diff options
Diffstat (limited to '36121-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 36121-h/36121-h.htm | 15988 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 36121-h/images/illus-emb.jpg | bin | 0 -> 6330 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 36121-h/images/illus-fpc.jpg | bin | 0 -> 74320 bytes |
3 files changed, 15988 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/36121-h/36121-h.htm b/36121-h/36121-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..03210a1 --- /dev/null +++ b/36121-h/36121-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,15988 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" > +<head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> + <meta content="The Snow-Burner" name="DC.Title"/> + <meta content="Henry Oyen" name="DC.Creator"/> + <meta content="en" name="DC.Language"/> + <meta content="1916" name="DC.Created"/> + <meta name="generator" content="ppgen (0.95) generated May 15, 2011 05:38 PM" /> + <title>The Snow-Burner</title> + <style type="text/css"> + body {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%;} + p {margin-top:1ex; margin-bottom:0; text-align:justify;} + div.center p {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; text-align:center;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size:x-small; text-align:right; text-indent:0; + position:absolute; right:2%; padding:1px 3px; font-style:normal; + font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration:none; + background-color:inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + .pncolor {color:silver;} + h1 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal;} + h2 {text-align:left; font-weight:normal;} + h1 {font-size:1.4em; margin-top:4em; margin-bottom:2em;} + h2 {font-size:1.2em; margin-top:4em; margin-bottom:2em;} + hr.pb {margin:30px 0; width:100%; border:none; border-top:thin dashed silver; clear:both;} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + .center {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; text-align:center;} + .larger {font-size:larger;} + .smaller {font-size:smaller;} + .caption {font-size: 80%;} + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + div.center p {margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;} + .mb20 {margin-bottom:20px;} + .fs14 {font-size:1.4em;} + td.c2 {text-align:left; width:auto} + .sm {font-size:smaller;} + .mt20 {margin-top:20px;} + td.c1 {text-align:right; padding-right:10px; width:100px;} + .fs12 {font-size:1.2em;} + td.tar {text-align:right;} + div.title p {text-align:center;} + .fs16 {font-size:1.6em;} + .mt40 {margin-top:40px;} + .center {text-align:center;} + td.c3 {text-align:right; width:100px;} + </style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Snow-Burner, by Henry Oyen + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Snow-Burner + +Author: Henry Oyen + +Release Date: May 16, 2011 [EBook #36121] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SNOW-BURNER *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i001' id='i001'></a> +<img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='THE SNOW-BURNER TOPPLED AND FELL FACE DOWNWARD ON THE GROUND' width='60%' title=''/><br /> +<span class='caption'>THE SNOW-BURNER TOPPLED AND FELL FACE DOWNWARD ON THE GROUND</span> +</div> +<div class='title'> +<p class='fs16 mt20'>THE<br/>SNOW-BURNER</p> + +<p class='mt20'>BY<br/> +<span class='fs12'>HENRY OYEN</span></p> + +<p class='mt20'>AUTHOR OF<br/> +THE MAN-TRAIL</p> + +<div style='margin: 20px auto; text-align: center;'> +<img alt='emblem' src='images/illus-emb.jpg'/> +</div> + +<p>NEW YORK<br/> +GROSSET & DUNLAP<br/> +PUBLISHERS</p> + +<p class='mt40'>Copyright, 1916,<br/> +By George H. Doran Company</p> + +<p class='sm'>PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</p> + +<p class='sm'>COPYRIGHT 1914, 1915, BY THE RIDGWAY COMPANY</p> +</div> +<p class='center fs14 mt40 mb20'>CONTENTS</p> + +<p class='center fs12 mb20'>PART ONE: THE NATURAL MAN</p> + +<table summary='' style='margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; table-layout:fixed; width:500px;'> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>I.</td> + <td class='c2'>“Help!”</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chI'>9</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>II.</td> + <td class='c2'>The Girl</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chII'>16</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>III.</td> + <td class='c2'>Toppy Gets A Job</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chIII'>21</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>IV.</td> + <td class='c2'>“Hell-Camp” Reivers</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chIV'>31</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>V.</td> + <td class='c2'>Toppy Overhears a Conversation</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chV'>39</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>VI.</td> + <td class='c2'>“Nice Boy!”</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chVI'>44</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>VII.</td> + <td class='c2'>The Snow-Burner’s Creed</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chVII'>51</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>VIII.</td> + <td class='c2'>Toppy Works</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chVIII'>62</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>IX.</td> + <td class='c2'>A Fresh Start</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chIX'>67</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>X.</td> + <td class='c2'>The Duel Begins</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chX'>74</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XI.</td> + <td class='c2'>“Hell-Camp” Court</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXI'>77</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XII.</td> + <td class='c2'>Toppy’s First Move</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXII'>94</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XIII.</td> + <td class='c2'>Reivers Replies</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXIII'>100</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XIV.</td> + <td class='c2'>“Joker and Deuces Wild”</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXIV'>106</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XV.