilderness police with the awe of a -youngster who loved romance and adventure. Today -he hated them. Only a little while ago he had waited -for his father at their cabin, with a good dinner ready -for him. Then his father had come, galloping on a -horse Peter had never seen before.</p> - -<p>"I've had a little trouble with the police, Peter, and -we've got to hit into the woods," he had said.</p> - -<p>The suddenness of it had taken Peter's breath away. -They did not wait to eat any of the dinner he had prepared. -Even then the police almost caught them before -they reached this log. There were four of them. His -father had kept them back with his rifle, and Peter was -disappointed in his marksmanship. He was sure he -could have done better himself. His father missed every -time, even though his bullets did go close enough to -make their enemies dodge behind trees. And always before -that he had been proud of his father's -shooting!</p> - -<p>His hand touched the cool barrel of the rifle, and a -thrill ran through him. It was a thing he had never -felt before. He was sure <i>he</i> would not miss if he could -only be given a chance, for he had often hit rabbits at -that distance of a hundred and fifty yards, and a man -was many times larger than a rabbit. An inch at a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> -time, slowly and carefully so that his father would not -notice what he was doing, he poked the barrel of the -rifle through the hole. He would be ready, anyway. -He had forgotten fear. His blood was hot. His -father had always talked to him about playing square, -and never taking a mean advantage, and always to fight -for women, no matter who they were. Well, there -were no women here, but it wasn't playing square when -four men came after his father like this. If they would -come out, clean and sportsmanlike, one at a time, and -fight with fists instead of guns....</p> - -<p>"You see, Peter," his father was saying as he cut a -thin strip from his boot top, "I couldn't leave you in -the cabin alone. I've got to get you down to Five -Fingers. If Simon McQuarrie isn't there, you wait for -him. And don't show anyone else that paper in the -bottle!"</p> - -<p>Peter was not listening. His heart had given a -sudden terrific jump and was half choking him. In the -edge of a clump of dwarf banksians something had -moved. And then his father turned—just in time to -catch his hand, to stop his finger at the trigger, to drag -him back from the hole. Never as long as he lived -would he forget the terrible look that had come into his -father's face. To hide it Donald McRae leaned over his -son and hugged him close to his arms, and for a space -the law might have descended upon them without -resistance.</p> - -<p>From the shelter of the evergreens Corporal Crear<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> -of the Provincial Police was looking toward the log. -His men were lying close about him.</p> - -<p>"We've got to go out and get him when it's dark -enough," he said. "Don't shoot unless you have to, but -if that happens—shoot straight. Only be sure it's not -the kid. That's what puzzles me—why McRae has the -kid with him out there behind the log!"</p> - -<p>Only Donald McRae and Peter could have solved -that mystery for Crear, and even then Crear might not -have understood. It was something which belonged -entirely to Peter and his father. As they waited for -the sun to dip behind the tall evergreen forest across the -river, they lay very close together, and their eyes met -frequently and their hands and bodies touched.</p> - -<p>There was something pathetically doglike in the -man's dependence upon his boy. Take Peter away -from him and his heart was gone, for Peter was the one -thing he had left of a great faith and a great love that -would never die. More than once a cold fear had swept -over him at the thought of something happening to -him, and he had always prayed that if anything did -happen, it would come to both at the same time. Even -now he would not have sent Peter back to the safety of -the cabin. That would have meant dissolution for -himself—and strangers and a heartbreaking tragedy of -aloneness for Peter.</p> - -<p>Across the river there was hope, and a refuge for -Peter at Five Fingers with Simon McQuarrie. A -woman had put an undying faith in the justness of God<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> -in Donald McRae's soul, and always there were two -things in his breast, faith and memory of the woman, -like stars which no darkness could dim. Their glow -lay warmly in his eyes as he saw the courage with -which the boy waited for the setting of the sun.</p> - -<p>As the long shadows came creeping across the river -Peter no longer felt the fear which had made his heart -beat so uncomfortably fast. His father's presence and -the touch of his hand filled him with an utter confidence. -The man even pointed out to him the mysteries -of an ant home which they had accidentally destroyed -in the log, and told him a story of how once upon a time -he had gone down a flooded stream like this, and what -fun it had been.</p> - -<p>Then the shadows came more swiftly. The sun at -last left only a golden glow above the forest. The blue -jay and the sapsucker were gone. Out of the woods -came the melodious dusk song of many red squirrels. -A flock of crows sailed overhead on their way to the -evening roosting place. The rush of the river seemed -more gentle and lost its menace for Peter. The churning -turmoil of the distant rapids was mellowed in a -soft mist, and a little later they could not make out -clearly the driftwood going down with the stream.</p> - -<p>"Now is our time," said Peter's father. "Creep -after me, flat on your stomach."</p> - -<p>It took them only a minute to reach the big dry log. -They could move freely here, for the upward dip of -the bank concealed them. Donald McRae did not let<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> -Peter guess the tension he was under as he worked. He -stood his rifle where the police would easily find it and -laughed softly as he tied one end of a stout leather -thong about Peter's wrist and the other end about his -own. After that he rolled the log into the water and -tested it to get its proper balance and tied the other -leather thongs to a projecting stub.</p> - -<p>"It's just right," he announced cheerfully. "A canoe -couldn't have been better built for us, Peter. Are you -ready?"</p> - -<p>"I'm ready," said Peter.</p> - -<p>He was in the water to his knees; now he went in to -his waist. It was cold, biting cold; his teeth clicked, but -he did not say anything about it. He looped his arms -about the stub and through one of the leather thongs, -and from the opposite side of the log his father twisted -the fingers of one hand tightly in his coat. Then they -began to move. His feet lost bottom and the cold -water shot up to his armpits, taking his breath away. -His father grinned cheerfully at him and he tried to -grin back. In a moment they were in the current and -the shore began to slip past them with amazing swiftness. -It was not unpleasant, except for the icy chill of -the water, which seemed to take the place of blood in -his veins. There was no resistance against his -body; the log carried them buoyantly and smoothly, -so that after a little he had courage to look about -him.</p> - -<p>Their log had swung quickly into mid-stream, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> -they were overtaking a more slowly moving mass of -driftwood. The thought came to Peter that it was like -a race. Then something alive caught his eyes on the -flotsam. It was a furry, catlike creature with short, -perky ears and a fox's face, and he could almost have -touched it with his hands when they passed.</p> - -<p>"A fisher-cat," said his father. "He will have a nice -swim when he hits the rapids!"</p> - -<p>Peter was wondering just how much of a chance the -fisher-cat had when something drifted against him. It -was a drowned porcupine, floating belly up. The porky -must have had a nice swim, too!</p> - -<p>He shivered. The roar of the rapids was growing, -and it was no longer pleasant to hear. The musical -cadence which distance had given it was gone, and a -sullen, snarling undertone of menace and wrath began -to pound at the drums of his ears. In the twilight it -looked as though they were racing straight into the -mouth of a huge churn out of which milky froth was -spouting.</p> - -<p>Then two things happened which seemed odd to -Peter. The dead porcupine was clinging to the log as -if some sort of life held it there, and the fisher-cat's raft -of driftwood which they had overtaken and passed was -now <i>passing them</i>. To Peter this last was unaccountable, -but to Donald McRae, who understood the whims -and caprices of flood currents, there was no mystery -about it. For a moment the fisher-cat seemed about to -make a leap for the log. Then he huddled back and disappeared<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> -with his raft in the rougher water that preceded -the gray wall of spume.</p> - -<p>The man's hand tightened its hold on Peter.</p> - -<p>"Hang on and don't get scared," he cried. "We'll go -through this like a rubber ball!"</p> - -<p>That was the last Peter heard of his voice, and suddenly -his father's face was blotted out from his vision. -A huge mouth opened and engulfed them. He could -feel himself going down it, with roaring gloom and -mighty explosions of water bursting itself against -great rocks all about him. For a space which seemed -an eternity he gave himself up for lost, and he wanted -to scream out to his father. But the water smothered -him. It thrust him under, buried him, then tossed him -up to breathe. He hung on, as his father had told him, -and after three or four minutes which were so many -hours to him he could breathe easier and the roaring -grew less.</p> - -<p>They had come through a half-mile of the rapids -then. The last of the rocks snapped at them, like -growling dogs at their heels, and suddenly the water -grew deep and smooth where it swung shoreward in a -great eddy. For the first time Peter felt a hurt. It -was his father's hand, holding him in a grip that only -death could have broken. And then he saw his father's -face. Donald McRae was gasping for breath. Even -Peter would never know the fight he had made to keep -the log running right during those three or four minutes -in the rapids.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p> - -<p>Slowly the current brought them to the shore. It -was the shore they wanted, too, with its deep evergreen -forests and its hundreds of miles of untrailed hiding-places. -The big pool was dotted with drifting masses -of débris. One of these, very near to them, Peter was -sure he recognized. But the fisher-cat was no longer -on it.</p> - -<p>He was terribly cold, and when at last his father -brought the end of the log to the shore and helped him -out to dry ground the boy fell down in a sodden heap. -He was ashamed of himself and tried to get up.</p> - -<p>Donald McRae took one of his hands.</p> - -<p>"You must walk, Peter—run if you can. Come on!"</p> - -<p>He almost dragged him into the darkness of the -forest, and Peter began to use his legs. It made him -feel better. But his teeth chattered and his body shook -as if he had the ague. Two or three hundred yards in -the shelter of the timber they came to an overturned -spruce tree, and near this was a birch with festoons of -loose bark hanging from it.</p> - -<p>Donald McRae stripped off an armful of the bark, -and one of Peter's blue hands fished out the precious -bottle of matches from his pocket. Very soon the -flames were leaping up joyously, and he felt their -warmth entering into his body. He helped to gather -wood. In a quarter of an hour there was a glow in his -face, and the big backlog of pitch-filled cedar was a -flaming furnace. Darkness settled heavily in the -forest, and he was no longer afraid or uncomfortable as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> -he continued to dry his clothes. His father, in a period -between wood-gathering, cleaned his pipe and began to -dry out some of his soaked tobacco. That was cheerful -and inspiring. It always seemed chummier and more -homelike to Peter when his father was smoking his -pipe.</p> - -<p>Later they broke off cedar and balsam boughs until -they had a soft bed two feet deep within the warmth of -the fire. When the last thread in his clothing was dry -Peter crept into this bed. He had no idea of sleeping -but made himself a comfortable nest and sat bright-eyed -and watchful while his father rested with his back -against the log and smoked.</p> - -<p>A hundred times they had made camps together that -were very much like this one. On hunting and fishing -expeditions, and when berries were ripe, and on the -trap lines, they had slept out many nights with boughs -for a bed. But there had never been the thrill of tonight. -The cumulative significance of what had happened -was just beginning to find itself in Peter's head. -This night was different from all other nights. The -darkness which had gathered heavily about them was -different, the fire did not seem as friendly, and his -father, smoking his pipe, was changed. Always in their -adventuring they had been in quest of something—fish -or venison, berries or fur. Now something was after -them. It was this slow process of mental and physical -change from the hunter into the hunted, and its understanding, -that was creeping into Peter's soul.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p> - -<p>He loved night with its mystery of darkness, its -stars and its moon, but now he could feel and hear it -breathing secret plottings and danger. When the fire -crackled too loudly or its flames leaped too high he -shivered, fearing it would betray them. He wondered -why his father remained in the light now that they -were warm and dry, for there were safer hiding-places -in the great pits of gloom that encompassed them. But -he said nothing, feeling strangely that even to voice -fear would bring reality upon them.</p> - -<p>He watched his father, and the brightness in his -eyes—something new and strange that lay in them—was -like a stab to Donald McRae. In this hour he saw -the boy's soul changing. Peter, at last, was beginning -to build up the truth. Something terrible must have -happened—somewhere—or the police would not be -after his father. He had believed the police were -omniscient, that they hunted only bad people. That -was what they were for—to shut bad people in prisons, -or hang them, or shoot them. <i>And they were after his -father!</i></p> - -<p>The man saw these things in Peter's eyes and in his -pale, thin face. And suddenly a revulsion of horror -and of rage swept over Peter. If the police said his -father was bad they were liars. He hated them, and if -the chance came to him he would get even with them. -He would beat out their lives with a club. He would -kill them—if they didn't leave his father alone!</p> - -<p>He said nothing. But he got out of his nest in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> -evergreen boughs and sat close to his father against the -log, and Donald McRae put his arm around him and -puffed hard at his pipe to keep the firelight from revealing -what was in his eyes. The world might be against -him, but Peter would be like this, his friend and pal -to the last. He knew it, and thanked God.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2 style="margin-top: 3.5em; margin-bottom: 2em;"><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Peter</span> did not know when he fell asleep. He was -buried in the sweet-scented cedar and balsam -when his father awakened him. He sat up and rubbed -his eyes, and it came to him quickly where he was. The -fire was out and dawn was breaking up the gloom of -the forest. He missed the fire, and the bacon frying -over it, and the pot of coffee steaming in the coals. -Those were the usual things that greeted him when he -woke up in camp. And this morning he was hungry.</p> - -<p>They headed straight into the heart of the unexplored -timberlands south and west, and with empty -hands and no pack on his back Donald McRae talked as -cheerfully as though they had a week's rations with -them. But his eyes were constantly questing for something -to eat, and it occurred to him as a sort of tragedy -that he had not tied his rifle to the log. He did not -explain to Peter just why he had left it where the police -would easily find it.</p> - -<p>By midday their hunt for food had become a thrilling -adventure to Peter. It stirred his blood even more -than thought of their enemies, for the police seemed an -interminable distance away now, shut out by miles of -wilderness. There was something fascinating about it,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> -too. There were birds about them and rabbit runways -in every dip and swamp they came to, and deer and -moose and caribou tracks so plentiful in places that -they made trails like the hoof-beaten paths of cattle.</p> - -<p>But there was nothing they could get at, except porcupines. -During the morning they could have killed -half a dozen of these animals with clubs, but each time -porcupine flesh was suggested for dinner Peter made a -grimace of revulsion. Twice they had tried it experimentally -on their camping trips and both times it had -nauseated him. He insisted he would rather starve -than eat any more of that ill-smelling, fatty stuff the -porcupine was made of. He would chew spruce gum -instead. There was plenty of it on the trees they -passed.</p> - -<p>"If you get too hungry we'll roast some lily roots," -said Donald, "but if you can hold out until night we'll -have the feast of our lives."</p> - -<p>Peter held out. The sun was still up when they came -from heavy timber into a long, narrow meadow running -into a swamp on the other side. This was the sort -of place Donald McRae had been looking for. In the -edge of the swamp were rabbit runways beaten fresh -and hard. They chose the site for their camp in the -rim of the high timber, and while Peter brought in firewood -Donald made snares from another section of -boot top. These he set in the runways. It was scarcely -more than dusk when the first big snowshoe ran his -head through a noose and found himself swinging at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> -the end of a sapling. An hour later he was roasted, -and in the light of their fire they divided the feast between -them. Peter didn't mind the absence of salt and -bread and potatoes. Nothing he could remember had -ever tasted quite so good to him as the unseasoned rabbit.</p> - -<p>Food and the warmth of the fire made him drowsy, -and very soon after they had finished their supper -Donald tucked him snugly into the bed of evergreens -they had made and covered him with his coat. Peter -fell asleep instantly, and for several minutes the man -remained on his knees at his side, the smile of tenderness -in his face changing slowly into a look of haggard -grief. When he rose to his feet the luster had died out -of his eyes and years had fallen upon his shoulders. -He caught his breath sobbingly as he stared into the -wall of chaotic darkness beyond the firelight. It was -only Peter who counted now, and this night was the -last Peter would be with him. Tomorrow he would be -alone, an outlaw, a hunted man running away to save -his life. And Peter....</p> - -<p>A moan came to his lips, a dry and broken cry of -hopelessness, and his eyes fixed themselves in their -anguish upon the heart of the fire. Without Peter, -would God give him strength to live? What would the -days be like—and the nights—and the months and years -to come without Peter? For Peter was not only -Peter. In taking the mother, God had given her soul -back to him in the body of her boy. She was a part of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> -him, speaking with his voice, looking out of his eyes, -loving with his love, a comrade and pal to the man in -spirit even as she had been in her own sweet life. And -now—tomorrow—he would lose them both. The -law was after him. Its hounds would follow him from -hole to hole, like foxes after a rabbit, and probably in -the end they would get him.</p> - -<p>He closed his eyes to shut out the thing that was -hurting him. When he opened them a face seemed to -have taken form in the glow of the fire like a soul come -to give him courage and resolution, sweetly sad in its -inspiration, glorious in its consolation and cheer. -Every day through the years this visioning of his wife -had come to him; through those years she had walked -hand in hand with him, she had been with him in the -upgrowing of Peter, had helped to teach him the love of -God and the glory of nature, and had laughed and cried -and sung with them as sunshine and shadow came. -And always, in the darkest hours, Donald McRae saw -her face, sweet and strong and never afraid. And so -it was tonight.</p> - -<p>"This is your last great fight for our Peter," her -eyes seemed to say to him. "You must be strong."</p> - -<p>And then she was gone. Slowly the fire died out, -and he put no more wood upon it, but sat motionless -and silent until it was only a red glow of ember and -ash.</p> - -<p>He did not sleep. The moon rose and the clear sky -above was filled with stars. In their light he walked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> -back and forth in the open, a solitary figure with a -thousand still shadows about him. It was the sort of -night he loved, a spring night breathing and whispering -of summer and sweet with the perfumes of balsam and -spruce and growing things under his feet. These -things were a part of his God, and of Peter's God. -Just as the woman had built up his faith in him, pointing -out its truth and beauty and glory, so had he built -up in Peter an illimitable faith in this God which was -nature. It strengthened him now. The glow of the -moon, the softness of the stars, the gentle whisperings -of the wind, the low music of running water and the -thrill and tremble of inanimate and voiceless life about -him were a part of his religion.</p> - -<p>"Love a tree and you love God," had been his text -for Peter. And as long as there remained trees and -flowers and the songs of birds and eyes and ears with -which to see and hear, hope could never die. His brain -cleared and his heart grew stronger as he paced more -swiftly through the moonlight. The world was gloriously -big, he told himself again and again. Somewhere -in it was a place for him and Peter, and when he found -it, far away from the menace of the law, Peter would -not fail to come when he called. But tomorrow he -must be strong enough to lie and strong enough to leave -Peter at Five Fingers with Simon McQuarrie.</p> - -<p>Toward dawn he built up the fire and cooked another -rabbit which he caught in one of the snares. It was -ready when Peter crawled out of his balsam bed. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> -did not know his father had not slept during the night. -Donald McRae began to whistle when he saw the boy -was awake, and though an uncomfortable thickening, -persisted in his throat he fought to make the whistling -cheerful just the same.</p> - -<p>He announced his plan to Peter as if it were born of -sudden inspiration and happily solved a temporary -problem for them. He told him about Five Fingers -and their old friend, Simon McQuarrie. Peter could -just remember the Scotchman and Simon's fat Dutch -partner and friend, Herman Vogelaar. Donald McRae -seemed to recall them now with great pleasure, and he -was sure Peter would enjoy his little visit with them, -especially as there were several boys and girls of his -own age to play with at Five Fingers. Of course he -would come back soon, and maybe they would live at -Five Fingers, if Peter liked it there. He continued to -build up the lie, but something of trouble remained deep -back in the boy's eyes. Donald tried not to see it too -much, for it was the look he would have seen in the -woman's eyes, if she had been in Peter's place.</p> - -<p>They traveled until noon and ate their lunch. The -afternoon was well gone when they heard the striking -of an axe ahead of them. A quarter of an hour later -they could hear several axes, and the distant crash of -a falling tree. Donald McRae steeled his heart, and -stopped. Yet in this moment he was smiling.</p> - -<p>"That is Five Fingers," he said. "Can you go on -alone, Peter?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p> - -<p>Peter nodded. "But I don't want to," he said. "I -want to go with you, dad."</p> - -<p>"You must go to Five Fingers, Peter. I'll come back -soon. I promise that. I'll come back—soon."</p> - -<p>A gulp came in Peter's throat.</p> - -<p>"I'm not tired. I can go a long ways yet, dad. I'd -rather go with you."</p> - -<p>The man drew him into his arms.</p> - -<p>"I'll come back tomorrow," he lied, fighting to speak -the words calmly. "And you must get the paper in the -bottle to Simon McQuarrie as soon as you can. You -aren't afraid to go alone, are you, Peter?"</p> - -<p>"No, I'm not afraid."</p> - -<p>"Then—you must go." He hugged him close for a -moment, and rested his cheek on Peter's disheveled -hair. "Maybe I'll come back tonight," he whispered -desperately. "Good-by, little pal. Hurry—and give -Simon the paper—and—good-by!"</p> - -<p>His lips burned against Peter's forehead. It was -that kiss which startled Peter, and when his father -turned away, and then looked back, smiling and waving -a hand, a suffocating feeling remained in Peter's heart -as if he could not get all the air he wanted to breathe. -He tried to wave his hand in response, but in a moment -it fell limply to his side. Donald McRae saw the -gesture and a sob came in his breath. He disappeared -behind a windfall, stopped and looked back. Peter -was slowly turning toward Five Fingers. The small -figure was pathetic in its aloneness. Twice it paused<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> -and turned, and then went on, and was hidden at last -by a screen of evergreens.</p> - -<p>"God be with you and care for you, Peter, and give -me strength to bear this parting," sobbed Donald -McRae.</p> - -<p>With white and haggard face he turned into the -North.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p> - - - - - -<h2 style="margin-top: 3.5em; margin-bottom: 2em;"><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Beyond</span> the thicket of young jack pines Peter -did not hurry. His feet dragged, and he listened, -hoping he would hear his father's voice calling him -back. In half an hour he did not travel far beyond the -evergreens. Then he knew his father was gone. He -continued in the direction of Five Fingers, recalling -his promises. Tonight or tomorrow his father would -return. He hoped it would be tonight, for there was a -lump in his throat which he could not get rid of, and -something in his heart which frightened him with -suspicions and fears which he was too young to analyze. -But he knew his father would not lie. He would come -back. He wondered what was written on the paper he -was taking to Simon McQuarrie. Probably it told -about the wickedness of the police, and Simon would -help in some way. Other questions came into his mind -now that he was alone. Why hadn't his father gone -on to Five Fingers with him?</p> - -<p>The chopping of the axes had ceased, but he knew he -was heading in the right direction. He came into -openings filled with the stumps of trees that had been -cut down, and these clearings were carpeted with white -and pink spring flowers and masses of violets. He had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> -never seen such beautiful violets, or so many birds at -this season of the year. There were robins and -thrushes and dozens of little warblers and brush sparrows, -and the cutting down of trees seemed to have -brought all the sapsuckers and woodpeckers and gaudily -colored blue jays in the woods. The sun was delightfully -warm, too, though in another hour it would be -settling behind the tree tops. In this glory of peace and -quiet he proceeded quietly and cautiously, for his father -had taught him always to do that in the forest. So he -came without sound of footfall or crackling brush to -the edge of a little opening beyond a thicket of poplars -and birch, and here he stopped suddenly and his heart -jumped up into his mouth.</p> - -<p>Standing in a warm pool of sunlight not twenty feet -away from his concealment was a young girl. She was -almost as tall as Peter and so lovely to look upon that -he stared at her in amazement and admiration. He -thought she had seen him, and his first vision was of -her face and a pair of beautiful dark eyes, laughing up -at a red squirrel, chattering in a tree top a few paces -away. Then she sat down, gathering her flowers about -her, and eyes and face were lost to him in a mass -of shining, black hair that fell quickly about -her, almost touching the ground she was seated -upon.</p> - -<p>At first he was astonished. Then timidity and fear -crept upon him and he wanted to steal away as quietly -as he had come. He drew back a step and was preparing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> -for the next when an unexpected interruption -rooted him to the spot. The wild and agonized yelping -of a dog came from the thick brush beyond the girl. -Instantly she was on her feet, her slim body quivering -with the tension in which she waited. And then she -called, "Buddy—Buddy—come here!"</p> - -<p>With a series of pain-filled yelps the creature called -Buddy responded. He darted out of the brush and -came like a streak across the open. It seemed to Peter -the half-grown pup was all legs and head and tail, and -that from the sounds he made he must be mortally -hurt. Whimpering and crying, he cringed at the girl's -feet and kissed the hand she reached down to him. But -she did not look at him. She had dropped her -flowers and her attitude was fierce and expectant as she -waited.</p> - -<p>Peter could see the bushes moving across the open -and in a moment a boy burst through them. He was -half again as big as Peter, and he had a stick in his -hand. He followed the dog, half running, and Peter -began to hate him as he came. "Any person who will -strike a dog should never have been born," his father -had taught him from the beginning; and this boy with -his thick red face and hulking body had been beating -the pup. He was panting triumph when he came up, -and the pup slunk closer between the feet of his mistress. -The pursuer was at least two years older than -Peter. He had thick hands and little eyes and a bullet -head, and his eyes were glowing with wickedness.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p> - -<p>For an instant Peter saw the girl's eyes. They were -dark pools of flaming fire. Then like a little tigress she -was at the other. Her hands struck at his face and for -a moment the bully was caught at a disadvantage. He -dropped his stick and caught her in his arms. His -hands buried themselves in her hair, and Peter saw her -blows becoming more and more futile. The pup -snarled and darted in at the boy's feet. A kick sent -him back howling.</p> - -<p>Horror and rage possessed Peter when he saw the -girl's head thrust backward, and without a sound he ran -out of his cover and caught her assailant by the throat. -Then, when the girl was freed, he struck. That was -another thing his father had taught him, to fight when -it was necessary to fight—<i>and always for a woman</i>. -His fists struck hard and furiously, and he heard a bellow -of alarm and pain from the bully.</p> - -<p>The older boy stumbled and fell, and Peter was -on him like a cat. He realized this was no time to -"play the game fair." They rolled and twisted on the -ground, and blood streamed from the bully's nose and -mouth. Once Peter saw the girl. She was standing -very near, her lips parted, her wonderful eyes -shining at him. That glimpse of her was a mighty -encouragement. He fought harder, driving his fists -home, and kicking. Then they were on their feet -again.</p> - -<p>It was the bully who renewed the battle. Mauled -and bleeding, he had recovered from the surprise attack<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> -and his greater bulk and weight began to tell. -Exhausted by two days and nights of hunger and -flight, Peter felt his strength going. He went down, -and the bully flung himself upon him. It was then -Peter caught a second glimpse of the girl. She had -caught up the stick and was standing over them. He -could hear the stick as it struck blow after blow, and his -enemy rolled over, half stunned. They were both at -the bully then, Peter with his fists and the girl with -her stick, and the older boy took to his heels in a wild -flight for the safety of the thicket out of which he had -come a few minutes before.</p> - -<p>Peter wiped his nose and mouth with his sleeve and -gasped hard to get his breath. The girl was breathing -hard, too, and she was looking at him with such -wonder and gladness in her eyes that he wished he -was back in the timber again. Then she came to him -and began nursing his face with a soft handkerchief, -and said things which he could not remember -afterward, and Buddy the pup jumped up against -him, wagging his knotty tail and licking his -hand.</p> - -<p>Peter drew back and tried to grin. For a moment -he had felt enormously uncomfortable in the presence -of this lovely little goddess of the woods, with her soft -handkerchief dabbing at his face. Now his old cheer -returned. He was glad the fight was over and was -strongly conscious that the girl had played no small -part in the final victory.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p> - -<p>So he said apologetically, "He'd got me if you hadn't -come in with the stick."</p> - -<p>She stood back and looked at him. She was younger -than he, probably not more than thirteen, but to Peter -she appeared to be infinitely older in these first minutes -of their acquaintance. It bothered him to meet her eyes -squarely, they were so big and dark and filled with soft -fire, like the velvety, jet-black hair that streamed in -dishevelment about her.</p> - -<p>"He is twice as big as you," she retorted. "I hate -him. He belongs with the tug from Fort William, and -every time he comes we have a fight."</p> - -<p>"He's a—a woman-hitter," said Peter.</p> - -<p>She accepted his compliment with a dignified nod -of her head. Then she stamped her foot and shook -her stick in the direction the bully had gone. -"If he ever tries to do again what he tried today—I'll—I'll——"</p> - -<p>"He won't while I'm around," helped out Peter, -swelling with a bit of pugnacious pride. "I wasn't in -good shape, and I've been traveling pretty hard, and -we didn't have a lot to eat. I can lick him when I'm -fed up and rested."</p> - -<p>The girl was almost womanly in her swift intuition. -Her eyes glowed softly at Peter.</p> - -<p>"Who are you?" she asked gently. "I am Mona -Guyon, and I live with Josette and Pierre Gourdon at -Five Fingers."</p> - -<p>"I'm Peter," said the boy. "Peter McRae."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Where you from?" was her next query.</p> - -<p>Peter took time to swallow. His father had not told -him how to answer questions. Then he pointed.</p> - -<p>"From away off there, miles and miles. My father -brought me until we could hear the axes, and then I -came on alone. He's coming tonight or tomorrow."</p> - -<p>"Is your mother with him?"</p> - -<p>"She's dead."</p> - -<p>He was not looking at her when she came to him -and took his hand, and in all his life he had never felt -such a warm, soft little hand clinging to his own as -Mona Guyon's.</p> - -<p>"My mother is dead, too, Peter," she said. "And so -is my father. They were drowned—out there six years -ago. It was Pierre Gourdon who brought me in from -the rock."</p> - -<p>It was an uncomfortable moment, and yet something -of joy passed into Peter. His fingers, smoke-stained -and soiled, tightened about Mona's hand as they both -looked off over the cuttings to the wall of the vast -forest that shut out Lake Superior from their view. -They could plainly hear the distant murmuring of -the surf.</p> - -<p>"I'm glad you've come," she said. "I hope you're -going to live here. Are you?"</p> - -<p>"Maybe," said Peter.</p> - -<p>"You're brave, and I like you. If you were that -hateful Aleck Curry, who looks like a toad——"</p> - -<p>"I wouldn't be him," interrupted Peter.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p> - -<p>"No, but if you <i>were</i>, and you tried to do what he -did, I wouldn't hit you with a stick."</p> - -<p>Peter's mind floundered in a futile effort to understand.</p> - -<p>"I can lick him tomorrow," he ventured.</p> - -<p>With a little laugh she pulled him to the scattered -flowers. He helped her pick them up and put them into -one big bouquet. Her soft hair touched his hands and -he found it easier to look into her eyes. His heart beat -fast and he was strangely happy. He forgot his swelling -eye and a stiffening lip, but he did think of his -father. He would surely beg his father to live at Five -Fingers. It would be wonderful there, with someone -like Mona to know and fight for.</p> - -<p>Then he thought of his message.</p> - -<p>"I've got something for Simon McQuarrie," he said. -"Dad told me to hurry with it."</p> - -<p>"And you're hungry."</p> - -<p>She took his hand again, in a possessive and matter-of-fact -way. There was something maternal about it, -something so sweetly glad and friendly that a great -wave of comradeship swept through Peter. He was no -longer nervous or afraid. Tonight or tomorrow his -father would come, and they would all be happy.</p> - -<p>Through a glory of warm sunset they crossed the -cut-over opens and came soon to the crest of the green -slope that looked down on a little paradise hidden away -in the heart of a great wilderness, a paradise of green -meadows, of water shimmering like silver in the sun,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> -and of the few log homes wherein lived the people -whose paths Pierre Gourdon had blazed through the -forests many years before.</p> - -<p>"That is Five Fingers," said Mona.</p> - -<p>And down the slope she led the way with Peter, still -holding him by the hand.</p> - -<p>He was speechless as they went. Everywhere he -looked the earth was gloriously green, and in this green -were the scattered cabins, with little spirals of smoke -rising from their chimneys. He could smell this -smoke, faintly sweet with the perfume of jack pine -pitch and cedar. He saw the big, yellow dunes of sawdust -about the mill, and in the mill itself, which had -only a roof and no sides, the huge steel saw that was -silent for the day blazed like a mirror in the sun. The -lowing of cattle came up from the green meadows, and -he saw horses grazing, and then his heart gave another -jump, for between them and the little plain where the -settlement lay were a doe and fawn. His fingers tightened -suddenly about Mona's hand, and he stopped, an -excited wonder escaping in a cry from his lips. The girl -laughed softly and freed her hand for a moment to -braid back her lustrous hair.</p> - -<p>"That is Minna," she said. "We named her after -Geertruda Poulin's last baby. Pierre Gourdon allows -no killing for miles and miles around here, and the deer -feed out of our hands and eat our hay with the cattle in -winter. Only——" Her lovely face clouded, and -Peter saw a glow of distress in her eyes. "The men kill<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> -porcupines because they eat our chairs and doors and -windows. But they bury them for me, over there in my -porcupine cemetery, and I plant flowers all around -them. I love porcupines."</p> - -<p>"So do I," said Peter.</p> - -<p>She took his hand again, and they continued down -the slope. "Uncle Pierre lets me have three of them for -pets," she said. "I have a great many pets, hundreds -of them. All the birds and deer and bears and wild -things for as far as you can see belong to me, and none -of them are afraid of me. Uncle Pierre gave them to -me, and no one harms them. No one except Aleck -Curry," she added with a quick note of fierceness rising -in her voice. "He would kill them all if he dared. I -hate him!"</p> - -<p>"I'll lick him if he doesn't leave them alone," offered -Peter. "I can do it when I'm fed up."</p> - -<p>She squeezed his hand.</p> - -<p>"That's their boat—down there—with the big scow. -It comes from Fort William four or five times each -spring and summer to take the lumber away. Aleck's -father owns it, and I hate him, too. He laughs at -Uncle Pierre and wants to bring hunters up."</p> - -<p>Peter was silent. A miracle was unfolding itself in -his soul and under his eyes. As they came near to the -first of the cabins he thought again of his father and his -message.</p> - -<p>"Where does Simon McQuarrie live?" he asked.</p> - -<p>The girl pointed to a little cabin near the mill.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> -"Over there. And that's where I live—in the first of -those two big cabins with the rows of white stones -around them. Uncle Pierre and Aunt Josette live -there, and Marie Antoinette and Joe in the other. Joe -is Uncle Pierre's boy, and Marie Antoinette is his wife. -You'll love them. Everybody does—except Aleck -Curry."</p> - -<p>"I smell bacon," suggested Peter.</p> - -<p>The girl sniffed.</p> - -<p>"It—it's from Simon McQuarrie's cabin," she -announced, a little disappointed. "Won't you come -down to our place? Please!"</p> - -<p>"I've got to see Simon," persisted Peter. "My father -told me to see him first."</p> - -<p>Simon saw them coming. His hard Scotch face -softened as he saw Mona, and he scarcely noticed Peter -until they were at his open door. Then Mona said, -releasing her proprietary hold on the boy's hand: "This -is Peter McRae. His father is out in the woods, and -he's coming tonight or tomorrow. Peter wants to see -you about something and he's hungry. He just whipped -Aleck Curry, and that's why his eye is black and his lip -swollen. Good-by, Peter!"</p> - -<p>There was something wholly and beautifully satisfying -about Mona, and Peter felt himself strangely alone -when she left him and he found himself in the cabin -with Simon. And then a thing happened which would -have amazed all the people in Five Fingers could they -have seen it, for Simon McQuarrie, with his honest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> -heart and hard face, had never revealed himself a man -of emotion. Yet scarcely had Mona gone when he drew -Peter into his arms, and his thin gray face shone with a -strange light as he looked over the boy's head into the -sunset that flooded the open door.</p> - -<p>"Peter—Peter McRae," he said as if speaking to -himself. "Helen's boy—and Donald's. It's been a -long time since I've seen you, Peter, a long time. -And——"</p> - -<p>He held him off and looked at him in a way that -puzzled Peter. "You look like your mother, boy, when -she was a little girl. I knew her then."</p> - -<p>Peter was fishing in his pocket.</p> - -<p>"My father sent this to you," he said, giving Simon -the bottle.</p> - -<p>The Scotchman opened it, and Peter watched his -face as he read what was on the paper. He saw the -lines about Simon's mouth harden and little wrinkles -gather about his eyes. Then he turned, crushing the -paper tightly in one hand, and added half a dozen -slices of bacon to those already in the pan on the stove. -After that he read the paper very deliberately a second -time, and burned it. He cut more bread, brought out -a pie, and while he added finishing touches to a feast -that made Peter's eyes shine, he talked—but not about -the paper in the bottle. When supper was ready he ate -little himself, but watched the boy. Peter was starved. -When he was done Simon rose to his feet and passed a -big, lean hand over the boy's fair hair. His heart<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> -ached. Yet a duty had been imposed upon him, and he -did not draw away from it. Words which Donald -McRae had heavily underscored in the message he had -sent kept repeating themselves in his mind, like a voice -which he could not put off or deny.</p> - -<p>"Tell him <i>now</i>, tonight, as soon as he comes to -you," Donald had written. "Before the stars are over -me again I want to feel that he knows the truth, and -understands, and has forgiven me. It may be I am a -coward because I do not tell him myself. But I cannot. -I am afraid. I want to think of him always as -he has been. I cannot leave him with a heart breaking -or his faith dying. God will bless you, Simon. It -is for Peter's sake—and Helen's—even more than -mine."</p> - -<p>They sat down on a bench, facing the last of the -sunset, and Simon put his arm about the boy's shoulders. -He tried to begin, and something rose in his -throat and choked him so he could not speak. He tried -again, and said:</p> - -<p>"So Mona found you, and you fought Aleck Curry -and whipped him?"</p> - -<p>"She helped me," confessed Peter. "But I was -empty. I can lick him now, when I'm fed up."</p> - -<p>Simon's arm tightened. His long fingers touched -the boy's cheek gently. "You like Mona?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir."</p> - -<p>Simon waited. Then he said:</p> - -<p>"Do you want me to tell you a story, Peter—a story<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> -about another girl like Mona, who lived a long, long -time ago?"</p> - -<p>Peter nodded, wondering whether Simon would then -tell him something about the letter that was in the -bottle.</p> - -<p>The story was short, for Simon McQuarrie was a -cold and—most people thought—an emotionless -man. But his heart was beating painfully as he began -his tale.</p> - -<p>"A long time ago there was another girl just like -Mona, and just as lovely and sweet, Peter, and there -were three boys who grew up near her. But one of -these boys was almost a man, much older than the -other two, so that when the girl came to young -womanhood he was really almost old enough to be her -father. And these three all loved her, every one of -them, but one of the three was very much like this -Aleck Curry you fought and had a heart in him that -didn't know what clean love was. Well, of course, -she loved just <i>one</i> of them, Peter, and he was -the best and noblest of the three. Her name was -Helen."</p> - -<p>"My mother's name," said Peter quickly.</p> - -<p>"Yes, and the odd thing about it is the name of the -man she married was Donald, just like your father's. -That's why I'm telling you the story, Peter. It—it's -queer."</p> - -<p>Peter was silent.</p> - -<p>"The man who was almost old enough to be her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> -father was glad in a way," went on Simon. "No one -ever knew just how badly it broke him up, but their -happiness in time made him happy, and he was the best -friend they ever had. At least, I think he was. But -the black-hearted one of the three was different, and -one day when Donald and the older man were away he -came to her cabin and insulted her, even though she -had a little baby in her arms. And just then -the other two came back. What would you have done, -Peter?"</p> - -<p>Peter's body had stiffened.</p> - -<p>"If he was like Aleck Curry—I'd—I'd have killed -him," he said.</p> - -<p>Simon drew in a deep, slow breath.</p> - -<p>"And that is just what happened, Peter. Donald -killed him. He didn't mean to do it. It was an accident. -But it happened. And the other man deserved -it. He was better dead than alive. But it made a -murderer of Donald, and they hang murderers. So -the older man cared for the woman and the baby for -three years, while Donald hid himself in the forests. -Then—Helen died. And Donald came back and took -the boy, and for years after that the law didn't know -where he was, and they were happy together, and would -always have been happy if the law hadn't found him -again, and——"</p> - -<p>Simon's voice choked. His arm hugged Peter until -it hurt. And then he finished, almost whispering the -last words, "Peter, I know it's all true, because the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> -older man's name was Simon McQuarrie—and I'm -Simon McQuarrie—and—the boy's name—<i>was -Peter</i>."</p> - -<p>It was out. He bowed his grizzled cheek to the -boy's face and fought hard to choke back the thickening -in his throat. It seemed a long time to him that Peter -did not move or speak. But he could feel the tremble -of the boy's body, and he knew that Peter understood.</p> - -<p>"So he won't come back," he said, trying to bring a -note of comfort into his strained voice. "At least not -for a long time, Peter. And he wants you to live with -me. That's what he wrote on the paper you brought -in the bottle."</p> - -<p>Still Peter did not speak. He was staring through -the door, and it was hard for Simon to find more -words.</p> - -<p>"We'll take good care of you here, Peter."</p> - -<p>Then Peter spoke.</p> - -<p>"Dad won't come back tonight or tomorrow?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Nor ever?"</p> - -<p>"Maybe he'll come, but it will be a long time."</p> - -<p>"And they're after him, like they were back there in -the woods. They want to—<i>hang him</i>?"</p> - -<p>"They won't catch him, Peter. That is why he left -you here. He can travel faster without you and is safe -right now. But we must tell no one else about him. -We must keep it all between ourselves—a secret."</p> - -<p>Peter slipped out quietly from under Simon's arm.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> -He had no more questions to ask, and Simon made no -effort to follow him as he went out into the last glow of -the day. Slowly Peter walked past the mill and the -yellow sawdust piles toward the timber which axes had -not touched at the edge of the clearing. But he no -longer took notice of the sunset glow or the twitter of -birds or wondered at the molten gleam of the Middle -Finger. He entered into the shadowing twilight of -the forest and for the first time a sob broke from his -dry lips. Then he called his father's name aloud, and -the silence that followed emptied his heart of its last -hope. He sank down in a huddled heap beside a tree, -and his grief found vent in a low sobbing that broke -strangely and terribly in the gloomy stillness of the -trees. It was in this hour that Peter needed the comfort -of a woman's arms. His world was gone. Without -his father he wanted to die.</p> - -<p>The darkness crept closer about him. And then a -little hand, timid, soft, touched his cheek.</p> - -<p>"Peter!"</p> - -<p>It was Mona. Her beautiful eyes were glowing -softly at him in the dusk as he raised his head to look -at her through his tears. She knelt down beside him, -and he choked back his sobs, struggling to hide his grief -and his tears from her. And then Buddy the pup snuggled -under his arm and kissed his cheek with his cool -tongue. Mona was dabbing at his eyes again with -her little handkerchief, and her voice was soft and sweet -in its mothering gentleness.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was then Peter forgot Simon's warning, and -there in the deepening gloom of the forest, with Mona -close beside him, he told what it was in his -heart to tell—all about the police, and the fight and -the running away, and now the losing of his father.</p> - -<p>"There isn't anyone else but my dad," he half -sobbed at the end. "I even lost my dog. I haven't -got anything now—an' I wish I was dead!"</p> - -<p>"You don't," she reproved, her two hands holding -one of his own tightly, "and you <i>have</i> got someone. -You've got me. I'll take care of you. I will, Peter. I -promise. And you can have Buddy, and all my pets—everything -I've got. And—he will come back. Your -father, I mean. All we got to do is wait." Her eyes -were glowing at him in the dusk. "Why, your father -is alive and he <i>can</i> come back," she said straight from -the heart. "Mine can't. He is dead. And so is my -mother."</p> - -<p>An emotion new and strange swept over Peter—a -flash of dawning manhood stirred to mysterious life -by that note of something which had come from Mona's -lips, a woman of the future whispering to him, chivalry -calling, a boy's soul and a girl's rising for a moment -above their years to point out the way to a new tomorrow.</p> - -<p>Peter's heart grew warm again. He rose to his -feet, and Mona stood beside him. In the darkness -they were very close.