</td> + <td class='c2'>The Way of the Snow-Burner</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXV'>115</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XVI.</td> + <td class='c2'>The Screws Tighten</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXVI'>131</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XVII.</td> + <td class='c2'>Tilly’s Warning</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXVII'>139</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XVIII.</td> + <td class='c2'>“Canny by Nature”</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXVIII'>145</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XIX.</td> + <td class='c2'>The Fight</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXIX'>150</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XX.</td> + <td class='c2'>Toppy’s Way</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXX'>162</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XXI.</td> + <td class='c2'>The End of the Boss</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXI'>165</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p class='center fs12 mt20 mb20'>PART TWO: THE SUPER MAN</p> + +<table summary='' style='margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; table-layout:fixed; width:500px;'> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XXII.</td> + <td class='c2'>The Cheating of the River</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXII'>175</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XXIII.</td> + <td class='c2'>The Girl Who Was Not Afraid</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXIII'>183</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XXIV.</td> + <td class='c2'>The Woman’s Way</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXIV'>193</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XXV.</td> + <td class='c2'>Gold!</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXV'>202</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XXVI.</td> + <td class='c2'>The Look in a Woman’s Eyes</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXVI'>212</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XXVII.</td> + <td class='c2'>On the Trail of Fortune</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXVII'>219</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XXVIII.</td> + <td class='c2'>The Snow-Burner Hunts</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXVIII'>229</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XXIX.</td> + <td class='c2'>The White Man’s Will</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXIX'>233</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XXX.</td> + <td class='c2'>Any Means to an End</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXX'>238</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XXXI.</td> + <td class='c2'>The Squaw-Man</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXXI'>241</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XXXII.</td> + <td class='c2'>The Scorn of a Pure Woman</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXXII'>245</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XXXIII.</td> + <td class='c2'>Shanty Moir</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXXIII'>251</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XXXIV.</td> + <td class='c2'>The Bargain</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXXIV'>256</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XXXV.</td> + <td class='c2'>The Test of the Bottle</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXXV'>261</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XXXVI.</td> + <td class='c2'>The Snow-Burner Begins To Weaken</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXXVI'>265</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XXXVII.</td> + <td class='c2'>Into the Jaws of the Bear</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXXVII'>270</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XXXVIII.</td> + <td class='c2'>MacGregor Roy</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXXVIII'>277</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XXXIX.</td> + <td class='c2'>James MacGregor’s Story</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXXXIX'>283</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XL.</td> + <td class='c2'>The White Man’s Sentiment</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXL'>293</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XLI.</td> + <td class='c2'>Shanty-Moir-Temperance Advocate</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXLI'>301</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XLII.</td> + <td class='c2'>The Snow-Burner Works for Two</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXLII'>305</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XLIII.</td> + <td class='c2'>"The Penalty of a White Man’s Mind"</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXLIII'>309</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XLIV.</td> + <td class='c2'>The Madness of “Hell-Camp” Reivers</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXLIV'>316</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XLV.</td> + <td class='c2'>A Surprise for Shanty Moir</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXLV'>320</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XLVI.</td> + <td class='c2'>A Fight that was a Fight</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXLVI'>327</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class='c1'>XLVII.</td> + <td class='c2'>The Snow-Burner Pays</td> + <td class='c3'><a href='#chXLVII'>332</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<h1><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9'></a>9</span><a name='title' id='title'></a>THE SNOW BURNER</h1> +<p class='center fs12'>PART ONE: THE NATURAL MAN</p> +<h2><a name='chI' id='chI'></a>CHAPTER I—HELP</h2> +<p> +The brisk November sunrise, breaking over the +dark jack-pines, lighted up the dozen snow-covered +frame buildings comprising the so-called town +of Rail Head, and presently reached in through the +uncurtained windows of the Northern Light saloon, +where it shone upon the curly head of young Toppy +Treplin as, pillowed on his crossed forearms, it lay +in repose on one of the saloon tables. +</p> +<p> +It was a sad, strange place to find Toppy Treplin, +one-time All-American halfback, but for the last four +years all-around moneyed loafer and waster. Rail +Head was far from the beaten path. It lay at the +end of sixty miles of narrow-gauge track that rambled +westward into the Big Woods from the Iron +Range Railroad line, and it consisted mainly of a +box-car depot, an alleged hotel and six saloons—none +of the latter being in any too good repute with +the better element round about. +</p> +<p> +The existence of the saloons might have explained +Toppy’s presence in Rail Head had their character +and wares been of a nature to attract one of his +critical tastes; but in reality Toppy was there because +the Iron Range Limited, bearing Harvey Duncombe’s +private hunting-car, had stopped for a moment the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10'></a>10</span> +night before out where the narrow-gauge met the +Iron Range Railroad tracks. +</p> +<p> +Toppy, at that fated moment, was out on the observation +platform alone. There had been a row and +Toppy had rushed out in a black rage. Within, the +car reeked with the mingled odours of cigarette-smoke +and spilled champagne. Out of doors the first snowfall +of the season, faintly tinted by a newly risen +moon, lay unmarked, undefiled. +</p> +<p> +A girl—small, young, brisk and business-like—alighted +from the car ahead and walked swiftly across +the station platform to the narrow-gauge train that +stood waiting. The anger and champagne raging in +him had moved Toppy to one of those wild pranks +which had made his name among his fellows synonymous +with irresponsibility. +</p> +<p> +He would get away from it all, away from Harvey +Duncombe and his champagne, and all that sort of +thing. He would show them! +</p> +<p> +Toppy had stepped off. The Limited suddenly +glided away. Toppy lurched over to the narrow +gauge, and that was the last thing he had remembered +of that memorable night. +</p> +<p> +As the sun now revealed him, Mr. Robert Lovejoy +Treplin, in spite of his deplorable condition, was a +figure to win attention of a not entirely unfavourable +sort. Still clad in mackinaw and hunting-clothes, his +two hundred pounds of bone and muscle and just +a little too much fat were sprawled picturesquely over +the chair and table, the six-foot gracefulness of him +being obvious despite his rough apparel and awkward +position. +</p> +<p> +His cap had fallen off and the sun glinted on a +head of boyish brown curls. It was only in the lazy, +good-natured face, puffy and loose-lipped, that one +might read how recklessly Toppy Treplin had lived +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11'></a>11</span> +since achieving his football honours four years before. +</p> +<p> +The sun crept up and found his eyes, and Toppy +stirred. Slowly, even painfully, he raised his head +from the table and looked around him. The crudeness +of his surroundings made him sit up with a start. +He looked first out of the window at the snow-covered +“street.” Across the way he saw a small, unpainted +building bearing a scraggly sign, “Hotel.” Beyond +this the jack-pines loomed in a solid wall. +</p> +<p> +Toppy shuddered. He turned his face toward the +man behind the bar, who had been regarding him +for some time with a look of mingled surprise and +amusement. Toppy shuddered again. +</p> +<p> +The man was a half-breed, and he wore a red woollen +shirt. Worse, there was not a sign of a mirror +behind the bar. It was distressing. +</p> +<p> +“Good morning, brother,” said Toppy, concealing +his repugnance. “Might I ask you for a little information +this pleasant morning?” +</p> +<p> +The half-breed grinned appreciatively but sceptically. +</p> +<p> +“Little drink, I guess you mean, don’t you?” said +he. “Go ’head.” +</p> +<p> +Toppy bowed courteously. +</p> +<p> +“Thank you, brother, thank you. I am sorely +puzzled about two little matters—where am I anyway, +and if so, how did I get here?” +</p> +<p> +The grin on the half-breed’s face broadened. He +pointed at the table in front of Toppy. +</p> +<p> +“You been sleeping there since ‘bout midnight las’ +night,” he exclaimed. +</p> +<p> +Toppy waved his left hand to indicate his displeasure +at the inadequacy of the bartender’s reply. +</p> +<p> +“Obvious, my dear Watson, obvious,” he said. “I +know that I’m at this table, because here I am; and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12'></a>12</span> +I know I’ve been sleeping here because I just woke +up. Let’s broaden the range of our information. +What town is this, if it is a town, and if it is, how +did I happen to come here, may I ask?” +</p> +<p> +The half-breed’s grin disappeared, gradually to give +place to an expression of amazement. +</p> +<p> +“You mean to say you come to this town and don’t +know what town it is?” he demanded. “Then why +you come? What you do here?” +</p> +<p> +Toppy’s brow corrugated in an expression of deep +puzzlement. +</p> +<p> +“That’s another thing that’s rather puzzling, too, +brother,” he replied. “Why did I come? I’d like +to know that, too. Like very, very much to know that. +Where am I, how did I come here, and why? Three +questions I’d like very, very much to have answered.” +</p> +<p> +He sat for a moment in deep thought, then turned +toward the bartender with the pleased look of a man +who has found an inspiration. +</p> +<p> +“I tell you what you do, brother—you answer the +first two questions and in the light of that information +I’ll see if I can’t ponder out the third.” +</p> +<p> +The half-breed leaned heavily across the single-plank +bar and watched Toppy closely. +</p> +<p> +“This town is Rail Head,” he said slowly, as if +speaking to some one of whose mental capacity he had +great doubts. “You come here by last night’s train. +You bring the train-crew over to have a drink; then +you fall asleep. You been sleeping ever since. Now +you remember?” +</p> +<p> +“Ah!” +</p> +<p> +The puzzled look went out of Toppy’s eyes. +</p> +<p> +“Now I remember. Row with Harvey Duncombe. +Wanted me to drink two to his one. Stepped outside. +Saw little train. Saw little girl. Stepped off +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13'></a>13</span> +big train, got on little train, and here I am. Fine +little business.” +</p> +<p> +“You went to sleep in the train coming up, the +conductor told me,” volunteered the half-breed. “You +told them you