</p> - -<p>"I guess you're right," he said. "Dad won't stay<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> -away very long. And I—I'm sorry about your father -and mother, Mona. And if Aleck Curry bothers you -again, or kicks the dog——"</p> - -<p>And so they went back through the dusk to Five -Fingers, and this time it was Peter who held firmly to -Mona's hand.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2 style="margin-top: 3.5em; margin-bottom: 2em;"><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">His</span> first night in Five Fingers would always remain -an unchangeable page in the history of -Peter McRae. Time would not dim nor obliterate it -but would only mellow the memory of its loneliness -and its torture. In the hours when it seemed to him -his world had come to an end, years pressed their -weight of experience and understanding upon his -shoulders, and for a little while pain and the poignancy -of fears made him old, and he ceased to be a boy of -fourteen.</p> - -<p>Simon McQuarrie had left a candle burning in the -loft of his cabin. By its light he had made Peter's -bed, and had hugged the boy to him for a moment before -saying good night; and in going, with his head and -shoulders above the trap in the floor, he had paused -for a moment to say: "Don't worry, Peter. They -won't get your father. And you must sleep, because -Mona will be looking for you early in the morning."</p> - -<p>Then he had gone.</p> - -<p>And now, two hours later, Peter was alone and still -awake. The candle had burned out, but the moon was -coming up over the eastern forests. It was a splendid -spring moon, big and round and full of golden fire,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> -and its glow came in a flood through the open window -of the loft.</p> - -<p>At the window sat Peter, huddled and quiet. He -knew Simon was sound asleep. All of Five Fingers -was asleep. From the window he counted six or seven -of the dozen log homes which made up the little settlement, -and their windows were dark. They were -floating in a great, yellow sea of moonlight. He could -make out the dark walls of the forest and the silvery -sheen of Middle Finger Inlet.</p> - -<p>From beyond that sheen came the low murmur of -Lake Superior beating against the rocks half a mile -away. In springtime there was always this moaning -of the big lake at Five Fingers, even on still nights -when there was no wind.</p> - -<p>And tonight it was so quiet Peter could hear his own -heart beating. At times it hurt him. It rose up in -him somewhere and choked him. Once or twice, if -Simon had been awake, he could have heard the boy -sobbing.</p> - -<p>But Peter was beyond that now. His pale, thin face -looking at the moon over the tree-tops had grown tense -and set in its understanding and grief. Out under that -moon his father was being hunted. Men were after -him—men who would kill him or hang him if they -caught him. He was no longer puzzled. His father -was gone forever, just as his mother was gone, only -she was dead.</p> - -<p>He gulped hard, and his fingers clutched at the rough<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> -wood of the windowsill. He could not remember his -mother except as a beautiful dream. She had come to -him sometimes that way, and he had felt the soft -warmth of her hands and the sweet breath of her -kisses in his sleep. In his brain he treasured a picture -of her, but it was only a picture, while his father had -been very real. Since the first day he could remember, -it was his father who had made up his world, his -father who had been pal, comrade and mother to him all -his life, and who now—out under the light of the -wonderful moon—was being hunted by men with guns, -just as they had so often hunted the big white rabbits -in the swamps.</p> - -<p>Again and again as he sat alone at the window his -mind went over the events which had passed so swiftly -since the day before yesterday, when his father galloped -in from the railroad settlement with the officers of the -law at his heels, and together they ran into the safety -of the woods, leaving the little cabin in the clearing -which had been their home. After that had come the -longer flight, two days and nights of exhaustion and -hunger, and the final parting when they heard the -axes of the men at Five Fingers. It was when he came -to that point his heart rose up and choked him, and he -wanted to cry out in the stillness of the night. If only -his father had put greater faith in his strength and -years, and had let him go along! He could run, and -hide, and live without anything to eat for a long time, -and he could sleep on the naked ground, and swim<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> -streams, and he wasn't afraid. But his father had sent -him on alone to this strange settlement of Five Fingers, -where he had met Mona, and Aleck Curry, and Simon -McQuarrie....</p> - -<p>When his thoughts came to Mona a bit of comfort -crept into Peter's soul. It wasn't so bad, with Mona -near him. She had come into his life in a most unexpected -and beautiful way, and had helped him whip -the beast of a boy who had kicked her dog. He could -still feel the warm thrill of her little hand as she led -him through the woods and slashings into Five Fingers -and he could see her eyes glowing at him in the -dusk as she said:</p> - -<p>"Your father is alive and he <i>can</i> come back. But -mine can't, Peter. He is dead. And so is my mother."</p> - -<p>Peter could almost hear her speaking those words -now, whispering them, as if she realized in that instant -the sacredness of the trust he had put in her. And she -was right. His father was alive, and could come back, -while hers....</p> - -<p>The distant murmuring of the lake came to him -faintly. It made him shiver. Out there, somewhere, -her father and mother had been drowned. He wondered -if Mona was awake and was also listening to -that sound, so faint at times that it was like a breath -of air. It must haunt her, he thought. It was always -telling her about what had happened, just as she had -told it to him, coming down the slope into Five -Fingers, and probably it made her cry when she was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> -alone nights. It was terrible to remember one's father -and mother dying like that, both at once, and Peter -shuddered.</p> - -<p>It made him a little ashamed, too. The sense of -manhood which his father had planted and nurtured -in him began to rise above his own hopelessness and -heartache, and he leaned out of the window to look at -the cabin of Pierre and Josette Gourdon, where Mona -lived. That was dark, too. But Mona might be awake. -He hoped so. Next to his father she was the biggest -thing that had ever come into his life, and thought of -her, and of her nearness, and of her lying awake -thinking about him, sent a warm and comforting -feeling through him, just as her gentle hands and -soft eyes had brought him a mothering consolation -in the earlier darkness of the forest that -night.</p> - -<p>It seemed to him, now that the reaction had come -in his mind, that everything about the night was assuming -a new aspect.</p> - -<p>It was the kind of night he and his father loved, and -its stillness, its shadows and floods of yellow moonlight -brought him a new message. <i>Their</i> moon, they had -always called it.</p> - -<p>"You were born on a night with the moon shining -like that," his father had told him. "It came in -at the window to look at you, and it was mighty -pleased."</p> - -<p>So the moon had always been a personal thing to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> -Peter, just as it had been to his father. And the Man -in the Moon, Peter observed, was in a friendly humor -tonight. There was a sly look in his eyes and an odd -twist to his mouth, as if he were winking at Peter and -telling him how beautifully everything was coming out, -both for his father and for himself. Between Mona -and the moon the sickness grew less in his heart, and -remembering he had not said the prayer which -his father had never let him forget, he bowed his face -on the windowsill and whispered the words to -himself.</p> - -<p>When he raised his head a big gray shadow was -floating silently in the air just outside his window. -It was one of the huge owls which turn snow-white in -winter. He could hear the soft flutter of its wings as -it twisted and turned and disappeared, more like a -ghost than a living thing. And then a swift patter of -little feet came on the roof of the cabin. It was another -of the night folk, a flying squirrel. A few yards -away was the big tree in which it must hide itself during -the day. He wondered if the owl and the winged -squirrel were among Mona's pets.</p> - -<p>His ears began to attune themselves to the different -sounds of the night. It wasn't so empty, after all. -There was always the murmur of the lake, and he could -hear the occasional soft thud of hoofs in the meadow, -and the mooing of a cow. A loon sent out its quavering -love call from somewhere beyond the dark wall of -the forest, and a wolf howled to the north. Now and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> -then, deep in his sleep, Simon McQuarrie gave -a snort in the room below. It was as if he were under -water and came up at intervals for air, Peter -thought.</p> - -<p>Then he heard an odd chuckling, and a porcupine -came waddling through the moonlight toward the cabin. -Peter could see him clearly. He was big and fat and -stupidly happy, and chattered like a cooing baby as he -approached Simon's woodpile. And at last the tenseness -went out of Peter's face, and his eyes brightened in -the moonglow, and he pursed up his lips to whistle -down softly at Porky. He wanted to warn him of the -doom which Mona had said hovered over all porcupines -at Five Fingers. But the creature was deaf and dumb -and blind. He found the axe which Simon had forgotten, -and grunted his satisfaction. Then he humped -himself into a comfortable ball and his teeth began -working like swiftly beating little hammers upon the -helve of the axe, which was salty with the sweat of -Simon's hands. Peter whistled.</p> - -<p>"Get out, Porky!" he called softly.</p> - -<p>He was considering the necessity of going down to -save Simon's axe when a second chattering shadow -waddled in out of the moonlit open between the cabin -and the forest. It was another porcupine, a huge, black -fellow who was carrying on an animated debate with -himself as he advanced. Peter grinned. He loved -to hear the porcupines talk to themselves. But he had -never heard one quite like the big black fellow. It was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> -as if a mother pig were coming with a litter of little -grunting ones at her heels, and he wondered if Simon -would sleep through it all.</p> - -<p>The newcomer made straight for the woodpile and -the gray possessor of the axe helve turned to meet him. -The axe was between them, a sweet morsel for porcupine -teeth. Low, throaty sounds floated up to Peter. -It might have been a meeting of brothers, or of sweethearts, -or at least of very good friends if one judged by -those sounds.</p> - -<p>Then came a swift, flail-like movement of tails, -followed by grunts and squeals and blows that sent a -thrill of excitement through Peter. It was a glorious -fight from the beginning, and somehow the big black -fellow made him think of Aleck Curry, and in his -eagerness to see the battle he leaned half out of the -window.</p> - -<p>The fighters rolled directly under him and he heard -loose quills flying against the cabin as the tails struck -out like clubs.</p> - -<p>For a time he could not see who was getting the bad -end of it. Then the black, who was more than ever -like Aleck Curry, got a swing from the gray's tail that -must have filled him with quills wrong-side in, for he -let out a wail and began to retreat.</p> - -<p>Not until then did Peter hear a sound from the room -below him. A door opened. In another moment Simon -McQuarrie came round the end of the cabin.</p> - -<p>Simon was a tall and ghostly figure in his nightgown,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> -which fell to his knees, and in his hand he carried a -club. The club rose and fell and Peter heard a sickening -blow. A feeling of horror shot through him.</p> - -<p>"Don't kill the white one!" he cried. "Don't kill it!"</p> - -<p>Simon McQuarrie, about to make for his second -victim, looked up at the window in surprise. Peter saw -the gray porcupine ambling back toward the timber, -grunting and protesting as he went, and Simon made -no effort to overtake him.</p> - -<p>"They were having a fine fight," explained Peter. -"That black one was Aleck Curry, and the other was -licking him. He was smaller, too."</p> - -<p>For a space the Scotchman stood silent in the moonlight. -Then he asked, "Have you been asleep, Peter?"</p> - -<p>Peter shook his head. "No."</p> - -<p>"What have you been doing?"</p> - -<p>"Just looking at the moon."</p> - -<p>Simon turned slowly, with a suspicious upward -glance at Peter.</p> - -<p>"Better go now," he advised. "If you don't I'll -ask you to come down and sleep with me." As he -disappeared round the end of the cabin, his scant nightgown -flapping above his long and bony legs, Simon -muttered under his breath: "Donald was wrong in -having me tell the lad. Better to have lied and never -let him know. As it is——"</p> - -<p>An expression which only Donald McRae would -have understood settled in his face, and he paused for -a moment at his door to look across the open where<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> -Pierre Gourdon's home lay in the radiance of the night. -He could see the window of the room in which Mona -slept, and the lines about his stern mouth softened.</p> - -<p>"Poor little devils, both of them," he said, and went -in to his bed.</p> - -<p>Peter heard the door close. It seemed easier for -him now to lie down upon the blankets. The moonlight -streamed in upon him, and Peter could <i>feel</i> it. -There was always that something warm and comforting -about the moon. He closed his eyes, and his -thoughts no longer brought a lump into his throat or -hurt him. It was as if an older mind were helping him -over certain difficult places. It assured him his father -was safe. The police would not get him, and it would -not be long before he returned. If he failed to do -that he would surely write, and Peter could then go to -him.</p> - -<p>He began to think of Mona. She was, after all, the -pleasantest thing he had ever had to think about, in -spite of his happiness with his father. He reviewed the -fight of that day and grew warm with anticipations of -tomorrow and a renewal of hostilities. His hands -clenched when he pictured Aleck Curry with his ugly -face and big, heavy body, but they relaxed when he -visioned Mona as she had taken part in the fight, with -her shining black hair streaming about her and flaming -eyes so beautiful he had at first been afraid to look -at them. In his life in the wilderness he had never -had much to do with girls, but here was one who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> -pleased him completely, and all the ideals which his -father had built up in him were roused and set on -fire. His mother must have been like Mona when she -was a little girl, because it seemed to him his father -had always pictured her like that.</p> - -<p>Then he grew uneasy and shame crept a little upon -him. It made him squirm in his blankets to think that -Aleck Curry would have whipped him if Mona hadn't -joined in those last two or three minutes of the fight. -That Aleck was bigger and older than he, and that he -had fought under the disadvantages of hunger and -exhaustion, did not satisfactorily explain his own failure -to Peter. He was glad his father had not seen -that fight, even though he had been taken at a great -disadvantage. But <i>Mona</i> had seen it. She had seen -him on the ground in those final moments, with Aleck -about to pommel him into disgraceful submission, and -she had come in to save him.</p> - -<p>There was only one thing to do under the circumstances, -and the inspiration of it comforted him. He -would go out early in the morning, hunt up Aleck Curry -and lick him. He was sure he could do it now, even -though he was smaller and lighter than Aleck, for he -would be rested and would have a good breakfast to -start with.</p> - -<p>He fell asleep. The big owl hooted softly from the -top of a stub near the mill, and the flying squirrel was -joined by its mate in a game of tag on the roof. The -moon sailed higher, and under it a buck and a doe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> -crossed within a stone's throw of Peter's window. All -this Peter missed in an excitement of his own as his -unsettled mind traveled swiftly from one dream to -another. First he was fleeing with his father, and -they were pursued by a horde of enemies, and all of -these enemies were Aleck Currys. After that he -dreamed of Aleck and Mona, and he fought so fiercely, -with Mona's dark eyes and hair filling his vision, -that Simon heard him twisting and groaning and -climbed quietly up the ladder from below to look at -him.</p> - -<p>For a long time the stern Scotchman watched Peter, -and in the fainter light of the moon which now filled -the room a miracle of change passed over his face and -it became as gentle as a woman's. No one, since long -years ago, had ever caught that gentleness in Simon -McQuarrie's face.</p> - -<p>"It seems only yesterday," he whispered softly -to himself, in a moment when Peter's pale face lay -quietly in the crook of his arm. "Only yesterday, -Helen."</p> - -<p>Something trembled inside him, and he knew the -mother was in that room with Peter, watching over -him as he had seen her many times in those years when -he had cared for the two, those beautiful but pitiless -years when he had hardened his heart against all hope -for himself in his devotion and duty to his hunted -friend, Donald McRae. Only yesterday! And yet -many hard and tedious years had passed since then,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> -and through them he had gone like a piece of iron that -is hardened into steel by the alchemy of fire. Tonight -had come the mysterious change. He climbed down -softly, his heart trembling. He loved Peter. He -loved him as he had loved the mother.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2 style="margin-top: 3.5em; margin-bottom: 2em;"><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Peter</span> awoke with the dawn, and with that dawn -he saw Five Fingers rousing itself into life. -All the sweetness of spring was in the air. The -delicious morning song of the robins was the first -cheering sound that came to him. It was like a beautiful -chorus.</p> - -<p>"A man cannot be so wicked that the song of a -robin will not stir some good in his heart," Donald -McRae had taught Peter. "God made that song to -begin the day with, and only those buried in the darkness -of cities cannot hear or understand the message. -Always think kindly of people in the cities, Peter. They -are unfortunate."</p> - -<p>And Peter thought of that as he looked out of the -window on the few log cabins at Five Fingers. He -had never seen a real city, but here, with the rose-flush -of the rising sun painting the eastern sky beyond the -forests, was everything of beauty and glory his mind -could conceive. "Here," he seemed to hear his father -saying, "is God."</p> - -<p>Silvery wreaths of smoke were rising from the stone -and clay chimneys of Five Fingers. He heard the -gulls and caught the flash of their white wings over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> -the Middle Inlet. Down there, too, was the squat, -black tug owned by Aleck Curry's father—the tug -which came up from Fort William three or four times -a year to carry the lumber away. It was the one ugly -thing he could see, and he was glad it did not belong -at Five Fingers, and that Aleck Curry did not belong -there. Already he was taking a possessive interest in -the place, and his heart felt a gloating pride in the fact -that he was a part of it, and Aleck Curry wasn't.</p> - -<p>He saw men coming up from the bottoms, leading -horses. A cheery whistle came to him clearly. The -mill, nearly buried in its big yellow piles of sawdust, -was only a little distance away, and a man was stoking -the boiler with wood. The cloud of smoke that rose -out of the tall stack was white and clean, and Peter -knew how sweetly it smelled. He sniffed, trying to -catch it. And then a wriggling creature came under -his window and began making contortions as it looked -up at Peter. It was Buddy, the pup. He was just the -kind of dog Peter loved, all knots and knobs, with big -feet and joints and a head twice too heavy for his -body.</p> - -<p>"He's growing," thought Peter, as he called down -to him. "He's going to be a fine dog."</p> - -<p>A few minutes later Poleon Dufresne passed Simon's -cabin with a pail of milk and heard the Scotchman -whistling. This was unusual, and he paused to thrust -in a curious face at the door, smiling good morning. -Simon was getting breakfast with an almost boyish<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> -enthusiasm, and when Poleon saw Peter scrubbing his -face his jaws fell apart in amazement.</p> - -<p>"Morning, Poleon," greeted Simon. "This is Peter—Peter -McRae, and I've adopted him. He's the son of -an old friend of mine, and he came last night as a sort -of surprise. He's going to bide with me."</p> - -<p>This was a lot of information for Simon to give on -any one subject at any one time, and Poleon came in -with his pail, grinning his appreciation. He laid a hand -affectionately on Peter's shoulder and told him how -glad the people in Five Fingers would be to have him -among them. Peter liked Poleon's round, rosy face -with its cheery blue eyes, and when about to go Poleon -turned a third of the contents of his pail into an -earthenware crock and said to Peter:</p> - -<p>"That's for you, boy. Simon here doesn't care for -milk, but he must get plenty of it now for you. There's -nothing like milk to make you fat and healthy."</p> - -<p>It was Saturday. Peter learned that fact half an -hour later while he was helping Simon wash the breakfast -dishes. It came from a voice behind them, and -Peter turned to find Mona standing in the door.</p> - -<p>"It's Saturday and there is no school," she announced. -"So I have come to get you acquainted with -Five Fingers, Peter."</p> - -<p>An enormous thrill ran through Peter. She was -even lovelier than yesterday as she stood with her slim -little figure framed in the doorway. Her beautiful dark -eyes were shining, and looking at him, and her wonderful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> -black hair was plaited in a braid that looked like a -rope of velvet. Even Simon's undemonstrative face -broke into an appreciative smile.</p> - -<p>Once he had told Pierre Gourdon it was not good for -a child to be as beautiful as Mona. But a new thought -came into his mind this morning, a strange and weird -thought for a Scotchman of his nature, and he chuckled -softly as he told Peter to wipe his hands and go with -Mona. Then he went to her, and tilted up her pretty -chin, and ran his hand over her smooth hair that was -like silk to his work-hardened palm. He had never -done that before, and Mona was surprised. She was -surprised, too, at the changed look in his face and -eyes. He seemed to be a different Simon McQuarrie -from the one she had always known.</p> - -<p>"So you helped Peter whip that young rascal Aleck -Curry, did you?" he asked with a wicked note of exultation -in his voice.</p> - -<p>She flushed a little and cast a swift glance at Peter.</p> - -<p>"Peter had him whipped when I went in," she replied -loyally.</p> - -<p>"No, I didn't," corrected Peter. "He was just -going to mess me up in proper shape when you hit -him with the stick. But I can lick him today."</p> - -<p>Mona smiled proudly at him. Then she looked -sternly at Simon.</p> - -<p>"You killed one of my porcupines."</p> - -<p>"I had to," explained Simon. "He was eating my -axe. Peter will take him over to the cemetery for you."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></p> - -<p>He returned to his work and Peter and Mona went to -the dead porcupine. Buddy was sniffing suspiciously -at the corpse, and at sight of the red stains on the earth -Mona shivered.</p> - -<p>"He didn't need to kill it," she said. "I heard you -call to him to let the white one go. He could have let -this one go, too."</p> - -<p>"You heard me?"</p> - -<p>She nodded. "I saw the candle in your room until -it went out. Then I sat at the window in the moonlight. -I didn't feel like sleeping."</p> - -<p>"Neither did I," said Peter, his heart beating -strangely. "I—I was wondering if you were awake. -Did you hear the lake?"</p> - -<p>"I always hear it."</p> - -<p>He picked up the dead porcupine, feeling that he -had said something wrong. Mona took the other foot -and together they carried their burden beyond the -farthest cabin to a high little meadow at the foot of -a green knoll. Here, Peter observed, were many scores -of green little mounds, and many others over which -the grass had not grown, and still others very fresh. -And everywhere among them flowers were growing. -Mona pointed out a spade, and he dug a hole. When -the porcupine was buried, Mona said:</p> - -<p>"That is the twenty-seventh this spring. I wonder -why porcupines like cabin doors and windowsills and -axes and table legs when there are so many nice things -to eat in the woods?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p> - -<p>"It's the salt," explained Peter. "They like to eat -anything somebody has handled. Once, when we were -away, they ate our windows until all the glass fell -out."</p> - -<p>"I put salt in the woods, lots of it," said Mona. "The -deer like it too, and the rabbits, and the mice, and almost -everything alive except the birds. Uncle Pierre -has the tug bring me a barrel of salt every time it -comes. Last time that beast of an Aleck Curry stole -pepper from the tug's kitchen and put it in my salt."</p> - -<p>"I'm going to lick him today," he assured her.</p> - -<p>In her possessive little way she took his hand as they -walked back. "I don't want you to fight him, not unless -you have to, Peter. He isn't worth it. You have nice -eyes, and they don't look good swollen half shut. I -wish mine were blue."</p> - -<p>"I don't," declared Peter with a suddenness that -startled him. "They're—they're——"</p> - -<p>"What?" she insisted.</p> - -<p>"They're—awfully pretty," finished Peter bravely. -"I never seen—I mean I never <i>saw</i> such pretty eyes."</p> - -<p>He felt like wriggling down into his collar, and -looked away from her. Mona blushed, and if Peter had -observed he would have seen her eyes sparkling.</p> - -<p>"And I wish I had light hair, too—like yours," she -added.</p> - -<p>"I <i>don't</i>," he fought manfully. "Your hair is—prettier -than your eyes. When I first saw you, there -in the sun, I thought——"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p> - -<p>"What did you think?" she asked with interest.</p> - -<p>"I dunno. I dunno what I thought."</p> - -<p>He was tremendously uncomfortable, and was glad -the musical droning of the sawmill began just then. -That was another thrill, the clean, high-pitched cutting -of steel through wood. There is something chummy -and companionable about the sound of a sawmill at -work in the heart of a forest country. It is friendly -even to a stranger and makes one feel at home, and -when Mona and Peter came to the mill the half-dozen -men there were going about their duties as if they were -a pleasure instead of work. They were a happy lot. -Peter could see that with his boyish eyes, and his heart -responded quickly to the gladdening pulse of it.</p> - -<p>Then Mona ran up quickly behind a man who was -twisting a log with a long cant hook and tried to cover -his eyes with her hands. In a moment the man had -turned and had her up off the ground, tight in his arms. -Mona kissed him, and Peter thought he had never seen -the face of any man filled with a happiness like that -which he saw in Pierre Gourdon's. And Mona, holding -out her hand to Peter, said:</p> - -<p>"This is my Uncle Pierre. Come and kiss him, -Peter."</p> - -<p>And there, with both the young folk in his arms, and -the big, steel saw laughing and wailing in their ears, -Pierre Gourdon, into whose heart God had put a passionate -love for all children, kissed Peter. In thus -welcoming the boy he drew him so close that for an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> -instant Peter's face touched Mona's soft cheek, and -so warm and sweet was it that through all the years -that followed Peter never forgot that wonderful moment.</p> - -<p>Then Pierre Gourdon said, holding Peter off at -arm's length, and looking at his eye which was still -dark, and his lip which was swollen: "So you are the -young man who whipped Aleck Curry for annoying -Mona? Why, Aleck is half again as big as you——"</p> - -<p>"And I didn't whip him," interrupted Peter. "Not -alone. I was tired and empty as a drum. He was -licking me when Mona jumped in. She helped a lot."</p> - -<p>Laughter filled Pierre's eyes, and then a shadow followed -it. The gentleness in his face gave way to a -stern resolution.</p> - -<p>"Aleck is not a good boy," he said. "I will not have -him troubling you, Mona. If he does it again you must -tell me."</p> - -<p>"She needn't do that," protested Peter quickly. "I'll -take care of her. I'm going to lick Aleck Curry today."</p> - -<p>Pierre Gourdon looked at the boy, and the sternness -left his face. "Peter, you're a man. I love boys like -you." He ran his hand over Mona's silken hair, just -as Simon McQuarrie had done. "I guess I won't worry -over you and Aleck any more, <i>Ange</i>. I think Peter is -going to do what he says."</p> - -<p>"I won't have him fight Aleck," declared Mona. "If -he does, I'll fight, too!"</p> - -<p>When they had left Pierre and were going toward<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> -the Gourdon cabin, Peter asked, "What did he mean -when he called you <i>Ange</i>?"</p> - -<p>"It's a name he gave me the day he brought me -out of the water when my mother and father were -drowned," explained Mona softly. "It means something -much nicer than I am."</p> - -<p>"I don't believe it," said Peter. "What does it -mean?"</p> - -<p>"Angel."</p> - -<p>"Oh!" Peter was silent for several moments. Then -he said: "I like it. I guess that was what I must have -been thinking when I saw you first yesterday, there -in the sun, with your hair all down and the flowers -around you. First off you sort of scared me."</p> - -<p>"I <i>must</i> have looked ugly enough to scare anyone," -agreed Mona depreciatively. "But I like my hair down -when I'm alone in the woods."</p> - -<p>"So do I," said Peter. "And you wasn't ugly. -What's that building down there, with the box-like -thing on top of it? Looks like a church."</p> - -<p>"It is—and our school. Uncle Joe's wife, Marie -Antoinette, teaches us. She's beautiful, Peter. Uncle -Pierre says she is as lovely as Aunt Josette was when -she was young. Aunt Josette is beautiful, too. You've -been to school a lot, haven't you?"</p> - -<p>"Not so much."</p> - -<p>"But you talk well."</p> - -<p>"My father taught me. Every day I studied, and -he heard my lessons, even when we were on the trail.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> -My dad was——" He stopped, the odd thickening -coming in his throat again.</p> - -<p>"I love your father," said Mona gently. "Last night -I prayed he'd come back, and he will. Uncle Pierre -says it was prayer that brought me to him. He says -prayer is always answered, if you believe hard enough."</p> - -<p>"My dad says that, too."</p> - -<p>"And I'm going to pray every night, Peter. I'm -going to pray for your father to come back. <i>And he -will.</i>"</p> - -<p>The little doubt which had planted itself like a seed -in Peter's mind was growing in spite of Mona and the -beauty at Five Fingers. "If he comes back they may -catch him," he said. "And if they do that——" She -saw a queer, twisted look like a shadow in his face, and -her fingers tightened. "They'll kill him," he finished. -"That's what Simon McQuarrie says."</p> - -<p>After a moment Mona said: "I wish we could tell -Uncle Pierre. He always brings things out right. And -this is coming out right, too, Peter. I know it."</p> - -<p>Without logic, she was sweetly comforting. Her -gentle assurance was a buoy to which Peter's courage -and hope clung tenaciously, and he stole a hungry look -at her when her eyes were turned away, and his heart -beat fast. In a vague and unanalytical way the thought -was in his mind that God could not help answering -Mona's prayers. If He did not, there could be no -God. And he was sure there was one—just as sure -as he was of the trees and flowers and birds and blue<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> -sky all about them. Donald McRae had planted that -faith deeply in his boy.</p> - -<p>"Did you ever have many prayers answered?" he -asked her.</p> - -<p>"Yes, when I prayed <i>hard</i>," she replied. "I'm praying -for something to happen to Aleck Curry, too. And -it's going to happen, Peter. I know it's going to happen."</p> - -<p>"What?"</p> - -<p>"Anything—almost. I wish the crows would pull -his hair out!"</p> - -<p>Suddenly she stopped herself with a jerk. "There he -is now—down there on the Finger. He is throwing -stones at my gulls!"</p> - -<p>"I'll stop him," said Peter, starting off.</p> - -<p>She caught him by the arm. "I won't like you if you -fight. Aunt Josette and Marie Antoinette are waiting -for us, and they won't like you either."</p> - -<p>She took possession of him again, and Peter gave -himself up, though he could hear a challenging shout -coming faintly from Aleck. And then out of the door -of one of the cabins came a tall, slim woman with a -face so sweet in its smile of welcome that Peter smiled -back shyly, even before Mona had said, "This is my -Aunt Josette."</p> - -<p>For an hour after that he was meeting people at Five -Fingers. First there was Marie Antoinette, who was -younger than Aunt Josette, but only a little prettier, -Peter thought, and who said she would have a place for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> -him in school next Monday morning. From one cabin -to another Mona made him go with her, until he had -met the Poulins and Dufresnes and Croissets and -Clamarts and children and babies until he began to -have trouble in remembering their names.</p> - -<p>Then they came to the last cabin of all, and this cabin -looked like a doll's house to Peter. And the person -they found in it was like a doll, too. At first Peter -thought she was a playmate of Mona's, for she was -only a little taller, with blue eyes and red lips and gold-brown -curls tied back with a ribbon. Mona introduced -her proudly.</p> - -<p>"This is Adette Clamart, Peter—Jame Clamart's -wife, and she <i>graduated</i> from the school of Ste. Anne -de la Perade before Jame brought her to Five Fingers! -And the baby——" She dragged him to the side of a -crib and Peter looked down upon the round, cheerful -face of young Telesphore Clamart, eight months old. -Telesphore eyed Peter speculatively for a moment and -then his countenance broke into a smile and he held -up a pair of chubby arms. Mona uttered a gasp of -delight. "He likes you, Peter! Put your head down. -He wants to hug you."</p> - -<p>Peter felt himself growing red and hot as he bowed -his head to young Telesphore. The baby dug his fingers -in his hair and squealed in triumph. It was the -first baby he had ever touched, and suddenly he forgot -the two girls and his embarrassment as he felt a soft -little mouth touching his cheek. He laughed back at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> -Telesphore, and when the baby freed his hair and he -stood up straight again he thought Adette's eyes, bright -with the glory of motherhood, were almost as beautiful -as Mona's. He fumbled in his pockets to find something -for Telesphore and produced his jack-knife.</p> - -<p>"You can have that," he said, speaking directly at -Telesphore.</p> - -<p>When they were about to go Adette put her hand -affectionately on his shoulder. "Mona told us what -happened yesterday in the woods, Peter, and Jame and -I love you for giving Aleck Curry that beating. It was -splendid of you to fight for Mona like that!"</p> - -<p>In the clearing Peter said to Mona: "It isn't true. -I didn't lick Aleck Curry. Why do you tell them -that?"</p> - -<p>"It is true," retorted Mona with an obstinate little -toss of her head.</p> - -<p>"I was getting the worst of it when you came in with -the stick."</p> - -<p>"No, you weren't. He was almost choking for -breath. I couldn't help hitting him with the stick—that's -all." And then she added: "Why is it you -don't want me to think you whipped him? I've told -everybody you <i>did</i>!"</p> - -<p>Her question and a quick flash in her eyes sent a little -thrill through Peter. Was it possible Mona really believed -he was getting the best of the fight when she -began pommeling Aleck Curry with the stick? He -flushed as he thought of his position at that moment,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> -flat on his back with his legs in the air and his arms -helpless under Aleck's weight, and Aleck himself just -on the point of annihilating him! Surely Mona could -not have been blind in those moments. She must -have seen his peril, even if Aleck was panting for -breath. Peter looked at her, trying to measure the truth -of the matter. But Mona's eyes were innocent. If she -was lying to him, she was doing it beautifully.</p> - -<p>In a vague sort of way the problem weighed itself -in Peter's mind, and he saw even more clearly that it -was necessary for him to whip Aleck Curry that day. -The responsibility had now become a grim and insistent -one, for if Mona really <i>thought</i> he had whipped Aleck, -he must do it in fact to save his own self-respect; and if -she was shielding him from embarrassment and shame, -as he partly believed, by spreading a false report of the -combat, then it was doubly necessary for him to retrieve -himself and prove his prowess by whipping the -tug master's bullying son.</p> - -<p>From the corners of his eyes he began questing for -Aleck, who had disappeared from the strip of sand -below them, though he did this in such a way that -Mona did not guess his intention. She showed him -her pets, and it was then Peter saw something which -he had never seen before, though he loved all wild -things. At Mona's soft little calls the big-eyed moose -birds which Peter called whisky jacks fluttered about -her and ate crumbs out of her hands. Down on the -white sand of the Middle Finger the gulls gathered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> -close about them, like a flock of chickens, begging in -soft, throaty notes for the tidbits which she had brought -from the cabin. She sat down in the sand and they -climbed over her lap. One huge white fellow pecked -at her shining braid.</p> - -<p>"That's Bobo," she explained. "He always wants -to eat my hair!" A one-legged gull hopped on her lap -and began eating greedily the handful of bread-crumbs -which she offered him. "And this is Dominique. I call -him that to tease Dominique Beauvais, who is so fat -and round. I don't know how he lost his leg, but I -believe Aleck Curry must have shot it off a year ago. -I wish Aleck's father would never bring him here -again!"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2 style="margin-top: 3.5em; margin-bottom: 2em;"><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</a></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was almost noon when Peter left Mona and returned -to Simon McQuarrie's cabin. His head was -in a whirl and his heart stirred uneasily between joy and -grief. Not for many minutes at a time had his thoughts -been away from his father. Even when Mona's dark -eyes were smiling at him and her sweet voice was -talking to him, his father's white and hunted face was -a vision that never quite faded out of his momentary -flashes of happiness. Deep down in his heart was an -emptiness which even Mona could not fill, an aching -pain which her beauty and her gentleness softened but -could not quite drive away.</p> - -<p>And Mona tried. In her heart, which was sometimes -a woman's heart in a child's breast, she knew that -Peter was grieving and fighting to hide his grief. The -tragedy in her own life, and a sorrow which had been -deeper and more pitiless than Peter's, made her understand -and feel what even Adette in her young motherhood -might not have sensed so clearly.</p> - -<p>It seemed only yesterday to Mona that her mother -had laughed and played with her under the big, white -sails of the ship, with her father watching them, and -only yesterday that the terrible thing had happened in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> -the sea. No one, not even Pierre Gourdon, knew how -vividly those hours and days came back to her at times. -The forest and the wild things shared her secret, but -no others. Over the two graves in the little cemetery -at Five Fingers she had said quietly to Peter that morning, -"My father and mother, Peter"—and that was all.</p> - -<p>Something in her voice held Peter from asking for -the story of that frightful hour in the maelstroms of -the Pit, where Pierre Gourdon had saved her and her -father and mother had died. But he felt it. It crept -into him and became a part of him, and even Pierre -Gourdon would have found it difficult to explain what -was born in their hearts in those moments when Peter -looked at the big stone into which had been roughly cut -the words, "Paul and Mona Guyon, Died Sept. 27, -1900"—and then said gently to the girl who stood -fighting bravely at his side, "I'm sorry, Mona." For -to Pierre they were children.</p> - -<p>But there was something in Peter's soul that was -struggling beyond childhood as he returned to Simon's -cabin. Three days, and this day most of all, had shown -him his first dim vision of the bridge which spans the -illusive way between boy and man. He had lost his -father. But his father was not dead, while Mona's -was gone forever. Out of the chaos in his mind these -facts kept repeating themselves, and with them came -ever more insistently the desire to do something for -Mona. And one possible achievement loomed big—the -whipping of Aleck Curry!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></p> - -<p>Thought of it made his blood tingle. He did not -ask himself what it was that Aleck had done to incur -Mona's displeasure. It was sufficient for him to know -that she was praying for calamity to fall upon his head. -She wanted the crows to pull his hair out. She had -prayed for that last night—when she had prayed for his -father. And she was sure that God answered prayer.</p> - -<p>But it was his own feud with Aleck that fired -both his chivalry and his hatred—memory of that moment -in which the tug master's son had thrust Mona's -head back brutally in the edge of the forest, with his -big, coarse hands fastened in her hair. In his first -encounter with Aleck he had saved Mona but had -failed to avenge the outrage. He was sure he could -do it now.</p> - -<p>Simon took him among the men after dinner and he -became acquainted with them all. They went back into -the cuttings, and it was three o'clock before Peter found -himself alone. Then, instead of going back to Mona, -he circled in the edge of the timber until he came to -the end of the finger of evergreens that reached almost -to the inlet. His heart gave a jump when he saw Aleck -on the tug shooting at the flying gulls with a slung-shot. -Peter had made up his mind to challenge his -enemy calmly and without excitement, as his father -would undoubtedly have challenged a man in a similar -situation. But his plan changed suddenly. He picked -up a stone and hurled it with such accuracy that Aleck, -seeing the missile, dodged. Then he jumped ashore.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p> - -<p>Peter waited for him. He was not afraid, but his -heart was beating fast. Aleck seemed to have grown -considerably overnight, Peter thought. He was almost -as big as Jame Clamart, and his face was red with an -exultant passion as he advanced, stuffing the slung-shot -into one of his pockets. There was no doubt this was -just the opportunity Aleck was looking for, and Peter -retreated with caution into the balsams and cedars.</p> - -<p>Aleck began to run—and Peter ran. He was light -as a rabbit on his feet, and as he hopped over logs and -underbrush he heard Aleck crashing like a big animal -behind him. Twice he allowed his enemy to come -almost within reach of him, and then spurted ahead. -At last, in the edge of a little cut-over clearing, Aleck -stopped. He was puffing and blowing and his fat face -was covered with sweat.</p> - -<p>"Runny-cat!" he choked derisively. "Runny-cat—runny-cat——"</p> - -<p>He caught himself in amazement as Peter turned -and advanced toward him. "Always smile when you're -in a tight place," Peter's father had taught him, and -Peter tried bravely to live up to the rule. A fixed grin -was on his face. "I'm going to lick you," he announced -cheerfully. "You're nothing but a girl-beater and a -windbag, an' your wind's all gone. I wasn't running -<i>away</i> from you, Fatty—I was leadin' you <i>on</i>!"</p> - -<p>Aleck stood aghast, gulping hard to get his breath. -It seemed impossible that a boy so much smaller than -himself would dare face him with such monumental<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> -nerve. The bully in him was maddened by Peter's next -insult. "You're nothing but a girl-fighter—a hair-puller—a -big tub of fat," Peter informed him, "an' -you'll be yelling for help when I get half done with -you!"</p> - -<p>And then Peter jumped in. He was quick. His fists -were small but hard. His wind was good. And the -suddenness of his attack took Aleck off his guard. The -first blow was what Peter called a stomacher, and Aleck -let out a huge grunt. He bellowed anathema as he -began to swing his heavy arms. Peter reached his -nose and one eye and his mouth. He was like a hornet. -His two small fists were swiftly moving hammers, and -Aleck had never experienced anything like the hail of -their blows. They took away from him what breath -he had left; his nose began to bleed, his lip was cut, and -then Peter gave him another stomacher. Could he -have lasted for five minutes at the speed he was going, -Aleck would have been a wreck.</p> - -<p>But Peter was delivering all his metal in one smashing -broadside. Aleck floundered and puffed. One eye -closed quickly. Blood smeared his face and shirt. His -big mouth began to swell. He was not fighting muscle -and brawn—but <i>nerves</i>. Every nerve in Peter's body -was at its breaking point, and he was like a thing gone -mad. But he was beating against a mass of dull and -stupid flesh that had but few nerves to be shocked into -submission. His blows began to carry less force, and -he was compelled to breathe with his mouth open. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> -gave Aleck one last slashing cut in the mouth and then -his strength seemed to break. His enemy's arms tightened -around him and they went down together. Peter -was under, just as in that other tragic moment when -Mona had saved him. But there was no Mona to save -him now, not even Buddy to nip at Aleck's legs and -heels. His one consolation was a final look at Aleck's -face close above him. He had done a pretty good job, -anyway. In another minute or two the bully would -have quit.</p> - -<p>Both rested, gaining their breath. Then Aleck began -to pommel, weighting Peter down with his entire bulk.</p> - -<p>"I got you now," he managed to gasp. "I got you!"</p> - -<p>Peter saved his breath. He realized the futility of -struggling against that weight with what little strength -was in him and concentrated all his effort in shielding -his face. Aleck was like a porpoise, and every half-minute -or so was compelled to cease his jabbing to get -a new supply of breath, a large amount of which he -wasted in verbal laceration of Peter's feelings as he -pommeled with his fists.</p> - -<p>"I'm a tub of fat, am I?" he demanded at the beginning -of each fresh attack. "I'm a windbag, eh? A -girl-beater, am I? Take that, an' that, an' <i>that</i>! An' -yell for your girl, Petey, yell for your girl to come an' -help you!"</p> - -<p>Then he would pause again to gather lung momentum -for another attack. Each assault left Peter a little -bit more helpless than before. He could feel himself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> -swelling. One eye, he knew was entirely shut. The -other he saved by shielding it against his arm. His -thoughts were growing a little hazy, too, but all his -mental and physical discomfort was dissipated by the -threat of a new horror which came in a sudden inspiration -of triumph from Aleck's swollen lips.</p> - -<p>"I'm goin' to yell for Mona," he said. "I'm goin' to -have her come and see what I've done to you! A tub -of <i>fat</i>, am I? Take that—an' that——"</p> - -<p>And he did yell when he got his wind again. In -reality his challenge for Mona to come and see her -Petey licked was husky and not far-reaching, but it -seemed to Peter the whole world must hear it. "An' -when she comes I'm going to make you say you're -licked or I'll beat your head off," Aleck told him. And -then he sat up straight, his heavy bulk astride Peter's -slim body, and called Mona's name again. Peter's -brain went hot. Was this to be the answer to Mona's -prayer? Had Mona really prayed, or had she fooled -him? Faith rode over his doubt. Mona wouldn't lie. -She had prayed, and the trouble right now was with -him—and not with Mona's prayer.</p> - -<p>Aleck's swollen face was growing purple in its vociferous -calling for Mona. In a moment of safety Peter -took a look at it with his one good eye. A thrill shot -through him when he found the weakness had left -his arms. He was breathing easily, too, in spite of -Aleck's weight. If he could only get up—if he could -have just one more chance at that fat, swollen face——</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was something quicker than Peter himself that -moved him, an intuitive flash, a lightning-swift call of -his brain upon hidden forces of self-preservation within -him—a twist, a convulsion of his body, a squirming -upheaval so sudden and unexpected that Aleck lost his -balance with Mona's name half out of his mouth, and -the other half never came. He fell sprawling, and -Peter was upon him again like a cat. Aleck's face was -his target, and he beat it—fast, furious and hard. He -was amazed at the return of his strength. It exhilarated -and inspired him, and in his mad enthusiasm he -bit one of Aleck's ears. A roar of pain came from the -bully. Peter's fist lodged squarely in Aleck's eye, and -a second howl followed the first.</p> - -<p>At heart the tug-master's boy was a coward, like -every bully, and in another minute he was crying for -quarter. But Peter's momentum was too great to be -stopped on such short notice. He continued, until in -the end Aleck Curry was a blubbering, wind-broken, -thoroughly whipped rascal, hiding his face in the earth.</p> - -<p>Not until then did Peter stand up, seeing the world -dimly with one eye. And then—in that glorious moment -of triumph and answered prayer—his heart -stopped dead in his body for a single moment. Not ten -feet away from him stood Mona! Even with his fading -vision he saw the wild flush in her face and the -joy in her eyes. The truth they betrayed turned his -darkening world suddenly into a paradise. <i>She had seen -him whip Aleck Curry!</i></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></p> - -<p>He turned to Aleck. "Get up!" he said. "Get up or -I'll kick in your ribs!"</p> - -<p>Aleck dragged himself to his knees, then slouched to -his feet. He was a pitiable sight. His eyes were little -slits. His face was swollen until it looked as though -he had the mumps. He was blubbering and gasping -for his breath, and for a moment he did not see Mona.</p> - -<p>"Are you licked?" demanded Peter, coming close to -him.</p> - -<p>Aleck drew back and put up a shielding hand. "I -guess I got enough," he conceded.</p> - -<p>"If you ain't sure—I mean if you <i>aren't</i> sure—I'll -finish it," said Peter.</p> - -<p>"I got enough."</p> - -<p>"Then gimme the slung-shot."</p> - -<p>Aleck surrendered the weapon. In that moment he -caught a dim vision of Mona. He gulped and swallowed -a lump in his throat.</p> - -<p>"Now promise Mona you won't bother her any -more. Promise—or I'll lick you again!"</p> - -<p>"I promise."</p> - -<p>"An' you won't throw stones at her gulls?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"All right, Fatty. Now go on back to the tug. -<i>And stay there!</i>"</p> - -<p>He watched Aleck until he had disappeared among -the cedars. Then, his business done, he turned toward -Mona. A little shyly, with shining eyes, she came to -him. He wiped his eye. He could just see her.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Oh, Peter!" she whispered softly. He could feel -her soft little handkerchief at his face, just as he had -felt it that first day in the edge of the forest. And -she was saying, "Peter—you're glorious!"</p> - -<p>And then something happened that sent a tremble -through the world on which Peter stood. Raising herself -on tiptoe, Mona kissed him softly and sweetly on -his swollen lips.</p> - -<p>"There, that is what Aleck Curry has wanted all the -time, and I'm <i>giving</i> it to you. Say thank you, Peter!"</p> - -<p>"Thank you," said Peter.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2 style="margin-top: 3.5em; margin-bottom: 2em;"><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</a></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Peter</span> was conscious of the fact that he had lived -a long time in the last three days and four nights. -His adventures during that brief period of time had -run the entire gamut of human emotions, with the possible -exception of a desire to laugh, and his fourteen -years of life seemed entirely out of fact. This philosophy -did not strike Peter, but it did work into the -troubled soul of Simon McQuarrie as he told Pierre -Gourdon why it was that Peter's father was a hunted -man, fleeing for his life, and how it had come about -that Peter was now in Five Fingers seeking refuge -with him.</p> - -<p>"And I'm going to keep him," he said. "I love the -boy."</p> - -<p>What Simon had to say struck deep into Pierre Gourdon's -heart, for it recalled the day of years ago when he -had made his great fight in the sea to save a strange -woman and her little girl, and had succeeded in bringing -only the child, Mona, ashore. And Mona had grown -to be a part of his soul. So when Simon had finished, -Pierre nodded his head thoughtfully and said:</p> - -<p>"Mona brought Peter to me today. He has the making -of a man in him. And he has promised to whip<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> -Aleck Curry if he troubles Mona again." He chuckled -and shrugged his shoulders. "Aleck is almost twice as -big as Peter," he added. "But the boy has courage. It -may happen. And—we will make this a home for -him, Simon."</p> - -<p>"And if that round-headed young blackguard of an -Aleck sets upon Peter again," said Simon slowly, "I'll -make his father take it out of his hide or never sell -him another foot of lumber!"</p> - -<p>The gentle smile did not leave Pierre's eyes. A -forest man, and son of many generations of wilderness -people, a warm thrill of superstition and an immeasurable -faith in the God that had made his beautiful -world lay deep in his soul. Simon guessed what was in -his mind when he saw him looking at a green patch -of flower-strewn slope where lay the graves of Mona's -father and mother.</p> - -<p>The smile faded slowly from Pierre's face, and a -little of anxiety, of dread almost, replaced it.</p> - -<p>"The years have been kind to us," he said, speaking -more to himself than to Simon. "It has been a long -time since Dominique Beauvais and I brought our wives -through these forests for the first time, and now there -are more than fifty of us here—all our own people and -friends. There has been little of tragedy and much of -happiness. The plot up there is empty—except for -Mona's people. Sometimes—I am afraid."</p> - -<p>"Peace and comfort have been with us," agreed the -Scotchman. Behind them were the yellow piles of sawdust<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> -and the droning of the big steel saw in Simon's -little mill as it cut its way through the hearts of timber. -Simon loved the mill as Pierre loved the cabins he had -helped to build, for the mill had brought prosperity to -the wilderness people. It had also made necessary the -ugly black tug which lay down in Middle Finger Inlet. -The creases grew deeper in Simon's hard face as his -eyes rested on the tug. "I wish some other man than -Izaak Curry was taking our lumber," he said. "Maybe -I'd like him if it wasn't for his boy. If that ugly lad -ever puts his hands on Peter again, or on Mona——" -He hunched his gaunt shoulders with a suggestive -grunt.</p> - -<p>Pierre was looking off toward the timbered line behind -which Lake Superior was hidden, half a mile away. -For a moment after Simon's threatening words he remained -silent. His face was thoughtful.</p> - -<p>"It is strange," he said, giving voice to what was in -his mind. "Through children has come most of our -happiness at Five Fingers, Simon—and all of our -tragedy. It was seven years ago that the strange ship -went to pieces out there and I saved Mona from the -sea. She is one of us now, and if she should be taken -away our hearts would break. And now comes Peter, -whose mother is dead, and whose father is worse than -dead—for Peter—because he is an outlaw. It makes -me think of a long time ago when a boy came into Ste. -Anne de Beaupré, away down on the St. Lawrence, -just as Peter came to Five Fingers three days ago.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> -His father and mother were dead of the plague back in -the forest, and he was ragged and starved, and the -first person he met was a little girl, just as Peter met -Mona, and afterward he fought for her, and married -her when he grew old enough, and—she is Josette, my -wife. It is almost as if Peter was <i>me</i>. And I am -wondering——"</p> - -<p>He did not finish. But Simon nodded understandingly.</p> - -<p>"Things happen like that," he said.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Out of the edge of the evergreen timber which ran -down to the white sands of Middle Finger Inlet -Mona was leading Peter. One of his eyes was entirely -closed. His lips were swollen and his face was grimy -and red with the marks of battle. He was a little -dizzy. There was a ringing in his ears, and with his -one good eye he could see the world but dimly. The -green forests were a blur. The sunlight was a mellow -glow. Mona's face, flaming with pride and joy, was an -ethereal vision of loveliness which he saw as if through -a number of gossamer veils. But in spite of his -wrecked appearance his heart was beating with a swift -and glorious exultation. He had kept his promise to -Mona, to Simon McQuarrie and to Pierre Gourdon, -for he had met and whipped Aleck Curry. The tug-master's -son had begged for mercy, and the riotous -thrill of it all was that Mona had looked upon that -splendid battle and the ignominious defeat of the overgrown<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> -bully upon whose head she had earnestly prayed -calamity might fall.</p> - -<p>Peter was fighting hard to maintain a calm and dignified -mental balance as they came out of the forest. -Mona's fingers clung to his hand. Her face was flushed -and her eyes were shining like lovely stars. But it was -the kiss he felt most of all—that warm and sweet and -amazingly unexpected tribute she had placed on his -lips in the moment of his triumph.</p> - -<p>It was a new thing to Peter. Since his mother had -died he had never experienced anything like it and he -could only faintly remember his mother. Through the -years since then his father had kissed him every night -before he went to sleep. But Mona's kiss was different. -It remained with him in a strange and embarrassingly -persistent way.</p> - -<p>"I knew you could do it," Mona was saying, a tremble -of pleasure in her voice. "I just knew it, Peter! -Does your eye hurt?"</p> - -<p>"Not much."</p> - -<p>"Can you see?"</p> - -<p>"Pretty good."</p> - -<p>She drew in a breath of deep and sincere appreciation.</p> - -<p>"I got there just in time to see you bite Aleck's ear," -she said. "Oh, how he did howl!"</p> - -<p>Peter's conscience smote him.</p> - -<p>"It ain't—I mean, it <i>isn't</i> fair to bite another fellow's -ear," he explained, "but he stuck it in my mouth -and I couldn't help it."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I wish you'd bit off his nose," said Mona. "If I -were a boy and had hold of his ear with teeth like -yours, I wouldn't let go."</p> - -<p>A generous impulse filled Peter's breast. "I'll lick -him again tomorrow if you want me to," he offered.</p> - -<p>They went up the green slope from the inlet. Peter -could hear better than he could see. He could hear the -soft croaking of the gulls and the singing of the birds -and the steely music of the saw in the mill. His bad -eye was toward Mona, so that unless he gave his head -a full turn he could not see her at all. A sweaty discomfort -possessed him whenever he believed she was -making a fresh survey of the disfigurements Aleck had -fastened upon him. With his triumph rode the humiliating -conviction that his face was out of joint and not -pleasant to look at.</p> - -<p>"It'll be better tomorrow," he said.</p> - -<p>"What will?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"My face. It must look sort of funny."</p> - -<p>"Not half as funny as Aleck Curry's," she comforted -him. "And if anyone dares to laugh at you—after -what happened out there——"</p> - -<p>Peter caught the flash in her dark eyes. In spite of -his protest she pulled him through the open door of -Jame Clamart's cabin. Adette was bending over the -crib of young Telesphore. Her big blue eyes widened -and she gave a little gasp when she saw Peter, his hand -still held in Mona's.</p> - -<p>And then, to his horror, she giggled.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p> - -<p>In an instant Mona was at her side.</p> - -<p>"Adette Clamart, don't you dare laugh!" she cried. -"If you had seen it! If you had seen him whip Aleck -Curry——"</p> - -<p>"But his eye!" exclaimed Adette chokingly. "I -mean <i>that</i> eye, Mona—the one that's open! It looks so—so -funny!"</p> - -<p>"He's better-looking right now than Jame Clamart -will ever be," retorted Mona with fierce dignity. "He -hasn't got a snub nose, anyway—and that's what your -baby is going to have when he grows up!"</p> - -<p>"But his <i>eye</i>!" persisted Adette, the giggling choking -her. "Why is it so round and glassy, Mona? It's -just like the end of my new glass salt shaker! Oh, oh, -<i>oh</i>——"</p> - -<p>"<i>Adette Clamart!</i>"</p> - -<p>Peter, stunned and speechless, watched Mona drag -Adette into the kitchen. As if drawn by an irresistible -magnet, his one eye followed them, and Adette—looking -back—gave a final little screech of laughter before -the door closed behind her.</p> - -<p>Peter heard the tittering beyond that door, and -Mona's protesting voice rising above it. He felt as if -warm water had been poured down his back. He was -clammy, and his heart had sunk down into his middle. -He must be a terrible sight!</p> - -<p>Then he saw young Telesphore looking at him over -the edge of the crib. In one of his fat fists the baby -clutched the knife which Peter had given him earlier<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> -in the day. Peter went nearer and grinned at his -young friend. The effort hurt him. Telesphore's -mouth fell slowly ajar as he stared at Peter. He gave -no sign of recognition. The jovial comradeship of a -few hours ago was gone and his gaze was steady and -perplexed. And then, as if desirous of possessing -another strange article of interest, he dropped his knife -and reached for Peter's one eye.</p> - -<p>Peter drew back. Adette was still laughing at him -and Telesphore did not recognize him! He remembered -a little mirror hanging on the wall and hurried -to it. He was shocked. The thrill of triumph left -him. His pride sank—and he sneaked through the -open door as quickly as he could and trotted toward -the big yellow piles of sawdust, hoping he might reach -them before Mona discovered his flight. Screened by -the piles, he came up behind Simon McQuarrie's cabin -and almost bumped into a little man with a great head -of shaggy gray hair, a round face with rosy cheeks, -and eyes that were at first amazed and then twinkled -merrily as they looked at Peter. He was a stranger. -But swiftly and instinctively Peter liked him. Something -in the way he rubbed his hands together and -chuckled built up a confidence and comradeship -between them immediately. Peter attempted a grin.</p> - -<p>"I been in a fight," he acknowledged cheerfully, for -there was an attitude and quality about this little man -that demanded some kind of explanation. "I been in -a fight with Aleck Curry."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p> - -<p>"And he worsted you," guessed the merry stranger.</p> - -<p>"No, sir. I beat him up. I made him howl, and he -promised never to bother Mona or her pets again. -Mona knows. She saw it."</p> - -<p>The little man placed a hand on his shoulder. It was -a gentle hand. Its touch comforted Peter.</p> - -<p>"Come in and let me fix you up, Peter. That is your -name, isn't it—Peter McRae?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir."</p> - -<p>They went into the cabin. The little man seemed at -home in Simon's place, for he found the medicine cupboard -immediately, and was soon busy poulticing and -bandaging Peter's tortured face.</p> - -<p>"Aleck is a troublesome boy," he said. "I hope you -punished him well. But he is so much larger than -you! Aren't you afraid of what may happen next -time?"</p> - -<p>Peter shook his head. "I know how to do it now. I -run away from him until he's winded, then beat him -up. I'm going to lick him again tomorrow if Mona -wants me to."</p> - -<p>"Good!" smiled the little man. His face grew rosier -and a light was in his eyes that pleased Peter. "But I -wouldn't try it on Sunday," he advised. "It's bad luck -to fight on the Lord's Day. If you'll wait until Monday, -I will take you out into the woods and show you -a few tricks that may help you! And if it can be -quietly arranged, Peter, I would like to see the next -fight you have with Aleck Curry.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p> - -<p>"You like fights?" asked Peter.</p> - -<p>"In a good cause—yes."</p> - -<p>Peter was thoughtful as his cheerful and comforting -companion fastened a bandage over his closed eye.</p> - -<p>"Sunday isn't such a bad day for a fight," he argued. -"You could get Aleck Curry out in the woods somewhere, -tell 'im you wanted to show him something, an' -I could sneak up—an' we could have it right there. I -ain't—I mean I'm <i>not</i> afraid of Sunday!"</p> - -<p>"I'm not thinking so much of you as I am of myself," -said the little man, laughing softly. "I mustn't -let pleasure come before duty—on Sunday. You see, -I have to preach tomorrow."</p> - -<p>"You have to—<i>what</i>?"</p> - -<p>"Preach. Down there in the little church. I'm -Father Albanel, Peter."</p> - -<p>For the second time in the last half-hour Peter's -earth seemed slipping unevenly under his feet. <i>Father -Albanel!</i> Mona had told him about the wonderful -forest missioner who had no church and no set religion, -but who wandered through hundreds of miles of -wilderness, preaching the faith of God wherever he -went, and who came every few weeks to Five Fingers. -"All the forest people love him, and he is so good I -think God must love him most of all," she had said. -"He buried my father and mother." And this was -Father Albanel—this little man with the jolly face and -twinkling eyes, and he—Peter McRae—had invited -him to witness a fight on Sunday! He squirmed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> -uneasily. He could feel the hot blood rising up -through his neck into his face. He wet his swollen lips -and tried to save himself.</p> - -<p>"I didn't know you was the preacher," he said. "I -guess mebbe it isn't right to fight on Sunday."</p> - -<p>Father Albanel's hands pressed gently upon the boy's -thin shoulders. "It's right to fight any time, Peter—when -you have a just fight to make. God loves a peacemaker -but He also has no use for a coward—and no -one but a coward would refuse to fight for Mona. -Will you come and hear me tomorrow?"</p> - -<p>"I'll come," promised Peter.</p> - -<p>When Father Albanel had gone he climbed up the -ladder to his bed of blankets close under the sweet-smelling -cedar roof and undressed. The sun was low -in the west and the afternoon song of the mill had -ceased. The robins were chirping their evening notes. -It was supper time, and Simon McQuarrie was late. -Half an hour passed before Peter heard him enter the -cabin. He came directly to the ladder and climbed up. -In the twilight he bent over Peter.</p> - -<p>"Feeling sick, Peter?"</p> - -<p>"No, sir."</p> - -<p>Simon knelt upon the edge of the blankets.</p> - -<p>"I've heard about the fight," he said, in a voice -which trembled a little in its unaccustomed softness. -"Mona told me, and then Adette, and after that I went -down to the tug to have it out with Izaak Curry—and -his boy. But—Peter—lad, when I saw Aleck I had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> -no heart to speak harshly to his father. I'm proud of -you!"</p> - -<p>In the silence he bent his face nearer to Peter's.</p> - -<p>"Want something to eat, lad?"</p> - -<p>"I can't eat," explained Peter huskily. "My mouth -is swollen shut."</p> - -<p>It was then Simon McQuarrie's hard lips touched -Peter's cheek—the first kiss he had given in many -years.</p> - -<p>"Good night," he whispered. "You're Donald -McRae's son—every inch of you!" And Peter listened -to his heavy feet as he slowly descended the ladder.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2 style="margin-top: 3.5em; margin-bottom: 2em;"><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</a></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> moon did not come up that night. Darkness -shut in the earth, and with it came a warm and -sullen stillness, broken only by low intonations of distant -thunder, advancing over the roofs of the forest. -A long time after Simon had gone Peter went to the -window and sat staring out into the gloom. The air -was drowsily heavy and bore with it the cooling breath -of rain. After a little a swift whispering ran through -the forest and the first gentle patter of raindrops fell on -the cabin roof. The thunder crashed nearer and vivid -flashes of lightning cut like flaming knives through -the blackness. In a moment, it seemed to Peter, the -storm broke in a deluge that set the log walls atremble. -It beat straight down, and did not come in at the window. -Peter did not stir. As long ago as he could -remember his father had taught him to be unafraid of -the awesomeness and beauty of thunder and lightning, -and many times they had watched a storm together -until the boy was thrilled by the significance and the -mystery of it.</p> - -<p>It was his father he missed tonight, the immeasurable -thrill of his voice, his presence and his love. -Without reason his eyes strained questingly in those<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> -brief moments when the lightning flashes filled the -world with a white radiance. In that light he could see -the mill, stark and vivid, like a skeleton illumined by -fire, the trees, the cabins, the stub in which the flying -squirrels lived, and the edge of the forest. He did not -miss that half of his vision which he had lost in his -fight with Aleck Curry; he had forgotten the fight, and -even Mona Guyon. For a time his thoughts were alone -with his father, and with his yearning and his loneliness -an unreasonable hope filled his soul—the hope -that his father would keep his promise and that out in -the glare of the lightning he would see him coming -from the forest into the clearing. His heart ached for -that. He did not know it, but under his breath he was -sobbing a little.</p> - -<p>It was the truth, forcing itself upon him, the sullen, -terrible truth, driving him back from the window and -sending him creeping to his blankets, where he lay -huddled and still. He had never hated anyone, not even -Aleck Curry. But he was beginning to hate somebody—something—now. -He hated the men who were after -his father, and he was beginning vaguely to hate that -controlling force which both his father and Simon -McQuarrie had told him was the law. If his father -had only taken him! If they were only together now, -away out there in the forest, under a log or snuggled -in the shelter of an overturned root—anywhere—just -so they were together!</p> - -<p>Why had his father lied to him, promising him he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> -would come back in a day or two? Why had he sent -him on alone to Five Fingers? Peter choked back the -sob in his throat. <i>He knew.</i> It was because his father -loved him—because he knew that he could never return, -and wanted him to have a home with Simon -McQuarrie.</p> - -<p>Burying his face in his arm, Peter gave up to his -grief. It was a silent, choking grief that ate into his -heart but brought no cry to his lips.</p> - -<p>The thunder and lightning passed and the rain settled -into a steady patter on the roof. It was like -hundreds of gentle fingers tapping within a few feet of -Peter's head. It comforted him in his aloneness and -his grief. Mona was listening to that same friendly -patter on the cedar shingles. Tomorrow he would see -her again, and his heart grew warm. A part of her -seemed to come into the darkness of his room, and he -could see her eyes shining and feel the touch of her -hand—and the kiss. And afterward he fell asleep, -stirred by the strange and comforting sensation that -Mona was near him.</p> - -<p>But in sleep he lost her. He dreamed that he was -trying to steal away from Five Fingers to go in search -of his father, but again and again Simon McQuarrie -caught him and brought him back. At last success -came. It was night, and he was crawling out through -his window into the moonlight, with a pack on his back. -He jumped to the ground and made for the woods. -And then a strange thing happened. Where his father<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> -had left him he found footprints on the earth. They -were very clear, and shining, as if made of bright silver, -and they reached a long distance ahead of him -through the forest. It puzzled him that his own -feet left no trail at all while his father's trail was -so clear.</p> - -<p>Days and nights seemed to pass as he followed persistently -this silvery trail. Then he came to a wonderful -forest where the trees were so tall their tops seemed -lost against the sky. He walked on flowers. Great -masses of purple violets crushed under his feet, roses -filled the air with sweetness, wild geraniums nodded -and bowed to him, and crimson splashes of fire-flowers -carpeted long aisles and broad chambers of this -mysterious paradise.</p> - -<p>He came at last to a waterfall. It did not roar, like -waterfalls he had known, but fell with a rippling song. -Near the waterfall was a cabin, and straight to the door -of the cabin led the silvery trail! Peter followed it. -He opened the door and went in and his father was -there. He turned to greet Peter and did not seem -surprised. His face was smiling and happy, and tender -with the old cheer and the old love.</p> - -<p>"<i>I thought you would come soon, Peter," he said. -"I've been waiting for you.</i>"</p> - -<p>It was then Peter awakened. The patter of rain on -the roof had ceased. The night had cleared and was -filled with stars, and a sweet warmth came in through -the open window. His dream had been overwhelmingly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> -real, and it left him with his heart beating -strangely. He did not sleep again but lay awake until -the stars began to fade in the gray light of dawn. Then -he dressed himself, making no sound that might disturb -Simon. When he looked down from his window he -almost expected to see the marks he had made in his -dream-leap. And it could be done—that jump! He -crept out backward, lowered himself full length from -the windowsill and dropped easily to the rain-softened -earth.</p> - -<p>He went toward the stream which came down from -the timbered hills and ridges. The birds were beginning -to sing, the robins first, twittering their sweetest -of all songs, with eyes half closed. It grew gently, -each soft note increasing in strength until the invisible -chorus filled the clearing with its welcome to the day. -A thrush joined in. Bright-winged bluebirds flew -ahead of him, and sweet-voiced brush sparrows cheeped -and fluttered in their coverts, waiting for the sun. -Even the water dripping from the trees held in its -sound the cadence of whispered song.</p> - -<p>And as if this melody held a spell which they were -powerless to combat, or which inspired them to silence, -the raucous jays were still and aloof, the whisky jacks -waited in fluffy brown balls, a cock-of-the-wood clung -to the side of a tree, his plumed head and powerful bill -making no sound upon the wood, and ahead of Peter -a gray owl retreated to a deeper and darker hiding-place.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span></p> - -<p>The forest was a cathedral, and its symphony seized -upon Peter's soul and lifted it on a great wave of -anticipation and hope.</p> - -<p>His father was listening to the birds, too. He was -waiting for the sunrise. And a stirring thought came -to Peter. If his father did not return, he would do -what he had done in his dream—go in search of him. -He was sure he could find him.</p> - -<p>He undressed at the edge of a pool in which the -water was warm enough for a swim, and came out of -it a little later shivering—but still thinking. The early -rays of the sun were breaking over the tree-tops when -he returned to the clearing. His bad eye was half open -and most of the swelling was gone from his lips. -Simon was getting breakfast and was surprised that -Peter should come through the door instead of down -the ladder.</p> - -<p>During the next hour his shrewd eyes saw a change -in the boy. Peter was restless and asked questions. -Where would his father be likely to go? Had he said -anything about it in his letter to Simon?</p> - -<p>The Scotchman shook his head, guessing a little of -what was in Peter's mind. He explained the vastness -of the forests. They reached a thousand miles north and -twice that far east and west, and one might lose himself -in them all his life. Their bigness did not discourage -Peter.</p> - -<p>"I think I can find my father," he said. "If he -doesn't come back I'm going to try."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p> - -<p>The thought gripped him more tenaciously as the -early hours of the morning passed. Simon brushed and -mended him, and said he should have new clothes as -quickly as they could be brought from the settlement -on the railroad, and he talked of Aleck's defeat, and -of Mona, and of the wonderful beaver colony two miles -away, but the new thrill in Peter's blood swept over -all other things that might have interested him.</p> - -<p>He would not tell Simon, but he was going in -search of his father—soon. It might be that night, or -the next, if he could get things together for a pack.</p> - -<p>The sun was well up when he saw Mona come out -of the Gourdon cabin, and he went across the clearing -to meet her. He was a little upset, for he would have to -apologize for running away from her in such a boorish -fashion yesterday. Mona's appearance this morning -set his heart aflutter. She seemed almost as old as -Adette Clamart, and not at all like the little fighting -comrade who had helped him whip Aleck Curry at their -first meeting. She was dressed in spotless white, and -her long hair rippled and shone in the sun, and her dark -eyes were so beautiful that for a moment or two Peter -could find nothing to say as she looked at him.</p> - -<p>Mona was not entirely unconscious of her disconcerting -loveliness, and her eyes shone and the color -grew prettier in her cheeks when she saw its effect on -Peter.</p> - -<p>"This is my Sunday dress," she said, helping -him out of his embarrassment. "Do you like it?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p> - -<p>Peter shifted, and thought quickly. "You look like a -snowbird, one of the kind with a black topknot," he -complimented her. "What do you think of <i>me</i>?" And -he turned so that she could see where Simon had -mended his rusty clothes.</p> - -<p>The sparkle died out of Mona's eyes, and in the -moment when his back was toward her Peter did not -see the look of pity and tenderness that took its place, -and with it a shadow of something else, as if he had -hurt her.</p> - -<p>"I put on this dress for you. That's what I think -of you, Peter."</p> - -<p>"I got better clothes," he explained, "but we came -away so fast we didn't have time to bring them."</p> - -<p>"I'm glad you didn't. I like you the way you are. -Do you like me, Peter—really?"</p> - -<p>"A lot."</p> - -<p>"How much?"</p> - -<p>Peter turned over various terms of measurement in -his mind. "Next to my father," he said.</p> - -<p>"Then why did you run away from me when I -was in the kitchen with Adette Clamart?" she -asked.</p> - -<p>Peter flushed. "I dunno. Guess I didn't like to be -laughed at. And the baby—he didn't know who I -was."</p> - -<p>The soft notes of a bell tolled over the clearing, and -Peter drew himself erect and breathed a little tensely as -he listened to it. "I used to hear a church bell like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> -that, a long time ago," he said, softly. "I can just remember -it."</p> - -<p>She touched his arm as they listened. "I was coming -to take you to church. Father Albanel says you -promised."</p> - -<p>She started down the slope, walking slowly, with -Peter at her side. He thought it was interesting how -the sound of the bell suddenly opened the doors of Five -Fingers.</p> - -<p>Pierre Gourdon came out of his cabin with his wife, -and Josette was dressed in white, like Mona; and Marie -Antoinette, waiting with Joe and their two children -to greet them, looked like a slim white angel to -Peter. Even Geertruda Poulin, who was almost as -wide as she was high, wore a dress as white as the -gull's wings down in Middle Finger Inlet.</p> - -<p>The children were prim and starched and the men -were in clothes which Peter had not seen them wear -before, their faces shining with the effect of lather and -sharp razors.</p> - -<p>And loveliest of all the girls and women, Peter -thought, was Mona—lovelier even than Adette Clamart, -who came hurrying to them with laughing -eyes and red lips and rebellious curls dancing about her -pink cheeks to beg Peter's pardon for laughing at him -the preceding afternoon.</p> - -<p>To Peter's infinite dismay Adette seized his head between -her two small hands and kissed him squarely on -the eye which had looked so funny to her yesterday.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p> - -<p>"There, I'm sorry, Peter," she said. "But you did -look so funny."</p> - -<p>She was gone like one of the dainty, golden canaries -that nested in the clearing, running to catch up with -Jame, her husband, who had Telesphore in his arms.</p> - -<p>Fire leaped into Mona's cheeks.</p> - -<p>"I won't have Adette Clamart doing that," she -protested indignantly. "If your eye needs kissing——"</p> - -<p>Peter was wiping it with the back of his hand.</p> - -<p>"That's right, wipe it away," she encouraged spitefully. -"I hate her!"</p> - -<p>Peter said nothing. But he saw Mona's lovely eyes -flash in Adette's direction when they were seated on one -of the wooden benches in the little church. Adette -smiled mischievously and nodded her head, but Mona -made no response except to tilt her pretty chin a little -higher in the air and look straight ahead of her to the -platform where Father Albanel was ready to begin the -service.</p> - -<p>The little missioner's face was even rosier and jollier -than yesterday, it seemed to Peter, and he was smiling -and nodding and rubbing his hands as if this particular -hour was the happiest of his life.</p> - -<p>Peter, looking secretly about him, was impressed by -the fact that this was unlike any other Sunday meeting -he had ever attended. He missed the serious and -almost awesome solemnity of the other similar occasions -he could remember. Here everyone was free and -easy and refreshingly happy. Even Simon McQuarrie's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> -emotionless face was more gentle, and he smiled -when he saw Peter, and a ripple of laughter ran easily -through the gathering when young Telesphore crowed -delightedly and waved his arms in an embracing greeting -to all about him. Then came the tinkle of a bell, -and suddenly the room was very quiet.</p> - -<p>What happened after that was like a dream to Peter, -and it seemed constantly to be awakening something -new and happier within him. He had never heard singing -like that which filled the little church. Mona's voice -was clear and soft as the crested warbler's song which -he loved; and when she looked at him and whispered, -"Sing, Peter," his courage came to him, and a little -at a time he lifted his voice until his boyish tenor rose -clearly at her side. When they sat down she was nearer -to him, so near that her wonderful white dress -crumpled close against him and a tress of her shining -hair fell upon his hand.</p> - -<p>"I love your singing, Peter," she whispered to him -again.</p> - -<p>His heart beat fast and his hand twitched nervously -under the silken caress of her hair. Until now—this -hour when they sat so close together in the church—he -had not felt the deeper stir of that emotion which was -growing in him. Surreptitiously his fingers closed -about the soft tress of hair. Mona did not know it, -no one knew it but himself, and he looked straight -ahead while his heart beat still faster and the warm -thrill of his secret sent the blood into his face.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p> - -<p>Father Albanel was talking. And in a trance Peter -listened. What struck him, and what he remembered -so clearly afterward, was the way in which the little -missioner talked about all living things, as if the -flowers and trees had hearts and souls, and God loved -the forests and all wild things just as much as He loved -people. Peter had heard his father say many of those -same things, only in a different way—for Father -Albanel's voice was like deep music that reached down -into the soul, and there was no whisper or stir among -those who listened to him.</p> - -<p>He seemed to be looking straight at Peter when he -talked about Faith, and what faith meant in the lives -of men and women and children; and to make this clear -to the children of Five Fingers he told the legend of -Nepise, the beautiful Indian maiden, who was known -as the Torch-Bearer. It seemed to Peter the missioner -was describing Mona, for Nepise was the loveliest girl -among all her people, with eyes that were pools of -beauty and hair that fell about her like a shining black -garment. The story became a tragic and living thing -to him; he saw the plague-stricken Indian people, and -when Nepise died the effect upon him was like a shock. -But she had made her dying people a promise—a wonderful -promise!—to come back in spirit, bearing with -her the Torch of Life, and with this flaming torch she -would go from tepee to tepee and from village to -village, and all who had faith in her would see her and -to them would come health and happiness. And Nepise<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> -kept her promise, and forever after that, and up to this -very day, the Indian maiden was known throughout the -wilderness as the Torch-Bearer.</p> - -<p>When Father Albanel had finished Peter looked at -Mona. Her red lips were parted, her eyes were aglow, -and in her white throat a little heart seemed beating. -And when they stood up again to sing his fingers still -held the soft tress of hair, and this time Mona saw it, -and smiled at him, and Peter was no longer afraid of -his secret.</p> - -<p>After Father Albanel's benediction Mona led Peter -a little hurriedly from the meeting-house, but without -losing her prim dignity so long as she thought Adette -Clamart's eyes might be upon her.</p> - -<p>"I shan't speak to her all day!" she confided in Peter.</p> - -<p>They passed near the tug and saw Aleck Curry fishing -from the stern, and Mona told him that neither -Aleck nor his father ever came to church. Then they -came to a narrow foot trail that was new to Peter and -for half an hour walked slowly out on a green-timbered -point of land until they reached the big lake. It was the -finest view Peter had ever had of Superior. The great -sea seemed to engulf the world, and away out there -were three white dots which were ships under canvas. -It was warm and calm, and he was puzzled by a sullen, -booming roar until Mona led the way down a break in -the cliff and showed him the Pit, where the surf and -undertows boiled and rumbled even in fair weather. -And in storm——</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p> - -<p>She tried to tell him what it was then, when the great -rocks were like so many monsters, grinding things to -pieces, and when nothing that lived could exist for -more than a minute or two in what Pierre Gourdon -called the maelstroms. They found a clean white rock, -worn smooth by the water, and sat down, and Peter -wondered at the change which came into Mona's face.</p> - -<p>"Can you remember your mother, Peter?" she asked -softly.</p> - -<p>He was silent for a moment, and then said, "I've -seen her a good many times when I was asleep."</p> - -<p>"Do you still see her?"</p> - -<p>"I did two nights ago."</p> - -<p>"Is she pretty?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"So is mine." She folded her hands in her lap and -added quietly: "Out there is where my mother and -father were drowned. Uncle Pierre tied me to his back -and brought me ashore."</p> - -<p>Then she told him the story of the wreck of the -sailing ship, and how Aunt Josette and Marie Antoinette -and Father Albanel and all the people of Five -Fingers said it was a miracle that even one should come -ashore alive. And she was that one.</p> - -<p>"Father Albanel sometimes comes down here with -me," she said. "I love him. He always tells me about -Nepise. Isn't that a pretty name, Peter? It means -Willow Bud. But after she died and her spirit -came back with the torch they called her Suskuwao,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> -which means the Torch-Bearer. I love her, too. Do -you?"</p> - -<p>Peter nodded. "I was thinking of you," he said -desperately, trying to get the choking thought out of -him. "Father Albanel was looking at you when he told -about the Indian girl. That's what you've been to me -since I come—a—a sort of torch-bearer, like he said she -was. I dunno what I'd have done if it hadn't been for -you."</p> - -<p>It was out, and for a moment or two the suffocating -realization of what he had said made it difficult for him -to breathe easily. Mona did not look at him. Her -shining eyes were fixed steadily upon the vastness of -the lake.</p> - -<p>"Was that why you touched my hair, Peter?"</p> - -<p>"I guess so."</p> - -<p>"You like me—<i>like that</i>?"</p> - -<p>He nodded again, finding the moment too tremendous -for words. And this time Mona was looking at -him. There was an earnestness in her face which -made her seem older to Peter. Her eyes were a -woman's eyes, calm and steady in their gaze, as they -studied him for a moment.</p> - -<p>"And I like you, Peter," she said then, "I like you so -much—that I never want you to go away from Five -Fingers."</p> - -<p>"And I never want to go," he said. "Not if my -father comes back."</p> - -<p>"He will come!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> - -<p>Her voice was quick and sure and filled with a -vibrant ring that sent a little tremble through him. -She was sitting very straight, and a gust of wind -stirred her hair so that it rippled and floated about her, -and Peter—looking at her with wide eyes and swiftly -beating heart—thought of Father Albanel, and of -Nepise the Torch-Bearer, and the beautiful faith the -little missioner had visioned entered into him and he -believed. And the strange and thrilling impulse came -to him to put his hand to that soft cloud of Mona's hair -and tell her that he believed. But he did not move, nor -did he speak. For a space Mona seemed to be far -away from him, gazing at something which he could -not see out beyond the turmoil of the Pit. Her fingers -were interlocked in her lap, and not until the voice of -Jame Clamart hallooed down from the top of the cliff -was the spell of silence broken.</p> - -<p>Mona started but did not look up. She knew Adette -was there, smiling down at them and ready to wave her -hand. Quite calmly she said to Peter:</p> - -<p>"It's that Adette Clamart. Will you promise never -to let her kiss you again?"</p> - -<p>"Sure—I promise," said Peter.</p> - -<p>"As long as you live?"</p> - -<p>"As long as I live."</p> - -<p>"Cross your heart, Peter!"</p> - -<p>Devoutly Peter took the solemn oath.</p> - -<p>"I'm glad," said Mona. "I don't like kissing—but if -it has to be done I'll do it!" And a fiery little note in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> -her voice was so combatively possessive that Peter suddenly -felt himself a helpless but willing slave in chains.</p> - -<p>And in the days and weeks that followed his first -Sunday in the settlement this bondage was stronger -than the hungering loneliness for his father which -pulled him at times toward the big forests of the north. -Mona's world became his world. He began to fit into -its play, its duties, and the family communism of its -environment. He went to school. At odd hours he -worked about the mill and helped in the spring planting, -and later in the tilling of the soil.</p> - -<p>In the passing of the summer Mona and Peter spent -much of their time together in the cool depths of the -forests. On these adventurings they were inseparable, -and their favorite haunt, specially on Sunday afternoons, -was a beaver colony a mile and a half up the -shore of the lake and a little back in the rough ridges -and hills. The beaver settlement was Mona's own -property, and it was one of the laws of Five Fingers -that no one should despoil it with trap or gun. It was -five years ago, Mona told Peter, that four old beavers -emigrated from some one of the colonies back in the -hills and she and Pierre discovered them building a -dam at this place. There were now over thirty of -them. A long time ago they had ceased to be afraid of -her, and some of them were so friendly she could touch -them with her hand. But they were alarmed when -Peter came with her and for days scarcely a head would -show when he was about. Very slowly and with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> -extreme caution they began to accept him as a part of -Mona, and the first cool breath of autumn was in the -nights before they would openly disclose themselves or -play on their slides or proceed with the varied duties of -their lives when he was watching the big dark pool in -which they had built their homes.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2 style="margin-top: 3.5em; margin-bottom: 2em;"><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</a></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">In</span> September a sinister and foreboding gloom -seemed to creep out of the wilderness surrounding -Five Fingers.</p> - -<p>The golden autumn, with its soft Indian summer and -its radiance of color, died almost before it was born. -The birch leaves did not turn yellow and gold but -stopped at a rusty brown; the poplar leaves curled up -and began to fall from their stems before the first -frost; mountain ash berries were pink instead of red, -and heavy fogs settled like wet blankets between the -ridges, while in the swamps the rabbits were dying in -hundreds and thousands of the mysterious "seven -years' sickness."</p> - -<p>The men at Five Fingers, and especially Pierre -Gourdon and Dominique Beauvais, who read the -wilderness as if it were a book, regarded these matters -with anxious eyes. It was Pierre who called attention -to the going of the bluebirds a month before their -time, and noted first that the red squirrels were gathering -great stores of cones, and that the robins were -restless and uneasy and were assembling in the flocks -which presaged sudden flight.</p> - -<p>Then, one sunset, a great flock of wild geese went<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> -honking south. They were high and flying very fast.</p> - -<p>Pierre Gourdon pointed up. "When the wild geese -race like that in September—it means a bad winter. -Only twice have I seen it. The last time was two years -before we came to Five Fingers—a year of starvation -and plague; and the other time——" He shuddered, -and shrugged his shoulders, for that other time was -in boyhood, when his mother and father had died back -in the forests, and he had dragged himself starving and -nearly dead to Ste. Anne de Beaupré.</p> - -<p>Colder nights came, filled with moaning winds, and -the days were darkened by ash-gray skies through -which the sun seldom shone warmly, and more and -more frequently came the honk of geese racing south. -Peter could hear them at night, in darkness and when -the stars were shining, coming from the north, crying -down their solemn notes of passage from the high trails -of the air.</p> - -<p>And these same nights he heard the wolves howl back -in the hollows and ridges and deeper hunting grounds -of the forests, and Pierre Gourdon listened uneasily to -the cold, hard note in their voices, and said to -Dominique:</p> - -<p>"The wolves will run lean this winter, and -when hunger trails the wolves, famine is not far behind."</p> - -<p>But it was the dying of the rabbits more than the -crying of the wolves that worried them at first. The -plague-stricken animals were lying everywhere, even<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> -up to the steps of the cabins, and one day Peter counted -so many in a corner of the swamp that Simon -McQuarrie's eyes widened a little with doubt when he -told his story. Once every seven or nine years had the -rabbit plague swept on its devastating way through -the wilderness, but never had Pierre or Dominique or -Simon seen it so destructive as this year, and the nearer -howling of the wolves and the strange, clammy nights -with their deathlike fogs roused in Pierre Gourdon's -heart the ghosts of old superstitions and old fears put -there in tragic days when he was a boy.</p> - -<p>And then came a night when the world seemed filled -with wet smoke, and on that night the gray Canada -geese came down from the north in a multitude so great -that they filled the sky over Five Fingers with a winged -deluge, and thousands of them dropped into the inlet -and the clearing to rest. Their honking was a bedlam -which made sleep impossible, and with the dawn Peter -could see them darkening the fields and the water of -Middle Finger Inlet. When the various companies and -regiments began taking wing the sound they made was -a steady thunder that sent a weird and thrilling shudder -through earth and air. There were ten thousand pair -of wings in that southward moving host, Pierre -Gourdon said. Peter had never thought there were so -many wild geese in the world and it puzzled him that -not one of them was killed by the men at Five -Fingers.</p> - -<p>"A wild goose mates but once," Pierre explained.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> -"If his mate dies, he does not take another, but lives -alone for the rest of his life. Memory and loyalty like -that men do not have, and so it is a crime to kill them." -Then he added, looking up thoughtfully at one of the -winged triangles racing through the sky, "And the gray -goose lives a hundred years!"</p> - -<p>In October what were left of the big snowshoe -rabbits began to turn white, and the wind kept steadily -in the north. Snow fell early. All through November -the big lake was lashed by fierce gales; the Pit roared -and whipped itself into furies, and the gulls were gone -entirely from Middle Finger Inlet. In a single night, -it seemed to Peter, winter came. And from the beginning -it was a black, ominous winter. For days at a -time there was no sun. The sky was shut in by a gray -canopy of cloud. When snow fell it was hard and biting, -and riding with the wind, it stung the flesh like fine -shot.</p> - -<p>In December came a change. The winds died, the -skies cleared a little, and day and night it snowed until -the wilderness was smothered and the evergreen forests -bent to the snapping point under their burden. Trails -were closed and the hollows between ridges were filled. -One day Poleon Dufresne snowshoed in from the railroad -settlement, half dead from exhaustion and bearing -the news that all the world was shut out by snow, -and that it lay twenty feet deep in the open places. And -quietly he gave other news to Pierre Gourdon and -Dominique and Simon McQuarrie. The dreaded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> -plague of the wilderness—the smallpox—had already -begun to stalk through the northland.</p> - -<p>Following the deep snows came a cold so intense that -the men no longer ran the hazard of frosted lungs by -working in the woods, and all wild life seemed to have -become extinct. Between the lake and the settlements -along the line of steel one could scarcely have found -the trail of a cloven hoof, for the deer and moose were -yarded deep and struggled breast-high against snow -for the bush-browsing that kept them alive, while the -caribou, milling against wind and storm, had left the -snow-smothered country for feeding grounds farther -north. It was a winter that began—first of all—with -starvation. The icy coating of the trees left no budding -for the grouse; small creatures smothered in thousands -under the hardening snow crust which could soon bear -the weight of a man; foxes and ermine gnawed bark in -their hunger; with the rabbits gone, owls died of a sickness -which ravages them in times of forest famine—and -the empty stomachs of wolves brought them nearer -and nearer to the clearing until frightened horses -broke halters in their stalls and cattle bellowed in their -terror.</p> - -<p>Peter had never heard wolves as they cried out now. -Sometimes their wail of hunger was almost a sobbing -in the night, and again it was bitter and vengeful as -hoof and horn beat them back from some yarded -stronghold of moose and deer.</p> - -<p>Each day and week Peter came to understand more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> -of the tragedy through which he was passing. It was -one of the "black years." Father Albanel came to the -settlement early in January; he was thin and haggard, -his eyes deep-set, the rosy color gone from his face. In -the little church he asked the people of Five Fingers to -offer up prayer for the thousands who were sick and -the hundreds who were dying through all the great -wilderness from Hudson Bay to the Athabasca and -from Big Lake to the Barren Lands. Over all that -country the plague was raging, sweeping like a forest -fire from tepee to cabin, until in certain far places the -great Hudson Bay Company could no longer bury its -dead, and masterless dogs ran with the wild things in -the forests. Pierre Gourdon's face was almost as -haggard as Father Albanel's, and Mona called Peter's -attention to it, with a tense and strange look in her -eyes.</p> - -<p>"I overheard Uncle Pierre and Aunt Josette when -they were talking last night and they said they weren't -afraid for themselves but that they were afraid for -me," she said. "Why should they be, Peter? I don't -get sick easily."</p> - -<p>"You're a girl, that's why," he explained.</p> - -<p>"But if I should get sick—what would you do? -Would you dare to come and see me?"</p> - -<p>"I'd come."</p> - -<p>"Even if it was the plague?"</p> - -<p>"I'd still come."