wanted to go as far as you could, so +they took you up here to the end of the line. You +remember now, eh, why you come here?” +</p> +<p> +“Only too well, brother,” replied Toppy wearily. +“I—I just came to see your beautiful little city.” +</p> +<p> +The bartender laughed bitterly. +</p> +<p> +“You come to a fine place. Didn’t you ever hear +‘bout Rail Head?” he asked. “I guess not, or you +wouldn’t have come. This town’s the jumping-off +place, that’s what she is. It’s the most God-forsaken, +hopeless excuse for a town in the whole North Country. +There’s only two kind of business here—shipping +men out to Hell Camp and skinning them when they +come back. That’s all. What you think of that for +a fine town you’ve landed in, eh?” +</p> +<p> +“Fine,” said Toppy. “I see you love it dearly, indeed.” +</p> +<p> +The half-breed nodded grimly. +</p> +<p> +“It’s all right for me; I own this place. Anybody +else is sucker to come here, though. You ain’t a +Bohunk fool, so I don’t think you come to hire out +for Hell Camp. You just got too drunk, eh?” +</p> +<p> +“I suppose so,” said Toppy, yawning. “What’s this +Hell Camp thing? Pleasant little name.” +</p> +<p> +“An’ pleasant little place,” supplemented the man +mockingly. “Ain’t you never heard ‘bout Hell Camp? +‘Bout its boss—Reivers—the ‘Snow-Burner’? Huh! +Perhaps you want hire out there for job?” +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps,” agreed Toppy. “What is it?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, it ain’t nothing so much. Just big log-camp +run by man named Reivers—that’s all. Indians call +him Snow-Burner. Twenty-five, thirty miles out in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14'></a>14</span> +the bush, at Cameron Dam. That’s all. Very big +camp. Everybody who comes to this town is going +out there to work, or else hiding out.” +</p> +<p> +“I see. But why the name?” +</p> +<p> +“Hell Camp?” The bartender’s grin appeared again; +then, as if a second thought on the matter had occurred +to him, he assumed a noncommittal expression +and yawned. “Oh, that’s just nickname the boys +give it. You see, the boys from camp come to town +here in the Spring. Then sometimes they raise ——. +That’s why some people call it Hell Camp. That’s +all. Cameron Dam Camp is the right name.” +</p> +<p> +“I see.” Toppy was wondering why the man should +take the trouble to lie to him. Of course he was +lying. Even Toppy, with his bleared eyes, could see +that the man had started to berate Hell Camp even as +he had berated Rail Head and had suddenly switched +and said nothing. It hurt Toppy’s head. It wasn’t +fair to puzzle him this morning. “I see. Just—just +a nickname.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s all,” said the bartender. Briskly changing +the subject he said: “Well, how ’bout it, stranger? +You going to have eye-opener this morning?” +</p> +<p> +“I suppose so,” said Toppy absently. He again +turned his attention to the view from the window. +On the low stairs of the hotel were seated half a +dozen men whose flat, ox-like faces and foreign clothing +marked them for immigrants, newly arrived, of +the Slavic type. Some sat on wooden trunks oddly +marked, others stood with bundles beneath their arms. +They waited stolidly, blankly, with their eyes on the +hotel door, as oxen wait for the coming of the man +who is going to feed them. Toppy looked on with +idle interest. +</p> +<p> +“I didn’t think you could see anything like that this +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15'></a>15</span> +far away from Ellis Island,” he said. “What are +those fellows, brother?” +</p> +<p> +“Bohunks,” said the bartender with a contemptuous +jerk of the head. “They waiting to hire out for +the Cameron Dam Camp. The agent he comes to the +hotel. Well, what you going to have?” +</p> +<p> +“Bring me a whisky sour,” said Toppy, without +taking his eyes off the group across the street. The +half-breed grinned and placed before him a bottle of +whisky and a glass. Toppy frowned. +</p> +<p> +“A whisky sour, I said,” he protested. +</p> +<p> +“When you get this far in the woods,” laughed the +man, “they all come out of one bottle. Drink up.” +</p> +<p> +Once more Toppy shuddered. He was bored by +this time. +</p> +<p> +“Your jokes up here are worse than your booze,” he +said wearily. +</p> +<p> +He poured out a scant drink and sat with the glass +in his hand while his eyes were upon the group across +the street. He was about to drink when a stir among +the men drew his attention. The door of the hotel +opened briskly. Toppy suddenly set down his glass. +</p> +<p> +The girl who had got on the narrow-gauge out at +the junction the night before had come out and was +standing on the stairs, looking about her with an expression +which to Toppy seemed plainly to spell, +“Help!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16'></a>16</span><a name='chII' id='chII'></a>CHAPTER II—THE GIRL</h2> +<p> +Toppy sat and stared across the street at her +with a feeling much like awe. The girl was +standing forth in the full morning sunlight, and +Toppy’s first impulse was to cross the street to her, his +second to hide his face. She was small and young, +the girl, and beautiful. She was a blonde, such a +blonde as is found only in the North. The sun lighted +up the aureole of light hair surrounding her head, +so that even Toppy behind the windows of the Northern +Light caught a vision of its fineness. Her cheeks +bore the red of perfect health showing through a perfect, +fair complexion, and even the thick red mackinaw +which she wore did not hide the trimness of the figure +beneath. +</p> +<p> +“What in the dickens is she doing here?” gasped +Toppy. “She doesn’t belong in a place like this.” +</p> +<p> +But if this were true the girl apparently was entirely +unconscious of it. Among that group of ox-like +Slavs she stood with her little chin in the air, as +much at home, apparently, as if those men were all +her good friends. Only she looked about her now +and then as if anxiously seeking a way out of a +dilemma. +</p> +<p> +“What can she be doing here?” mused Toppy. “A +little, pretty thing like her! She ought to be back +home with mother and father and brother and sister, +going to dancing-school, and all the rest of it.