</p> - -<hr class="chap" style="page-break-after: always;" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> -<img style="margin-top: 2em;" src="images/image4.jpg" width="450" height="591" alt="Old Simon held Peter off at arm's length" /> -</div> - -<p class="center" style="margin-top: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1.5em;"><i>OLD SIMON</i> held Peter off at arm's length, his<br /> -stern face working in a strange way<br /></p> - -<hr class="chap" style="page-break-after: always;" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> -<img style="margin-top: 2em;" src="images/image5.jpg" width="450" height="600" alt="Peter McRae had come home" /> -</div> - -<p class="center" style="margin-top: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 1.5em;"><i>PETER McRAE</i> had come home and a whisper<br /> -of gladness ran among the crowd</p> - -<hr class="chap" style="page-break-after: always;" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I'd like to have you, Peter. If I was sick and you -didn't come, I think it would make me feel so badly I -wouldn't get well."</p> - -<p>And that night, with the wolves wailing at its doors, -the blighting hand of the red plague fell upon Five -Fingers!</p> - -<p>It touched Geertruda Poulin first, and Jeremie, her -husband, nailed a red cloth over his cabin door to keep -the children at a distance, and that rag, fluttering in -the winds, soon filled their hearts with a greater terror -than if they had seen a <i>loup-garou</i> haunting the edge -of the forest or the grim hunters of the <i>Chasse-galerie</i> -riding through the gloomy sky, for they were told that -to go near it meant death. And then, three days later, -little Tobina fell ill, and with a pale, brave face and -eyes in which there was no sign of fear Marie -Antoinette went into the plague-stricken cabin to nurse -them. After that Joe Gourdon's face was like a mask -carven out of stone until the night when Jame -Clamart pounded at his door and cried out the terrible -news that Adette was down with the fever. And that -midnight Josette calmly kissed Pierre and Mona good-by -and went to her. Until she was gone Pierre held -back the sob in his throat—then it escaped him, and he -held Mona close, so close that it hurt her. It was on a -Sunday morning, bitterly cold and filled with gusty -winds, that Jeremie Poulin staggered out from his door -and flung up his arms to the sky, and the word -passed from cabin to cabin that Geertruda was -dead.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p> - -<p>Alone, barring all others from their company, Simon -McQuarrie and Father Albanel dug with picks and -grub-hoes the first new grave in the little cemetery. -Chunk by chunk they broke out the frozen earth, and -when it was dark—so dark no eyes could see them—they -helped Jeremie Poulin carry his dead over the -clearing and upon their knees prayed with him at the -grave-side. After that they lived in one of the barns, -visiting only the sick and the dead, and each morning -and evening Simon would shout to Peter through the -megaphone of his hands, asking him if he felt pain or -dizziness or fever, and warning him to stay in the -cabin. Then Sara Dufresne and two of her three children -were stricken and Jean Croisset died so suddenly -that the shock of it stopped every heart in Five Fingers. -Pounding of hammers came from the barn, and the -next morning there was another mound of brown and -frozen earth in the cemetery. A day later Dominique -Beauvais, with his house full of children, nailed up the -red badge of sickness over his cabin door.</p> - -<p>Each day Peter saw Mona. They spent their hours -together, and Pierre Gourdon watched them as a hawk -watches its young. At night they sat at their windows, -for after Jean's death the skies cleared and a glorious -moon filled the world with light. And one night Peter -heard the hammers pounding again, and in the gray of -dawn—still sleepless and wide-eyed—he saw Father -Albanel and Simon and Jeremie Poulin come from -Dominique Beauvais's cabin bearing a long, grim thing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> -among them; and when they had reached the burial -slope he saw them turn back, and enter the cabin again, -and come forth once more with their shoulders bent -under a burden. Peter's heart choked him. He sobbed -and clutched his hands at his breast. It was Félipe and -Dominique, the two youngest of the Beauvais children, -whom he had seen carried to the burial plot.</p> - -<p>Sobbing, he ran toward Mona's home. The door -opened and Pierre Gourdon came out. Peter stopped a -few paces away, for there was something in Pierre's -face that frightened him. At first he thought it must -be the madness of the fever; then his ears caught -words, strange, hard words that froze his blood and -that seemed to come with a mighty effort from Pierre's -ghastly face. Mona was sick! She was in bed—and -he must return to Simon McQuarrie's cabin and not -come again within breathing distance of the house! -Peter moved closer to the door, powerless to speak, -and Pierre thrust him back so roughly that he fell to -the ground.</p> - -<p>"Go away!" he commanded, raising a hand as if to -strike the boy.</p> - -<p>Through the open door Peter had a glimpse of -Josette's face looking out at him, so white and -haggard that for a moment he thought it was an -old woman's face. He cried out to her but in -the same moment she was gone and there came no -answer.</p> - -<p>Then he spoke half defiantly to Pierre.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I want to see Mona," he said. "I promised her I'd -come if she was sick."</p> - -<p>"Go!" said Pierre again, pointing sternly toward -Simon McQuarrie's cabin. "You can come halfway -to learn how Mona is, but if you come this near again I -shall have you taken from Five Fingers!"</p> - -<p>Peter drew slowly away, staring in horror at Pierre -and the cabin behind him. He slumped down on the -doorstep at Simon's place and did not feel the bitter -cold. He saw Pierre enter the cabin, and then he -watched the gray figures in the distant cemetery as -they moved slowly about, piling the last of the frozen -clods upon the burdens they had carried through the -dawn a few minutes before. And Mona was down -with that same sickness—which meant death!</p> - -<p>In his torment he picked and twisted at his clothes -until his thin fingers were blue with the cold. Pierre -came out again and put up the red cloth, and then he -went to intercept the three men who were on their way -from the cemetery to their quarters in the barn. Father -Albanel and Simon McQuarrie returned with Pierre -and entered the cabin where Mona was sick. In a few -minutes Simon came out and seeing Peter huddled on -the doorstep, approached as near to him as he dared. -He asked the same questions, and gave the same warnings, -and assured Peter that Mona was only slightly ill, -and that she would get over it very quickly. But there -was in his face the same look that had been in Pierre's, -and Peter knew he was lying.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span></p> - -<p>"She is going to die," his heart kept crying, and -he dragged himself into the cabin and flung himself -upon Simon's bed, and when Joe Gourdon came in he -was crying, his head buried in his arms. With his -beloved Marie Antoinette keeping guard in Jeremie -Poulin's house of death, Joe was making a courageous -fight. "Tobina Poulin is past all danger, and if things -go well Aunt Marie Antoinette will come home in a -few days, and then you can come to us," he comforted -Peter. "Meanwhile I'm going to stay with you."</p> - -<p>But Joe's cheerfulness was mostly forced. News -came early in the day that Adette Clamart was very -close to death, and that Jame and Father Albanel were -constantly at her bedside.</p> - -<p>That night sheer exhaustion brought sleep to Peter. -He was awakened by a pounding at the door. Joe's -voice called out below and another answered it from -outside. It was Jame Clamart, going from cabin to -cabin in a madness of joy, telling the people of Five -Fingers that the crisis was over and Adette would live.</p> - -<p>Peter could hear the running crunch of Jame's boots -in the hard snow as he hurried on to the next neighbor -and for a long time after that he lay awake in the cold -darkness of his room, thinking of Mona. Fear of -death had not gripped him so terribly before. In the -tragedy of others he had felt shock; its suddenness and -horror had stunned him and filled him with dread, but -the physical grief of it had not touched him deeply until -now. He was sick, but the sickness was in his heart, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> -if something had been cut out of it, leaving in its place -an emptiness which made breath come to his lips in -smothered sobs. And that something which had been -taken away from him was Mona.</p> - -<p>When he closed his eyes he could see her clearly on -her white bed, her long hair streaming about the pillow, -her face pinched and thin, and all the time she was -wondering <i>why he did not come</i>. She was going to -die; he could think of nothing but that, and after a little -one thing persisted in traveling through his brain so -frequently and so terribly that he called aloud for Joe. -The maddening picture was that of Father Albanel and -Simon and Jeremie Poulin marching through the gray -dawn to the burial plot with the bodies of Félipe and -Dominique Beauvais.</p> - -<p>Joe came up, and for the rest of that night Peter lay -in the shelter of his arm and fell asleep again.</p> - -<p>The next day came with good omen. A bright sun -rose over the forests, clearer and warmer than it had -been for many weeks. Herman Vogelaar, whose -laughter had gone with the death of his daughter, -Geertruda, came at breakfast time with the word that -Adette was entirely out of her fever, and that Poleon -Dufresne's wife and three children were much better -than yesterday. Father Albanel, he said, had spent the -last half of the night with Mona. Mona was very sick. -She was worse than Adette had been, or even Geertruda, -in the same length of time. He was afraid——But -Joe gave him such a fierce scowl he did not finish.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> -Peter saw the scowl and the nervous twisting -of Herman's fingers at the lapels of his coat as he tried -to think of something with which to cover his blunder. -He wanted to ask Herman to speak what had been on -his lips, but instead he put on his coat and cap and -heavy mittens and went out into the day, hoping that -somewhere he would see Father Albanel.</p> - -<p>As if his hope were a prayer quickly answered, -Father Albanel came from the Gourdon cabin. The -little missioner advanced, keeping the wind well in his -face, and when he was fifty paces from Peter he -stopped and called to the boy to stand where he was. -Peter tried to speak bravely when he asked if Mona -was going to die.</p> - -<p>"She is very sick," said the missioner. "We must -pray for her, and believe with all our might that she is -going to get well. I think God will let her live."</p> - -<p>"I promised I'd come if she was sick. I got to keep -my word. I'm not afraid."</p> - -<p>Father Albanel shook his head.</p> - -<p>"It is impossible, Peter. There are too many of us -down now."</p> - -<p>"I won't get sick," said Peter doggedly.</p> - -<p>Father Albanel spoke sharply. "Keep to your cabin, -my boy, and be as brave as Jame Clamart has been. If -Mona grows worse, I will tell you."</p> - -<p>Each morning after this he brought news of Mona to -Peter. For a week there seemed to be no change. On -the eighth day she was worse; on the tenth Pierre and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> -Josette and Father Albanel were fighting desperately to -save her life.</p> - -<p>The tenth night came. It was past midnight when -Peter crept softly to his window and opened it. With as -little sound as he could make he drew himself through -and dropped to the ground. He ran away quickly, the -brilliance of the stars sending his shadow along with -him. He did not stop until he reached the Gourdon -cabin, and there he hugged closely against the log wall, -his heart beating wildly as he waited. Above him a -light glowed feebly against the curtain in Mona's room. -He wanted to call to her; he puckered his lips and -almost gave the whistling signal which she knew. -Then he heard a sound, a movement of some kind, and -stealthily he approached a lower window. He could -see Josette very clearly. She was seated in a chair -with her face bowed in her hands, and Pierre was -standing at her side, gently stroking her hair. Father -Albanel was behind them, his face white and torn -with grief. Then Peter saw that Josette was -crying.</p> - -<p>A terrible fear gripped him as he drew away from -the window. What he had seen could mean only one -thing. Mona—<i>was gone</i>. He looked up at the dim -light above him again, and in that moment his soul -cried out against all those who had kept him away from -her. He went to the kitchen door, opened it, and -entered. This time he would scream and fight if they -tried to keep him back. But no one heard him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> -Father Albanel's voice came to him faintly. He was -praying.</p> - -<p>Peter reached the stair and went up quietly. The -door of Mona's room was open. A lamp, turned low, -was burning on the table.</p> - -<p>He approached the bed, scarcely knowing that he was -moving toward it. His heart was crushed, his world -crumbled and gone, for Mona must be dead or they -would not leave her like this, and Josette would not be -crying down below. Even his father could not have -helped him now. Nothing could help him, with Mona -<i>gone</i>. He stumbled to his knees beside her and his cold -fingers twined themselves about the soft braid of hair -that fell over the side of her bed.</p> - -<p>A stifled, despairing sob broke from him then as he -stared at the thin face that lay so still and lifeless in the -pale light of the room. He had a great desire to touch -it but a moment of dread made him hesitate. Then his -hand crept slowly over the coverlet until it rested -against Mona's cheek, and the sobbing in his throat -was choked back, for the flesh he touched was hot. His -heart thumped until the sound of it seemed to fill the -room. Mona's eyes were opening! They were looking -at him! And then——</p> - -<p>Two thin, white arms reached up and encircled -Peter's neck, and very faintly he heard his name whispered. -He pressed his face down close to Mona's.</p> - -<p>"I'd have come sooner," he apologized, "but they -wouldn't let me in!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p> - -<p>And somehow, in that great moment of their lives -Peter's lips touched Mona's, and as the girl's flagging -spirit came at last in triumph back from the edge of -death Father Albanel entered the room; and when he -saw what had happened he spoke no word, but in silence -made the sign of the cross upon his breast and stood -with his gray head bowed in voiceless prayer.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2 style="margin-top: 3.5em; margin-bottom: 2em;"><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</a></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was many minutes before Peter looked up and -saw Father Albanel standing at his side. The little -missioner made no movement except to place a hand -gently on the boy's head. Mona's eyes were wide open -and in them was a light of almost unearthly happiness -as she looked at Peter. In the pale lamp-glow it seemed -as though death had already possessed her, except for -those great, shining eyes out of which Father Albanel -saw all fever had gone.</p> - -<p>In a voice that was low and choking he said, "You -must come away now, Peter—for a little while."</p> - -<p>Mona's hands rose in weak protest to Peter's -shoulders, and he bent to meet them, pressing his face -down again without shame or embarrassment so that -her soft cheek lay close against his own.</p> - -<p>Joy and gentleness fought with a gathering fear in -Father Albanel's face, and a little at a time, but firmly, -he drew Peter away, while between the words he was -speaking he breathed a prayer to Sainte Anne and the -Mother Mary asking that the boy might be spared the -curse of the deadly malady with which he had come -in contact.</p> - -<p>At the door Peter turned, and Mona's eyes were so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> -strangely and darkly beautiful that he reached back his -arms to her with a little cry. "I'll come again, Mona! -I will! I'll come <i>soon</i>!"</p> - -<p>They went down into the room where he had seen -Josette and Pierre, with his hand held tightly in the -little missioner's. He had never seen a face more terribly -white than Josette's, and Pierre was like a haggard -old man. He looked up at Father Albanel. The -missioner's face was streaming with tears, and through -the tears he was smiling. Then he began to speak. He -told how Peter had stolen into the house and had gone -to Mona.</p> - -<p>"God sent him," he said. "He has done more than -all the physicians and medicines in the world could have -done, for he has brought Mona back from the very -gates of death. <i>She will live!</i>"</p> - -<p>The last three words drowned all others for Peter. -His breath came in little jerks. Then he found himself -crying—in Josette's arms.</p> - -<p>Josette pressed Peter to her and covered his pale, cold -face with kisses. Her great eyes seemed to drown him -with their nearness, and then she too was sobbing, with -his face hugged close to hers. It all passed in a very -few moments, it seemed to Peter, and Josette went with -Father Albanel to Mona's room. She came back in a -little while. Her eyes were shining and the whiteness -was gone from her face.</p> - -<p>"It is true—God has been good to us again," she -said, looking into Pierre's wildly questioning eyes.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p> - -<p>"The fever is broken. Her skin is soft and moist. -And—she—<i>wants Peter</i>!"</p> - -<p>Josette and Pierre understood the look that came -into Father Albanel's face. They waited for him to -speak.</p> - -<p>"Please let me go," begged Peter. "I won't make a -noise. I'll sit quiet."</p> - -<p>Father Albanel swallowed a lump in his throat.</p> - -<p>"And mebby—if I ask her—she'll go to sleep," urged -Peter.</p> - -<p>The missioner nodded his gray head. "That's it," -he said, looking first at Pierre and then at Josette. "I -think if Peter were there, she would sleep. The boy has -already been exposed. It cannot be worse. It is God's -will. Let him go and sit beside her."</p> - -<p>A joyous thrill went through Peter. Father Albanel -turned to him and put his hands on the boy's -shoulders.</p> - -<p>"You must tell her you can stay only if she -will try very hard to go to sleep. After that you -mustn't talk to her. And just as soon as she is asleep -you must slip away quietly and come back to -us here."</p> - -<p>"I promise," said Peter.</p> - -<p>Josette helped him off with his coat. Then she -kissed him, and Peter went softly up the stair.</p> - -<p>Though he came with scarcely more sound than a -shadow to her door Mona heard him. Her eyes were -watching for him, so big and shining in her thin white<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> -face that to Peter she seemed all eyes. He did not -trouble with a stool or chair but knelt beside her bed. -Mona's hands went up to his face and their gentle touch -drew him down until she kissed him on the lips. There -was no hesitation in her act. It was as if she had -always kissed him.</p> - -<p>"Please kiss me, Peter," she said.</p> - -<p>He kissed her.</p> - -<p>"I was dreaming that over and over," she smiled at -him faintly, "and you didn't come. Now it's true. -And—I'm—so—glad——"</p> - -<p>"You mustn't talk," he warned, remembering his -duty. "They said if <i>you</i> said anything after I told -you this I'd have to go downstairs. They want you to -sleep.</p> - -<p>"An' I want you to <i>sleep</i>," he added courageously. -"You mustn't say another word—not one!"</p> - -<p>Mona started to speak, then put a finger to her lips, -and her eyes glowed at Peter until he felt creeping -through him an overwhelming desire to kiss her again. -She tucked her hand in his, and he settled down, sitting -on the floor. Mona closed her eyes and gave a deep -sigh. Her fingers squeezed Peter's, and Peter's fingers -squeezed back.</p> - -<p>Half an hour later Josette tiptoed up the stair. -Quietly she came through the dim light to the bedside. -Mona was asleep. She was breathing evenly for the -first time in many days. Peter had leaned over so that -his cheek was resting on the thick, soft braid of her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> -hair. Mona's hand was still clasped in his. And he too -was asleep.</p> - -<p>Josette drew back as quietly as she had entered and -returned to Pierre and Father Albanel.</p> - -<p>Hours later Peter awoke. He thought he was -dreaming at first. Then he found his fingers buried in -Mona's braid, and saw her pale face against the pillow. -Everything returned to him in a moment, and he moved -his cramped legs an inch at a time, and very quietly got -on his feet. Mona was asleep. He bent over and -listened to her breathing. Then he looked at the little -clock that was ticking on a shelf above her table. It -was four o'clock. Almost time for the gloomy dawn -to come. He must have slept a long time! And Mona -had slept too. His heart beat joyously as he backed -slowly toward the door, careful not to make the -slightest sound.</p> - -<p>In the room below he found Father Albanel sitting -with his gray head bowed over a book which had fallen -into his lap. But Josette heard him, still as he had been, -and came out of her room. She was in a white nightgown -with soft arms bare to her elbows and her hair -in two long, loosely plaited braids.</p> - -<p>To Peter she was more than ever like an angel.</p> - -<p>"Sh-h-h-h!" she whispered, putting a finger to her -lips. "Everyone is asleep, Peter—except you and me!"</p> - -<p>She took his hand and led him into the spare room -which had once been Joe's, and sat down with him for -a few moments on the edge of the bed.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p> - -<p>"You are going to stay with us for a while," she -said in a voice so low and sweet that it was like music -to Peter. "Will you like that?"</p> - -<p>He shook his head affirmatively. "I wanted to come -all the time. I promised Mona I would—if she was -ever sick."</p> - -<p>Josette drew his head gently against her breast. He -could hear her heart beating.</p> - -<p>"I am Mona's mother. After this—how would you -like me to be <i>your</i> mother?" she asked softly.</p> - -<p>"I—I'd like it. But I gotta live with Simon. Dad -told me to—until he comes back."</p> - -<p>The arm about his shoulders tightened a little.</p> - -<p>"Yes, you must live with Simon. I wouldn't take -you from him. But I'm going to be your mother, Peter—just -the same. From now on, all the time, you belong -to me just as Mona does."</p> - -<p>"I guess that's why Mona likes me—because I -haven't got a mother," he tried to explain. "But my -dad's coming back. He'll love you too. Nobody can -help loving you, can they?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know, Peter."</p> - -<p>"Simon says they can't. My mother was just like -you. I've dreamed of her lots of times."</p> - -<p>"Does she look like me—in your dreams, Peter?"</p> - -<p>"Last time I thought she <i>was</i> you. We were out in -the woods picking flowers, an' Mona was there. -Then she faded away. She always fades away, just -sort of melts until you can't see her—my mother, I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> -mean." Suddenly he asked, "Did you ever see Mona's -mother?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, Peter."</p> - -<p>"Was she pretty?"</p> - -<p>"All mothers are pretty, Peter."</p> - -<p>Peter pondered for a moment. "I guess mebby they -are," he said, and then added a little dubiously, "except -now and then. I'll bet Aleck Curry's mother isn't -pretty!"</p> - -<p>"To Aleck—she is beautiful," whispered Josette, -and drew herself gently away from him. "You -must undress and go to bed now, Peter. Good -night!"</p> - -<p>For a while after she was gone he sat on the edge of -his bed wondering what she had meant in saying that -thing about Aleck Curry and his mother. A beast like -Aleck <i>couldn't</i> have a pretty mother. But her words -troubled him even after he was undressed and in bed. -If by any chance Aleck <i>did</i> have a pretty mother—why—it -wasn't right for Mona and him to hate Aleck as -they did, that was all!</p> - -<p>He didn't sleep much between then and morning, and -when he came out of his room, just as the first cold -light of the winter sun was falling in the clearing, -happier faces greeted him. Mona was better. In the -reaction of joy that had swept over the household there -was once more laughter in the kitchen. Josette went -up the stair singing. And when at last she called down -for Peter he found Mona bolstered up in her bed, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> -Josette was brushing her hair, which streamed about -her in long, beautiful cascades of silken softness. -Mona's eyes and face were different this morning. She -was more like the Mona he had known, only thinner -and whiter, and she smiled at him when he came -through the door.</p> - -<p>With Josette so near, Peter was a little self-conscious -and clumsy in his greeting. But Mona held out her -arms, just as she had done last night, and pulled him -down to her, and kissed him.</p> - -<p>From that day the great fact in the lives of the two -children was accepted in Five Fingers. Mona and -Peter belonged to each other. And so sure was Father -Albanel of God's intention in the matter that he felt no -worry about Peter, in spite of the fact that the boy -had come in fearfully close contact with the deadly -malady.</p> - -<p>"He will not catch the sickness," he said confidently. -"God didn't send him for that."</p> - -<p>And as day after day passed, and only good news -continued to come from the Gourdon cabin, those who -had at first doubted also came to believe; for Mona's -coming back from death, and Peter's escaping the -plague, were miracles like those which happened at -the precious shrine of Ste. Anne de Beaupré, and only -God could have brought them about.</p> - -<p>In two weeks Mona was out of bed and on her feet. -And from that day, Peter noticed, she did not hold -out her arms to him again, or ask him to kiss her. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> -her eyes were always soft and full of happiness when he -was near her.</p> - -<p>The last of winter passed, and spring came. May -followed April, and flowers sprang up in the clearing. -The birds returned, work began in the fields, and in the -sweetness and promise of life Five Fingers rose out of -the grimness of its tragedy.</p> - -<p>One warm day when they had gone to the big beaver -pond, just a week after Mona's fourteenth birthday, -Peter said something that he was <i>thinking</i>, and didn't -mean to say at all. He had been thinking it off and on -for a long time, and the words slipped out of him -before he knew it.</p> - -<p>"You never ask me to kiss you any more," he said.</p> - -<p>"Girls don't ask boys to kiss them—not unless they're -sick," replied Mona, looking at him with eyes so bright -that Peter felt every drop of blood in his body rushing -to his face.</p> - -<p>"Then I—I sometimes wish you was sick again!" -blundered Peter.</p> - -<p>"Peter!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I do," he affirmed stubbornly.</p> - -<p>Mona's cheeks were flushing until they were the color -of a rose.</p> - -<p>Suddenly her eyes flashed and she stamped a little -foot.</p> - -<p>"You don't want to kiss me <i>or you'd ask for it</i>!" she -cried. "I always had to make you!"</p> - -<p>It was a new thought for Peter to ponder upon.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> -Half an hour later, when they were almost home, he -came to a decision.</p> - -<p>"I do!" he exclaimed suddenly.</p> - -<p>"You do <i>what</i>?" asked Mona, who had been livelier -than ever in hunting for flowers.</p> - -<p>"You know."</p> - -<p>"I don't."</p> - -<p>"You can guess."</p> - -<p>"I'm not going to guess."</p> - -<p>"I'll give you three chances," offered Peter.</p> - -<p>"I don't want them."</p> - -<p>Peter was desperate. "You didn't mean what you -said, then?"</p> - -<p>"What did I say?"</p> - -<p>"You said I didn't want to kiss you or I'd ask for it."</p> - -<p>"Well—you haven't asked."</p> - -<p>"I did. I just asked."</p> - -<p>Mona's lovely eyes opened wide.</p> - -<p>"Did you, Peter? I didn't hear it. Please ask -again!"</p> - -<p>Peter gulped.</p> - -<p>"Will you?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Will I <i>what</i>?"</p> - -<p>"Let me kiss you?"</p> - -<p>For what seemed at least an hour to Peter she stood -looking at him.</p> - -<p>"If I do—will you promise never to kiss any other -girl?"</p> - -<p>"I promise."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></p> - -<p>"And never let any other girl kiss you? I mean -Adette Clamart, too!"</p> - -<p>"Sure I do."</p> - -<p>"As long as you live?"</p> - -<p>"As long as I live."</p> - -<p>With a little gesture of gladness and satisfaction -Mona Guyon held up the prettiest mouth in all Five -Fingers, and Peter kissed it.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2 style="margin-top: 3.5em; margin-bottom: 2em;"><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</a></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">In</span> the weeks and months following the plague at -Five Fingers Father Albanel did not forget his -promise to Peter, and back in the shelter of the woods, -where their secret was safe between them, he taught -the boy "how to fight like a gentleman—if he had to -fight at all." It was then Peter learned there was -something more helpful than brute strength, and as his -skill increased and he mastered one after another what -the little missioner called "the tricks of the fighting -game," his enthusiasm rose to a point where he could -scarcely keep his secret from Mona. Their boxing-gloves, -which Father Albanel had smuggled from the -settlement, they kept securely hidden, and not until -years later did Peter know that the holy man who was -teaching him had at one time been regarded by fighting -men as the handiest man with his fists between Fort -William and Hudson Bay.</p> - -<p>What he had learned he did not fully realize until -early in June, when Aleck Curry and his father and -the hateful black tug returned to the settlement. Using -the influence of a brother who had been successful in -politics, Izaak Curry had obtained timber concessions -in several directions about Five Fingers, and now built<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> -himself a cabin near the shore, but hidden back in the -spruce. This he tenanted with a third brother and his -wife, and with them Aleck lived while the tug was -making its trips between Five Fingers and Fort -William.</p> - -<p>Aleck had grown still bigger, and in spite of Peter's -resolution to make friends with him he would have -none of it. His hatred for Peter was like some deadly -thing that had poisoned every drop of blood in his -veins, and Mona's growing beauty, and her quite open -affection for his rival, stirred something that was more -than hatred—more than brooding vindictiveness—in -Aleck's heart. His father was rich, and he knew what -that meant back in town; and his uncle was a power in -politics, and had recently become Commissioner of -Provincial Police. It enraged him that these facts carried -no weight in Five Fingers. His own importance -as the son of a rich man and the nephew of a Commissioner -was utterly unrecognized here, while in town -it had given him a position of first rank in spite of his -bullying nature. This lack of appreciation, as he -thought of it, he laid entirely at Peter's door, for it was -Peter who had robbed him of his chances with Mona -in the first place, and it was Peter who was keeping -her away from him now.</p> - -<p>So it was not long after Aleck's arrival before the -climax came. It happened well out of sight of everybody, -where Aleck had schemed that it should be, for -he wanted no interference in his "beating up" of Peter.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> -In the end both boys returned to the settlement with -bleeding noses and black eyes. Neither was whipped. -Aleck was dumbfounded. That his size and weight and -all the training he had given himself during the winter -had failed to beat Peter was unbelievable.</p> - -<p>For two weeks after the fight there was not a day, -excepting Sundays, when Father Albanel and Peter -did not "take a walk" in the woods together. And -along with these secret sessions Peter took advantage -of every opportunity to run and swim that he might -add to his wind. Almost daily he accepted insults from -Aleck in order to avoid a fight, and never a day passed -that Father Albanel did not repeat his warning to -Peter to postpone further combat as long as possible. -But the time came when Aleck once more followed -up insult with physical action, with the result that he -suffered a defeat so completely decisive that in August -he returned to Fort William, fairly laughed out of Five -Fingers.</p> - -<p>Mona now made up Peter's world, and in his heart -she kept constantly burning the faith that his father -would return. But when winter came again, and another -spring, and there was still no word from Donald -McRae, Peter came at times to believe that his father -was gone out of his life forever.</p> - -<p>Aleck Curry again returned to Five Fingers in this -third summer of Peter's life there. He was nineteen -now, and was commissioned by his father to take an -interest in his lumber business along the coast. A year<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> -had made a big change in him, and his hatred for Peter -and his passion for Mona he kept more to himself. His -father told Simon that in another year Aleck was going -to join the provincial police, and would soon hold a -commission in it....</p> - -<p>Early in September, when Mona was in her sixteenth -year, the event against which Peter had been steeling -his heart for many months became a fact. Pierre and -Josette had long planned that after Marie Antoinette's -teaching in the little settlement school Mona should -spend a year, and possibly two, under the tutelage of -the Sisters in the Ursuline Convent in the city of -Quebec. On the day Mona left, accompanied by Joe's -wife, who went to see her safely settled in the distant -city, Peter's world went as black as on that other day -when his father disappeared out of his life.</p> - -<p>The winter that followed was an endless one for -Peter. Once each week, as surely as the weeks came -round, he received a long letter from Mona, and five -times during the winter he made the trip to the railroad -settlement alone that he might not miss the love and -cheer which came from her. And he was at the train to -meet her, with Pierre and Josette and Marie Antoinette -and Joe, when she came from the school in June.</p> - -<p>At first he was dazed by the change in her, she had -grown so much taller, and more beautiful, and he stood -as if turned into wood while she greeted and kissed all -the others. Then she turned to him, and her face was -flooded with a color which he had never seen in it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> -before. And after that—he could never remember how -it happened—their arms were around each other, and -Mona was crying—crying until tears blinded her—and -he was kissing her, and she was kissing him, and -then ran away from him to hug all the others again.</p> - -<p>This summer in Five Fingers decided the lives of -Peter and Mona. She was almost seventeen. She -would go to school one more year, because that was -the desire of Josette and Marie Antoinette. She would -be nearly eighteen then. And when she was nineteen—on -her nineteenth birthday, if Peter liked it that way—she -would marry him.</p> - -<p>During the second year of her absence Peter devoted -every energy of soul and body toward making himself -worthy of her. He worked and planned and studied -hard under Marie Antoinette and Father Albanel. -During this year several changes came to Five Fingers. -Simon McQuarrie ended his dealings with Izaak Curry, -and to rid their paradise of a bad memory Adette -Clamart deliberately set fire to the Curry shack after -he had gone, so that nothing remained but a square -of ash and charred timbers. "And the wild phlox will -cover that next summer," said Adette with a grim little -shrug of her pretty shoulders.</p> - -<p>Aleck Curry joined the police. In a day and a night, -it seemed, he sprang into a great bulk of a man, heavy-faced, -huge-shouldered, a giant in strength and -physique, and with a hatred for Peter in his heart that -had grown more merciless with the passing of years.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> -He saw Mona each summer, and when she returned -from her second year at school her beauty stirred in -him a passion which submerged all other instincts and -desires. He became a watchful, waiting beast, hiding -the flame that was consuming him, preparing himself -for the opportunity which he was determined should -some day come his way.</p> - -<p>As each week brought nearer the day of their own -supreme happiness Mona and Peter no longer sensed -this menace, or even thought of it, and because Aleck -was so utterly outside all the possibilities of her life the -deeper sentiment of womanhood growing in Mona compelled -her to treat him more kindly. Even Simon's -suspicions were dulled, for during the winter preceding -her nineteenth birthday Aleck visited the settlement -only twice. Another spring and summer followed. -The twelfth of the coming October was Mona's birthday. -On that day she would become Peter's wife. It -was planned that they should live with Pierre and Josette -until the good logging snows came, when all of -Five Fingers would join in building their home.</p> - -<p>It was on a day in August that Mona set out alone -for the beaver pond, carrying a basket in which was her -own and Peter's supper. Peter, returning from a trip -up the shore, had promised to meet her before sundown -in their old trysting-place, where two winters before -he had built her a little "play-house" cabin.</p> - -<p>And on this same afternoon, as Mona left the settlement, -a stranger was making his way toward it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p> - -<p>An attitude of unusual caution and a haunted way -of looking about him were the two things one would -have noticed first as he came out of a swamp into an -open forest of white pine. He drew in a deep breath -of the freer air, and with a gesture of relief wiped his -face with a hand that was rough and twisted and -scratched by contact with briers. He was oddly disheveled -and smeared with swamp oil. His gray head -with its grizzled and uncut hair wore no hat, his shirt -was in rags at the throat and sleeves and his trousers -were tucked into high boots which bore evidence of -having gone through mud and water to their tops. -Upon his shoulders he carried a pack, and though the -tenuity of its folds emphasized its lightness in weight, -the man freed himself from his burden with an audible -gasp of relief.</p> - -<p>Then he leaned against a pine and looked back at -the swamp from which he had come, listening with -singular intentness for any sound which might strike -with warning or unusual import upon the languorous -stillness of the afternoon. His face was pallid under -its stubble of beard even after the heat and exertion -he had passed through; his cheeks were sunken as if by -sickness or hunger, and his lips were drawn and thin. -In his eyes seemed to lie all the strength that remained -in the man. They were furtive and questing as they -watched, missing no shadow that moved.</p> - -<p>The sweetness of ripened summer, its lazy whisperings -and the stillness which comes in a deep wood when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> -the sun is overhead lay about him or trembled softly in -the air. For hours he had been in an oven of swamp -heat and winged pests; here it was cool. In the pine -tops a hundred and fifty feet above his head was a faint -stir of the breeze that came from Lake Superior. It -reached down and touched his hot cheeks. He could -taste the invigorating freshness of it, and there came -slowly a change in his restless eyes, a softening of the -tense lines about his mouth, a lighting up of his face -where before it had held only suspense and watchful -uncertainty. He picked up his shoulder pack, carrying -it in his hand as he turned away from the swamp.</p> - -<p>The transformation in the man's face was strangely -at odds with the painful physical effort which accompanied -his tedious progress. He no longer looked behind -him but kept his eyes ahead, as if anticipating at -any moment the appearance of something of vital -importance toward which he was struggling with the -last bit of strength that remained in his body. When -at last he came to a little brook, gurgling between the -pine roots, he fell rather than knelt beside it, and drank -like one dying of thirst. Then again and again he -plunged his face into hands filled with cold water and -wet his head until his gray hair was dripping.</p> - -<p>He followed the brook. Several times he stumbled -and fell in the rougher places and once his toe caught -a root and he plunged into the stream itself. At the -end of an hour he had traveled a mile. Then he came -to a knoll of hardwoods, crossed it and made his way<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> -down through a lacework of yellow birch until he arrived -at the edge of a deep, still pond that began in -sunlight and lost itself in the almost cavernous coolness -and shadow of a spruce and cedar forest. Instinctively -the man knew it was a beaver pond, and -almost instantly he had proof it was alive. A warning -tail lashed the water with the sound of a paddle struck -sideways, and across the pool, a short stone's throw -away, an object moved through the water.</p> - -<p>Dizzily the man sat down. His vision was clouded -so that it was difficult for him to see even the moving -object. He fell upon his side and stretched himself -out on a couch of thick green grass. In another moment -he was lying with his eyes closed but with ears -keenly alert. During the next half-hour he heard -every sound about him; then his pale eyelids closed -heavily and a weariness of brain and body which he -could no longer combat dulled his senses to a physical -and mental inertness which was almost sleep.</p> - -<p>In this state of somnolence he had lain for possibly -a quarter of an hour when a sound reached his ears -which first opened his eyes and then brought him in -a quick and defensive movement to a posture that was -half sitting and half crouching.</p> - -<p>The sound came again, and amazement replaced the -alarm in his face. What he heard was a feminine voice, -strangely soft and subdued in this place of coolness -and shadow and mysterious stillness. It was a note -of laughter, almost birdlike in its sweetness, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> -man's fingers clutched at the breast of his ragged shirt -as he listened. Then he began to crawl slowly in the -direction of the sound, making his way through a -green thicket of willows, careful that no twig snapped -under his weight to give warning of his approach. -Suddenly he came upon a scene whose unexpectedness -was almost a shock to him.</p> - -<p>He had reached the farther edge of the willows, and -before him was a little meadow not more than half an -acre in extent, green and filled with wild flowers. Almost -within reach of his hands was a mountain ash -weighted with ripening fruit, and under this tree, close -to the edge of the pool, a girl was seated on the grass, -partly facing him. His first glimpse of her was of a -bowed head crowned by a wealth of coiled hair; then, -as she looked up, he saw her face. Her cheeks were -flushed, her dark eyes shone, and as she laughed again -she snuggled her face close down over a furry thing -scrambling about in her lap. The man saw there were -two of these creatures—baby beavers. His eyes wandered -a little. At the edge of the pond, half out of the -water, was a full-grown beaver. And this older inhabitant -of the place was conscious of his presence in -the willow thicket!</p> - -<p>The girl was talking and laughing with the little -ones, calling them by name. One was Telesphore and -the other Peterkin—and the man drew in his breath -with a gasp. He watched her tease them with a carrot. -One scrambled up and tangled a foot in her hair.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Peterkin!" she cried. "Peterkin—you little ruffian!"</p> - -<p>The old beaver remained stolid and motionless, watching -the menace in the willows. A companion swam -lazily past, scented the danger and struck the water a -blow with his tail before he dived.</p> - -<p>The girl looked up quickly and spoke to the old -beaver. "What is the matter, Peter?" she cried. -"Don't be foolish. Come and get your carrot!"</p> - -<p>It was then she heard a little cry behind her, and -turned and saw the man's face in the willows.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2 style="margin-top: 3.5em; margin-bottom: 2em;"><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV</a></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Mona Guyon</span> was not afraid. She was -startled, and thrilled by an instant intuitive -sensing of the unusual and the significant in the man's -unexpected appearance. Yet the color did not leave -her cheeks nor did a cry come to her lips. She thrust -the baby beavers from her lap and rose unexcitedly -to her feet, tall, slim and amazingly beautiful.</p> - -<p>She was looking steadily at the man, and as she -looked her heart beat a little faster, for the wilderness -had taught her a quick and definite understanding of -the story she saw written in the wild face among the -willows. Its tragedy flashed upon her before her parted -lips had found words—hunger, sickness, the emaciation -and weakness of a man who found less discomfort -upon his hands and knees than upon his feet.</p> - -<p>As she looked at him a change came into his face -that the man himself could feel as there swept over -him a slow and inundating sense of shame. Every instinct -of chivalry in him revolted at the ridiculous and -alarming figure he must be making of himself. But -even in this moment of surprise and distress he did -not entirely lose his sense of humor. He tried to smile. -The effort was nothing short of pathos.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I beg your pardon," he said as he rose a little unsteadily -to his feet and came out of the willows. His -raggedness and the coarse stubble on his face could -not conceal the consciousness of pride with which he -straightened himself and bowed to her. "I have come -upon you like a wolf, and I know I look like a wolf. -But I assure you I am as harmless as a sheep, and if -you don't mind dividing your carrots with me——" -He nodded toward the little yellow pile of carrots she -had brought for her beaver pets.</p> - -<p>His voice was pleasant. It made her think of Father -Albanel, and as he spoke a smile was in his eyes and -on his pale lips. She went quickly to his side and put -a hand on his arm. Its firm young touch seemed to -steady him.</p> - -<p>"What has happened?" she asked. "You look——"</p> - -<p>"Sick—and a little mad," he finished for her, when -she hesitated. "But I'm mostly hungry, and if I may -have the carrots——"</p> - -<p>She helped him to the foot of the tree and he dropped -down beside it with a weakness that made him hunch -his shoulders in disgust.</p> - -<p>"I have something better than carrots," she said. -"Please sit here and I will get it."</p> - -<p>She hurried across the little meadow to a deeper shade -of thick-growing jack pines on the farther side, and the -man turned his head to follow her movements with his -eyes. Her beauty was twisting at something in his -heart. A long time ago he had known someone like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> -her. The slim figure, walking swiftly across the open, -took him back twenty years, and he could almost hear -a sweet voice calling his name, and in a place very much -like this, with the coolness of the wilderness all about -and the sun shining through the trees. His hand -touched the scrub of beard on his face and he shivered. -The thought came to him that the girl was afraid of -him and was running away. As she disappeared among -the banksians he reached for one of the raw carrots and -began to eat it.</p> - -<p>Mona returned so quietly that he did not hear her -until she was at his side. She brought a basket and a -small pail of cold spring-water. She spread a napkin -on his lap and loaded it with the contents of the basket. -He was sensitively conscious of her eyes upon him -and he tried not to appear ravenous as he began with -meat and bread.</p> - -<p>"I'm spoiling your picnic, child," he said, speaking -to her feebly like a man who was very old. "I'm -sorry."</p> - -<p>"You're not spoiling it," she cried, leaning toward -him with a gesture full of sweet tenderness. "Oh, I -have been so happy today—God has made me happier -by bringing me here in time to help you!"</p> - -<p>"Happy," he whispered, as if to himself. "It is wonderful -to be happy. I have known—what it is."</p> - -<p>It was her struggle to appear natural now as he -ate. She had never been so intimately close to starvation -and pathos and weakness in man.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Were you lost?" she asked.</p> - -<p>He caught quickly at her suggestion. "Yes, lost—in -the woods and the swamps between the railroad and -here. I was trying to find a place called Five Fingers."</p> - -<p>She gave a little exclamation. "I'm from Five Fingers. -It is not far. Uncle Pierre calls it a mile and a -half."</p> - -<p>Mona wondered at the strange silence which came -over the man, and the suddenness with which his -hunger seemed to be satisfied.</p> - -<p>"You have been an angel to me," he said, when he -had finished. "And—things love you. Even the wild -creatures." He was looking at the baby beavers, -humped into furry balls at the edge of the pond. "You -called one of them Peterkin, and the old beaver Peter. -I wonder—why?"</p> - -<p>"And there is a bear cub I call Pete," she added. "It -is because—"</p> - -<p>"Yes——"</p> - -<p>Her eyes were shining.</p> - -<p>"Because I am going to marry a man whose name -is Peter."</p> - -<p>It did not seem strange to her that she should be -confessing the secret of her happiness to a man she had -never seen before.</p> - -<p>There was something in his eyes which made her -want him to know, a mysterious gentleness that seemed -to plead for her confidence and her friendship. It gave -her a pleasurable thrill to tell someone that she loved<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> -Peter and was going to be his wife. And this man was -unlike any other who had ever come from the outside -world into the wilderness isolation of Five Fingers.</p> - -<p>In his rags and misfortune and his whitening hair -and pale, thin face, she saw something which stirred -more than her pity. And it was more than faith.</p> - -<p>Just what it was, in that moment, she did not know. -She was puzzled by the tremor which ran through his -body coincident with her mention of Peter.</p> - -<p>"And this Peter——" he began feverishly. The -words seemed to choke in his throat, and he passed a -hand over his eyes as if to wipe away a mist. Then -he said: "He is a lucky lad. Is his name Peter McRae?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. How did you know?"</p> - -<p>"And—you love him?"</p> - -<p>She nodded. "I was only thirteen then, but I loved -him the first day he came to Five Fingers and fought -Aleck Curry for me. Aleck was a bully and was -pulling my hair."</p> - -<p>The mysterious stranger bent his gray head so that -she could not see his face. "That was six years ago -last May, in the afternoon. And—Peter—did he ever -tell you about—his father?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, that same night. It was in the edge of the -forest, and it was growing dark. He had brought a -letter from his father to Simon McQuarrie, and Simon -had told him the truth. He said his father had killed -a man—accidentally—a long time ago, but that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> -police wouldn't believe it was an accident and were -after him, and would hang him if he was caught. And -ever since then——"</p> - -<p>She was at his side, staring at him as he slowly raised -his head, the color gone from her face and her white -throat beating with the sudden mad pounding in her -breast. "Ever since that night—that very hour—we -have prayed together for Peter's father to come back. -And you—<i>you</i>——"</p> - -<p>He could not escape the wild questioning in her eyes -and their demand to be answered.</p> - -<p>"Would you have <i>me</i> Peter's father?" he asked -uncertainly. "This way—an outlaw—ragged—dirty—a -beggar——"</p> - -<p>There was an almost tragic note of hopefulness in his -voice.</p> - -<p>"Yes," she cried, her voice breaking in excited entreaty -from her lips. "If you are Peter's father, tell -me. We have waited. And I have told him you would -come. Oh, I have <i>promised</i> him that, and have asked -God every night to make it come true. Are you——" -Her hands were reaching out to him.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I am Peter's father."</p> - -<p>There was no flash of joy or pride in his acknowledgment -of the truth. His head sank upon his breast as -if a sudden weariness had overcome him, and a moan of -protest was in his voice. And then a thing happened -which swept the bitterness and grief from Donald McRae's -heart. He caught a glimpse of Mona's face,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> -gloriously flushed in this moment of her answered -prayer; and then her arms were about him, her soft -cheek against his rough stubble of beard, and for -an instant he felt the swift pressure of her lips -against his.</p> - -<p>He raised his hand and touched her hair. "Child," -he cried brokenly, "dear child——"</p> - -<p>She sprang up from him, half laughing and half -sobbing, and ran out from under the mountain ash tree -and stood in the edge of the clearing. With her hands -in the form of a megaphone she called: "Peter! Peter! -<i>Oh, Peter!</i>"</p> - -<p>With a protesting cry he climbed to his feet and -went to her. She saw the white, almost frightened -look in his face and eyes. "Don't do that!" he exclaimed. -"For God's sake—don't! Peter must not -know I am here."</p> - -<p>In her amazement her hands fell slowly from her -face to her side. "Why?" she demanded.</p> - -<p>"Because——" He stopped, listening to a voice that -came faintly from out of the forest.</p> - -<p>"That is Peter," said Mona. "We are going to eat -our picnic supper here—at the pool."</p> - -<p>"It is Peter—<i>coming</i>——"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>He tried to breathe steadily, tried to speak calmly -as he took her hand and stroked it with nervous gentleness. -"What is your name?"</p> - -<p>"Mona Guyon."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Mona—Guyon. It is a pretty name. And you are -sweet and good and beautiful. Peter's mother was like -you. And—I am glad you love my boy." A new -strength seemed to possess him.</p> - -<p>The voice came again out of the forest, a little -nearer this time, and Donald McRae held the girl's -hand closer, and a tremor went through him as he -smiled at her in the way he used to smile at his boy in -the old days of their comradeship and happiness.</p> - -<p>"That is my call," he said evenly. "Peter's mother -and I used it twenty years ago, and afterward I taught -it to Peter. It carries a long distance in the woods."</p> - -<p>It was not his poverty and his weakness that affected -Mona most. Something more than pity overwhelmed -her—his forced calmness, the strange light in his eyes, -the almost superhuman fight he was making to rise up -out of his rags and his misery in the most tragic -hours that could have come into his life. His words -and his appearance set her heart pounding fiercely. She -was a little frightened and wanted to put her arms -about him again and hold him until Peter came. What -did he mean?</p> - -<p>"Why mustn't Peter know you are here?" she demanded. -"<i>Why?</i>"</p> - -<p>He led her back in the willows. In a moment they -were hidden.</p> - -<p>"Are you brave enough to hear? And do you love -Peter enough to help—me?" he asked her.</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes, I will help you."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span></p> - -<p>He stood so that he could look out of the willows and -across the meadow through which Peter would come. -A moment of despair and hopelessness twisted the -muscles of his face.</p> - -<p>"He must not see me," he said in a voice that was -hardly more than a strained whisper. "Child, you -must understand—you most of all. Don't you know -why I ran away from Peter that day near Five Fingers, -and sent him on to Simon McQuarrie? It was -so Peter might have a chance in life that he never -could have with me, even if I escaped the law. I, too, -have prayed—every day and every night through the -years that have been more than eternities for me; -prayed that good and happiness might come to him, and -that in time even the memory of his father would wear -away. But never for an instant have I been able to -forget my boy. He has been a part of my soul and -body, walking with me, sleeping with me, sitting with -me beside my hidden camp-fires at night, until at times -the desire to see him once more was so strong in me -that it almost drove me mad. And all this time I was -hunted, running from place to place, living in swamps -and hidden depths of the forests, avoiding men and -places of habitation—but with Peter always at my side, -just as he looked that last terrible day at the edge of -Five Fingers when he pleaded with me to take him -along——"</p> - -<p>His lips trembled and a shiver ran through his body.</p> - -<p>"And through those years Peter <i>was</i> with you—Peter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> -and I," replied the girl. "Summer nights we used -to ask the moon where you were, and when it was cold -and stormy we—we prayed. And on Christmas—Peter -always got a present—for <i>you</i>."</p> - -<p>A joyous light passed over his haggard face. "You -thought of me—on Christmas?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, always. And Peter asked me to keep the -presents carefully in my cedar chest, for we knew you -would come back some day. And now——"</p> - -<p>It was Peter's voice that came to them again, much -nearer. Donald's arms fell away from the girl, but -she raised her face quickly and kissed him. Her eyes -were filled with tears.</p> - -<p>"Peter is wondering why I do not answer. Please—please——"</p> - -<p>In his indecision he bowed his face in his hands. It -was with an effort that he shook himself free of temptation.</p> - -<p>"I must tell you quickly, and you must understand," -he said desperately. "The police are close after me -again. That is why I was in the great swamp to the -north—to get away from them. If I come back into -Peter's life now it can only be for a few hours, and you -know what it will mean—a fresh tragedy for him, a new -grief, pain, disgrace, a black cloud of unhappiness over -the paradise which you have made and can make for -him. I have come back to see him, to look at him, to -carry away a new picture of him in my heart. But he -must not know. And if you love Peter—if you care a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> -little for what is in the heart of his father—you will -make it possible for me to look upon my boy. I will hide -here, in the willows; and you two, there under the ash -tree——"</p> - -<p>"It is wrong," broke in Mona. "Oh, it is terribly -wrong!"</p> - -<p>"No, it is right," he persisted. "It will make me -happy—to see him so near to me, hear his voice and -know that life and God and <i>you</i> have been good to him. -If I see Peter, child, if his hands touch me, if we are -together again—it may cost me my life. For those -things would hold me; I could not go away again after -that, and the police are near, very near, and if they -should catch me——"</p> - -<p>The sag that came into his shoulders gave eloquence -to the thing which he did not finish, and Mona's eyes -burned with a fire which dried up her tears. "If I -bring Peter down there, under the tree, will you promise -not to go away until I have seen you again?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I promise that."</p> - -<p>"Even if it is tomorrow, or the next day?"</p> - -<p>"I will wait."</p> - -<p>It was hard for him to lie, looking into the beautiful -eyes that were fixed upon him so steadily. But he did it -splendidly; so well that Mona did not guess the falsehood -back of his last great fight.</p> - -<p>She turned from him swiftly with her face toward -the meadow.</p> - -<p>"I will bring Peter—down there," she said.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p> - -<p>She ran to the mountain ash tree and in a few breathless -seconds rearranged the luncheon basket and tossed -half eaten bits of food into the pond. Then she hurried -across the meadow. Peter's call came to her again, -and this time she answered it. In the deep shade on -the farther side of the meadow she stopped and pressed -her hands to her face. Her cheeks were hot. She was -fighting against a sense of overwhelming guilt, for in -this hour, this very minute, she knew she was not only -betraying Peter, but committing the sacrilege of repudiating -answered prayer. And Peter must not know!</p> - -<p>He could not fail to see her excitement, unless—she -laughed softly as the old, sweet thought came to her. -Peter loved her hair. He loved to see it down, as on -that first day six years ago when he came upon her -in the edge of the forest near Five Fingers. She paused -again, and her fingers worked swiftly among its lustrous -coils until they fell about her. Peter would guess -nothing now—when she came to him like this, in a way -that shut his eyes to all the rest of the world.</p> - -<p>She could hear him coming through the brush. He -was running, and she guessed at the alarm which was -urging him because she had failed to answer his calls -until that last time, when she knew her voice had not -sent forth the old cry in just the way it should have -greeted Peter.</p> - -<p>She stood very still, so that when Peter leaped over -a fallen tree not twenty paces away from her he did not -see her. He stopped, his head thrown back, breathing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> -quickly, and listening; and in this moment Mona recalled -the other day of years ago when he came into -the cutting near Five Fingers and found her struggling -with Aleck Curry, the bully of the settlement.</p> - -<p>He was the same Peter, only now he was a man. His -hair had not darkened and his eyes were the same -blue. He was the clean-cut, fearless, sensitive Peter -who had gone into battle for her against a boy nearly -twice his weight and years older. The years had given -a splendid change to his body. He was still slim, like -the old Peter, and there was a litheness and alertness -in him which filled her with pride. She held her breath, -watching him, and exulted when she saw the anxiety in -his face. Then he called again, and in the moment of -silence which followed she suddenly clapped her hands -and laughed.</p> - -<p>Peter turned in amazement, and when he saw her -standing as she was, with her long hair streaming about -her, he drew in a deep breath, and the blood surged -into his tense face as he came to her. The happiness -which swept his anxiety away brought a responsive -glow of joy into her eyes, and as she held out her arms -to him she forgot for a moment the man hidden among -the willows near the mountain ash tree. For a little -while Peter held her so close she could feel the thumping -of his heart, and not until he had kissed her hair and -her lips did he seem to have breath to ask why she had -not answered his calls.</p> - -<p>"To punish you for making me wait so long at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> -the pond," she said. "But"—she raised a soft tress to -his lips—"I was sorry, at the last moment, and did <i>this</i> -for you, Peter. Will you forgive me?"</p> - -<p>She was thinking of Donald McRae again, and -slipping her hand into Peter's, she led him toward the -pond. And Peter, in the sweetness and joy of her -presence, guessed nothing because her fingers tightened -in his hand or because her breath came more quickly -than usual.</p> - -<p>They drew nearer to the ash tree and the willows. -She knew that Donald McRae was now looking upon -the face of his boy; she could see the clump of twisted -bushes behind which he was hidden, and caught a movement -in their tops, as if an animal or a breath of wind -had disturbed them.</p> - -<p>They were under the ash tree when she flung back -her hair, no longer making an effort to hide from Peter -the distress in her face. He was shocked, even a little -terrified at her appearance. Involuntarily her glance -went beyond him to the thicket which concealed Donald -McRae. It was only a few steps away, and she knew -Peter's father could distinctly hear what they said. -Then she looked at Peter again, and smiled gently at -his suspense as she raised one of his hands to her lips -in the soft caress that always wiped away his troubles. -And in that same moment she drew him a step nearer -to the willows.</p> - -<p>"Something happened before you came," she said, -speaking so that Donald McRae would not lose a word<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> -of what she was saying. "I think I must have had a—a—dream—and -it was terrible!" She shuddered, and -listened to the breaking of a twig in the willows. "I -am foolish to let it frighten me."</p> - -<p>His arms were about her, his fingers smoothing back -her shining hair as relief leaped into his face.</p> - -<p>"You were asleep, <i>Ange</i>—with me bursting my -throat to make you hear from the forest?"</p> - -<p>She did not answer his question. Instead, she said: -"Peter, you have not lied to me? You believe in -prayer?"</p> - -<p>He bent his lips to her white forehead. "Yes, <i>Ange</i>, -and yours most of all. God has answered you, and -always will."</p> - -<p>"And we have prayed a long time for your father -to come back?"</p> - -<p>He nodded wonderingly. "Yes, a long time."</p> - -<p>She spoke slowly then, and her words were for -Donald McRae and not for Peter.</p> - -<p>"And if your father does not come, if you never see -him again, your faith in the God we have prayed to for -so long will be a little broken, will it not, Peter?"</p> - -<p>She waited, holding her breath for fear even that -sound might come between Peter's answer and the -man in the bushes.</p> - -<p>"He will come—some day—Mona."</p> - -<p>"That was what he promised you—the day he sent -you on alone to Five Fingers, and ran away from you? -And you have always told me that next to your faith<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> -in God you believed in your father. You have never -thought that he lied to you that day in the edge of the -forest?"</p> - -<p>He stared at her, speechless, and in that moment she -faced the willows with a glow of triumph in her eyes.</p> - -<p>"Down in the little church at Five Fingers Father -Albanel has always taught us not to lie and to be true -to our promise," she said, speaking directly at the -willows. "Peter, if your father should break his faith, -or I should break mine, it would be terrible. And that -is what happened—in my vision—and it has frightened -me." She rested her cheek against his arm so he could -not see her face. "I was here—under the tree—when -in this vision your father came. He was ragged and -tired and sick—and so hungry he ate carrots I brought -for the beavers. He had come just to look at you, -Peter, but not to let you know. He said it would make -you unhappy; that it was best for you that he should -never come into your life again—and he made me -promise not to tell you that he was here.</p> - -<p>"And I promised. I did—I promised him I would be -a traitor to you, after all the years we have waited for -him, and prayed for him, and <i>believed</i> in him."</p> - -<p>Her arms crept up to his shoulders. "If I should do -a thing like that God would never forgive me, and you—if -some day you found out what I had done—would -never have faith in me again. Would you?"</p> - -<p>She hid her face against his shoulder, her heart -beating wildly, her body trembling. For she had seen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> -another movement in the willows and she was afraid -that Donald McRae was going away.</p> - -<p>"It was only a dream," Peter was saying, holding his -arms closely about her. "You are not afraid of dreams, -Mona?"</p> - -<p>And then from behind them came a voice.</p> - -<p>"<i>God forgive me my weakness!</i>" it cried. "<i>Peter—Peter——</i>"</p> - -<p>Donald McRae stood out in the open at the edge -of the willow thicket. He had forgotten the rags -and mud that covered him, and was no longer a fugitive -with the lines of a hunted man in his face. The -present was for a space obliterated—the present with -its menace of the law, its exhaustion and its poverty; -and he was standing once more in the warm glow of -that day of six years ago when he had said good-by to -Peter. In those seconds, when Peter stood shocked -into deathlike stillness by the sound of the voice behind -him, Mona could see Donald McRae with his outreaching -arms; but as Peter turned slowly, facing his -father, the strain broke in a hot flood of tears that -blinded her vision.</p> - -<p>And then——</p> - -<p>"<i>Dad!</i>"</p> - -<p>It was the strangest cry she had ever heard from -Peter's lips, and with an answer to that cry in her own -choking breast she turned away as the two men came -into each other's arms. She passed out of sight along -the edge of the pond, scarcely seeing the path ahead<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> -of her, and unconsciously she kept repeating Peter's -name in a whisper, as if—even though she had prayed -so long for this hour to come—she had never quite expected -its fulfilment.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2 style="margin-top: 3.5em; margin-bottom: 2em;"><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</a></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Under</span> the ash tree, for a few moments Peter -was the boy again; the boy of yesterday, of -years ago, when the world had held nothing for him -but his father; and there was no change in the touch -of the hands that had always given him comfort and -courage and a love that was almost like a woman's in its -gentleness. Not until Donald McRae held his boy off, -with a hand on each shoulder, did something besides the -madness of joy at his father's homecoming begin to -thrust itself upon Peter. Then he saw the change—the -naked breast, the half-bared arms, the mud and -the rags, and the face and hair in which years had -stamped their heels unpityingly. He tried to choke -back his horror, to keep it out of his face, and to do this -he laughed—laughed through the tears and sobbing -breath—and pointed to a white birch tree in which a -blue jay was screaming.</p> - -<p>"The blue jay, dad!" he cried. "Remember that day—behind -the log—with the blue jay in the tree-top, -and the sapsucker pecking at our elbows, and the violets -between my knees——"</p> - -<p>The hands on his shoulders were relaxing.</p> - -<p>"I've never seen a blue jay but what I've thought—of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> -you," said Donald McRae. "And the river—behind -us—and how we got away from the police—and the -rabbits we roasted—and—and——" The world was -twisting and turning round again. He tried to smile, -and reached out gropingly for Peter. "The swamp was -hot, Peter. And I am tired—tired——"</p> - -<p>Peter's arms caught him as he swayed. His thin face -was whiter, and his eyes closed as he still tried to smile -at his boy.</p> - -<p>Mona, braiding her hair as she waited beyond the -willows, heard Peter's frightened call. When she came -running to him he was kneeling beside his father, cooling -his face with water from the pond. Donald McRae -lay upon the grass. He was scarcely breathing, and -under the scrub of beard his emaciated face was like -wax. An agony of fear and grief had driven the happiness -out of Peter's face, and he tried to speak as he -looked up at Mona.</p> - -<p>She saw what had happened as she knelt beside him -and took Donald McRae's head tenderly in her arms. -Excitement and his last great effort to fight down his -weakness had given a semblance of strength to this -shell of a man. But it was gone now, and the full -measure of its tragedy struck like a charge of lead to -Peter's heart.</p> - -<p>Mona, feeling Peter's grief, and guessing swiftly the -thought that had made his wordless lips white and -trembling, said to comfort him: "He hasn't been this -way long, Peter. It was the swamp. He told me the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> -police were after him, and he hid himself there. The -heat—bad water——"</p> - -<p>She tried futilely to explain away the horror of the -thing—to make Peter believe this wreck of a man was -not the product of months and years of hardship and -suffering, but had reached his condition because of a -passing torment that had covered only a few days in -the swamp. But she knew she was failing, and she -stopped before she had finished, with her head bowed -before Peter's eyes. She heard his tense lips whisper -"the police" as if the words choked him as they came -out, and then he went down again to the edge of the -pool for water. She wet her handkerchief when he -returned and held it over Donald's eyes, and Peter unlaced -the worn-out, muddy boots—and suddenly a -sound came from him, a little cry of unutterable understanding -as his hand found in the trampled grass the -half-eaten carrot which his father had dropped.</p> - -<p>She had never seen Peter's face so white, and never -before had she seen a look in his blue eyes so unlike the -Peter she had grown up with, and played with, and -loved.</p> - -<p>"He is breathing easier," she said. "It was the -excitement, the shock——"</p> - -<p>He nodded, and replied in a dead, even voice: "I -know what it was, <i>Ange</i>. I know." He took one of -his father's hands and held it between his own, looking -at the face in Mona's arms into which life was beginning -to return and breath to come more evenly. "It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> -has been a long time, dad. Six years—six years like -those three days when the police were hunting us in -the forest, and you caught rabbits for me to eat. But -it is ended now."</p> - -<p>Mona's heart throbbed. "We will keep him with us, -Peter—always! We will hide him—somewhere—never -let him go away again! Oh, it will be easy for -us to do that, and Father Albanel—and Simon—will -help us——"</p> - -<p>A deeper breath trembled on Donald McRae's lips, -but it was not that breath, or the faint moan that came -with it, that stopped her before she had finished. -Peter was looking over her head at something beyond -her. He dropped his father's hand, and what she saw -in his face drew a gasping cry from her even before -she knew its cause. She turned and looked. And then, -in an instant, she was on her feet with Peter.</p> - -<p>So quietly that no sound of footfall or breaking -twig had given warning of his approach, a man had -stolen upon them. He stood not a dozen feet away, -dressed in the field service uniform of the Provincial -Police. That was the first terrible fact which telegraphed -itself to her brain; the man was an officer, -he was after Donald McRae, and he had caught them! -But this first alarm gave place to a greater shock as -her eyes saw the face above the uniform. It was a -large, coarse face streaming with sweat; the lips were -heavy, the nose big, and the eyes were small and too -close together for one who bulked so large. It was a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> -face filled with triumph—an exultation which the man -made dramatically poignant as he stood with his heavy -hands on his hips, looking from one to the other with -a smile that was deadly in its promise twisting the -corners of his mouth.</p> - -<p>He did not speak, did not even move, but waited -while his presence crushed like a weight of horror upon -the two who were staring at him. His eyes rested on -Mona, and the wicked gleam in them—the thought -which they could not hide, merciless, sure, almost -gloating—drew his name from her lips in a cry that was -filled with fear, with half disbelief, with a note that almost -called for pity.</p> - -<p>"<i>Aleck—Curry!</i>"</p> - -<p>The man's heavy head nodded, but he did not speak. -It was still too great a moment of triumph to be broken -by voice. He looked at Peter, and then, slowly, significantly, -at the unconscious form of Peter's father. God -could not have given him a greater hour than this! For -if it had not been for that man and for Peter, he might -have had the girl. It was Peter who had come in his -way from that first day when they had fought over -Mona in the edge of the clearing; it was Peter who had -whipped him, Peter whom he had grown to hate above -all other things on earth—and it was Peter's heart -and soul and happiness, almost his very life, that he -now held in the hollow of his hand!</p> - -<p>And he would make him pay.</p> - -<p>"Yes, <i>it is ended now</i>," he said, repeating Peter's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> -words of a few moments before. "And I'm rather -glad. The swamp was hot and filled with mosquitoes."</p> - -<p>Something clinked as he fumbled at his belt and the -sound sent a chill of horror through Mona. He held -out the manacle irons so that she could see them.</p> - -<p>"I've got to do it," he said, a mocking apology in -his voice. "Distasteful, but necessary." He faced -Peter. "Your father knew we were close behind him, -and it won't do him any good to play dead. He's slippery, -and I'm going to put these on him. I guess——" -He swung his heavy head toward Mona again. "I -guess Father Albanel and old Simon can't help him -very much from now on. It was nice of you to think of -it, though, Mona. You were always so tender-hearted—when -it came to Peter!"</p> - -<p>He was still the old bully and his voice trembled -with the suppression of his triumph. This was his -master stroke. It was not capture of the man whom the -law would condemn to hang that thrilled him most; it -was the twisted beauty in Mona's face, the shock and -terror in her eyes, and the helplessness and despair he -saw in Peter's. He did not hurry, did not call for an -instant upon the dignity of the law, but twisted the -knife of his vengeance slowly.</p> - -<p>When Mona's eyes turned from him to Peter her -heart stood still. He was gray. There was no blood in -his lips. He was looking down upon the still, upturned -face of his father, and his hands were clenched. When -he raised his head she saw that his eyes were no longer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> -Peter's eyes. He advanced slowly toward Aleck Curry, -and the manacles rattled as Aleck dropped them to his -belt and shifted a hand to his pistol holster.</p> - -<p>Peter did not hear the click of steel or sense the -menace of the shifting hand. One thought pounded -maddeningly in his brain; his father had come back to -him, he was <i>home</i>, and in the first hour of his return -this beast had come into their lives again to break down -every hope and prayer they had built up during the -years. In Aleck Curry he saw not only that merciless -law which had run his father like a rat from hole to -hole, but a monster of vicious hate, a lustful, bullying -boy grown into a still more vicious giant—and Peter's -desire was to kill him.</p> - -<p>Mona saw the deadly intent in his slow advance even -as Aleck Curry saw it. She saw more—the hand on -the pistol, the tightening fingers, the dangerous gleam -that flashed in Aleck's eyes—and Peter with only his -naked hands! A cry of warning came to her lips—of -a terror which robbed her of the power to move. The -cry ended in a scream, for as Peter leaped in, Aleck -raised the pistol and fired. A terrible sickness came -over her, a sickness which for an instant swept away -her strength.</p> - -<p>Peter felt the hot breath of the pistol in his face -and the explosion was so near it fell like a blow against -his eardrums. It was not a shot intended only to -frighten him, for death had missed him by less than the -width of his hand. Aleck released the trigger of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> -automatic and crooked his finger again, but even quicker -than that movement was Peter, who flung himself with -all his weight under his enemy's arm as the second shot -was fired. He did not strike, but with both hands -clutched Aleck's wrist, and at the same time tripped -his foe so that they went to the earth together, with -Aleck on his back.</p> - -<p>In this instant there came upon Peter a crushing -realization of the almost deadly odds against him. -Into every nerve of his body flashed the truth—that he -was fighting a man who wanted to kill him, who -in reality had the right to kill him, and whom the law -would not only vindicate but would commend for killing -him. He was an outlaw, fighting against the almighty -omniscience of that law, and what the world would -regard as justice. And his survival now, like that of -his father, depended upon beating it. He must break -his enemy's wrist. Get the gun. Kill or be killed.</p> - -<p>Every ounce of his strength he exerted upon the -wrist as Aleck flung his free arm in a powerful and -throttling embrace about his neck. He drew the -wrist in, twisted it, and tried with a sudden effort to -give it the final breaking snap, but it was like a piece -of steel that would not break. The thick fingers did -not loosen their hold on the pistol, and in spite of his -desperate effort Peter's staring eyes saw the black -muzzle of the weapon forcing itself a fraction of an -inch at a time toward his body.</p> - -<p>Now, when it was too late, he knew that in this close<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> -embrace he was not a match for Aleck. His quickness -and his tirelessness counted for nothing. Aleck, slow, -heavy, with not a quarter of his endurance, but with -the brute strength of three men in his coarse body, -could crush the life out of him in close quarters. Yet -these first few thrilling instants Peter knew this -thought was not in the other's mind. All of his -enemy's great strength was being exerted in an effort -to point the pistol at his body.</p> - -<p>Those two or three minutes in which he knew he -was fighting to save his life seemed like an eternity -to Peter. He saw Aleck's face, twisted in a leering -grin, its bloodshot eyes laughing at him, its thick -mouth mocking him as the powerful arm and wrist -broke down with a slow, torturing sureness all the -force he was putting against it. The gun was already -at right angles to his body, and suddenly Peter realized -why Aleck Curry had not used the choking force of -his other arm before this. He had waited for the -right moment—and that moment had come. The arm -tightened. It was like a half-ring of steel, crushing -Peter's neck and twisting his head so that his widening -eyes left the pistol and stared into the lower branches -of the ash tree.</p> - -<p>In that moment he saw Mona. She was staggering -up from the edge of the pond with something in her -hands which looked like a chunk of mud. Her face -passed over him, desperately white, and then she had -fallen on her knees and he could hear the <i>beat</i>, <i>beat,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> -eat</i> of that something in her hands close to his ears. -A terrible cry came from Aleck Curry, and the throttling -arm about Peter's neck relaxed until he could -turn his head again, and he saw Mona pounding his -foe's pistol hand with the stone that had looked like a -chunk of mud. He saw the hand redden with blood -saw the thick fingers loosen their grip on the pistol, and -then swift as a flash Mona had snatched the big automatic -and was backing away with it in her hand.</p> - -<p>With a mighty, upward heave of his body Peter -freed himself, and with that movement came a wild -cry out of him, a joyous approval of what Mona had -done. Aleck lunged after him. They came to their -feet. Peter's fist shot out to the other's jaw, and as -Aleck staggered backward, almost falling under the -force of the blow, Peter turned to take the pistol from -Mona. She was halfway to the pond, and even as he -cried out in warning and dismay the weapon left her -hand, circled through the air and disappeared with a -splash in the water. At his cry she faced him and ran -back and thrust the mud-covered rock in his hand. -Then he saw the terror in her eyes—the agony of fear -that had made her throw away the weapon that had -almost taken his life.</p> - -<p>He let the rock slip from his fingers and fall to the -ground in spite of the exclamation of protest which -came from her white lips. He did not see her stoop -quickly and pick it up as he advanced to meet Aleck -Curry. His foe was hunched forward, like a gorilla,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> -his head lowered, his huge fists clenched, his face -distorted by the shock of Peter's blow and a rage -which gave him a terrible aspect.</p> - -<p>Then he rushed in, his arms apart, his great hands -reaching for the man he hated. With the quickness -of a cat Peter met his attack, avoiding the arms and -the huge hands, leaping in, striking and darting back. -He drove blow after blow, and one of them, catching -Aleck again on the jaw, had behind it all the weight and -force of his body. But even that scarcely more than -rocked the brutish head on its thick neck. He advanced -slowly and steadily, taking the blows as he -moved like a juggernaut upon Peter, driving him an -inch at a time toward the edge of the pool.</p> - -<p>Suddenly Mona ran in from behind, and with both -hands she raised her stone and beat it between Aleck's -shoulders. She raised it again, trying to strike his -neck or his head, when with a bellow Aleck flung himself -around, his great arm flying out like a beam. The -blow caught Mona with all its force and sent her in -a crumpled heap to the earth. Not a cry came from -her lips, but a yell of fury burst from Peter's. He -rushed in, and a hurricane of blows smashed into -Aleck's face, cutting his lips, blinding him and choking -the breath in his throat. But in that blindness and -pain his hand reached out and caught Peter as their -feet sank in the mud at the edge of the pond. A -cry of triumph came from his bleeding mouth. At last -his moment had come.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span></p> - -<p>As Peter felt himself dragged into the deadly embrace -his mind worked swiftly. His one chance now -lay in the depths of the pool, and unless he could get -his enemy there he was lost. Thrusting up his hands, -he clenched them in Aleck's hair and put all his weight -in dragging the head downward. The movement had -its effect, and a step was gained toward the edge of the -muddy shelf that terminated abruptly in eight feet of -water. Unconscious of the trap, Aleck bent himself -forward, putting all the crushing strength of -his arms in the grip about Peter's body, and as Peter -flung the weight of his head and shoulders in the same -direction their balance was upset and they plunged -into the pond.</p> - -<p>As they struck the water Peter drew a great breath -into his lungs, and in the same moment his foe -relaxed his grip and began to flounder wildly in an -element in which, even in the days of their boyhood, -he had never been at home. His face rose above the -surface for an instant, and Mona saw it as she staggered -to the edge of the pond. It was then a deadly -weight attached itself to one of his kicking legs, and -not until Peter had dragged his burden to the muddy -bottom of the beaver stronghold did he release his -hold. He shot up for air, and scarcely had Aleck's -body struggled to the surface when he dived again, and -a second time bore his victim under. This time he -expelled most of the air in his lungs, and for a few -seconds hung on like an anchor.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span></p> - -<p>A third and a fourth time, Aleck rose, fighting for -his life, but the fifth time it was Peter who buoyed -him up and brought him nearly unconscious to the -shore. He noticed the livid mark made by Aleck's -hand on Mona's forehead as she helped him drag the -heavy body out of the water. In another half-minute -he had the manacles intended for his father about -Curry's wrists, and with his belt he securely lashed his -prisoner's legs together. Then he faced Mona.</p> - -<p>The same question was in their eyes. In Mona's it -was a wordless terror. Peter looked at his father. -He was stirring. A hand rose weakly from the grass. -He had seen nothing of the struggle, heard nothing, -and thought of him was first to leap into Peter's mind.</p> - -<p>"He doesn't know what has happened!" he panted. -"We must get him away, Mona. If anything would -kill him now, it would be knowledge of this—that the -law has found him—and that I—in helping him—have -become an outlaw myself."</p> - -<p>She came to him quickly and put her hands to his -face, just as she had done on that other day years -ago when he had fought his great battle with Aleck. -"They can't blame you alone, Peter. I helped." She -held up her lips, but instead of kissing them he pressed -his own to the reddening mark on her forehead. -"There is the little cabin," she whispered. "We can -take your father there. And—I love you, Peter!"</p> - -<p>She stood back from him, her eyes shining with -sudden inspiration.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span></p> - -<p>Aleck Curry had coughed the water out of his -lungs and was twisting in his bonds. His voice called -loudly as Peter bent over his father. Donald's eyes -were opening.</p> - -<p>"We must hurry!" urged Mona. "We must get -away—where he is safe—where he cannot be found!"</p> - -<p>Peter raised his father in his arms. The weight of -the emaciated body sent a stab of pain through him. -It was as if he had picked up the limp form of a boy.</p> - -<p>Mona, close at his side, smiled into the grief-filled -eyes he turned toward her. Together they hurried -across the meadow. And then Mona ran on ahead, -following a scarcely worn path through deep timber -until in a few moments she came to another little -meadow; here, under a clump of hardwoods, was -a tiny cabin of logs—the "play-house" Peter had built -for her two winters ago as a refuge and rest place for -her when she came to visit her beaver pets. Inside a -screened porch was a couch of saplings, and on this -she had spread blankets and cushions by the time Peter -arrived.</p> - -<p>Donald's eyes were wide open, and he was smiling -up wanly at Peter. "Never thought the day would -come when you'd be lugging your dad around like -this, did you, Peter?" he asked, and tried to laugh. -But the moment his head touched the soft cushions his -eyes closed again. Peter drew Mona away. "There -is a boat down on the shore of the lake," he said, his -voice steady again. "I'm going to force Aleck Curry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> -into it and take him out to that little rock island two -miles from the mainland. No one ever goes near it, -and we can keep him there a prisoner until dad gets -well, and then——" An angry yell came from the -beaver pond. "Aleck is getting nervous," he finished. -"You stay with dad, Mona. Tell him I've gone to -Five Fingers for things he needs. I'll come back that -way, and will get here before dark. Good-by, <i>Ange</i>!"</p> - -<p>He kissed her. For a moment Mona clung to his -hand.</p> - -<p>"When you are down by the big stub—and if -everything is all right—send me back the call," she -entreated.</p> - -<p>She watched him until he disappeared. Then she -sat down close beside Donald McRae and held one of -his limp hands. After what seemed to be a long time -there came back to her clearly Peter's signal-cry, telling -her that all was well, and that he was on his way -to the prison island with Aleck Curry.</p> - -<p>Over the forest fell a deep and quieting silence. -Never had it seemed so intense to Mona, as she sat -with Donald McRae's hand held closely in her own. -The man's fingers were intertwined with hers as if he -was afraid she would leave him; and his breath, coming -more evenly and yet as faintly as the breath of a -child, told her that complete exhaustion had at last -overcome him with a sleep that was almost like death.</p> - -<p>Twilight dusk began to fill the aisles of the woods, -and with this dusk the last red glow died out of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> -west, and with it came the hour Mona loved more than -all others—when darkness began to close in a velvety -mantle over the world. The stillness, the soft whisperings -of the forest and the peace that always came -with night gave her courage and strengthened her -faith. And at last, from beyond the beaver pond, -she heard again Peter's cry. He was returning.</p> - -<p>And as if he, too, had heard that cry, Donald -McRae stirred softly and whispered Peter's name.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2 style="margin-top: 3.5em; margin-bottom: 2em;"><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII</a></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Quietly</span> Mona went out to meet Peter. -"He is sleeping," she said, as Peter's arm closed -about her in the thickening darkness. "If he can only -pass the night that way he will be strong and well -again in the morning." Yet her voice trembled as -she tried to bring him comfort. "Aleck is safe?" -she whispered. "He is on the island?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, he is safe for tonight—and maybe for a -number of days. After that——"</p> - -<p>He stopped, not knowing how to finish, and Mona's -soft hand caressed his cheek. "We will tell Simon, -and Uncle Pierre, and Father Albanel," she suggested. -"Surely they will know how to help us!"</p> - -<p>"I've been thinking about that," he said slowly, with -his lips against her hair. "You must promise me not -to tell them, Mona. I think it is necessary. At least -they must not know until tomorrow or the next day. -Will you remember that?"</p> - -<p>"You are sure it is best?"</p> - -<p>"I believe so."</p> - -<p>"Then I will remember."</p> - -<p>They drew near to the door of the cabin and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> -listened. Faintly they could hear Donald McRae's -breath as he slept.</p> - -<p>"I must take you home," he whispered.</p> - -<p>They hurried through the gloom, hand in hand. In -half an hour they had reached the cliff trail that led to -Five Fingers, and here Mona insisted that Peter turn -back, while she went on alone. She was glad Pierre -and Josette were at Joe's house when she came to the -settlement. She called good night to them through -the open door, and went to her room, with the excuse -that she was tired.</p> - -<p>She sat down at her window, and watched the moon -come up. Later she heard Pierre and Josette when -they returned. And after that, one after another, the -lights went out in Five Fingers until the cabins lay -like great shadows in the slumbering stillness. In -this stillness she heard the clock in her bedroom tick -off every second of the hours.</p> - -<p>Until now she had never believed that answered -prayer could bring with it a grimness and torture of -tragedy like that which had descended upon her life -and Peter's. Passionately she sobbed out her hatred -for Aleck Curry, the monster who at last had descended -upon them with his vengeance.</p> - -<p>As the hours dragged on she found herself fighting -more and more desperately against the desire to steal -quietly from her room, tiptoe down the stairs and go -to Simon McQuarrie's cabin that she might confide in -him all that had happened that afternoon. Only<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> -Peter's warning to keep their secret locked tightly in -her own breast held her back. Yet in Simon rested -her last hope, for from the first day Peter had come -into the old Scotchman's life he had found home—and -a protection and love which in Mona's thoughts made -him almost of Simon's flesh and blood. The impulse -to go to him—to be false to Peter for the first time -in her life—was a torment in her brain, and where one -little voice had urged her at first, a hundred added to -their insistence now. Slowly the revolt became a conviction -that it was right and reasonable she should go -to Simon, in spite of her promise to Peter.</p> - -<p>Quietly she opened the door to her room and went -down the stairs, making no sound to disturb Pierre -and Josette Gourdon. A slim, pale figure, she crossed -the clearing and paused in the shadow of the cabin -where the Scotchman lived. Instinctively she looked -up at Peter's window even though she knew he was in -the forest with his father. Then she knocked on the -door. Her heart throbbed as she listened for a -response inside. It seemed to beat loudly, as if crying -out against her faithlessness in breaking a promise to -Peter. She knocked again, and in a moment she -could hear McQuarrie moving. She counted his slow -footsteps as they came across the floor. Then the -door opened, and his tall, gaunt figure stood above -her, swathed in a nightgown that fell to the toes of his -feet. At any other time Mona would have laughed at -the grotesqueness of his appearance as he stared<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> -down into her white face, with a nightcap on the back -of his head.</p> - -<p>He reached out a hand. "<i>Ange!</i>" he gasped. -"<i>You!</i> What is the matter?"</p> - -<p>She slipped past him and closed the door.</p> - -<p>"Please light a lamp," she said. "Please——"</p> - -<p>Simon struck a match. The flare of it illumined -his face, tense and set in its amazement. When the -lamp was lighted he took down a coat from a peg in -the wall and put it on. Then he turned to Mona -again. She stood before him with her hands clasped -at her breast, and in her dark eyes was a look that -alarmed him. And he could see in her bare throat -the little heart-beating throb that always came when -she was stirred by deep emotion.</p> - -<p>With a desperate little cry she caught his hand. -"Something terrible has happened," she whispered. -"Something—you should know. But I promised -Peter. I promised him I would tell no one—not even -you. But I've got to turn that promise into a lie. If I -don't——" The words broke on her lips. And then: -"Peter's father has come back. He is with Peter now -in the cabin near the beaver pond!"</p> - -<p>Simon McQuarrie stood back from her, his hands -dropping slowly and limply to his sides. Then he -raised one of them as if to brush a shadow from his -forehead, and his nightcap fell to the floor. "Donald -McRae—has come back!" he repeated, and the deep -lines in his face softened as Mona looked at him, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> -joy trembled in his voice when he spoke. "Thank -God, <i>Ange</i>! Why do you think it is so terrible? We -have waited and hoped for a long time——" He -stopped. What he saw in her face and eyes swept a -sudden change into his own, and he caught her arm as -the gladness died on his lips. "Has anything happened?" -he demanded. "Has anything happened—to -Peter—or to Donald McRae?"</p> - -<p>She began telling him in a low voice, while Simon -stared at her with his big hands reaching out as if to -grip at something in the space between them.</p> - -<p>"I was at the beaver pond when Peter's father staggered -out of the willows and almost fell at my feet. I -didn't know who the man was, but he was sick and -tired and starving—so hungry he ate carrots I had -meant for the beavers. I gave him our lunch, and -while he was eating I learned he was Peter's father. -It made me happy. Peter was coming to join me, and -I told Donald McRae. He begged me not to let Peter -know he was there. He wanted to hide in the bushes, -and look at him without being seen, and then go away -again. He said that was why he had come back—just -to get a look at his boy. He told me the police were -after him again, that they were driving him like a rat -from hole to hole, and that his presence could only -bring unhappiness and tragedy to Peter. So he hid -in the willows, and Peter came."</p> - -<p>"And then?"</p> - -<p>"In the end Peter's father staggered out of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> -bushes, and I left them together. Peter called me a -little later and I ran back. Donald McRae was on the -ground and at first I thought he was dead. Not until -then did I realize how terribly sick and weak he was. -We were on our knees beside him when he looked up, -and there—there—grinning down at us—was the man -Peter's father had been running away from. Oh, he -was terrible—big and sweaty and leering down at us, -almost laughing in his triumph, and—Simon—Simon—it -was <i>Aleck Curry</i>!"</p> - -<p>Her despair broke in a sobbing cry, and now the -bones of Simon's great hands made a snapping sound -as he clenched them, and his thin, hard face was -gray in the glow of the lamp. "What happened then, -Mona?"</p> - -<p>"When Aleck went to put the manacles on Peter's -father there was a fight—a terrible fight—and Aleck -tried to kill Peter with a gun. He shot twice. I -helped with a stone, and at last Peter got him into the -pond, and almost drowned him. His father was still -unconscious when we carried him to the cabin. Then -Peter took Aleck down to his boat and to the little -rock island two miles out from the shore. He is there -now—a prisoner. And—what will happen to Peter? -What can the law do to him?"</p> - -<p>Simon paced slowly back and forth across the floor. -His face was a mask of iron. His long nightgown -flapped about his feet, and again his big, hard hands -hung limp and straight at his sides.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span></p> - -<p>"If Aleck escapes from the island and arrests Peter, -or reports the affair to headquarters, it means the -penitentiary," he said as if speaking to himself rather -than to Mona. "And that is what will happen—if -Curry has his way. He hates Peter. He would like to -see Donald McRae hung, and Peter in prison, and -<i>you</i>——" A tigerish gleam was in his eyes as he -faced her. "Why didn't Peter kill him when he had -the chance?" he cried, as for a single moment his self-control -broke its leash. "As a boy he was a brute and -a bully, and as a man his soul is that of a monster—even -though now he is a part of the law. He wanted -you—always. I know it and could see it even when -you were children. And for what he wants he would -wreck the world. Why didn't Peter kill him? -Why—with these two hands——" He reached out -his long arms and his fingers closed like talons of -steel. Then he checked his passion. His arms dropped -again. "But it is best he didn't," he finished. "It is -best—even though a snake has a better right to live -than Aleck Curry!"</p> - -<p>He continued his pacing across the floor, and with -each step his stern face grew harder until at last it -seemed to have no emotion at all—the hard, set, fighting -face which Simon McQuarrie always turned upon -his enemies. For a few moments he seemed to forget -Mona. Then he asked: "What is Peter going to do? -What does he <i>plan</i> to do?"</p> - -<p>The question was so sharp it sent a little shiver<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> -through her, and Simon's eyes were looking at her -with the steely coldness of ice.</p> - -<p>"I don't know. Peter doesn't know—except that -he means to keep Aleck Curry on the island until his -father is well and can get safely away."</p> - -<p>Simon grunted. "You mean the rock with nothing -on it—two miles straight out from the beaver pond?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>The fingers of Simon's hands were twisting again.