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17'></a>17</span> +</p> +<p> +Toppy was no stranger to pretty girls. He had met +pretty girls by the score while at college. He had +been adored by dozens. After college he had met +still more. None of them had interested him to any +inconvenient extent. After all, a man’s friends are +all men. +</p> +<p> +But this girl, Toppy admitted, struck him differently. +He had never seen a girl that struck him like +this before. He pushed his glass to one side. He +was bored no longer. For the first time in four years +the full shame of his mode of living was driven home +to him, for as he feasted his eyes on the sun-kissed +vision across the street his decent instincts whispered +that a man who squandered and swilled his life away +just because he had money had no right to raise his +eyes to this girl. +</p> +<p> +“You’re a waster, that’s what you are,” said Toppy +to himself, “and she’s one of those sweet——” +</p> +<p> +He was on his feet before the sentence was completed. +In her perplexity the girl had turned to the +men about her and apparently had asked a question. +At first their utter unresponsiveness indicated that +they did not understand. +</p> +<p> +Then they began to smile, looking at one another +and at the girl. The brutal manner in which they +fixed their eyes upon her sent the blood into Toppy’s +throat. White men didn’t look at a woman that way. +</p> +<p> +Then one of the younger men spoke to the girl. +Toppy saw her start and look at him with parted +lips. The group gathered more closely around. The +young man spoke again, grimacing and smirking +bestially, and Toppy waited for no more. He was a +waster and half drunk; but after all he was a white +man, of the same breed as the girl on the stairs, and +he knew his job. +</p> +<p> +He came across the snow-covered street like Toppy +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18'></a>18</span> +Treplin of old bent upon making a touchdown. Into +the group he walked, head up, shouldering and elbowing +carelessly. Toppy caught the young speaker by +both shoulders and hurled him bodily back among his +fellows. For an instant they faced Toppy, snarling, +their hands cautiously sliding toward hidden knives. +Then they grovelled, cringing instinctively before the +better breed. +</p> +<p> +Toppy turned to the girl and removed his cap. +She had not cried out nor moved, and now she looked +Toppy squarely in the eye. Toppy promptly hung his +head. He had been thinking of her as something +of a child. Now he saw his mistake. She was young, +it is true—little over twenty perhaps—but there was +an air of self-reliance and seriousness about her as +if she had known responsibilities beyond her years. +And her eyes were blue, Toppy saw—the perfect blue +that went with her fair complexion. +</p> +<p> +“I beg pardon,” stammered Toppy. “I just happened +to see—it looked as if they were getting fresh—so +I thought I’d come across and—and see if there was +anything—anything I could do.” +</p> +<p> +“Thank you,” said the girl a little breathlessly. +“Are—are you the agent?” +</p> +<p> +Toppy shook his head. The look of perplexity +instantly returned to the girl’s face. +</p> +<p> +“I’m sorry; I wish I was,” said Toppy. “If you’ll +tell me who the agent is, and so on—” he included +most of the town of Rail Head in a comprehensive +glance—“I’ll probably be able to find him in a hurry.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I couldn’t think of troubling you. Thank +you ever so much, though,” she said hastily. “They +told me in the hotel that he was outside here some +place. I’ll find him myself, thank you.” +</p> +<p> +She stepped off the stairs into the snow of the +street, every inch and line of her, from her solid tan +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19'></a>19</span> +boots to her sensible tassel cap, expressing the self-reliance +and independence of the girl who is accustomed +and able to take care of herself under trying +circumstances. +</p> +<p> +The bright sun smote her eyes and she blinked, +squinting deliciously. She paused for a moment, threw +back her head and filled her lungs to the full with +great drafts of the invigorating November air. Her +mackinaw rose and fell as she breathed deeply, and +more colour came rushing into the roses of her cheeks. +Apparently she had forgotten the existence of the +Slavs, who still stood glowering at her and Toppy. +</p> +<p> +“Isn’t it glorious?” she said, looking up at Toppy +with her eyes puckered prettily from the sun. “Doesn’t +it just make you glad you’re alive?” +</p> +<p> +“You bet it does!” said Toppy eagerly. He saw his +opportunity to continue the conversation and hastened +to take advantage. “I never knew air could be as +exciting as this. I never felt anything like it. It’s +my first experience up here in the woods; I’m an utter +stranger around here.” +</p> +<p> +Having volunteered this information, he waited +eagerly. The girl merely nodded. +</p> +<p> +“Of course. Anybody could see that,” she said +simply. +</p> +<p> +Toppy felt slightly abashed. +</p> +<p> +“Then you—you’re not a stranger around here?” he +asked. +</p> +<p> +She shook her head, the tassels of her cap and her +aureole of light hair tossing gloriously. +</p> +<p> +“I’m a stranger here in this town,” she said, “but +I’ve lived up here in the woods, as you call it, all my +life except the two years I was away at school. Not +right in the woods, of course, but in small towns +around. My father was a timber-estimator before +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20'></a>20</span> +he was hurt, and naturally we had to live close to the +woods.” +</p> +<p> +“Naturally,” agreed Toppy, though he knew nothing +about it. He tried to imagine any of the girls +he knew back East accepting a stranger as a man and +a brother who could be trusted at first hand, and he +failed. +</p> +<p> +“I say,” he said as she stepped away. “Just a +moment, please. About this agent-thing. Won’t you +please let me go and look for him?” He waved +his hands at the six saloons. “You see, there aren’t +many places here that a lady can go looking for a +man in.” +</p> +<p> +She hesitated, frowning at the lowly groggeries that +constituted the major part of Rail Head’s buildings. +</p> +<p> +“That’s so,” she said with a smile. +</p> +<p> +“Of course it is,” said Toppy eagerly. “And the +chances are that your man is in one of them, no matter +who he is, because that’s about the only place he +can be here. You tell me who he is, or what he is, +and I’ll go hunt him up.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s very kind of you.” She hesitated for a +moment, then accepted his offer without further +parley. “It’s the employment agent of the Cameron +Dam Company that I’m looking for. I am to meet him +here, according to a letter they sent me, and he is to +furnish a team and driver to take me out to the Dam.” +</p> +<p> +Then she added calmly, “I’m going to keep books +out there this Winter.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21'></a>21</span><a name='chIII' id='chIII'></a>CHAPTER III—TOPPY GETS A JOB</h2> +<p> +Toppy gasped. In the first place, he had not +been thinking of her as a “working girl.” None +of the girls that he knew belonged to that class. The +notion that she, with the childish dimple in her chin +and the roses in her cheeks, was a girl who made her +own living was hard to assimilate; the idea that she +was going out to a camp in the woods—out to Hell +Camp—to work was absolutely impossible! +</p> +<p> +“Keep books?” said Toppy, bewildered. “Do they +keep books in a—in a logging-camp?” +</p> +<p> +It was her turn to look surprised. +</p> +<p> +“Do you know anything about Cameron Dam?” +she asked. +</p> +<p> +“Nothing,” admitted Toppy. “It’s a logging-camp, +though, isn’t it?” +</p> +<p> +“Rather more than that, as I understand it,” she +replied. “They are building a town out there, according +to my letter. There are over two hundred people +there now. At present they’re doing nothing but logging +and building the dam; but they say they’ve found +ore out there, and in the Spring the railroad is coming +and the town will open up.” +</p> +<p> +“And—and you’re going to keep books there this +Winter?” +</p> +<p> +She nodded. “They pay well. They’re paying me +seventy-five dollars a month and my board.” +</p> +<p> +“And you don’t know anything about the place?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22'></a>22</span> +</p> +<p> +“Except what they’ve written in the letter engaging +me.” +</p> +<p> +“And still you’re going out there—to work?” +</p> +<p> +“Of course,” she said cheerfully. “Seventy-five-dollar +jobs aren’t to be picked up every day around +here.” +</p> +<p> +“I see,” said Toppy. He remembered Harvey Duncombe’s +champagne bill of the night before and grew +thoughtful. He himself had shuddered a short while +before, at waking in a bar where there was no mirror, +and he had planned to wire Harvey for five hundred +to take him back to civilisation. And here was this +delicate little girl—as delicate to look upon as any of +the petted and pampered girls he knew back East—cheerfully, +even eagerly, setting her face toward the +wilderness because therein lay a job paying the colossal +sum of seventy-five dollars a month! And she was +going alone! +</p> +<p> +A reckless impulse swayed Toppy. He decided not +to wire Harvey. +</p> +<p> +“I see,” he said thoughtfully. “I’ll go find this +agent. You’d better wait inside the hotel.” +</p> +<p> +He crossed the street and systematically began to +search through the six saloons. In the third place he +found his man shaking dice with an Indian. The agent +was a lean, long-nosed individual who wore thick +glasses and talked through his nose. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, I’m the Cameron Dam agent,” he drawled, +curiously eying Toppy from head to toe. “Simmons is +my name. What can I do for you?” +</p> +<p> +“I want a job,” said Toppy. “A job out at Hell +Camp.” +</p> +<p> +The agent laughed shortly at the name. +</p> +<p> +“You’re wise, are you?” he said. “And still you +want a job out there? Well, I’m sorry. That load of +Bohunks across the street fills me up. I can’t use +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23'></a>23</span> +any more rough labour just at present. I’m looking +for a blacksmith’s helper, but I guess that ain’t you.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s me,” said Toppy resolutely. “That’s the +job I want—blacksmith’s helper. That’s my job.” +</p> +<p> +The agent looked him over with the critical eye +of a man skilfully appraising bone and muscle. +</p> +<p> +“You’re big enough, that’s sure,” he drawled. +“You’ve got the shoulders and arms, too, but—let’s +see your hands.” +</p> +<p> +Toppy held up his hands, huge in size, but entirely +innocent of callouses or other signs of wear. The +agent grinned. +</p> +<p> +“Soft as a woman’s,” he said scornfully. “When +did you ever do any blacksmithing? Long time ago, +wasn’t it? Before you were born, I guess.” +</p> +<p> +Toppy’s right hand shot out and fell upon the +agent’s thin arm. Slowly and steadily he squeezed +until the man writhed and grimaced with pain. +</p> +<p> +“Wow! Leggo!” The agent peered over his thick +glasses with something like admiration in his eyes. +“Say, you’re there with the grip, all right, big fellow. +Where’d you get it?” +</p> +<p> +“Swinging a sledge,” lied Toppy solemnly. “And +I’ve come here to get that job.” +</p> +<p> +Simmons shook his head. +</p> +<p> +“I can’t do it,” he protested. “If I should send you +out and you shouldn’t make good, Reivers would be +sore.” +</p> +<p> +“Who’s this man Reivers?” +</p> +<p> +The agent’s eyes over his glasses expressed surprise. +</p> +<p> +“I thought you were wise to Hell Camp?” he said. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I’m wise enough,” said Toppy impatiently. “I +know what it is. But who’s this Reivers?” +</p> +<p> +“He’s the boss,” said Simmons shortly. “D’you +mean to say you never heard about Hell-Camp Reivers, +the Snow-Burner?