</p> - -<p>"Constable Carter dropped in on us late this afternoon," -he said shortly. "He told Pierre and Dominique -he was on his way into the Georgian Bay country -and would rest here for a few days. He lied. -He's working with Aleck Curry, and if Aleck doesn't -show up soon—if he starts smoke signals going out -on the island, and Carter sees them——"</p> - -<p>"Aleck hasn't any matches," Mona interrupted him -quickly. "Peter took them away from him."</p> - -<p>Simon's face was lightened for an instant by a flash -of exultation. "Peter is improving," he conceded. -"If he had only used as good judgment at the beaver -pond, when he could have rid us of this snake -forever——"</p> - -<p>Mona's cry of horror stopped him. In a moment -he was at her side, and his long arms were about her -tenderly. "I didn't mean that, Ange!" he cried, trying -to laugh as he saw the agony of fear in her eyes. "It's -a bad situation, so bad that I don't see a way out for -Peter just now—but we won't kill Aleck, and we'll get<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> -Peter out of it somehow. He was right in making -you promise not to tell anyone, and I'll keep it all to -myself—even from Peter and my old friend Donald -McRae—until Carter leaves the settlement. I'll manage -to get him away in a day or two. And meanwhile -you and Peter must keep Curry on the island, and -watch every step you take so that Carter won't get -suspicious. And above everything else—<i>most -important of all</i>—don't tell Peter you have confided -in me. Let me know everything that happens, but -don't tell Peter that I know. Do you understand, -Mona?"</p> - -<p>She felt the suppression of something in his voice -that was unlike Simon McQuarrie, something that -thrilled and frightened her, yet she nodded her head -and said: "Yes, I understand. I won't let Peter -know. And I'll tell you—everything."</p> - -<p>His arms drew her a little closer, and in him above -all other men she had faith in that moment. She did -not see his face above her, a face which for a single -instant darkened with a look so pitiless and menacing -that even Simon sensed the danger of its betrayal, and -held her for a moment longer. Then with the gentleness -which love for Mona and Peter had bred into his -stern nature, he led her to the door.</p> - -<p>"You must go home now, and to bed," he said. "It -is your fight as well as Peter's, and you mustn't let -anyone see that you are worried tomorrow—especially -Carter." He opened the door. "Good night, <i>Ange</i>!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Good night!" she whispered as she slipped out.</p> - -<p>He closed the door and listened for a moment to her -retreating footsteps. When he faced the lamp and -looked up at Peter's room, a new and strange light -was in his eyes, and he spoke softly, as if to the spirit -of someone who was waiting and listening up there.</p> - -<p>"It's my turn now, and I'll care for Peter," he said. -"A long time ago Donald McRae killed the man who -insulted his mother, and it is no more than right and -just that Simon McQuarrie should kill the man who -would destroy her boy."</p> - -<p>Then, slowly, he began to dress.</p> - -<p>For a little while Mona hesitated in the shadow of -the tall spruce tree that grew not far from Simon's -door. She could hear her heart beating as she looked -back at the light in the cabin. She was glad it was -over, glad she had told Simon the truth, even as she -thought of her promise to Peter.</p> - -<p>Yet one thing she had kept to herself, and for a -moment she felt the urge to go back and confide in the -iron-willed Scotchman her own personal fear of Aleck -Curry. Never until this night had she been afraid of -him. She had defied and hated him as a young girl, -and as she grew older had loathed and repulsed him -for the persistence of his passion. To fear him had -never entered her head, even in the days when once -or twice she had used her hands in defending herself -against, his unwelcome attentions.</p> - -<p>But now she knew that Aleck's hour had come.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> -Even though he was temporarily a prisoner on the -island, he held her happiness and Peter's fate in the -hollow of his hand. That fact, its significance, its -terrible import for her, she had seen in Aleck's exultant -face and eyes at the pool. In that hour his joy and -triumph was not that he had run down Peter's father, -but that <i>she</i> at last had come within the reach of his -desires. And the fight had added to his mastery, for -it had outlawed Peter and had given to the man she -hated the final power to wreck her world. And she, -of all that world, was the only one who knew what -Aleck's price for the freedom of those she loved -would be.</p> - -<p>The thought was a monstrous thing in her brain. -She had fought it, had beaten it back with the strength -of her will, and she struggled with it again as she -turned away from the light in Simon's window. Her -hands clenched and a bit of savagery leaped through -her blood as she went again through the moonlight. -She had seen the deadly fire in the Scotchman's eyes, -and that fire was now in her own. Over and over she -told herself that she was still unafraid of Aleck Curry. -Her lips whispered the words. But in her heart, fixed -and implacable, remained the fear.</p> - -<p>She had almost reached the shadow of Pierre -Gourdon's cabin when a figure stepped out to meet -her. It was Peter. His startled face questioned her -in the moonlight.</p> - -<p>"I thought you were asleep," he said in a low voice.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> -"And so—I was passing under your window. I -wanted to be near you for a few moments."</p> - -<p>He put his arms about her and looked anxiously -into her face, and then he laid his lips against her soft -hair.</p> - -<p>"It was impossible." She shivered against him. "I -undressed, as you told me to do, and I went to bed. -But I had to get up. I kept thinking, thinking—until -I felt like screaming, or jumping out of my window -and running to you."</p> - -<p>"You are a little frightened, <i>Ange</i>—after what happened -at the pool. But it will all come out right. -Aleck is safe. He can't harm us——"</p> - -<p>She looked up quickly, and saw in his eyes the same -look that had been in Simon's. Her arms tightened -about him.</p> - -<p>"Peter, you don't need to hide anything from me," -she protested. "We're both thinking the same thing—afraid -of the same thing. It's Aleck Curry—and -what he will do when he gets off the island. We can -keep him there until your father is well, and safe. -But after that—what will happen to you?"</p> - -<p>Peter tried to laugh. "They can't do anything -worse than send me to prison, and if they do that—would -you mind waiting for me, <i>Ange</i>?"</p> - -<p>She knew the effort he was making to speak lightly, -almost playfully, and her heart throbbed with the -eager quickness of her answer. "I would wait for -you all my life, Peter."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span></p> - -<p>With a sudden movement he drew her into the -shadow of the cabin. His eyes were searching the -farther edge of the clearing.</p> - -<p>"Look!" he said.</p> - -<p>Her eyes pierced the moon glow. And then, dimly, -she saw a moving shadow. It came nearer, and -turned toward Simon's cabin. Instinctively she -guessed who it was, but waited for Peter to speak.</p> - -<p>"I found him nosing around when I returned to the -settlement," he said. "A little while ago he was here, -looking up at your window; then he went to Simon's, -and afterward sneaked off into the edge of the forest. -I don't know who he is, but I was within ten feet of -him and he wears a uniform like Aleck's. He is -watching for dad. He is also suspicious and is wondering -why Aleck doesn't show up."</p> - -<p>"His name is Carter," said Mona. "He came to -Five Fingers this afternoon."</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2 style="margin-top: 3.5em; margin-bottom: 2em;"><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII</a></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">For</span> a long time they stood in the shadow of the -cabin, and the sleepy stillness of the night with -its soft chirping of crickets and gentle murmuring of -the lake surf brought a soothing peace to Mona. -With Peter's arms about her she was no longer afraid. -He told her what had happened since she left his -father. Twice Donald McRae had awakened from -his sleep of exhaustion and had asked for her. A -thrill of pleasure was in Peter's voice as he told her -this; it made him happy to know that his father loved -her, and that he even whispered her name in his -feverish slumber. Some day the whole of their prayer -would be answered; things would turn out right; and -they would all be happy.</p> - -<p>Not until he had gone, and she was alone in her -room, did Mona note how swiftly the time had passed. -The hour hand of the little clock was at three. She -did not undress, but sat down at her window, with -her face turned toward the coming of the dawn. And -now that Peter's love and the unbreakable strength of -his optimism were no longer at her side, her thoughts -began pressing upon her again, dispelling the comfort -he had given her and weakening once more her faith<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> -and hope in what the day would bring. She was glad -she confided in Simon, for he was the rock to which -she clung in these hours of her own helplessness. And -yet—what could Simon do? Wherein was he less -helpless than herself—or Peter? She shivered as she -recalled the grim and terrible look that had last rested -in his face. And that same look had been in Peter's—a -flash which he had tried to hide from her! Her -heart jumped and for an instant her fingers clutched -at the sill of her window. Would one of them—Simon -or Peter—<i>kill Aleck Curry</i>?</p> - -<p>It seemed to her that a terrible truth rushed upon -her all at once and caught like a living thing at her -throat until it was difficult for her to breathe. There -was no hope for Peter as long as Aleck lived! The -words almost came from her lips. Unless Peter ran -away, wandering and hiding like his father, no power -could keep him from going to prison. But if Aleck -should never leave the little island—if he died there—and -no one knew of the fight at the pool——</p> - -<p>She bowed her face in her arms. It would be so -easy of accomplishment—so terribly and frighteningly -easy! Peter might do it! And Simon—the -look in his face—his eyes—what he said——</p> - -<p>"No, no, no," she whispered to herself. "Anything—anything -but that!"</p> - -<p>She raised her head to meet the first rose-flush of -the dawn. But this morning there was no responsive -thrill in Mona's breast. A question was repeating<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> -itself in her brain. Would she be able to go through -the day without giving herself away? Could she meet -Pierre and Josette Gourdon, and Marie Antoinette, -and Father Albanel, and Adette and Jame Clamart—and -not let them see her torture? Would it show in -her face when she met Carter, of the Provincial -Police?</p> - -<p>Until the first white spirals of smoke began rising -from the cabin chimneys she sat at her window. Then -she rose, and her beautiful face was almost stern in its -resolution. She let the sunlight stream into her room, -and in its radiance she unbraided her hair and brushed -it until it lay about her in the rippling glory that -made Peter the happiest and proudest of all men. She -dressed it carefully, and tried to sing as she made -herself ready to help Josette with the breakfast—for -she always sang in this first hour of the day. But the -notes seemed to stifle her this morning.</p> - -<p>It was then, looking out from her window, that she -saw a grayish haze rising between her and the face of -the sun, and the smell of it came to her faintly. It -was smoke.</p> - -<p>When she went below it was Pierre she met first. -He kissed her. But anxiety was in his face.</p> - -<p>"It is happening again this year," he said. "The -forests to the north and west are afire. It will not -come near Five Fingers, but it makes my heart ache -to know that a world is being turned dead and black -because of someone's carelessness!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span></p> - -<p>So it was the fire which gave Mona an excuse for -what was lacking in her eyes when she went to help -Josette with the breakfast. And it was this same fire, -with its thickening gloom of smoke, which helped her -through the day. For to Mona a living tree had life -and soul, and to see trees destroyed in countless thousands -was a tragedy in her life only a little less terrible -than the plague of smallpox which had once cast its -shadow upon Five Fingers.</p> - -<p>She went to Simon's cabin as soon after breakfast -as she could make an excuse, and there she met Carter. -Her first glimpse of him filled her with uneasiness and -dislike. He was a hawk-nosed, shifty-eyed man in -whom nature seemed to have sacrificed every softening -quality to an uncompromising sense of duty, and his -eyes rested upon her face so intently as Simon introduced -them that she felt her heart tremble. But if he -knew of her previous visit to Simon's cabin, or of her -meeting with Peter, he gave no evidence of it, and -after a casual remark or two about the fire he left her -alone with the Scotchman.</p> - -<p>A worried look was in McQuarrie's eyes.</p> - -<p>"I've found out more about Carter," he said. "He -is the best man in this division and is never sent out -on minor affairs. Leaving us so quickly right now -shows how clever he is. He doesn't want to create -suspicion. He dropped in to ask me the best trail -northwest, and says he is going to leave in half an -hour to make a report on the fire. That's another lie.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> -In the woods he is like a cat, and he won't go half a -mile from the settlement. He is wondering where -Peter is, and if he once gets on his trail——" Suddenly -he drew his hands together, and a grim smile -gathered about his mouth. "If Carter goes to that -fire, I'm going with him!" he exclaimed. "Five Fingers -is interested, and he cannot very well turn me -down."</p> - -<p>In a few words Mona told of Peter's visit; and -then, standing so near that he could not avoid the -directness of her eyes, she gave low voice to her suspicion -that either he or Peter was planning to kill -Aleck Curry.</p> - -<p>The effect of her words on Simon startled her. He -stood dumb, staring at her. Then one of his bony -hands reached out and rested on her shoulder. Its -fingers hurt her. "Don't even whisper that anywhere—but -here," he said. "You understand? <i>Don't!</i> -Peter won't kill him. And I'm not worrying about -Aleck Curry now. It's Carter."</p> - -<p>He left her without another word, and went out to -overtake Carter. There was something so grim and -foreboding in his movement that it chilled her, and as -she dropped a few steps behind him she noticed his -boots. At midnight she had seen them in his cabin, -clean and freshly oiled. Now they were frosted with -half-dried mud to their tops. His sourness, the harshness -of his fingers on her shoulder, his silence now -and the aggressive hunch of his shoulders, together<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> -with the mud on his boots, tightened her breath. Had -Simon already accomplished the thing she feared? Was -that why he was so anxious to follow Carter, go with -him—get him away from Five Fingers? She ran up to -him, meaning to demand the truth.</p> - -<p>He anticipated her intention and spoke almost -roughly. "Don't ask questions, Mona. Carter has -stopped, and is looking. Go home—and stay in if you -can't keep control of yourself."</p> - -<p>The rest of the morning Mona waited anxiously for -Peter. At noon, when they were at dinner, Pierre -Gourdon talked of little but the fire. It had surely -crossed the line of rail thirty miles north, he said, and -was traveling steadily eastward. If the wind should -quicken and swing into the south there would be -danger to the forests about Five Fingers. But the -settlement itself was safe, protected as it was by fire-lines -and cultivated fields on three sides, and Lake -Superior on the other.</p> - -<p>He wondered where Simon McQuarrie was, and -asked Mona if she had seen Peter. He surmised they -had gone back to the crests of the high ridges to make -a closer observation of the fire. He had already sent -out Jame Clamart and Poleon Dufresne to guard the -northern ridges, and if the fire threatened to break -coastward, all the men in Five Fingers would go out -to fight it. He had made preparations. But he didn't -like the way Peter and Simon were missing, without -leaving any word behind them. Carter was gone, too.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span></p> - -<p>Afternoon saw smoke settling like a thin fog about -the clearing. The sun was entirely hidden. Animals -and fowls came up to the buildings, and men and -women gave up their work to discuss with one another -the possibilities of the next few hours. A dozen times -Mona repressed the desire to steal away and go to the -little cabin where Donald McRae was hidden. She -knew Peter was there, and now that the smoke was -thickening she believed he would soon leave for the -settlement.</p> - -<p>She noticed how hot and sultry it had grown in the -last hour. Scarcely a breath of air was stirring, and -in the middle of the afternoon Adette Clamart insisted -that she go with her for a swim down in the inlet. -While they were in the water Peter came up from the -lake in a boat. His sail was down and he was rowing. -Adette Clamart covered her pretty eyes with her two -hands while he bent over to kiss Mona, and in that -moment he whispered, "I want to see you in the -cabin." He was acting strangely, Mona thought.</p> - -<p>A few minutes later she joined him in the cabin.</p> - -<p>"Dad is better," Peter said. "But tonight I'm -going to get him away—somewhere. I'm afraid of -the fire. With a bad wind it would be on us in an hour -or two. Right now I want to take some supplies over -to Aleck Curry. Then I'll come back and see you before -I return to dad. There's a little breeze on the lake, -and I can make the island in an hour. Have you seen -Carter?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span></p> - -<p>"This morning. He hasn't been here since then."</p> - -<p>"And Simon?"</p> - -<p>"He is gone, too."</p> - -<p>She got a bundle she had prepared and said good-by -to Peter but not until he had promised to return -directly from the island by way of the inlet. She -watched him until he disappeared in the gray haze -that hung over the water, and then looked at the clock -to mark the time he would be returning. Scarcely had -she done this when a figure stalked past one of the -windows. Instantly she recognized it as Simon -McQuarrie. He went straight to his cabin, entered it -and closed the door. <i>And Carter was not with him!</i></p> - -<p>Her heart throbbed as she went outside, determined -to follow him. But something held her back. Then -she forced herself to follow her first impulse, and a -moment later was knocking at Simon's door. There -was no answer. She persisted, knocking loudly and -calling his name, and still there was no response. -Then she tried the door and found it locked. Where -there had been fear in her breast there was now conviction. -The tiger in the old Scotchman had been at -work, and in his own way—<i>and the only way</i>—he had -solved the great problem of her life and Peter's, and -had made the world free again for his old friend -Donald McRae. He had rid the island of Aleck -Curry, and had done away with Carter. And now he -wanted to be alone—alone in his cabin!</p> - -<p>Not for a moment did she question the reasonableness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> -of her conviction. It seized upon her like a -many-tentacled thing, choking back her doubt and -overwhelming her with its certainty. It made her -steal pantingly to the edge of the forest, and then to -the beginning of the long finger of spruce and cedar -that reached away out to the entrance of Middle -Finger Inlet. Half an hour later she was on the sand -and gravel beach under the big cliff, waiting for -Peter's return. And now she noticed a change in the -wind. Loose tresses of her hair blew seaward. That -meant the fire would come over the ridges!</p> - -<p>In another quarter of an hour she could scarcely -see the farther side of Middle Finger Inlet. A black -pall of smoke was creeping closer in the north and -west. Then, very faintly, she saw something creeping -up like a ghost out of the smoke gloom of the -sea. She knew it was Peter. He was coming with -nerve-racking slowness, it seemed to her. Yet she -did not want to cry out to him until he was nearer. -He was using his oars, and at times there was a half-minute -interval between his strokes. Why was he so -slow? Was it because of what he had found on the -island? Surely Simon would have left no telltale -signs. So far as Peter was concerned Aleck Curry -could only be <i>missing</i>—nothing more!</p> - -<p>A shudder ran through her. Then she cried Peter's -name. Her voice carried strangely clear. There was -silence in the boat. The oars were resting without a -sound.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Peter," she cried again. "Peter! I am here—on -the point!"</p> - -<p>He must have heard her, and it was unusual that -he did not answer. But the oars rattled again, and she -could see the shape of the boat turning slowly, and -then growing larger as it came toward her. It was -odd, too, that Peter did not come directly to the point, -but grounded his boat among the big rocks fifty yards -below her—a place where he knew it was difficult for -her to go. So she stood on the white sand, waiting -for him. She could hear his boots on the rocks; then -she saw him approaching through a dusk of early -twilight thickened by the smoke of the fire.</p> - -<p>"Here I am, Peter," she called softly.</p> - -<p>It did not seem like Peter, for the figure was -grotesquely large, and slower of movement. She held -out her arms, and her eyes were glowing. It was the -smoke and the dusk that made Peter look like that! -And then her heart stopped beating. The figure was -within ten feet of her. It was not Peter. <i>It was -Aleck Curry!</i></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2 style="margin-top: 3.5em; margin-bottom: 2em;"><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX</a></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">In</span> that moment Mona felt for the first time in her life -the giving way of living tissue under the sudden -overwhelming stress of complete shock. Strength -left her body, her arms dropped limply, and she felt -herself swaying, as if about to fall. Had there been -anything near her she would have caught at it. She -did not know that to Aleck Curry she was betraying -no physical sign of her weakness—that she was standing -like a lifeless creature carved out of rock, except -that her wide eyes were blazing and her lips parted. -What seemed an age to her covered but a few seconds. -Then her mind leaped back, fierce in its command of -her. She was wrong! Simon had not been to the -island! He had not harmed Aleck Curry—and Aleck -had returned in Peter's boat. <i>What had happened to -Peter?</i></p> - -<p>She did not ask the question. It blazed out of her -eyes as Aleck advanced until he was almost within -arm's reach of her. He had on only shirt and -trousers, and he was barefooted. She could see his -naked throat. And surprise, joy, the knowledge of -his mastery lay in his heavy face. It was transformed. -He smiled at her, and his great arms reached<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> -out as if he were Peter and she would come into them.</p> - -<p>"I made a bargain with Peter," he said, "and he -changed places with me. I made him see how much -it meant for him, and for his father, and for you. I'd -let his father go and forget everything—for something -I want. So he changed places with me, and I've -come to see you. Lucky you're here. Lucky you -called."</p> - -<p>It was a clumsy lie, and stumbled on his lips. The -menace of him filled her with horror. But she did not -let him see it—now. He came a step nearer, and she -backed away from him. Suddenly her mind whipped -inspirational words from her lips. She looked up -swiftly to the top of the cliff. "I don't want Carter to -see you here," she cried quickly. "He walked down -the point with me, and I think he's up there."</p> - -<p>The significance of her words was not lost upon -Aleck. He moved nearer to the cliff, so that one -above could not see them. She followed him, fighting -back her fear.</p> - -<p>"Why don't you want Carter to see us?" he asked -in a throaty whisper.</p> - -<p>"Because—if he saw us—everything would be lost. -You would not dare help me then. And you will, -Aleck—you will help me, won't you?" He was -stunned by the change in her. She had laid a hand -on his arm. Her eyes were shining at him. "But you -must tell me the truth. There isn't any need to lie. -What did you do to Peter—when he came to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> -island?" Her fingers pressed his flesh. There was -almost a smile on her lips.</p> - -<p>"The smoke was thick," said Aleck. "I heard him -coming and hid in the water. Then I stunned him -with a club. He ain't bad—not badly hurt—but he's -safe enough on the island!"</p> - -<p>Mona crushed back the little cry of relief that -wanted to come to her lips. Her eyes glowed at -Aleck, and suddenly one of his big hands closed about -the one she had laid on his arm. She could feel his -breath as he bent over her. "I told you my time would -come," he cried in a husky, exultant voice. "<i>My day!</i> -And it's here. I got 'em both—safe—one to hang, -the other——"</p> - -<p>"<i>Sh-h-h!</i>"</p> - -<p>She placed a finger to her lips. It was an excuse -to draw away from him, get her hand free—and not -let him hear the terrified beating of her heart. She -looked up again at the cliff.</p> - -<p>"Did you hear anything?"</p> - -<p>"No. And if anyone hears <i>us</i> it's going to be your -fault and not mine!"</p> - -<p>It was impossible to escape the look in his face and -eyes. It was not necessary for him to use words. -But Mona did not flinch from her peril. It was not -only her danger, but Peter's, and Donald McRae's, -and Simon's if he had harmed Carter. It had suddenly -and unexpectedly become her fight—all hers, -and she knew that Aleck Curry thought she was yielding,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> -and that the brute in him was held in leash only -by this belief that was beginning to possess him. If -he guessed the truth, guessed that she was fighting to -trick him, nothing would save her, not even her assertion -that Carter was on the cliff above them. So she -smiled again at Aleck, and laughed very softly, with -a nervous twisting of her hands. Her eyes had never -looked at him as they were looking at him now. They -were like glowing stars, velvety-soft—hiding hate and -desperation behind them. She had never looked half -so beautiful, or so unresisting, to Aleck Curry.</p> - -<p>Her fingers pressed his arm again.</p> - -<p>"I must get Carter away," she whispered. "I've -got to do it, Aleck! He mustn't know. I'll hurry. -And then I'll come back. I promise!"</p> - -<p>Horror seized her as she felt him drawing her -toward him. But still she did not resist. With a low -cry his great arms were about her. She felt herself -almost broken against him, and then she was helpless, -her head bent back, and his thick lips killing her with -kisses. Again her strength left her, and she lay limp -in his arms, smothered in his passion. Those moments -of helpless and agonized passiveness saved her. To -Aleck it was surrender. His arms loosened and -allowed her to breathe. Weakly she pressed against -him, and he allowed her partly to free herself. But -she could still feel his hot breath like a poisonous fume -in her face. He bent forward and kissed her again—on -the mouth. It almost choked her.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I must—must get Carter away!" she gasped. -"Then I'll come back. If you won't let me do that, I'll—I'll -scream—and Carter will hear us. But if you'll -let me get him away, so he'll never know—never be -able to tell Peter——"</p> - -<p>It was unnecessary for her to finish. Aleck's face was -transformed by an iniquitous joy. He looked close -into her face, and she looked back at him, unafraid.</p> - -<p>"I'll let you go—and get Carter away," he said. -"If you don't come back soon, I'll go to Five Fingers—and -you know what that means for Peter and his -father."</p> - -<p>"I'll come," she lied.</p> - -<p>She climbed up the narrow footpath to the top of -the cliff, and getting her breath there, she called -Carter's name—loudly enough for Aleck to hear.</p> - -<p>Then she began to run. She was still weak, and it -seemed to her that the poison of Aleck Curry's -embraces and kisses followed her. She began to sob -under her breath. There was no turning of the ways -for her now. She must tell someone the truth—anyone—the -first man she met. But Simon first of all. -On the little island Peter might be dying. Maybe -Aleck had killed him, for it was in his power to do so -and still be within the law. She began to moan his -name. Then she came to the crest of a high knoll -which was bare of trees, and what she saw ahead of -her stopped her, gulping for breath and almost falling -in her exhaustion.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span></p> - -<p>A wind was in her face. And northward there was -no longer a black pall of smoke but a world afire. -The glow of the conflagration reached from the earth -to the sky. It swept in a great arc, and red seas of -flame were leaping from peak to peak of the farther -ridges. Pierre Gourdon's fear had become a reality. -The fire was racing with the speed of the wind itself -upon Five Fingers!</p> - -<p>She ran on. Her hair caught in the brush, and she -clutched it in front of her. She came at last to the -edge of the clearing and staggered across it. There -were lights in the cabins, in her own home, in Adette -Clamart's, in Dominique Beauvais's and half a dozen -others. But Simon's was dark. Yet she swayed -toward that, hopeful to the last—and almost at the -door she came upon Simon. He was rigid and still, -like a shadow. She could see his gray, hard face. -Then he heard her panting, heard her trying to gasp -out her terrible news, and his arms reached out and -gathered her to him—and she told him what had -happened to Peter.</p> - -<p>Ten minutes later Simon was leaving in a sailboat.</p> - -<p>"It's so dark Curry won't see me when I pass -through the mouth of the inlet," he said. "And I'll -reach Peter in half an hour."</p> - -<p>Mona went back to McQuarrie's cabin, climbed to -Peter's room and lighted a lamp. In a cedar box -she found Peter's thirty-eight-caliber automatic and -loaded it with skilful fingers. Then she extinguished<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> -the light, descended the ladder and left the cabin in -the direction of her tryst with Aleck Curry. There -was only one thing for her to do, and her mind was -quite fixed. It was her right to be at the end of the -point waiting for Simon and Peter. And if Aleck -threatened her—or put his hands on her again—she -would kill him. That was the one way out. It would -save Peter, and Peter's father, and herself.</p> - -<p>It was not a monstrous thing but a just and -righteous act—this wiping out of existence of a -creature who threatened to destroy everything that -made her world a fit place to live in.</p> - -<p>She had nearly passed the Clamart cabin when a -white figure ran out of the gloom, and she had only -time to hide the pistol in her dress when Adette -Clamart was holding her excitedly by the arm. -Adette's lovely face was white, and she was half out -of breath from running.</p> - -<p>"It is terrible!" she cried. "Jame says the fire will -be at your beaver pond within an hour, and he has -just started in that direction with Jeremie Poulin and -Carter—to keep it from coming over the last -ridge——"</p> - -<p>"Carter!" gasped Mona.</p> - -<p>"Yes. Jame told him about the cabin Peter built, -and Carter said it was a shame not to save it, and the -beavers. Jame says it is impossible—that a hundred -men couldn't keep the fire back—but Carter insisted, -and they've gone!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span></p> - -<p>Mona tried to force words from her lips, and -thanked God that Adette hurried on, crying back to -her that she was making an effort to overtake Jame -before he got out of the clearing, to give him a lunch -which he had forgotten. Carter had returned—and -was on his way to the cabin in which Peter's father -was hidden! And that cabin, Jame said, would be in -the heart of the fire within an hour! With Peter dead -or wounded on the island, and Simon gone, what hope -was there now for Donald McRae? If the fire did not -reach his cabin first, Carter would get him, and if the -fire beat out Carter——</p> - -<p>Mona's dry lips gave a little cry. Through the pitch-filled -evergreen forest about the beaver pond the fire -would sweep in a destroying inundation which no -living creature could outrace if the wind was behind -it; and Donald McRae, sick and helpless, would be the -first human victim in its descent upon Five Fingers.</p> - -<p>The peril which was threatening Peter's father -from two directions worked a swift and thrilling -change in Mona. She must beat out Carter—and she -must beat out the fire! Thought of Aleck Curry -became secondary to this more immediate necessity. -She could settle with Aleck later. But she must reach -the cabin <i>now</i>. There was not a minute or a second -to lose if she was to get there ahead of Jame and -Carter. She began to run again, following a path -through the meadow into the strip of forest between -the settlement and the shore of the lake. Her feet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> -and Peter's had worn this trail smooth, and she knew -that in the thickening gloom of smoke and night she -was traveling faster than Carter and Jame Clamart, -who were going by the rougher tote-road. In ten minutes -she reached the cliff which ran westward along -the lake.</p> - -<p>Here she was high, and there were no trees to shut -out her view of the ridge country. What she saw -appalled her. Nowhere in the north was there any -longer a wall of blackness. The world was red, with -lurid flashings that came and went like mighty -explosions. Westward, beyond the beaver pond, she -could see the leaping of the flames in the thick spruce -and cedar timberlands where ten thousand barrels of -pitch and resinous oils were turning sleeping forests -into boiling caldrons of fire. The smell of this oil -and pitch was heavy in her nostrils, and she could hear -the moaning, distant roar of the conflagration as one -hears the roar of great furnaces when the fuel doors -are opened. But it was the wind that brought quicker -fear to her heart. It was beginning to blow strongly -from the north and west, and carried with it a heat -that was stifling. And with this heat and wind came -also a thickening cloud of ash particles, until at last, -afraid of their increasing sting, she stopped to take -off her skirt and fasten it about her hair and face.</p> - -<p>Halfway to the pond, with still another mile to go, -she saw the flames leaping over the last ridge, and her -heart seemed suddenly to give way in a sobbing cry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> -of agony and despair. She was too late. Between -that ridge and Peter's father was less than a mile of -spruce and cedar and balsam forest, with pitch-sodden -jackpines interspersed so thickly that no power less -than God could hold back the speed of the holocaust. -With the wind that was behind them the flames would -be at the cabin before she could cover a quarter of the -distance to Peter's father.</p> - -<p>For a few moments she sank down helpless and -without strength, sobbing for breath as she stared at -the merciless red death which had beaten her—and -Carter. And in these moments her agony was greater -than when Aleck had told her about Peter, for now -she was picturing a man, creeping out on his hands and -knees to face that sea of flame—a man, sick and helpless, -crying out for Peter, for her, and dying by inches -with their names on his lips.</p> - -<p>She staggered to her feet and went on, and in her -dazed mind lived a prayer that Donald McRae might -be given strength to drag himself to the shore of the -lake. If that strength had not already come to him, it -was now too late, for as she toiled over a high and -craggy point in the cliff the wind blew hot in her face, -and where the beaver pond should be was a red hell -of flames.</p> - -<p>The trail descended as she forced herself on—descended -from the ramparted ledge to the smooth, -sandy level of the beach, and suddenly she was conscious -of the crashing of bodies in the thickets and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> -frenzied sound of living things. A great moose -swept so near her that she sprang from his path—a -monstrous beast with flaming eyes and snorting -nostrils, closely followed by a darker, rounder object -that she knew was a bear, racing for the safety of the -water. She came to the sandy open where the trail -swung straight ridgeward toward the beaver pond, -and stopped, knowing she could go no farther unless -she defied the death from which all other living -creatures were flying.</p> - -<p>Piteously Mona cried out—to Peter, to Simon, to -Donald McRae, and then to God; and at last she fell -down with her face buried in her skirt, ready to welcome -death itself in this hour when not only her -world but all that she loved in it were doomed to -destruction.</p> - -<p>It was a sound close to her that uncovered her face, -a sound that came strangely above the moaning roar -of heat-wind and flame, and staring through the -gloom and against the red glare of the burning -forests, she saw a grotesque shadow—something that -was not moose nor deer nor any four-footed thing she -had ever seen in the wilderness; and rising up before -it she saw that it was a man bent under a huge, limp -burden which he carried. She cried out, and a choking -voice answered her—a strange, terrible, unhuman -sort of voice, yet the sound of it nearly split her heart, -and when the figure deposited its burden in the white -sand and stood up she saw that it was Peter. She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> -stumbled toward him. His arms caught her, and she -could hear him sobbing under the strain of his fight, -and his heart was beating so hard that each throb of -it sent a tremor through his body. In his weakness -her own strength returned, and in a moment her -hands had left his face and she was at the side of the -man who lay upon the sand.</p> - -<p>It was Donald McRae. Now a great light was -flaming in the sky over their heads, and she saw that -his face and hands were black, and his eyes were closed, -though he was breathing. She tore the skirt from -about her head and ran to soak it in water, but when -she returned Peter was kneeling beside his father, and -held back the dripping cloth.</p> - -<p>"Not water," he said. "We must get—something -else. He is burned."</p> - -<p>She put her arms about Peter, and his face rested -for a moment on her shoulder. In that moment he -told her that Aleck had tricked him, and had left him -on the island. With the aid of a piece of dry driftwood -he had managed to swim ashore, but too late to -reach the cabin ahead of the flames. He found his -father halfway to the lake, fighting his way on hands -and knees in the van of the fire. His face and hands -were badly burned, but that was all. Another minute -and he would have been too late. His voice choked, -and Mona's hand stroked his face gently, and she -kissed his hot forehead.</p> - -<p>Then they carried Donald McRae under the shelter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> -of the cliff, where they were free from smoke and heat, -with the water rippling in and out among the stones -at their feet. And here Mona told Peter of Aleck's -coming to the point, though she kept to herself what -happened there, and that Simon McQuarrie had gone -to the island in a sailboat and would surely come -straight to this beach when he found Peter gone. And -as they made Donald easier, and waited in the coolness -of the cliff for the fire-storm to burn itself out, she -told him also of Carter and that no time must be lost -in getting away to a place of greater safety.</p> - -<p>Peter knew what that meant as he bent over his -father. In scarcely more than a whisper he told Mona. -He, too, must go. It would not be for long—maybe a -week, a month, or a little longer. It was not for himself. -He was not afraid of either Aleck or the law, -because he had done at the pool just what he would do -again if it were before the eyes of the whole world. -But his father needed him, and never would his heart -beat the same, nor would she ever again look at him -with a bit of the pride and love which made him so -strong, if he failed to do what was right in this hour. -Without him his father was lost. He hoped Simon -would come with the boat, for in that boat they would -escape into the wilderness farther west.</p> - -<p>Mona made no answer to these things, for it was -hard enough for her to breathe with the thickness -that was in her throat. But her hand stroked Peter's, -and her cheek lay against his, and above the grief in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> -her breast rose a great pride in this man who loved her. -And a thought came to her of Sir Nigel, the chivalrous -young knight who looked so much like this Peter -of hers with his sensitive boyish face, and of how Mary -so bravely sent him away to the great wars in which -through long years he rose to undying fame; and she -subdued her heart, as Sir Nigel's sweetheart must have -conquered her own, and at last told Peter it was the -thing to do—the one thing to do—and that God and she -would love him for it. And even as she did this there -was creeping over her an unutterable foreboding, and -death seemed to pierce her heart when she heard Simon -McQuarrie's boat grounding on the sand. But she -smiled, and kissed Peter—and then Simon stood before -them. And in another five minutes he was gone again—this -time to the settlement for the supplies and medicines -which would go with Peter and his father.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>For an hour they were alone, and Donald McRae -tried to keep back the moans of pain that came to his -lips. But he could not open his eyes, and Mona fanned -him gently with a piece of her wet skirt, and told him -Simon was hurrying with ointments which would make -him comfortable. Peter even laughed and spoke of -the sudden on-sweep of the fire as if it were an exciting -adventure, and it was good that Donald could not see -their tense and grief-filled faces in the gloom.</p> - -<p>The fire roared through the last of the evergreens -and burned itself out against the bare stone knolls and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> -ledges of the lake shore. And then came again the -sound of Simon's boat on the sand.</p> - -<p>"Carter has returned to the settlement and was preparing -to come this way in a boat when I slipped out -through the inlet," Simon whispered to Mona.</p> - -<p>With Peter she went to the boat, leaving Simon -alone for a few moments with his old friend. And it -was Simon who came at the end of a brief interval -bearing the burden of Peter's father in his arms. Very -tenderly he laid him on the blankets in the boat.</p> - -<p>"God be with you, Donald," he whispered, a broken -note in his voice. "God be with you—always."</p> - -<p>The stricken man raised a burned hand to the other's -face.</p> - -<p>"They have always been with me, Simon," he whispered -back. "God—and Helen. And now that you -have made such a fine man of Peter I hope I may go -to them—soon."</p> - -<p>In the darkness Mona crept out of Peter's arms.</p> - -<p>"Peter, you must wait no longer. You must go."</p> - -<p>"In a little while I will come back, <i>Ange</i>."</p> - -<p>"And I—by the sweet spirit of Ste. Anne—I promise -to be waiting for you when you come, Peter—though -I wait until new forests grow where yours and -mine have burned. So go—good-by—lover—sweetheart——"</p> - -<p>And then she had slipped away from him and he -made no effort to follow her into the smoky gloom, -though a sobbing cry came back to him faintly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span></p> - -<p>For a moment Simon stood aside with Peter. Their -hands gripped in the darkness and a strain was in the -old Scotchman's low voice as he said:</p> - -<p>"I've put ointment on your father's face and hands -and he is easier. I don't think he is badly burned. -Everything is in the boat, lad—provisions, blankets, -medicines, a pack and what money I had at hand." He -hesitated and the grip of his fingers tightened as he -added: "In the bow is your rifle with extra ammunition -in the buckskin sack beside it. You'll need it. But -don't fight the law unless they force you to it, boy. -Remember that. The law finds no excuse, even though -scoundrels like Aleck Curry and blood-sucking ferrets -like Carter are sometimes a part of it. And let me tell -you that I saw with my own eyes when your father -killed a man years ago when you were a baby in your -mother's arms. It was for your mother he did it and -he was right; but in spite of that the law won't rest until -it lands him. And it's your job now to beat the law, -but without the use of a gun. I love you, lad—but -I'd curse you for a coward if you didn't do what you're -doing now. For years you and Mona have prayed that -God would send your father back to you—and now he -has come—and it's God's will behind it. All that is left -in a body that was once stronger than my own is his -worship for you and his memories of your mother. -Take care of him, Peter. And—God bless you both!"</p> - -<p>Never had the iron-natured old Scotchman said so -much in all the years since Peter had come to live with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> -him as a son. And without a word Peter went to the -boat, for his throat was thick and choking, and Simon -shoved the craft out into the sea until he was waist-deep -in the water. Simply he said good-by as if Peter -were going only to the nets or the islands outside the -mainland, and no tremor in his hard, calm voice betrayed -the tears on his cheeks which darkness hid. And -as Peter raised the sail McQuarrie waded ashore and -was met by a pair of arms and a sobbing voice that -cried out in its grief and despair against his shoulder.</p> - -<p>Another sound came before they turned to the cliff -trail that led along the unburned shore of the lake to -Five Fingers. From the direction of the settlement -a light skiff bore down swiftly upon the strip of sandy -beach.</p> - -<p>Carter, who sat in the stern, was old in the service of -the provincial police, a ferret on the trail, a fox in his -cleverness, cold-blooded, unexcitable and merciless—and -when the bow of the skiff ran into the sand and -Aleck Curry leaped ashore he remained quietly in his -seat and waited. In a moment he heard voices—the -cold, unemotional voice of the Scotchman first and then -Aleck Curry's in fierce demand and Mona Guyon's in -answer. He went ashore, his thin, hard face smiling in -the darkness, and heard Simon tell Aleck that the law -no longer had a work to do at Five Fingers, for Peter -and his father had died somewhere out in the heart of -the fire. He heard Mona's sob, close to Simon's shoulder. -Then he opened his flashlight, but not upon them.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> -It illumined Aleck's face, thick-lipped and bestial in its -disappointment and passion. What he saw was amusing -to a man like Carter and a spark of chivalry made -him leave the others in darkness. But he stepped back -and cast his light upon the wet sand of the shore. And -then he said quite casually, as if his discovery was a -matter of small significance:</p> - -<p>"You lie, McQuarrie! We have come only a quarter -of an hour too late. Peter McRae and his father have -gone in your boat, and as this breath of wind will -scarcely fill a sail, I think Aleck's enthusiasm and a -light skiff should make it possible for us to overtake -them within an hour!"</p> - -<p>He chuckled as he switched off his flashlight, and that -chuckle was like the rattle of a snake to Mona, deadlier -than all the hate and animal passion she had seen in -Aleck Curry's face in the one swift moment when it -had flashed out of the darkness into light. For Carter -was more than a representative of the law. He was its -incarnation, and more than Aleck Curry—more than -any other man in the world—she feared him now as the -skiff sped in the direction taken by Peter and his father.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2 style="margin-top: 3.5em; margin-bottom: 2em;"><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX</a></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">For</span> a few minutes after leaving the shore Peter -did not trust himself to speak. He could see -nothing but a gray chaos except landward, where the -red sky and the darker blot of the cliff were visible -through the smoke gloom. Even the weather-stained -canvas of Simon's boat was indistinguishable, and -where his father lay on a pile of blankets at his feet -he could make out only a shadow. Now that the fire -had burned itself out of the forests between the shore -and the ridges the heated winds gave way quickly to a -growing calm. The smoke hung like a dense fog and -with this change came a strange stillness in which -sound seemed to multiply itself until he heard clearly -the wailing of a dog at Five Fingers.</p> - -<p>Then the faint rattle of oarlocks came to him and his -hand tightened on the tiller. It was Aleck Curry again—Aleck -and the man-hunter, Carter, hurrying to cut -them off before they could leave the shore! And suddenly -in fierce passion he wanted to shout back his defiance -to them just as years ago—three days before he -came to Five Fingers—he had felt the desire to kill -the men who had driven his father into the forest. -Something in these moments brought that day back to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> -him—a vivid memory of the big log behind which they -were sheltered, and armed men in the thickets, the blue -jay screeching at them, his thirst and hunger and his -father's pale, strong face waiting with courage for -darkness to come; then the dusk, their escape on a log -in the flooded river and their first fugitive camp in the -big woods. How wonderful his father had been in -those hours of peril which he as a boy could scarcely -understand! And now he was lying at his feet, a pitiable -wreck because of that same merciless and unfair -law which had pursued him then——</p> - -<p>Peter cried out. It was not much more than a throat -sound, as if the smoke had made him gasp for breath. -But a hand rose out of the darkness and touched him.</p> - -<p>"Peter!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, dad."</p> - -<p>"It has all gone wrong, boy. If only I hadn't been -so heartsick to see you—if I had never come back——"</p> - -<p>Peter bent over and his hand rested tenderly against -the face which Simon had cooled with ointment.</p> - -<p>"If you hadn't come I'd have lost all faith in the -God you used to tell me about," he whispered. "I -wanted to give up but Mona wouldn't let me. She -said you would surely come. And this isn't half as -bad as that day behind the log when I was a little kid. -Remember how you cared for me then—kept me above -water when we went into the river, caught rabbits for -me to eat afterward and tucked me into bed every night -near the camp-fire? Well, it's <i>my</i> turn now. And I'm<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> -almost glad you're sick—just so I can show you how -much I've grown up since that afternoon you sent me -on alone to Five Fingers so many years ago. You lied -to me then, dad. You made me believe you'd come back -that night, or the next day. Haven't you ever been -ashamed of that?"</p> - -<p>The strain was gone from his voice. It was his <i>dad</i> -he was speaking to again, his pal and comrade of the -old days, and the thrill of that comradeship was stirring -warmly in his blood.</p> - -<p>"I knew Simon would give you a good home," -said Donald. "And he has made a splendid man of you. -But I'm sorry, Peter—sorry I came back. After all -those years I was hungry to see you. I just wanted -to look on your face and then go away again without -letting you know. I didn't mean to break into your -life like this——"</p> - -<p>His hand was stroking Peter's and for a moment -Peter bent down until his face was close to his father's. -Donald was silent but his hand continued its caressing -touch. After a little he said:</p> - -<p>"Did I hear something, Peter?"</p> - -<p>"I think it was thunder. A storm must be following -in the trail of the fire."</p> - -<p>"I mean out there—near at hand. It was like wood -striking on wood."</p> - -<p>He sank back and Peter reached down and made his -head comfortable. "This makes me think of that last -night in the woods when you tucked me in my cedar-bough<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> -bed and told me to sleep," he whispered gently. -"And I'm telling you that now, dad. It's what you -need. Try and sleep!"</p> - -<p>Even as he spoke he heard the distant sound again -and knew it was the clank of oarlocks. He fastened the -tiller so that Simon's boat was heading for the open -sea. Then he crept forward and returned with a -blanket, and this blanket he quietly unfolded in the -darkness, taking from it the weapon which Simon had -loaded and placed there for his use. And Simon's -words were running over and over in his head, as steady -as the ticking of a clock. "Take care of him, Peter. -It's your job now to beat the law."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>As the minutes passed it seemed to Peter that sound -became a living, stealthy part of the night, creeping -about him in ghostly whispers, hiding behind the canvas -sail, rustling where the water moved under the bow, -purring at his feet and in the air. This impression of -sound by its smallness and its secretiveness served to -emphasize the hush which had fallen upon a burned -and blasted world. Its muteness bore with it a quality -of solemnity and a quickening thrill as if subjugated -forces were muffled and bound and might unleash themselves -without warning. In this stillness Peter heard -the thunder creeping up faintly behind the path of fire. -But the sound of the oar did not come again.</p> - -<p>He strained his eyes to pierce the gloom even though -he knew the effort was futile and senseless. The red<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> -line of the fire was steadily receding. In places it was -lost. Where he had left the cliff and the sandy strip -of beach was a black chaos, and it was this darkness -with its silence which seemed to reach into his heart -and choke him with its oppression and foreboding.</p> - -<p>Through the stillness a sound came to him, floating -softly over the sea, sweet and distant. His fingers -slowly unclasped and he bowed his head. It was the -bell over the little church of logs and Father Albanel -was tolling it. Even now in this smoke-filled hour of -the night he was calling the people of the settlement -together that they might offer up in prayer their gratitude -because homes and loved ones had been spared -by the red death that had swept the land. It was like -a living voice, gently sweet and soothing as it brought -him faith and reverence. <i>There was a God!</i> Every -fiber in his body leaped to that cry of his heart. Without -a God his father would have died, the whole world -would have burned, there would be no Mona, no hope, -no anything for him in the darkness of the freedom -which lay ahead. His lips moved with Mona's prayer -and he stood up quietly so that he might hear more -clearly until the last peal of the bell died away. And -when the gray silence shut him in again he felt as if a -protecting spirit had come to ride with him in the -gloom.</p> - -<p>Softly he spoke to his father but there was no answer. -Exhaustion and the peace of the open sea had overcome -the stricken man and he was asleep.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span></p> - -<p>Encumbered by stillness and smoke, the night passed -with appalling slowness. The distant thunder with its -promise of rain died away. Half a dozen times Peter -lighted matches and looked at his watch. At last it was -three o'clock and the horizon of murk and smoke that -shut him in receded as dawn advanced. Then came a -sudden keen breeze, like the last sweeping of a great -broom, and he could see the coast. His own heart was -thrilled by the sight of it, for behind the menacing headland -of barren rock that rose like a great gargoyle hundreds -of feet above the lower cliff was a strip of water -which he had once hazarded in a dead calm and which -led back half a mile between towering walls of rock and -naked ridges into that very chaos of wildness which -he had wanted for a hiding-place.</p> - -<p>Scarcely had this moment of exultation possessed -him when the wind died again. At the same time a -clearer light diffused itself over the sea. The horizon -drew itself back like a curtain and half a mile away -he saw an object that sent his heart into his throat.</p> - -<p>For a few moments he neither moved nor seemed -to breathe as he stared at a swiftly approaching skiff. -Then he looked at his father. Donald McRae had not -awakened. A livid scar lay across his eyes as if a red-hot -iron had burned out his sight. His hands were -blistered, his lips were swollen and his neck and shoulders -were scarred and covered with the ointment which -Simon had used. Yet—even then—<i>his father slept</i>! -The horror of it choked Peter and his soul cried out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> -for vengeance against those who had made this wreck -of a man. He turned and his hand rested upon his -rifle. He no longer feared the law or Aleck Curry or -Carter, the ferret. His desire at first was to kill them. -With astonishing calmness he waited, watching the -approaching skiff. When it was two hundred yards -away he picked up his rifle.</p> - -<p>He chose the small of Aleck's back for his first shot -and raised his gun. In the same moment he observed -that with Carter in the stern and Aleck amidships the -bow of the skiff was high out of water. It was this -situation which saved Aleck and Peter's first bullet -crashed through the boat an inch or two below the -water line. He followed with two other shots. The -effect was almost instantaneous. Aleck Curry lurched -away from the oars and the skiff came within an ace of -upsetting. In another moment the quick-witted Carter -had called Aleck into the stern and there both crouched, -their combined weight raising the shattered bow above -the water line while Carter stripped himself of his -shirt.</p> - -<p>The shots roused Donald, and with an effort he drew -himself up beside Peter.</p> - -<p>"What is it?" he demanded. He turned his scarred -face toward Peter and then with a strange cry covered -his face with his hands. "My God, I can't see!" he -cried. "Peter—I can't see!"</p> - -<p>In that darkest moment of his life Peter thanked God -the wind came and filled the sail of Simon's boat and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> -that neither Carter nor Aleck Curry shouted after them -or made a sound that his father might hear, and like -an inspiration a lie came to his lips—he had done some -poor shooting at a flock of mallards! He spoke cheerfully -of his father's efforts to see, telling him it would -be days before he could hope for vision when his eyes -were swollen and scarred by burns. And Donald, -seeing nothing of the agony in Peter's bloodless face, -smiled cheerfully up at the clearing sky in spite of his -pain. He did not mind so much about his hands, he -said, but it was a hardship to have his eyes covered as -Peter was bandaging them now because he wanted to -see as much as he could of his boy in the short time -they would be together. There was a note of happiness -in his voice which was in strange contrast to the pathos -of his appearance and his helplessness.</p> - -<p>And Peter fought to keep up that spirit of cheer and -of gladness that was in Donald McRae's heart. But -his own heart was breaking—for he knew that his -father was blind.</p> - -<p>Hours later Simon's boat came stealing back to shore -in the sunless dusk of the evening. This time the sail -was down and with muffled oars Peter rowed cautiously -for the break in the cliff. Blended with the deepening -shadows of the sea, he worked his boat into the narrow -maw of the crevasse whose rock walls rose two hundred -feet over their heads. In utter darkness, with the thin -streak of light far above, he felt his way for half an -hour. Then the fissure widened and after another<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> -fifteen minutes of slow progress its walls bulged outward, -losing themselves in the gloom, and ahead -stretched the hidden inlet, smothered on all sides by -precipitous crags and cliffs and towering forest ridges.</p> - -<p>On a narrow strip of sand he grounded the boat and -lighted the lantern which Simon had placed in the -outfit. Its illumination threw up grimly the black shadows -about them, and questing among these, he found -huge masses of torn and twisted rocks so wildly thrown -together that among them were many little caverns and -grottoes thickly carpeted with white sand. One of -these he chose for a camp, but not until he had gathered -an armful of bleached driftwood and had started -a fire did he return to the boat. It was then, in the -yellow light of flaming cedar and pine, that he noted a -strange and startling change had come over his father. -Donald McRae no longer bore the appearance of a sick -man. He stood straight and was breathing deeply. -His lips were smiling as he faced Peter and quite -calmly he removed the bandage from his eyes.</p> - -<p>"At last we are home," he spoke softly. "And just -beyond you—<i>I see your mother</i>!" Instantly he seemed -to sense the shock of those words to Peter, for he said: -"Don't let that frighten you, lad. Every day and night -she is at my side. Only—now—<i>she is nearer</i>!"</p> - -<p>He reached out his hands and almost fiercely Peter's -arms closed about him.</p> - -<p>Donald stroked his hair. It was the old caress, and -he spoke to Peter as if to a little boy again.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span></p> - -<p>"You're not afraid, Peter?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Afraid——"</p> - -<p>Peter's heart stopped beating.</p> - -<p>"They can't hurt you," said Donald soothingly. "I -won't let them do that, Peter."</p> - -<p>Peter drew slowly away. His face was gray in the -firelight and in his eyes was a growing horror. He -tried to speak but no words came from his lips. Donald's -scarred face was strangely tranquil. It seemed -to Peter that years had dropped away from it. In it -was no fear, no sign of strain, no consciousness of the -terrible hours they had passed through or of the tragic -future which lay ahead. And the truth came to Peter, -a suspicion at first, a whisper, growing and overwhelming -him until at last it was a dizzying sickness that set -him swaying on his feet. In this hour Donald McRae -was not the man who had returned after years of wandering -to see his boy. His mind had gone back. It -had returned to the days of Peter's childhood and his -voice was repeating words almost forgotten—a sacred -promise of days when Peter had built mighty castles in -the air and his father had helped him plan them with -the understanding smile that was on his lips now.</p> - -<p>For he was saying: "They won't hurt a boy, Peter. -We'll get away. And then we'll go through the big -woods to the mountains just as we've always wanted -to do."</p> - -<p>Peter raised clenched hands to his face to stifle his -agony.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span></p> - -<p>In the torturing slowness of the hours which followed -Donald McRae lived again in the precious years -when Peter was a boy, recalling forgotten incidents -as if they had happened yesterday, bringing forth their -old dreams, painting their pictures of the future as he -had done so often with Peter at his side in the afterglow -of evenings long ago. And Peter, with his soul torn -and bleeding, talked with him. Together they were -hunting again. They followed the old trap-lines. They -heard the song of birds and planted seeds and flowers -in the little garden back of their cabin home, and Peter -was kneeling at his father's knees when he said his -prayers at night. These things Peter had dreamed of -and treasured in his years at Five Fingers, but now -they were horrors—coming out of the past with a voice -that trembled with the thrill and joy of a strange madness.</p> - -<p>At last Donald slept. It was after midnight and the -last embers of the fire had burned out. Peter rose -to his feet and walked up the shore, staring into darkness. -The rock walls that inclosed the inlet rose sheer -above him, making of the place a deep and sombrous -pit. He could see the stars and their distance lent an -abysmal solitude to the gloom. About him was no -movement and no stir of life; the water lay still; no -whisper came from dark forests on the ridge tops; the -black walls were dead and in the soft sand his feet -alone disturbed the sepulchral quiet.</p> - -<p>To Peter this strangeness seemed naturally a part<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> -of the change that had come into his life. Everything -was changed. His world had gone into atoms and now -it was reassembling itself; and with deadened emotions, -almost dully, he was beginning to accept it. His yesterdays, -it seemed, had existed an infinitely long time ago. -Five Fingers was no longer home or a necessity and -even Mona seemed a vast distance away from him in -these hours when his own soul was remolding itself to -fit the grimness of a new existence. His mind no longer -questioned the path he was to take and no shadow of -revolt rose in it.</p> - -<p>One thought was as steadfastly fixed in him now as -life itself. He belonged to his father and his father belonged -utterly to him. He must go on with him, care -for him, fight for him, save him from that one dread -brutality of the law if his own life paid the forfeit in -the end. That was settled. Even his love for Mona -could not change that duty and older love which urged -him. It was more than a resolution; it was as immutably -a part of him as the beating of his heart and his -own flesh and blood.</p> - -<p>The stars faded and day broke swiftly above the -walls of the inlet. He returned and found his father -on his hands and knees groping in the sand. He was -gathering sticks and placing them with the remnants -of last night's fire, and when he heard Peter's footsteps -he paused in his labor and raised a face out of -which once more the years of grief and hopelessness -seemed to have gone.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Are you hungry, Peter?" he asked.</p> - -<p>And Peter, as he knelt beside him, knew that he was -speaking to Peter the boy and not to Peter the man.</p> - -<p>Together they built the fire.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2 style="margin-top: 3.5em; margin-bottom: 2em;"><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI</a></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Nine</span> days Peter and his father spent in their -hiding-place under the walls of the lagoon. At -the end of that time Donald's burns were healed and -his strength had returned. He had taken on flesh and -his shoulders were straighter. His eyes were clear -again but their vision was strangely shadowed and at -a hundred yards the wall of the lagoon was like a dark -curtain. For a time it was impossible for Peter to -believe that his father's mind was not keeping pace -with his physical revivement. Yet with the passing of -each day Donald's mental grip concentrated itself more -and more on the past until he seemed not to have lived -at all beyond those years when Peter was a boy. Together -they picked up old threads as if they had never -been broken or lost, and in those occasional dark and -brooding intervals when Donald's mind dragged itself -back into the haunting tragedy of the present Peter -found himself praying for the return of that partial -amnesia which at first had terrified him.</p> - -<p>On the evening of the ninth day Peter once more set -out to sea. Fifty miles westward he ran ashore in the -illusive, gray dusk of morning and burned Simon's -boat.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span></p> - -<p>Now that their flight northward had actually begun -there were moments when his father's attitude almost -frightened him. At first Donald's mind was keenly -alive to the nearness of danger and in his half blindness -he became more watchful and alert than Peter. But -it was the peril of years ago that haunted him—the -menace of the men who had driven them from their -cabin home and who had nearly killed them when Peter -was a boy.</p> - -<p>After the third day Peter began to mark the beginning -of the final change in his father. Donald became -less watchful and sounds no longer seemed to disturb -him. Instincts which warned him of peril became -ghosts and at last faded away entirely. By the end of -the seventh day there remained only one consciousness -of living in Donald's soul; Peter was his little boy, and -he was with Peter. Physically he betrayed no sign that -his mind had crumbled. His scarred eyes, in which -vision had grown even dimmer, held in them a deep and -abiding clearness and a strange gentleness grew in his -face. And Peter, holding tight to keep his own heart -from breaking, knew what it meant. His father was -forgetful of all things now but his boy, and was happy.</p> - -<p>This change more than anything else killed in Peter's -breast his last hope of returning to Five Fingers. Sheer -madness with its darkness and its misery might have -driven him back to Simon and Father Albanel, taking -Donald McRae to asylum doors instead of to the hangman. -But this which he saw growing in his father<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> -was to him a quietly working miracle of God instead -of breaking down of body and soul and brain.</p> - -<p>As day followed day and one cool, dark night added -itself to another, a warm and thrilling reaction came -to replace with new emotions the gloom and desolation -in his heart. Not for an hour did he stop thinking -of Mona; her face was with him, her voice, the touch -of her lips and hands; she walked with him in the thick -aisles of the forest, slept near his side at night, wakened -with him in the morning and became in each increasing -hour of their separation more completely a part of him. -But with this thought of her returned also the old passion -of his childhood—his love for his father. His -heart stirred strangely to the gentle caress of Donald's -hand as it had thrilled when he was a boy. The old -chumship rose out of its ashes, smoldered for a while -and then burned steadily as if the broken years had -never been. Home, mother, father, all the joys and -dreams of childhood and early boyhood crept upon -him a little at a time, until at last he knew that to sacrifice -his father was as unthinkable as to surrender that -part of his heart which Mona filled.</p> - -<p>Between these two loves, encouraged on one side by -duty and on the other by desire, lay his grief. Until -the end of the third week he did not give up fully his -resolution to send word back to Mona. By that time -the hazard of such an act had fully impressed itself -upon him. He no longer feared Aleck Curry, whose -stupidity he had fully measured, but almost as frequently<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> -as Mona filled his mind came also dread of -Carter. A cold and abiding fear of this man entered -into him and he was confident it would not be long -before this human ferret of the forests would in some -way find their trail. At times he was oppressed by the -feeling that Carter was close behind them and he tried -to establish in his mind the certainty of his action if -his father's enemy should suddenly appear. Thought -of what might happen—what probably would happen—made -him shudder. For there could be no halfway -measures with Carter now.</p> - -<p>Always on the alert, with his rifle never far from -reach of his hands, he swung still farther north and -west. Autumn found him in the Dubaunt River country, -and the beginning of winter on the Thelon. Here -he traded his watch in a Dogrib camp for a score of -traps, blankets and new moccasins, invested the last of -his money in flour, sugar, salt and tea, and took possession -of an abandoned cabin in the neighborhood of -Hinde Lake. All through the winter he trapped and set -deadfalls and snares.</p> - -<p>A hundred times during the long winter he fought -against his desire to send a word to Mona. Months -had not dulled his caution and as soon as the spring -break-up made it possible to travel he led his father into -the Artillery Lake country. Through the spring and -early summer they were constantly on the move, always -making a little southward. By the time August came -they had completed two-thirds of an immense circle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span> -and south of the Athabasca country found themselves -in the unmapped region between the Cree River and -the McFarland. Here, in a country of ridges and -swamps and deep forests, Peter made up his mind that -at last they were safely hidden from Carter and all the -rest of the world.</p> - -<p>He breathed easier and began the building of a -cabin. This was on a dark-watered, silent little stream, -with a vast swamp at their back door, ridge country -to right and left of them and an illimitable forest reaching -out in front. The nearest point of habitation that -Peter knew of was a Hudson's Bay Company post -sixty miles away.</p> - -<p>And this cabin with each log that went into it became -a closer and more inseparable part of Donald McRae. -Out of that forgetfulness which could scarcely be called -madness began to creep memories so warm and vivid -that they seemed to breathe with life itself. For Donald -was building the old home again, the home of Peter's -mother, where the moon had looked in through the -window on the night he was born—a home, sweet and -whispering with the presence of a woman one had worshiped -in the flesh and the other had visioned as an -angel in his dreams. After a little it was Donald and -not Peter who was building the cabin, and by the time -it was finished it seemed to Peter that a strange and -unseen spirit of life, gentle as prayer itself, had come -to dwell in it with them.</p> - -<p>Autumn came again with its paradise of color. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> -cedars, spruces and balsams took on a deeper, richer -green; each sunrise bathed the ridges of poplar and -birch in new splendor of red and yellow and gold; the -nights grew colder, the days were filled more and more -with the autumn tang that made blood run red and -warm. God was with them here. Donald said that, as -in the days of old. And Peter began to believe—and -as faith rose in him hope and dreams returned. <i>Mona's -prayer was answered</i>—the prayer they had said together -for years asking that his father might be returned to -him, and that they might all find refuge together somewhere -in the wilderness world which they loved. And -this was the refuge, given to them through the sweet -and charitable guidance of God. All that was needed -to complete it was Mona.</p> - -<p>He began to thrill with a greater excitement as the -first snows came. Would it be safe to return for Mona -<i>now</i>? There were times when his whole soul cried -out in the affirmative and he was almost ready to begin -the long journey. But his caution never quite died and -he always pulled himself back in time. Sixteen months -had seemed an eternity to him but prudence warned him -not to hurry. He would wait until spring. By that -time, if Carter were on their trail, the climax would -surely come. If the winter passed safely, he would go -to Five Fingers and bring Mona back with him. Not -for a moment did he doubt she would come, and he -continued to add to the glorious castles he built in his -mind, shadowed only now and then by oppressing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span> -thoughts of the many things which might have happened -at Five Fingers in almost two years of absence.</p> - -<p>Late in February he left for the trading-post with -two Indian dogs and a light toboggan to sell his furs. -It was not unusual now for Donald to remain alone -for several days at a time, for Peter knew the home -they had built had become a part of his heart and soul -and that nothing short of actual force or his own -wishes and plans could drag his father from it. On -this trip to the post he expected to be gone five days.</p> - -<p>It was very cold. Trees cracked and snapped with -the piercing bite of the frost and the snow crackled -underfoot. For a long time after Peter had disappeared -Donald stood in the little clearing staring over -the trail where his boy had gone.</p> - -<p>Something unknown to Peter was finding its way -into Donald's brain. Through the night it had worked, -gnawing its way slowly and stealthily, and now that -Peter was gone it grew bolder. Even as he turned the -cabin took on a new aspect for Donald. Though the -sun was shining and the sky was clear, a shadow -seemed to have fallen over it and the welcoming spirit -which had always clasped him closely to its heart was -missing when he entered through the door. As the -day passed a change came in Donald's face. He was -restless and uneasy. Sounds startled him again. In -the dusk of evening he did not light a candle but sat -quietly in a corner, staring into darkness with his half-blind -eyes, and all that night he did not go to bed.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span></p> - -<p>The next day there was no sun; the sky was heavy -with gloom, the air thick and difficult for Donald to -breathe. Mysterious shadows crept about him and at -times he tried futilely to seize these with his hands. As -the hours passed his mind became more and more like -a broken limb from which the last prop had been taken. -A hundred times he whispered Peter's name. Then -came the beginning of the storm. It broke in mid-afternoon -and by night was a howling blizzard. In -darkness the cabin shook and the wind screamed overhead -and the snow beat like shot against the window. -It would be a long time before the forest people would -forget this storm because of its ferocity and the tragedy -which it left in its wake, but to Donald it was more -than a storm—it was a personal thing. In it was the -cumulative chaos of all the evils from which he had -been a fugitive through the years, and now, cornering -him at last, they were fighting to break through the -log walls of the cabin.</p> - -<p>He built up the fire until it roared in the chimney -and lighted candles until the cabin was aflame with -light. And then, suddenly as a bolt of lightning, some -thing came to him. It was <i>voice</i>—voice screaming at -the window, voice howling over the roof logs, voice -moaning and wailing and dying away in the sweeping -of the wind. "<i>Peter!</i> <i>Peter!</i> <i>Peter!</i>" It was crying—nothing -but Peter's name, repeating it a thousand -times in its laughing, taunting, moaning efforts to make -him understand.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span></p> - -<p>A half-savage cry rose out of his breast. He was -not afraid, not when his boy needed him—and hatless -and coatless he flung up the birchwood bar to the door -and faced the storm.</p> - -<p>"<i>Peter!</i>" he called. "<i>Peter!</i> <i>Peter!</i>"</p> - -<p>It all had but one meaning for Donald now. The -storm had Peter. It was playing with him, killing him, -and these devils in the wind had come to tell him about -it in their glee. He could feel them clawing and -striking at his breast and face; the snow struck his -eyes like tiny spear points and he found it difficult to -get his breath in the face of the blast which tried to -overwhelm him. He called again as he fought his -way out into the blackness and snow. His words -drifted away in shreds, whipped to pieces by the wind. -Creatures seemed picking up handfuls of snow and -hurling it in his face—he could hear their swift movement, -the hissing of their breath, their evasion as he -struck out at them, and he called Peter's name louder -than before to give his boy courage and let him know -he was coming.</p> - -<p>That Peter was near the cabin, that he had turned -back and was making a desperate fight to reach its shelter -was as firmly a part of Donald's mind as the -conviction that all the forces of the darkness and evil -were trying to keep him away from his boy.</p> - -<p>His head was bare and his woolen shirt was unbuttoned -at the throat, but he did not sense the terrible -cold that came with the blizzard. Among the trees his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span> -feet found instinctively the beginning of the trail that -was blazed through the forest and he reached out his -naked hands and plunged knee-deep through windrows -of snow that lay in his way. The thickets whipped and -beat at him and branches, ambushed in darkness, -reached out from twisting trees to strike him, but he -did not feel sting or pain.</p> - -<p>At last he was sure he heard an answer to his calling -but the wind came and roared in his ears and the snow -beat so fiercely in his face that he could not locate the -quarter from which it came. Then he tricked the wind. -He stumbled in the snow behind a tree and lay there -until a brief lull followed in the wake of it, when he -called again as loudly as he could. But he had the -direction of it now and a hundred paces brought him -to the edge of a rocky ravine which ran near the trail. -Down this he clambered and in the pit-like darkness at -the bottom found what he was seeking. Beside a figure -rumpled and twisted in the snow he fell upon his knees, -moaning Peter's name.</p> - -<p>Half an hour later Donald came back to the light -in the clearing, staggering under the weight of his -burden. He opened the door and together the two -crashed in upon the floor. On his hands and knees -Donald turned and shut the door against the storm. -Then he crept to the younger man whose wide-open -eyes were staring at him from a thin, white, strangely -contorted face, and put his arms about him, holding his -head closely against his breast.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span></p> - -<p>"You're all right now, Peter," he comforted in a -broken, gasping voice. "You're all right——" He -tried to laugh as his frozen fingers wiped the snow from -the other's hair. "We're home and it's warm and I'll -get something to eat——"</p> - -<p>He crawled to the stove, almost crooning in his joy, -and opened the iron door to thrust in more wood. -The flames lighted up his face, bloodless from the cold -and wet with snow that had already begun to melt and -trickle down his cheeks to his bare neck and chest. His -hair glistened white—whiter, it seemed, than an hour -ago; his breath came huskily as if driven through a -sieve; he was a crumpled, frozen, wind-broken wreck, -and yet as he turned from the flaming door of the stove -to look at the man on the floor there was a strange -miracle of triumph and happiness riding over the torture -in his face and a smile was on his lips. The storm -might beat and howl outside and all the evils of darkness -might scream and rage to get in for all he cared -now. He had saved his boy!</p> - -<p>He rose to his feet and stood swaying for a moment, -smiling, trying to speak. Then he fell upon a cot.</p> - -<p>The man on the floor had pulled himself to his elbow. -He put a mittened hand to his throat as if to free -himself from fingers that were gripping him there. -His face too was bloodless. It was a thin face, driven -white and hard by exhaustion and pain. He was a man -who had been close to death and the shadow of it was -still in his eyes.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span></p> - -<p>He drew off his mittens and a foot at a time dragged -himself across the floor. When he reached the cot he -pulled himself up to it and put his arms over the -stricken form of the one who had saved him.</p> - -<p>Donald felt the nearness and raised a hand weakly -to the other's face.</p> - -<p>"You—Peter?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Yes, it's me."</p> - -<p>Donald's blue lips smiled.</p> - -<p>"They didn't get us, did they, boy? We got away -from them——"</p> - -<p>"Yes, we got away."</p> - -<p>"And you're warm now—good and warm?"</p> - -<p>The head over him bowed itself slowly until almost -reverently it touched Donald's breast. It was not -Peter's head. It was not Peter's voice that answered. -But Donald gave a deep sigh of contentment as his -fingers found a hand which he thought was Peter's -and for a time neither one nor the other spoke again, -while near them the fire crackled merrily in the stove -and the candles sputtered and flared as if laughing at -the storm which was lashing itself into a wailing madness -outside the cabin walls.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>For three days and nights no living creature could -stand against the storm which swept the Athabasca -country, nor could they travel in the intense cold which -followed in its wake.</p> - -<p>It was the fifth of March, twelve days after he had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span> -left the cabin, before Peter crossed the Pipestone on -his return into the region where he and his father had -made their home.</p> - -<p>His mind was a torment of unrest as he visioned -a hundred tragic happenings, any one of which might -have visited his father during his absence. The last -twenty-four hours he traveled without an hour of -sleep.</p> - -<p>It was midday when he came to a high ridge from -which he could look down into a cup of the forest -where the cabin stood, a mile away. For the first time -he breathed easily when he saw a spiral of blue smoke -rising straight up into the clear sunshine of the day.</p> - -<p>He laughed in his gladness as he came to the trail -which led past the spring near their home. He would -stop and drink there and then give the old-time halloo -for his father. He could see Donald hurrying through -the sunshine to welcome him as he heard that cry.</p> - -<p>As he came round the last turn in the trail he stopped -suddenly. Someone was at the spring. The bent figure -was less than a hundred yards from him and he could -see it rising slowly, lifting a pail filled with water. -He shifted his rifle and made a megaphone of his mittened -hands at his mouth. It would be a rousing surprise -for his dad!</p> - -<p>But the cry died before it reached his lips. The man -at the spring was not his father. Tall and thin and -hooded, and walking with a stick as he advanced, the -stranger came toward Peter. He progressed slowly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> -and with difficulty, limping with each step he took. -His head was bowed and not until they had approached -within a few paces of each other did he raise it so -that his face was clearly revealed. And then Peter -gave a startled cry and swift as a flash swung the -muzzle of his rifle upon the other.</p> - -<p>"<i>Carter!</i>" he gasped.</p> - -<p>A wan smile played over the ferret's face as he raised -a hand and thrust back his hood.</p> - -<p>"My name is not Carter," he replied. "Since twelve -days ago I have been Peter McRae—Donald McRae's -son."</p> - -<p>Something in his thin face and strangely sunken eyes -sent a cold chill to Peter's heart.</p> - -<p>Carter had stopped with the muzzle of the rifle -touching the pit of his stomach. He made no effort to -thrust it aside but stood looking calmly into the -other's eyes.</p> - -<p>"It happened just that long ago," he said. "I was -trailing you when I slipped over a ledge and almost -broke a leg among the rocks. The storm came and I -was about done for, when your father wandered out -into the night, calling your name, and I answered. He -got me into the cabin and I've been there ever since. -From the beginning he thought I was you. I understand -now, McRae. I know what I've done—and I -wish you would pull that trigger. I deserve it."</p> - -<p>Peter lowered the gun.</p> - -<p>"You have not harmed him?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span></p> - -<p>"<i>Harmed him!</i>" A dull look of agony filled Carter's -eyes as he turned slowly toward the cabin. "No, I -haven't harmed him—not since twelve days ago. It -was all done before that. Only God will ever know how -gentle and good he was to me, thinking I was you—and -if by dying I could return what I've taken away -from him I'd kill myself. And if I were in your place, -Peter—standing where you are—<i>I'd shoot</i>!"</p> - -<p>He gave a stifled cry as Peter hurried past him. In -it was a note of appeal that choked and died in his -throat. But Peter did not hear it nor did he see fully -the look of dread that was in Carter's eyes. He unshouldered -his pack at the cabin door, laid his rifle beside it -and went in. He was no longer afraid of Carter. -Something tighter and more terrible was gripping at -his heart.</p> - -<p>Carter came limping up the trail and when he reached -the door he bared his head and quietly followed Peter -into the cabin.</p> - -<p>Peter was on his knees beside the bunk in which -Donald was lying. His arms were spread out and his -head was bowed upon Donald's breast.</p> - -<p>White-faced, Carter knelt beside him and put both -his hands about his shoulders. "Until <i>he</i> brought me -into this cabin twelve days ago I never believed in God," -he said huskily. "But I do now, Peter. For twelve -days <i>your father was my father</i>. I loved him. And I -know, if he could have understood, that from the beginning -he would have forgiven me—the man who hunted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span> -him to his death. If by any merciful chance <i>you</i> can -do that, Peter—if you can find it in your heart to let -him remain my father and you my brother——" One -of his hands found Peter's, clasping it tightly, and the -other crept to Donald's face, where it lay cold and lifeless -on its pillow. "In God's name say you forgive -me!" he whispered.</p> - -<p>In answer Peter's fingers returned the pressure of -Carter's hand and a sob broke on the man-hunter's lips.</p> - -<p>After a moment of silence he said: "It was the terrible -cold and exposure of that night in which he was -hunting for you. It reached his lungs. Until yesterday -I was not afraid. Then the change came—swiftly. -He died this morning, Peter, in <i>your</i> arms, and the last -word on his lips was <i>your</i> name—and Mona's."</p> - -<p>A long time there was stillness in the cabin as the two -men knelt beside their dead.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2 style="margin-top: 3.5em; margin-bottom: 2em;"><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII</a></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">In</span> the long days and weeks which followed Peter's -return to the cabin and the death of his father a -change which seemed to him a little short of a miracle -came over the man-hunter. The pitiless Carter, the -human ferret, whose years of duty had never been -tempered with mercy or conscience, was gone, and in -his place was a new Carter, dragging himself a little at -a time out of the paths of tragedy and misery which he -had followed for so long.</p> - -<p>Through those years Peter knew that Carter had -been a Nemesis and a destroyer. He had not known -pity, but only the grim exultation of achievement. -Women, love, the extenuation of circumstance, even -motherhood in its most beautiful sacrifice, had not -stayed his hand when once the law had set him like a -hound upon the scent of his victim. He had broken -men and women. He had opened doors of blackness -and despair to a hundred human souls. Yet the law had -been always at his back, urging him on and exulting in -his triumphs; he had committed no crime, no sin, and -the world had applauded his exploits when it heard of -them, visioning him as a splendid part of that mighty -mechanism of legal force which made peace and good<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> -will on earth possible among men. Yet Carter, in these -strange days of his mental and spiritual transformation, -knew differently.</p> - -<p>He knew that he had served too well, and for that -reason he hated himself, and called himself a fiend. It -was now, after he had hunted Peter's father to his -death, that his successes began to dig themselves out of -their graves and reappear to him as haunting ghosts. -And he prayed God to keep Peter, of all men, from hating -him.</p> - -<p>"I killed your father," he said to him frankly. "I -hunted him until his mind and his body broke down -and he died. And in the end he accepted me as a son, -and I loved him. If I had only known! But I didn't, -and my life belongs to you. I give it willingly as the -price of a great mistake."</p> - -<p>And as the sullen winter's end passed Peter found it -impossible to hate Carter. Instead, there grew in him -a slow and irresistible feeling of brotherhood for the -man who had trailed them to their hiding-place at last, -and who, in the hour of his deepest grief, had knelt -with him in prayer over the frozen grave of his father. -In those moments he had learned that it was not Carter -who was accountable. It was the system—the law and -its inalienable right to strike and kill.</p> - -<p>Now, late in April, they were going home.</p> - -<p>Six hundred miles behind them lay the wilderness of -the Pipestone and the McFarland, where the hunt had -ended and the final tragedy had been enacted.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span></p> - -<p>Ahead of them, beyond four hundred miles of still -deeper forests was Five Fingers.</p> - -<p>On this night, as they sat in the yellow glow of a -birchwood fire which they had built in the chill of sunset, -Carter had drawn a rough map in the edge of the -ash. The somber depths of a moonless night lay like a -curtain of heavy velvet behind him, and against this his -thin and hawk-like face was set so vividly that Peter -saw the odd twitch of his lips as he said:</p> - -<p>"One week for Jackson's Knee, another for the country -of Lac St. Joe, two more for the Height of Land, -and then you'll be looking down on Five Fingers! -They'll all be glad to see you, Peter. And Mona——" -He shrugged his shoulders and a little throb came in -the pit of his throat when he spoke of Peter's sweetheart. -"God knows a man should be happy with a -girl like her waiting for him at the end of the trail."</p> - -<p>"I've been away two years," replied Peter, for it was -always that thought which kept pounding at his heart. -"At times I am afraid of what may have happened -since that night you and Aleck Curry almost got dad -and me in the edge of the burned lands."</p> - -<p>Carter made no sign that he had heard. He was -staring into the deep, red embers of the fire.</p> - -<p>"Your mother was an angel," he said, so quietly and -unexpectedly that his words fell upon Peter almost with -the effect of a shock. "In the last of those days when -your father and I were shut up together by storm and -cold in the cabin, and he was accepting me as his son in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span> -his madness, he talked of her almost as if she were -alive and we were going home to her."</p> - -<p>"She has been dead twenty years," said Peter.</p> - -<p>"I know. Dead, and yet living. I can scarcely -believe that I hunted Donald McRae until I drove him -mad—for doing a thing which I would have done had -I stood in his shoes that day when he killed a man! It -was justice, Peter. My mother I cannot remember. -But <i>your</i> mother he made very near and real for me -in those last days of—I can't call it his madness!—it -was——"</p> - -<p>"Forgetfulness," said Peter.</p> - -<p>Carter bowed his head. "Yes, forgetfulness. Yet -some things lived so vividly—things of the past. He -made them live and breathe for me—and one picture -makes me want to kill!—that picture of the little cabin -in the clearing more than twenty years ago—your -mother—you in her arms—Donald McRae's homecoming -and the vengeance he dealt out to the snake -who had come to take advantage of his absence. When -I see that vision I want to choke the life out of a human -beast I know—Aleck Curry!"</p> - -<p>Peter made no answer.</p> - -<p>"I can't undo what I've done," Carter went on. "I -tracked your father until his mind broke under the -strain, but I can't help that now. It is over. All I can -do in the way of reparation is to help you—you and -Mona Guyon. And between you two—between your -happiness and hers—is one man, a slimy, conscienceless<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span> -serpent, waiting and watching for your return."</p> - -<p>"You mean—Aleck Curry?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, Aleck Curry."</p> - -<p>Carter stood up, his tall, catlike form bathed in the -fire glow, and his hard lips were tightly closed as he -stared off into the darkness of the forest.</p> - -<p>"Sounds queer—that word 'conscienceless' coming -from me," he mocked bitterly. "I've never had a conscience -or a heart in obeying the word of the law—but -I've never thought bad of a woman in the way Aleck -Curry thinks of Mona Guyon. He would sell his soul, -if he had one, to possess her—even if she came to him -for only an hour as the price of your safety and -freedom. And you're going home—<i>an outlaw</i>!"</p> - -<p>"By that you mean Curry will hold me in his power -when I reach Five Fingers?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"And will attempt to force from me a price——"</p> - -<p>Peter stood looking straight into Carter's eyes.</p> - -<p>"Yes, partly from you, but mostly from Mona. -That is why I've been holding you back, a drag from -the beginning. Curry's uncle has become a power -politically, and Aleck was given a corporalship a year -ago. I would stake my life that he is keeping his secret -about you and the part you played in your father's -escape two years ago. The knowledge is too precious -for him to divulge. You assaulted him, almost killed -him, and freed your father; you kept him—an officer -of the law—a prisoner on an island; later you fired upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span> -Curry and me with the rifle which Simon McQuarrie -gave you—and all this means from five to fifteen years -in prison for you, and Curry knows it. The fact that -your father was almost blind, and that his mind had -broken down, won't help you. Law is law, especially -in Canada. Our judges and juries go by the code and -not by emotions. And this law, its inviolability, is why -Aleck Curry is a greater menace to you now than all -the dangers you have encountered since you led your -father into the north.</p> - -<p>"He is moved entirely by two passions, one his desire -for Mona Guyon and the other his hatred for you. On -the night when we almost caught you both in your -escape from Five Fingers he offered me a thousand dollars -and his uncle's influence in getting me a sergeancy -if I would keep the secret of your capture, and turn -our prisoners over to him. It was my humor to let -him think he had bought me. And then, in the dawn -of that morning, you filled our boat full of bullets—and -got way. That's the story, Peter. There is no escaping -the trap if you return to Five Fingers. Curry will -descend upon you, demand marriage of Mona, or probably -worse—and if she refuses——"</p> - -<p>"She can visit me occasionally in prison," said Peter.</p> - -<p>His face reflected no trace of the white heat that had -mounted into Carter's; he spoke quietly and his hands -had lost their clenched tenseness. For a moment Carter -gazed at him in silence.</p> - -<p>"You mean that?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I do. Aleck Curry holds no power over me that -can in any way endanger Mona. If I owe a debt, I am -willing to pay it. Neither Mona nor I have anything -that we want to sell, and Aleck Curry has nothing that -we want to buy."</p> - -<p>Carter drew in a deep breath.</p> - -<p>"If you look at it in that way——"</p> - -<p>"There is no other way."</p> - -<p>"But Curry and I are the only two men on earth who -can swear that you have done these things. The -smallest restitution I can make to you for all the wrong -I have done your father is to keep my knowledge secret. -Torture could not tear it from me. Now—if we can -silence Curry, tie his tongue, break him——"</p> - -<p>"None of which we can do," interrupted Peter. "He -has hated me since the day we first fought over Mona -when we were boys. Only one thing could stop his -vengeance. I would have to kill him, and that is inconceivable. -For my father I would have done that. I -had even prepared myself to kill you, Carter, if such an -act became necessary to save him. But for myself—<i>no</i>!"</p> - -<p>Carter thrust out his hand, but as it gripped Peter's -he turned his face away. "You're a lot like your dad," -he said. "I see it more every day. I'm going to bed. -Good night!"</p> - -<p>Caution and habit had made the ferret spread his -blankets in the pit of gloom outside the glow of firelight. -He disappeared in the darkness and a moment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span> -later Peter heard him as he stretched himself out for -the night.</p> - -<p>But Carter had no idea of sleeping. For days past -a thought had been building itself up slowly in his -brain, and tonight he had almost revealed that thought -to Peter. He watched him now, and in the firelight the -drooped figure and pale, sensitive face of the man he -had hunted and whose happiness he had helped to -destroy tightened something at his heart until he found -it hard to breathe. He had never loved a woman, and -had never felt the bond of a great friendship for a man, -but for Peter something more than the friendship he -had known—a thing that was very close to a man's love -for a man—had begun to possess him body and soul. -In this one warm emotion of his cold and merciless life -Carter felt a deeper thrill than in the hour of his -greatest man-hunting triumph, and as he lay in -stillness, strengthening that thought which was becoming -a larger and more definite thing between Peter and -Mona and the tragedy which threatened them, his lips -parted in the grim and humorless smile which in all the -years of his service had made men fear and avoid him.</p> - -<p>And with that smile, deadly and uncompromising, -Carter whispered to himself: "I guess maybe you -needn't worry, Peter. I don't think Aleck Curry and -the law are going to get you—not if I can help it."</p> - -<p>With this settled, it was easier for Carter to give -himself up to sleep.</p> - -<p>For a long time Peter sat near the fire. The birch<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span> -logs burned down into a mass of coals, and as -deeper shadows closed in about the camp he felt himself -alone except for the visions which came and went in -the dying embers. With a clearness that brought -almost physical pain the years passed before his eyes, -and when they had gone they had taken with them his -boyhood, the father he had worshiped, his dreams and -happiness, leaving behind in the ash of the fire only -memories shadowed with the gloom of tragedy. But -calmly and with a courage inspired by his own grief he -was ready to accept what lay ahead of him. The fight, -as a physical thing, was over—and he was going home. -On that point his mind was fixed and no sense of self-preservation -could move it. What was to happen to -him when he reached Five Fingers was a matter which -Fate should decide.</p> - -<p>Even in these moments of his decision he felt Mona's -nearness and her protest. If in defense of his father he -had become an outlaw, there was still a wide world in -which he could hide, and Mona would come to him. So -the persistent voice of caution whispered to him, and -at times that voice was Mona's.</p> - -<p>Haggard-faced, Peter went to bed, and in the morning -it was Carter, cold and mechanically efficient, who -pointed out the same way to him.</p> - -<p>But even as he pressed his reasoning home, Peter -observed there was a still deeper and more mysterious -change in his companion. It lay more in Carter's eyes -than in his voice or the unemotional lines of his face.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span></p> - -<p>"You've learned how big the woods are," he said. -"Go north, into the Yukon or Alaska. I will see that -Mona comes to you—safely."</p> - -<p>Peter shook his head.</p> - -<p>"I've also learned what it means to run from thicket -to thicket, guarding a hunted thing you love. That -would be Mona's share—years of it, until the end. -And the end would come sometime. I'd rather pay the -debt—and have free years left to me afterward."</p> - -<p>It was Carter's last effort. From that hour he -traveled steadily homeward with Peter, making no -protest against this new code which had come into his -life of giving, instead of taking, a tooth for a tooth -and an eye for an eye.</p> - -<p>The middle of May found them halfway between -Lac St. Joe and the Height of Land, with Five Fingers -still a hundred and eighty miles ahead of them.</p> - -<p>"We'll make it in seven days," said Peter.</p> - -<p>"Unless the melting snows flood the streams," said -Carter.</p> - -<p>Spring was breaking gloriously. Scents filled the -air. Crushed balsam and cedar gave out a redolence -that was tonic. The poplar buds were bursting. Birds -were returning. On the sides of slopes where the sun -struck warmly the snow was gone, grass sprang up lush -green, and flowers that budded while the earth was still -white began to bloom. Sap dripped from broken limbs, -and the whispered breath of a wakening life, of growing -things, and of matehood, hope and happiness,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span> -seemed to rise between the earth and the sky, night -and day.</p> - -<p>Both Peter and Carter sensed the thrill of these -things, yet neither felt their joy. The floods held them -back, so that at first their loss was in hours, and then -in days. Carter was glad, but he gave no betrayal of -that fact. His face in these last weeks had grown -quietly and splendidly different from the old Carter's. -It was cold, deeply lined, austere, but its sharpness was -mellowed and there was no longer the ferret-like gleam -in his eyes or the grim hardness in his lips and chin. -Not a day passed that his hand did not rest on Peter's -shoulder or arm, and in his touch was a gentleness that -at times was reflected in the look of his eyes. But in -the secrecy of his own thoughts was a dread of the day -they would arrive at Five Fingers. Dread—and yet -not fear.</p> - -<p>Peter did not reveal his own fears except as they -became a part of his face and eyes in certain moments -which a man like Carter could not fail to observe. -These fears were not inspired by visions of personal -danger, for in adjusting his mind to the necessity of -paying his debt to the law he had eliminated the menace -of Aleck Curry in so far as it could possibly affect the -future of Mona or himself.</p> - -<p>What he dreaded were the changes which nearly two -years might have brought to Five Fingers, and the evil -which Aleck Curry could have accomplished in that -time. Just what outrage his enemy could have successfully<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span> -consummated he had no definite idea. Yet -the thought seized upon him at times and held him -under a dark and oppressive apprehension.</p> - -<p>On the last day before crossing the Height of Land -Carter spoke of what he knew to be in Peter's mind.</p> - -<p>"You will find Mona safe and well, and as true as -the day you left her," he said. "And lovelier, too, -Peter, for she needed these two years to round out her -glorious womanhood. I'm not worrying about her. -I'm putting all my faith in another gamble."</p> - -<p>"And that?"</p> - -<p>Carter gave his thin shoulders a suggestive shrug.</p> - -<p>"Has it occurred to you how nice it will be if—in -these two years of change you have anticipated—something -has happened to Curry? Death, for instance?"</p> - -<p>Peter looked at his companion to see if he was joking. -Carter's face was set and unsmiling.</p> - -<p>"Why not?" he argued. "Aleck, although a brother -of the Devil, isn't calamity-proof. With him under six -feet of good, honest dirt, or mysteriously missing, or -kicked out of the force by an authority greater than his -uncle—you would be a free man, and Father Albanel -could ring the wedding bell the day you reach Five -Fingers. Maybe it's only a dream I've had—but I -seem to see Aleck Curry safely out of your way, now or -very soon. If he has tried to take advantage of Mona -Guyon during your absence——"</p> - -<p>"Simon McQuarrie or Pierre Gourdon would kill -him!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Exactly!" And Carter lighted his pipe and said no -more, nor did he raise his eyes to see the strained look -which he knew was in Peter's face.</p> - -<p>That night they slept on the northward slope of the -ridge that separated the waterways of a continent.</p> - -<p>Two days later, on the first of June, they crossed the -southern line of rail and camped in the deep wilderness -between it and Lake Superior.</p> - -<p>Carter made his bed with more than usual care.</p> - -<p>"Our last night," he said. "Tomorrow we should -pass the high ridge country before dark and reach Five -Fingers in the early light of the moon. Are you a little -excited?"</p> - -<p>"I should like to go on," said Peter.</p> - -<p>Carter smiled a bit wistfully. Now and then this -flash of gentleness had crept into his face of late. "I'd -be willing to give up the rest of my life if for a few -hours I could have someone waiting for me as Mona -Guyon is waiting for you," he answered in a low voice. -"Strange that I've let all the years go by without thinking -of that, isn't it? But I'm thinking now. And I'm -sorry—for a lot of things."</p> - -<p>"You say you are going to resign from the police as -soon as you can," said Peter, looking into the darkness -that lay between him and home. "When you do that—come -to Five Fingers. Simon McQuarrie and Pierre -Gourdon and Joe and Father Albanel and all the others -will make it home for you. And Mona and Marie -Antoinette and Josette will love you because you were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span> -four-square and helped <i>us</i>. And after that—somewhere—maybe -at Five Fingers—there will be a -girl——"</p> - -<p>A cough came from the gloom behind Peter, a thick -and husky cough as if Carter were choking something -back that was in his throat. "One of the few things I -remember from years ago is a song called 'The City -Four-Square,'" he said. "And when you, of all men, -call me four-square—why——" Darkness hid his face. -"Good night, Peter!"</p> - -<p>"Good night," said Peter.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2 style="margin-top: 3.5em; margin-bottom: 2em;"><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII</a></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Carter</span>, as usual, had made his bed in deep -shadow, and there after a time he slept. The -moon rose, but still the shadow enveloped him, while -Peter lay in a glow of light when the man-hunter -roused himself. He looked at his watch and found the -hour a little after midnight. A second time he slept, -and a second time he awakened, and thick darkness had -come in place of the moonglow. This he knew to be -the dark prelude to dawn, and he rose out of his blanket -and crept cautiously away from the camp, moving a -foot at a time and making no sound. In a quarter of -an hour darkness and distance had swallowed him. -He waited then. Dawn broke first over the tree-tops -and filtered down softly and swiftly into the lower -depths of the forest until Carter could see to travel. -He lighted a last match to look at his watch and compass -and struck due south.</p> - -<p>He traveled fast, free of pack and gun. Dawn grew -into the grayer softness of day. Peter would be awakening -now, he thought, or very soon. In an hour, or -two at the most, he would know he had been tricked. -Even with his advantage Carter sensed the thrill of an -impending race and the tragedy of it, if he should lose.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span> -Peter was swift and sure in the woods and it was a long -way to Five Fingers.</p> - -<p>High up in the sky a fleet of white clouds took on a -crimson flush. The sun rose, and it found Carter's -face settling into the hard and grim lines of the hunter -whose game had so frequently been the lives of men. -In a small leather pouch he had stored some food, and -a part of this he ate as he traveled. He lost no time in -seeking log and driftwood dams to pave his way over -streams but plunged waist-deep into water that was still -cold with the chill of snow and ice. It was noon before -he stopped to rest and eat what was left of the food in -the leather pouch.</p> - -<p>A second time a miracle of change swept over him, -and in his face, his eyes and the lithe swiftness with -which he moved he was the ferret again, hot on the -trail of game. Late in the afternoon he felt the cool -breath of Lake Superior in his face. The sun sank -lower. Dusk came. In the beginning of that dusk he -emerged from the last rim of the forest and stood with -the water of the big inland sea moaning under the dark -cliffs at his feet.</p> - -<p>A sense of exultation and of triumph swept over -him. It was something to have mastered the wilderness -in this way and to have come out within half a dozen -miles of Five Fingers. Peter could not beat that, even -in this country which was his own.</p> - -<p>Thickening darkness made these last miles more -difficult and for two hours Carter progressed slowly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span> -The sky was beautifully clear, but rocks and slides and -ragged cracks and pits at the cliff edge made his feet -wary, and countless stars only served to deepen their -shadows. When the moon came up he had reached the -huge cliff whose sheer walls rose two hundred feet -above the sea, less than half a mile from Five Fingers.</p> - -<p>A last time he sat down, and with a strange smile on -his thin lips watched the full moon as it rose swiftly -over the forests, as if eager to reach its higher and more -permanent place in the arch of the heavens. He was -tired and wet and his clothes were torn. Until now, -when the settlement was only a step ahead, he had not -realized how exhausted he was or what a fight he had -gone through. Surely he had beaten Peter by many -miles and could afford to rest for a little while before -finishing his task!</p> - -<p>His eyes closed in restful stillness. In half a dozen -minutes he could have slept, but each time that his body -wavered on the rock where he sat he forced himself -into rigid wakefulness. The temptation persisted, and -at last he gave himself five minutes and slept thirty.</p> - -<p>The rattle of a stone roused him, and he gathered -himself up, blinking at the moon. Then he heard iron -nails scraping on rock. Instantly he was wide awake. -Someone was advancing along the face of the cliff -from the direction of Five Fingers. He could see first -the shadow of that person, growing in the illusive light -mist of moon and stars. It was big and grotesque and -the tread of its substance was slow and heavy. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span> -heard a cough which was as unpleasantly heavy as the -tread, and a few steps more brought the advancing -figure to the little plateau of rock where he sat. Not -until then did he rise. The other stopped. The moon -laughed down into their faces. The stars seemed to -send upon them a more brilliant light. A dozen paces -separated them. Then, uncertainly, they shortened it -to half the distance. Carter's heart gave a great throb. -He would not have to go down to Five Fingers now, -<i>for this was his man</i>!</p> - -<p>"Curry!" he greeted.</p> - -<p>The other stared, half disbelieving. "Is that you—Carter?" -he gasped. He advanced again, peering into -the other's face. "By Heaven, <i>it is</i>!"</p> - -<p>Carter was very white and thin and strange-looking -in the moonlight, and Aleck Curry was heavy and huge, -even to his neck and face. He thrust out a hand, but -Carter did not touch it.</p> - -<p>"Yes, it's me," he said, in a voice cold as ice. "Queer -why you should be coming this way, Curry. I was -going down there to find you."</p> - -<p>Aleck's eyes pierced the blanket of moonlight behind -him. "What luck?" he asked. His voice thrilled with -nervous eagerness. He bent his big shoulders toward -Carter, looking into his face, his thick lips parted and -his narrow eyes gleaming anxiously as he tried to read -an answer before words came. "Any?"</p> - -<p>Carter's slowness was an insult, and with that insult -his eyes and lips were smiling.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Yes, I've had luck," he said, when the tenseness of -the other's silence seemed about to break. "Donald -McRae is dead, and Peter is back there—my prisoner!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Half an hour later, down in Five Fingers, the bell -over the little log church rang out sweetly and softly the -good news that Father Albanel had come in from his -monthly trip into the farther wilderness, and that -services would be held tomorrow, which was Sunday. -In the stillness of the night the music of the bell carried -far through the forests, creeping in and out and high -above the hidden places, bearing with it the peace and -gentleness of benediction and prayer to all things.</p> - -<p>Peter heard it, far back in the hollows between the -ridges, and he paused to offer his gratitude to God for -this voice that was welcoming him home.</p> - -<p>And at the edge of the cliff where the moonlight and -the starlight made a vivid arena of the table of rock its -message seemed to beat with the clearness of a silvery -drum. Then it stopped. Its echoes melted away, -and the two men who had heard it there remained -unchanged.</p> - -<p>Carter seemed straighter and harder, his face more -like carven stone. But he was ready. And Aleck -Curry was like a huge gorilla gathering himself for a -leap.</p> - -<p>"Carter—if you mean that—I'll kill you!" he said in -a voice that was thick with passion.</p> - -<p>"I mean it," replied Carter, biting his words short.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span> -"I've taken the trouble to tell you the whole story. But -you can't understand and you never will. You're a -snake. You're a traitor to both justice and the law. -You think your power over Peter will give you vengeance -and something from Mona. But it won't. And I -warn you again that if you try to use your knowledge, -if you offer Peter as a price to Mona, if you give him -up to the law when she strikes you in the face—as she -will!—then I shall go to the highest authorities and -strip you to the skin. The truth will blast you. I will -tell how you offered me bribes, and then threatened; I -will tell of your affair in the home of Jacques Gautier -and expose the horrible trail you have left wherever -your slimy soul has gone. I shall investigate the death -of the young Indian girl on the Arrowhead. I——"</p> - -<p>He did not finish. Curry, the man who had waited, -the fiend who had kept the fires of hatred and passion -burning until they were madness, saw more than the -threatened ruin for himself. Reputation, family, his -place in the service meant nothing to him. What he -saw now in the white and almost deathlike face and -gleaming eyes of the Ferret was the end of the dream -he had built up—the end not only of his power over -Peter but of his last chance to possess Mona. If -Carter carried out his threat, if he told the story of -Gautier's wife and laid naked the truth of the Indian -girl's death on the Arrowhead—then all that he might -say against Peter would be discounted in the eyes of the -law, and punishment would fall upon himself.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span></p> - -<p>But he was not thinking of this punishment. At -times the evil mind in his heavy head worked with -amazing swiftness—and in this last moment of Carter's -threat and defiance he saw the yawning abyss of the -cliff behind the Ferret, and its overwhelming temptation. -With Carter down there, dead, and Peter walking -straight into the trap at Five Fingers, his own -power and triumph would be more complete than he -had ever dreamed it could be—<i>for he would make -Peter also the Ferret's murderer</i>!</p> - -<p>The moon revealed the monstrous thought that -leaped like flame into his face, and it was then Carter -cut his words short to meet the avalanche of flesh and -fury that descended upon him.</p> - -<p>Swift as a flash he sensed Curry's intention of -throwing him over the cliff, and twined his arms about -his enemy's neck as they crashed upon the rock. For a -moment after that a great shadow of fear darkened the -Ferret's soul. A hundred times in their associations on -the trail he had witnessed the tests and measured the -possibilities of Aleck's huge body and herculean -strength. And now he was at death grips with it. -That day he had seen a wood-mouse in the fangs of a -weasel, and he was the wood-mouse now. And then he -thought of Peter—of Peter and Mona and the battle at -the pool two years ago when they had beaten this great -hulk of a man. Fear went out of him. His biggest -thrill in life was in the main chance against death. -And this was the biggest of all!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span></p> - -<p>A queer thought shot into his head, a surging back -of his old pride. He was not the wood-mouse, nor was -he the weasel. He was the <i>ferret</i>, and Aleck Curry was -an unknown beast, ponderous and mighty, but with that -vulnerable spot which the ferret always found in its -prey. And this time Carter knew he was fighting for -more than himself. He was fighting for a man who -was dead, and whose spirit was there on the rock -watching them. He was fighting for Peter. And he -was fighting for a woman.</p> - -<p>His thin arms and legs fastened themselves about -Aleck like things made of wire steel instead of flesh and -bone. Over and over they rolled, twisting, bending, -breaking, heads and faces gouging on the rocks, and -always Carter's quickness made up for the other's -weight and strength.</p> - -<p>Their breath came in panting gasps as the nails in -their boots struck fire from the rock. A moan of -anguish came from Curry when Carter got the terrible -thumb gouge in his eye, and a gasp of agony from the -Ferret when Aleck bent his head back until his neck -nearly broke. There was something merciless and -horrible in the struggle.</p> - -<p>A little cloud ran under the face of the moon. It -was followed by a larger and darker one, as if spirit -hands were drawing a curtain between it and the -tragedy on the rock. The light of the stars seemed to -grow dimmer, as if they, too, shrank from this thing -that was happening between the sea and the sky. And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span> -over the edge of the cliff came a wailing sob of wind -that was already beginning to croon its death song for -the victim. Minutes were hours. Gasps, chokings, -blows and the panting of breaths were the ticking of the -seconds. Moments of stillness, when the two lay -crumpled and twisted as if they had died together, were -like eternities. And foot by foot they had rolled until -they were close to the edge of the cliff.</p> - -<p>Then it was that a shudder of deeper horror seemed -to creep through the night. A black cloud swept under -the moon, hiding entirely what was happening at the -cliff's edge, and this cloud moved away with appalling -slowness. When the moon looked out again one object -remained where there had been two. For a long time -it lay crumpled there, sobbing for breath. Then it -crawled away slowly, dragging itself painfully over -the rock, and disappeared at last into the thick -growth of the burned-over lands which reached far -to the north.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Under that same moon, hours later, Peter came to the -edge of Five Fingers. Out of the sky all sign of cloud -was gone and the stars glowed in radiant constellations. -Peter knew that it was midnight, and as he looked down -from the crest of the slope, where he had first walked -hand in hand with Mona when he was a boy, a strange -and gentle silence rose up from the bottom-lands to -greet him. Five Fingers was asleep. He could see no -light and at first he heard no sound. Then came to him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span> -the old familiar tinkle of silver bells on distant cattle, -and the soft murmur of the sea that was never quite -still where it ran in and out among the rocks of the -Pit at the end of Middle Finger Inlet.</p> - -<p>For a space he stood looking down where the dark -shadows of the cabins lay in a great pool of mellow -light that was like a gossamer mist of silver and gold. -His heart beat fast, so fast that he clutched a hand at -his breast and swallowed hard to get his breath. Down -there, within sound of his voice, was Mona—and all at -once his manhood seemed to leave him and he wanted -to shout wildly through his hands like a boy, calling -her name, rousing her from sleep, shrieking at the top -of his voice that he had come back. A sort of thrilling -madness possessed him, but of all his desire only a -choking sob rose in his throat.</p> - -<p>He walked down the slope and he saw Pierre -Gourdon's home among the scattered cabins. It was -there he would find Mona, if——</p> - -<p>His heart skipped a beat. If anything had happened, -<i>anything</i>—sickness—accident—if she had gone away! -Two years was a long time. Two years might have -brought—a change.</p> - -<p>His feet seemed to stumble, and then suddenly he -stopped, and a cry came to his lips. For he had come -to the smooth little patch of green meadow where Mona -had made the men of Five Fingers bury the scores of -marauding porcupines they killed each year, and he saw -here and there freshly made little mounds of soil. Near<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span> -one of these, which was scarcely dried by a day's sun, -was a spade. Eagerly he seized it in his hands. It was -<i>their</i> spade, with its broken edge and the iron rod -handle which Simon had put on it to replace the wooden -one which porcupines had eaten away. Mona was in -Five Fingers! She was alive—well—sleeping in her -little room where he had visioned her at prayer every -night of his life!</p> - -<p>He took off his pack and dropped it near the freshly -made mound. Then he went on, and stopped under -Mona's window.</p> - -<p>It was partly open. He could hear the soft flutter -of a curtain in the breath of wind that came up from -the shore. Almost afraid to break the stillness he called -her name in a low voice.</p> - -<p>"<i>Mona!</i>"</p> - -<p>The curtain fluttered back at him. It seemed to be -laughing at him, seemed to be signaling to him like a -hand from the window.</p> - -<p>Then he saw on their nails against the log wall the -long bamboo poles which Pierre Gourdon used in his -fishing. A hundred times when he had come in from -the woods late at night he had tapped at Mona's window -with one of these poles, and she had thrust out her -head to blow him down a kiss and say good night. -And now, with two hearts seeming to beat in his breast -in place of one, he seized one of the poles and gently -tapped the old signal on the window-pane. And -all at once the curtain ceased its fluttering and he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span> -could hear the two hearts pounding mightily against -his ribs.</p> - -<p>He tapped again—<i>tap-tap-tappety-tap!</i> and stepped -back into the deep shadow that hung around the edge -of the Gourdon cabin in a heavy fringe.</p> - -<p>Someone came to the window. He knew it—yet he -could not see straight up above his head. He held himself -back, waiting for some response to his signal. In a -moment he would step out in the moonlight, and -then——</p> - -<p>He heard the curtain fluttering again. Sound came -from her room. It continued for a few moments, and -ceased with the quiet opening of a door. Then he heard -footsteps, quick, light, almost frightened footsteps, and -a slim figure came around the end of Pierre Gourdon's -cabin and stood white-faced and trembling in the moonlight.</p> - -<p>It was Mona—Mona as he had left her an hour ago—yesterday—two -years ago—unchanged—except that -she seemed taller to him, more beautiful. She had -thrown a long cloak about her and he could see her -hand clutching it at the throat as her wide eyes strained -to solve the mystery which the misty chaos of the -moonlight was hiding from her. For a space he -seemed powerless to move. Then he tried to speak as -he revealed himself, ragged and torn and bronzed to -Indian darkness by his long fight through the wilderness, -but it was only an incoherent cry that stumbled -on his lips. Mona saw him. For an instant she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span> -swayed like a tall flower, with the whiteness of lily -petals in her face as he went to her. And then she -gave a cry that even Pierre Gourdon might have heard -if he had not slept so deeply—and Peter's arms closed -about her.</p> - -<p>A minute later she held back his face with her two -hands. Her eyes were filled with the glory of the stars -and her lips were red with the wild, sweet passion of -their kisses. Slowly a shadow came, and with it an -unutterable tenderness in the words which she whispered -to him:</p> - -<p>"Peter, <i>I knew</i>. Carter sent me word—about your -father—and <i>you</i>——"</p> - -<p>She drew his head down until she was holding it -against her breast. Her heart beat against his cheek. -Her lips kissed his hair.</p> - -<p>"Only you—you and God—know how sorry I am," -she whispered.</p> - -<p>And Peter felt once more like the small boy in the -edge of the forest years ago, when Mona had come to -him in the dusk of evening to mend his broken heart. -For in these first moments of his homecoming it was -Mona—again—who thought first of his grief, and not -of her own happiness; and holding his head close, -pressing his rough cheek in the palm of her soft hand, -she told him how Carter had sent word to her all the -way down through the wilderness, and how she had -kept Carter's message to herself—as he had asked her -to do—and had waited night and day for his coming<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span> -with prayers of gratitude in her heart, and sorrow for -him.</p> - -<p>"And Carter promised to bring you to me," she -whispered, "because he said that in the end he had -learned to love your father—and you."</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2 style="margin-top: 3.5em; margin-bottom: 2em;"><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV</a></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Where</span> the shadow of Pierre Gourdon's cabin -fell deepest a man had dragged himself and lay -like a dark and lifeless blot. Since Peter had tapped at -the window this man had scarcely moved, except to -breathe and change his position a little as he watched -the lovers out in the light of the moon and stars. -They were very near to him, so near he might have -touched them with a pole less than the length of that -which Peter had used. And he heard the girl speak of -Carter, and of what Carter had done.</p> - -<p>It was then he drew himself slowly away, moving -with the stealth and caution of one to whom freedom -from discovery meant a great deal. Not until the cabin -was fully between him and those he had spied upon did -he rise to his feet. This movement was slow and -brought a gasp of pain from him. He did not stand -straight. His shoulders were bent. He was hatless -and ragged and his arms and breast were half stripped -of clothing. In his hand he carried a heavy stick, and -with this stick he helped himself to walk as he struck -out in the moonlight.</p> - -<p>He tried to hurry, but at best his progress was not -fast, and to make up for lack of speed he kept the cabin<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span> -between him and the two from whom he was running -away. In the shadow of a second cabin he stopped to -rest, breathing deeply, as if what he had accomplished -had cost him great effort. One at a time he passed the -dwellings in the settlement and made his way across -the green open to the little log church. Here he rested -for a longer period, and in these moments he noted -with satisfaction that trees threw a deep and continuous -shadow between him and the edge of the forest.</p> - -<p>The door of Father Albanel's church was never -locked and after a little he opened it and entered. But -he bolted it carefully behind him. Then he groped his -way through the moonlit seats and opened a window. -After that he found the rope which rang the bell.</p> - -<p>Never in its history had Five Fingers roused itself -to the ringing of the bell as it was rung tonight. It -was not the Sabbath message. It was not Father -Albanel's sweet, slow tolling of peace on earth and -good will toward men, nor was it the sad and -slumberous requiem for the dead. It was, instead, a -wild exultation, an almost savage triumph, a pealing -alarm that called upon every soul in the settlement to -rise up in instant wakefulness. It filled the forest until -its notes beat one upon another and the hills and ridges -caught them up and flung them back as they had never -done before. Men rose out of their sleep and stumbled -for matches; a light appeared here, another there, and -still the bell continued to ring until not a cabin in Five -Fingers remained in darkness.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span></p> - -<p>Not until then did the man who had rung the bell -drop from the window of the little church and steal -through the shadows of the trees into the forest. -There he did not pause but went on with the slowness -of either age or exhaustion until he was swallowed in -the deeper secrecy of the woods.</p> - -<p>Pierre Gourdon came first out into the night, bareheaded -and in his shirt-sleeves, and in front of his cabin -he found Mona ahead of him with her long hair -streaming down her back and a strange man's arms -tightly about her. Almost fiercely he tore them apart—and -then he saw it was Peter.</p> - -<p>Jame Clamart came running up a moment later, and -it was Jame who first sent the news abroad in a shout -which, next to the mad ringing of the bell, was the -wildest thing ever heard in Five Fingers between the -hour of midnight and one o'clock in the morning.</p> - -<p>"Peter McRae has come back!" he yelled. "Peter -McRae—<i>has</i>—<i>come</i>—<i>back</i>!"</p> - -<p>Swifter almost than men could travel word passed -that this was the reason for the ringing of the bell—Peter -McRae had come home after two years, and -Father Albanel, or some other, had wakened them from -their sleep to welcome him.</p> - -<p>Pierre's women were first to take Peter away from -Mona—Josette, coming first, and then Marie Antoinette. -And after them came Adette Clamart. When -she saw Peter she gave a little screech and threw her -arms around his neck, kissing him before her husband<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span> -and all, and then she fell upon Mona and cried hard in -her gladness. The little group grew larger; voices, -glad laughter, tremulous excitement filled the air, but -suddenly a hush fell as a tall and gaunt-faced figure -stalked up through the silvery haze of the night and -old Simon McQuarrie shouldered his way among them.</p> - -<p>He said nothing when he came face to face with -Peter, but for a moment held him off at arm's length, -his stern face working in a strange sort of way, and -then, as Mona crept to his side, he clasped them both -in his arms and stood for a few moments with his head -bowed close down to theirs.</p> - -<p>And then a whisper of gladness ran among the -women, for Father Albanel stood beside Mona and -Peter and the little gray missioner's face was streaming -with tears of happiness as he, too, put his arms -gently about them.</p> - -<p>"It was Father Albanel who rang the bell," the -women whispered softly among themselves.</p> - -<p>And to this day the people of Five Fingers believe -that he did.</p> - -<p>But on this night, Father Albanel was neither -crooked nor bent, nor did he walk with the aid of a -stick.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>To Peter it was like a dream, a glorious dream of -friendship and of a love that lifted his soul above all -thought of fear and tragedy, and not until he was alone -with Simon in the cabin which had been his home for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span> -so many years before he went away with his father did -he think of Aleck Curry or of the payment he had promised -himself to be ready to make to the law. But the -thing which happiness had held back came out now.</p> - -<p>The old Scotchman heard Peter's story from the -night of the flight almost two years ago, when the -forests were burning in the great fire about Five -Fingers. And then Peter learned, in turn, that Aleck -Curry had built himself a shack in the edge of the -timber and was quite frequently at Five Fingers, -usually remaining for a week or two at a time. He was -there now. That very evening Simon had met him face -to face in company with one of the half-dozen government -surveyors who for a year or more had been working -up and down the shore. He was surprised that the -ringing of the bell and the excitement had not brought -Curry upon the scene. Probably he was with the surveyors -at their camp. Tomorrow he would show up.</p> - -<p>"And you haven't any idea what became of Carter?" -Simon asked.</p> - -<p>Peter shook his head. "He simply disappeared. I -cannot guess why. Maybe he, too, will show up -tomorrow."</p> - -<p>"Peter, who rang the bell?"</p> - -<p>Peter flushed under his darkened skin. "I think -Father Albanel saw Mona and me in the moonlight. -He always loved to wander about late at night, when -the moon was bright."</p> - -<p>Simon's gaunt face broke into a strange smile.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span></p> - -<p>"It wasn't Father Albanel who rang the bell," he -said.</p> - -<p>"No?" Peter looked at him sharply. "Then it was -you, Simon! You saw us?"</p> - -<p>"No. I was asleep—sound asleep. But I know who -rang the bell. It was Carter!"</p> - -<p>A little thrill leaped through Peter. "It is impossible. -Carter would not have run away from me for -<i>that</i>. Besides——"</p> - -<p>He did not finish, for Simon had risen and was looking -out through the window in a way that puzzled him.</p> - -<p>"I'm going down to the church," he said. "And I'm -going the back way, along the edge of the woods, so -that no one will see me. Want to go?"</p> - -<p>They stole forth through the moonlight into the -shadows of the forest. When they came to the church -Simon tried the door.</p> - -<p>"Locked!" he said. "That is unusual!"</p> - -<p>A few seconds later they stood at the open window. -Through this they climbed and one after another the -Scotchman lighted a dozen matches until they knew -that no one could have remained hidden inside. Simon -then closed the window and led the way out through the -door, leaving it unlocked.</p> - -<p>"Careless of him," he grunted. "We'll leave the -place just as he found it. Fewer questions will be -asked."</p> - -<p>He did not speak again until they were once more in -their own cabin. Peter, feeling the completeness of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span> -exhaustion now, was about to ascend the ladder to his -own bed when Simon rested a hand on his shoulder.</p> - -<p>"Boy," he whispered, "whatever happens after this, -forget that Carter came down from the north with you -and that he ran away from you back there on the trail. -Understand, laddie? <i>Forget it!</i> Lie about it if you -have to. For I believe it was Carter who rang that bell -tonight, and if he did, and it should so turn out that -something has happened to Aleck Curry—why—you -see—it might be a suspicious circumstance, pointing to -a thing which you and I, with God's blessing on us, -will always know could never be true!"</p> - -<p>Even these words, making significantly clear the -suspicion which was in Simon's mind, could not keep -Peter from thinking of Mona, and of Mona alone, -when he went to bed. But he awoke with the first -crowing of Simon McQuarrie's roosters, three hours -later. He was going to take breakfast with Mona, he -told Simon, and as he was an appalling mess he needed -a lot of time to prepare for it. For two hours he -scrubbed and shaved and shampooed and manicured -himself, and then dressed in the best outfit he had left -behind him two years ago.</p> - -<p>It was only a quarter of six when he finished, but -an hour before, he had seen a light in Mona's room and -now smoke was rising from the chimney over Josette -Gourdon's kitchen.</p> - -<p>He went out the back way, as he and Simon had gone -a few hours earlier, and was sure he had succeeded in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span> -coming up behind Pierre's cabin without giving any -evidence of himself. But Mona's eyes were bright and -her cheeks were flushed as he stood very still for a few -moments in the doorway, though her back was toward -him, and she seemed to be absorbed in a number of -purposeless little details at the kitchen table. Peter -made no sound, unless the pounding of his heart could -be called that.</p> - -<p>There was a change after all—a change which the -silvery radiance of the moon had veiled from him last -night. Mona <i>was</i> taller, and—even as he was looking -at her now, without clearly seeing her face—she was -so much lovelier than when he had left Five Fingers -that he was a little frightened. Carter was right. It -had taken those two years to make her even more beautiful -than Marie Antoinette. And he continued to stand -where he was, thinking himself undiscovered, worshiping -her in silence from the heels of her little feet to -the top of her lustrous head as if a word or a movement -from him would destroy the transcendent reality -of it all.</p> - -<p>Mona's cheeks grew pinker and her eyes brighter.</p> - -<p>Then she turned upon him so suddenly and with such -an unexpected knowledge of his presence filling her -eyes with laughter and joy that in one swift moment -Peter had her in his arms, and kissed her so wildly -on eyes and lips and hair that she was compelled to hide -her face against his breast to get breath.</p> - -<p>"You are—breaking me," she protested. "You have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span> -grown so strong, Peter. And you are tumbling my hair -down that I put up with so much care, because this is -Sunday!"</p> - -<p>She leaned back and shook her head so that the -loosened coils of her hair flooded down about her -shoulders in a radiant protest to her words.</p> - -<p>"The two happiest days of my life have been Sundays," -he said, holding her more gently.</p> - -<p>"This is one, Peter?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"And the other?" she asked, as if she had forgotten -it entirely.</p> - -<p>"Was that first day you took me to church, when I -thought you were a little white angel, and sang with -you, and dared to take a tress of your hair in my -fingers when I thought you didn't know it."</p> - -<p>"And since that day I've loved you, Peter. Yes, I -loved you in that very hour when you bit Aleck Curry's -ear!"</p> - -<p>He filled his hands with the loosened masses of her -hair, crushing the soft coils between his fingers.</p> - -<p>"<i>Kiss me.</i>"</p> - -<p>"Sh-h!" She put a finger to his lips. "It is Aunt -Josette! I hear her coming! I must run up the back -way and fix my hair!"</p> - -<p>"It is unthoughtful of Aunt Josette——"</p> - -<p>"But she is coming!"</p> - -<p>"<i>Kiss me!</i>"</p> - -<p>She pressed her warm lips to his, and he let her go.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span> -Scarcely had she escaped when Josette's light footsteps -sounded in the dining-room, and a moment later she -appeared in the kitchen. Peter was stirring pancake -batter.</p> - -<p>"Mona gave me this job," he tried to explain. -"She'll be back in a minute."</p> - -<p>Josette smiled at him sweetly, and then quite innocently -picked up several hairpins from the floor. -"How careless of me to lose these!" she exclaimed, but -there was a roguish light in her dark eyes which did -not quite escape Peter as she tucked the pins in her own -thick tresses.</p> - -<p>To Peter it was as if he had gone away yesterday, -and returned today. Pierre came in yawning, and -found him helping with the breakfast. When Mona -reappeared her hair was in a long braid. Never had he -seen such lovely, velvety softness in her eyes or such -sweet color in her face.</p> - -<p>Josette, with a sly signal to Pierre, maneuvered them -to the open door. "When we are ready for you children -we'll call you," she said.</p> - -<p>They walked toward the forest. And there, in the -edge of the beautiful green meadow which had always -been hallowed as their playground, he saw for the first -time a new cabin nearly finished. Mona was looking at -him. She saw the surprise and then the cloud that -gathered in his face. She took his hand, and her -fingers clung to his.</p> - -<p>"You don't like it?" she asked.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span></p> - -<p>"It is a nice cabin, but——"</p> - -<p>He did not know how to finish. She looked down, -very demurely, so that he could not see her eyes for the -long lashes that hid them.</p> - -<p>"It is my cabin."</p> - -<p>"<i>Yours!</i>"</p> - -<p>"Yes, mine. Maybe I shouldn't tell you the secret, -Peter, but I'm going to be married."</p> - -<p>It seemed impossible that a human heart could rise -up and choke one as quickly as Peter's did.</p> - -<p>Mona was still looking at the ground.</p> - -<p>"You see, Carter told me in his letter to confide in -Simon. And when Simon knew you were coming, -and would of course have to marry me very soon, we -planned this cabin together and Simon is going to give -it to me as a wedding present. Then I'm going to let -you live in it. Don't you think I'm nice?"</p> - -<p>Peter stopped. Mona looked up, frightened.</p> - -<p>"Don't, Peter—don't!" she entreated. "Aunt Josette -is looking, and Uncle Pierre will see you, and all the rest -of Five Fingers——"</p> - -<p>But all the rest of the world could not have stopped -Peter. He crumpled her in his arms.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>That day was one in which Peter could not bring -himself to reveal to Mona the uncertainty which had -been a part of his homecoming. Her happiness completely -possessed him, and as hour after hour passed he -found himself further than at the beginning from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span> -carrying out his resolution to tell her the price which -he fully expected the law would ask of him. That he -could expect no mercy from Aleck Curry, he assured -himself through Simon. But he did not see Aleck, nor -did he mention him to Mona. She sensed no danger. -No one in Five Fingers could guess at the menace -which hung over him, for he believed that even Simon -did not know of that first morning of his father's -flight when he had committed the fatal sin of firing -upon the law. From the fact that Aleck had kept this -crime a secret he realized the nearness and deadliness of -the trap which would soon spring upon him.</p> - -<p>But Aleck did not appear. It was not until after -morning service in the little church that Mona mentioned -him quite casually. He was bigger and coarser -and more detestable than ever, she told Peter. He had -tried to pay some attention to her, and she knew that he -and Simon had frequently had words. It was through -his uncle, she said, that he had been given this lazy -assignment, covering the country between the railroad -settlements and Five Fingers.</p> - -<p>In the afternoon Peter met Simon alone.</p> - -<p>The lines in the old Scotchman's face seemed to have -grown deeper since morning. They were like little -creases cut in stone.</p> - -<p>"I have been over to the surveyors' camp," he said. -"Curry hasn't been there since yesterday morning. -And he didn't sleep in his bed last night."</p> - -<p>"He has gone to the settlements," suggested Peter.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span></p> - -<p>"His pack and traveling dunnage are in his shack," -answered Simon. "He hasn't gone to the settlements." -Simon did not once let his eyes meet Peter's squarely. -He spoke even carelessly as he looked away. "You -haven't forgotten what I told you about Carter?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"That is well. I wouldn't be surprised if something -happened to Curry last night. I saw him dead drunk -at dusk—starting out alone along the cliff to the west. -I told him to come back, and he cursed me."</p> - -<p>Simon McQuarrie could not hide a lie. And Peter -knew he was lying.</p> - -<p>A little later Simon struck off into the woods to the -east and did not return until after dark. At bedtime -Peter asked if he had found anything of interest.</p> - -<p>"Only a hungry man. I happened to have a lunch in -my pocket. The poor devil was so weak he was hobbling -along with a stick."</p> - -<p>"Who was he?"</p> - -<p>"I didn't ask his name." Simon turned his back to -Peter as he prepared for bed. "Queer I didn't ask his -name—but I didn't."</p> - -<p>On the third day after this night Five Fingers -received a stupendous shock. Simon McQuarrie and -Father Albanel, in seeking lost net buoys under the -Big Cliff, had found the body of a dead man. It was -Aleck Curry. He was terribly broken and almost -unrecognizable by the pounding of his body in the surf -that washed in and out among the rocks. The story of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span> -his end was quite clear. He had evidently stumbled -over the edge of the cliff while drunk, inasmuch as -Simon had seen him staggering in its direction on the -night he had disappeared.</p> - -<p>"We'll take him to the nearest railroad settlement -and let his friends have him," Simon said to the men of -Five Fingers.</p> - -<p>But to Father Albanel he added, in a voice which -others did not hear, "It would be unpleasant, <i>mon père</i>, -to have him always in our own little cemetery where -only those we love are at rest."</p> - -<p>And so, on that same day, all that was left of Aleck -Curry was borne northward through the hills and -ridges to his people.</p> - -<p>Three weeks later Mona and Peter were married. -Five Fingers will never forget that day. It was in the -full glory of June, and the robins and thrushes were -singing outside the little church. In spite of Peter's -protest Mona teased him by insisting that she would -not tell him where she wanted to spend her honeymoon -until the little missioner had said the last words, and -they were man and wife. And then, putting her soft -mouth to Peter's ear, she whispered, "I want to stay in -the new cabin which Simon is giving us."</p> - -<p>So there, from the beginning, they found their new -happiness, and Pierre Gourdon and Josette would walk -in the twilights of summer evenings, lovers still, and -never grow tired of painting for each other the beautiful -and unforgetable pictures of many years ago<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span> -when they had come through the pathless wilderness -to make this paradise in which God, in His great goodness, -had made the last of their dreams come true.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It was on an afternoon in August that Adette -Clamart came to Mona's home with her cousin, Adele, -who had come from the French country of Quebec to -live with her, and announced that a stranger had -arrived in Five Fingers and was talking with Simon -in his cabin.</p> - -<p>"Adele met him on the settlement trail," she said. -"He carried a basket of flowers for her, and was so -very nice that she has fallen in love with him. Haven't -you, Adele?"</p> - -<p>"He was very stiff and frightened every time I -looked at him," replied Adele, "and I felt sorry for -him. But he was nice—yes. And he had—how do I -say it, Adette?—such a strange, stern face, with sadness -in it—and——"</p> - -<p>"Ugh!" shuddered Adette. "He was dangerously -hungry, Adele. I know because Jame gets that way."</p> - -<p>"Whoever he is—<i>he is coming</i>!" said Mona, looking -through the open door.</p> - -<p>And so he was, with the old Scotchman on one side -of him and Peter on the other, as if they were pulling -him along against his will. And as they came nearer -Mona's heart gave a sudden flutter, and then a great -jump, for this stranger who had carried Adele's -flowers was Carter the man-hunter.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span></p> - -<p>She ran out to meet him, and though she said only a -few trembling words of welcome a light which Carter -saw in her eyes made him draw in a quick breath of -gratitude and joy.</p> - -<p>"The new superintendent of the mill," announced -Simon a little pompously, when Adette and Adele had -joined them. "I'm getting lazy and he is taking -my place. Quite a surprise! But we've been planning -it a long time, haven't we, Carter?" And -Simon laughed mysteriously.</p> - -<p>Then came a sudden interruption. The bell over the -little church began to ring as it had rung on a certain -midnight weeks ago. And this time it was surely -Father Albanel who was tugging at the rope. In his -face was a flush of benevolent joy, and the louder the -bell rang the rosier his cheeks grew, and there alone in -the church he laughed like a boy.</p> - -<p>Nudging Carter, whose face had grown strangely -fixed and staring, Simon McQuarrie chuckled softly at -his shoulder: "Someone rang the bell like that on the -night Peter came home. And <i>now</i>, Carter, it is ringing -our welcome to <i>you</i>!"</p> - -<p>Observing Mona a few moments later, Adette wondered -what had happened to make her eyelashes wet -with tears.</p> - -<p>Peter understood, and his hand found Mona's and -held it tenderly. With an inspiration born of words -which Carter had once said to him about a girl waiting -at the end of the trail, he found the opportunity to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span> -whisper, "Ask Carter to have supper with us, and also -<i>Adele</i>."</p> - -<p>This Mona did in her own sweet fashion, making -sure of Carter first, and after his acceptance calling -upon Adele to lend herself to his entertainment in a -way which gave her no possible excuse for a refusal, -had such a thought come into her mind. Simon looked -shrewdly at Mona and Adette. Then he turned toward -the green ridges to the north over which billowy white -clouds were rising.</p> - -<p>"It's going to rain," he said. "I smell it in the air. -It will come tonight."</p> - -<p>"The crops need it," said Peter.</p> - -<p>"And most of all—the flowers," added Adele, looking -at Carter.</p> - -<p>"Yes, the flowers—and the woods," he nodded. "It -is very dry in the timber for this season of the year."</p> - -<p>Mona and Peter turned toward their cabin, and -Mona's eyes shot a sly signal to Adette. Jame's wife -took firm hold of Simon's arm. "If you know what is -good for you—come with me!" she whispered, with -her back turned to Adele and Carter.</p> - -<p>For a moment Carter stood helplessly. Then he -moved to Adele's side and they followed Mona and -Peter.</p> - -<p>"You like flowers, Miss Adele?"</p> - -<p>"I love them, Mr. Carter!"</p> - -<p>As they passed through the door Mona squeezed her -husband's hand.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a></span></p> - -<p>"It was a wonderful thought, Peter. Do you think -you can kiss me very quickly before they come in?"</p> - -<p>"I am sure that I can," replied Peter—and kissed -her.</p> - - -<p class="center" style="margin-top: 7em; margin-bottom: 7em;">THE END</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="transnote"> - -<p class="ph2" style="margin-top: 3em;">TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:</p> - -<p>Obvious printer errors have been corrected. Otherwise, the -author's original spelling, punctuation and hyphenation have -been left intact. 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