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24'></a>24</span> +</p> +<p> +“No, I haven’t,” replied Toppy impatiently. “But +that doesn’t make any difference. You send me out +there; I’ll make good, don’t worry.” He paused and +sized his man up. “Come over here, Simmons,” he +said with a significant wink, leading the way toward +the door. “I want that job; I want it badly.” Toppy +dived into his pockets. Two bills came to light—two +twenties. He slipped them casually into Simmons’ +hand. “That’s how bad I want it. Now how about +it?” +</p> +<p> +The fashion in which Simmons’ thin fingers closed +upon the money told Toppy that he was not mistaken +in the agent’s character. +</p> +<p> +“You’ll be taking your own chances,” warned Simmons, +carefully pocketing the money. “If you don’t +make good—well, you’ll have to explain to Reivers, +that’s all. You must have an awful good reason for +wanting to go out.” +</p> +<p> +“I have.” +</p> +<p> +“Hiding from something, mebbe?” suggested Simmons. +</p> +<p> +“Maybe,” said Toppy. “And, say—there’s a young +lady over at the hotel who’s looking for you. Said +you were to furnish her with a sleigh to get out to +Cameron Dam.” +</p> +<p> +An evil smile broke over the agent’s thin face as he +moved toward the door. +</p> +<p> +“The new bookkeeper, I suppose,” he said, winking +at Toppy. “Aha! Now I understand why you——” +</p> +<p> +Toppy caught him two steps from the door. His +fingers sank into the man’s withered biceps. +</p> +<p> +“No, you don’t understand,” he hissed grimly. +“Get that? You don’t understand anything about it.” +</p> +<p> +“All right,” snapped the cowed man. “Leggo my +arm. I was just joshing. You can take a joke, can’t +you? Well, then, come along. As long as you’re +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25'></a>25</span> +going out you might as well go at once. I’ve got to +get a double team, anyhow, for the lady, and you’ve +got to start now to make it before dark. Ready to +start now?” +</p> +<p> +“All ready,” said Toppy. +</p> +<p> +At the door the agent paused. +</p> +<p> +“Say, you haven’t said anything about wages yet,” +he said quizzically. +</p> +<p> +“That’s so,” said Toppy, as if he had forgotten. +“How much am I going to get?” +</p> +<p> +“Sixty a month.” +</p> +<p> +The agent couldn’t understand why the new man +should laugh. It struck Toppy as funny that a little +girl with a baby dimple in her chin should be earning +more money than he. Also, he wondered what Harvey +Duncombe and the rest of the bunch would have +thought had they known. +</p> +<p> +Toppy followed the agent to the stable behind the +hotel, where Simmons routed out an old hunchbacked +driver who soon brought forth a team of rangy bays +drawing a light double-seated sleigh. +</p> +<p> +“Company outfit,” explained Simmons. “Have to +have a team; one horse can’t make it. You can ride +in the front seat with the driver. The lady will ride +behind.” +</p> +<p> +As Toppy clambered in Simmons hurriedly whispered +something in the ear of the driver, who was +fastening a trace. The hunchback nodded. +</p> +<p> +“I got this job because I can keep my mouth shut,” +he muttered. “Don’t you worry about anybody pumping +me.” +</p> +<p> +He stepped in beside Toppy; and the bays, prancing +in the snow, went around to the front of the hotel +on the run. There was a wait of a few minutes; then +Simmons came out, followed by the girl carrying her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26'></a>26</span> +suitcase. Toppy sprang out and took it from her +hand. +</p> +<p> +“You people are going to be together on a long +drive, so I’d better introduce you,” said Simmons. +“Miss Pearson, Mr. ——” +</p> +<p> +“Treplin,” said Toppy honestly. +</p> +<p> +“Treplin,” concluded Simmons. “New bookkeeper, +new blacksmith’s helper. Get in the back seat, Miss +Pearson. Cover yourself well up with those robes. +Bundle in—that’s right. Put the suitcase under your +feet. That’s right. All right, Jerry,” he drawled to +the driver. “You’d better keep going pretty steady +to make it before dark.” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t nobody need to tell me my business,” said +the surly hunchback, tightening the lines; and without +any more ado they were off, the snow flying from +the heels of the mettlesome bays. +</p> +<p> +For the first few miles the horses, fresh from the +stable and exhilarated to the dancing-point by the sun, +air and snow, provided excitement which prevented +any attempt at conversation. Then, when their dancing +and shying had ceased and they had settled down +to a steady, long-legged jog that placed mile after +mile of the white road behind them with the regularity +of a machine, Toppy turned his eyes toward the girl +in the back seat. +</p> +<p> +He quickly turned them to the front again. Miss +Pearson, snuggled down to her chin in the thick sleigh-robes, +her eyes squinting deliciously beneath the sharp +sun, was studying him with a frankness that was disconcerting, +and Toppy, probably for the first time in +his life, felt himself gripped by a great shyness and +confusion. There was wonderment in the girl’s eyes, +and suspicion. +</p> +<p> +“She’s wise,” thought Toppy sadly. “She knows +I’ve been hitting it up, and she knows I made up my +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27'></a>27</span> +mind to come out here after I talked with her. A +fine opinion she must have of me! Well, I deserve +it. But just the same I’ve got to see the thing through +now. I can’t stand for her going out all alone to a +place with a reputation like Hell Camp. I’m a dead +one with her, all right; but I’ll stick around and see +that she gets a square deal.” +</p> +<p> +Consequently the drive, which Toppy had hoped +would lead to more conversation and a closer acquaintance +with the girl, resolved itself into a silent, +monotonous affair which made him distinctly uncomfortable. +He looked back at her again. This time also +he caught her eyes full upon him, but this time after +an instant’s scrutiny she looked away with a trace of +hardness about her lips. +</p> +<p> +“I’m in bad at the start with her, sure,” groaned +Toppy inwardly. “She doesn’t want a thing to do +with me, and quite right at that.” +</p> +<p> +His tentative efforts at opening a conversation with +the driver met instant and convincing failure. +</p> +<p> +“I hear they’ve got quite a place out here,” began +Toppy casually. +</p> +<p> +“None of my business if they have,” grunted the +driver. +</p> +<p> +Toppy laughed. +</p> +<p> +“You’re a sociable brute! Why don’t you bark +and be done with it?” +</p> +<p> +The driver viciously pulled the team to a dead stop +and turned upon Toppy with a look that could come +only from a spirit of complete malevolence. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t try to talk to me, young feller,” he snapped, +showing old yellow teeth. “My job is to haul you out +there, and that’s all. I don’t talk. Don’t waste your +time trying to make me. Giddap!” +</p> +<p> +He cut viciously at the horses with his whip, pulled +his head into the collar of his fur coat with the motion +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28'></a>28</span> +of a turtle retiring into its shell, and for the rest of +the drive spoke only to the horses. +</p> +<p> +Toppy, snubbed by the driver and feeling himself +shunned, perhaps even despised, by Miss Pearson, now +had plenty of time to think over the situation calmly. +The crisp November air whipping his face as the +sleigh sped steadily along drove from his brain the remaining +fumes of Harvey Buncombe’s champagne. +He saw the whole affair clearly now, and he promptly +called himself a great fool. +</p> +<p> +What business was it of his if a girl wanted to go +out to work in a place like Hell Camp? Probably +it was all right. Probably there was no necessity, +no excuse for his having made a fool of himself by +going with her. Why had he done it, anyhow? +Getting interested in anything because of a girl was +strange conduct for him. He couldn’t call to mind +a single tangible reason for his actions. He had +acted on the impulse, as he had done scores of times +before; and, as he had also done scores of times before, +he felt that he had made a fool of himself. +</p> +<p> +He tried to catch the girl’s eyes once more, to read +in them some sign of relenting, some excuse for opening +a conversation. But as he turned his head Miss +Pearson also turned and looked away with uncompromising +severity. Toppy studied the purity of her +profile, the innocence of the baby dimple in her chin, +out of the corner of his eye. And as he turned and +glanced at the evil face of the hunchback driver he +settled himself with a sigh, and thought— +</p> +<p> +“Nevertheless, and notwithstanding the fact that +I’ve been a fool, I am glad that I’m here.” +</p> +<p> +At noon the road plunged out of the scant jack-pine +forest into the gloom of a hemlock swamp. Toppy +shuddered as he contemplated what the fate of a man +might be who should be unfortunate enough to get +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29'></a>29</span> +lost in that swamp. A mile in the swamp, on a slight +knoll, they came to a tiny cabin guarding a gate across +the road. An old, bearded woodsman came out of the +cabin and opened the gate, and the hunchback pulled +up and proceeded to feed his team. +</p> +<p> +“Dinner’s waiting inside,” called the gate-tender. +“Come in and eat, miss—and you, too; I suppose +you’re hungry?” he added to Toppy. +</p> +<p> +“And hurry up, too,” growled the hunchback. “I +give you twenty minutes.” +</p> +<p> +“Thank you very much,” said the girl, diving into +her suitcase. “I’ve brought my own lunch.” +</p> +<p> +She brought out some sandwiches and proceeded +to nibble at them without moving from the sleigh. +Toppy tumbled into the cabin in company with the +hunchback driver. A rough meal was on the table +and they fell to without a word. Toppy noticed that +the old woodsman sat on a bench near the door where +he could keep an eye on the road. Above the bench +hung a pair of field-glasses, a repeating shotgun and a +high-power Winchester rifle. +</p> +<p> +“Any hunting around here?” asked Toppy cheerily. +</p> +<p> +“Sometimes,” said the old watcher with a smile that +made Toppy wonder. +</p> +<p> +He did not pursue the subject, for there was something +about the lonely cabin, the bearded old man, +and the rifle on the wall that suggested something much +more grim than sport. +</p> +<p> +The driver soon bolted his meal and went back to +the sleigh. Toppy followed, and twenty minutes +after pulling up they were on the road again. With +each mile that they passed now the swamp grew wilder +and the gloom of the wilderness more oppressive. To +right and left among the trees Toppy made out +stretches of open water, great springs and little creeks +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30'></a>30</span> +which never froze and which made the swamp even +in Winter a treacherous morass. +</p> +<p> +Toward the end of the short afternoon the swamp +suddenly gave way to a rough, untimbered ridge. Red +rocks, which Toppy later learned contained iron ore, +poked their way like jagged teeth through the snow. +The sleigh mounted the ridge, the runners grating on +bare rock and dirt, dipped down into a ravine between +two ridges, swung off almost at right angles in a cleft +in the hills—and before Toppy realised that the end +of the drive had come, they were in full view of a +large group of log buildings on the edge of a dense +pine forest and were listening to the roar of the waters +of Cameron Dam. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31'></a>31</span><a name='chIV' id='chIV'></a>CHAPTER IV—“HELL-CAMP” REIVERS</h2> +<p> +In the face of things there was nothing about the +place to suggest that it deserved the title of Hell +Camp. The Cameron Dam Camp, as Toppy saw it +now, consisted of seven neat log buildings. Of these +the first six were located on the road which led into +the camp, three on each side. These buildings were +twice as large as the ordinary log buildings which +Toppy had seen in the woods; but they were thoroughly +dwarfed and overshadowed by the seventh, +which lay beyond them, and into the enormous doorway +of which the road seemed to disappear. This +building was larger than the other six combined—was +built of huge logs, apparently fifteen feet high; and +its wall, which stretched across the road, seemed to +have no windows or openings of any kind save a great +double door. +</p> +<p> +Toppy had no time for a careful scrutiny of the +place, as the hunchback swiftly pulled up before the +first building of the camp, a well-built double-log affair +with large front windows and a small sign, “Office and +Store.” Directly across the road from this building +was one bearing the sign, “Blacksmith Shop,” and +Toppy gazed with keen curiosity at a short man with +white hair and broad shoulders who, with a blacksmith’s +hammer in his hand, came to the door of +the shop as they drove up. Probably this was the man +for whom he was to work. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32'></a>32</span> +</p> +<p> +“Hey, Jerry,” greeted the blacksmith with a burr +in his speech that labelled him unmistakably as a Scot. +</p> +<p> +“Hey, Scotty,” replied the hunchback. +</p> +<p> +“Did ye bring me a helper?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” grunted Jerry. +</p> +<p> +“Good!” said the blacksmith, and returned to his +anvil. +</p> +<p> +The hunchback turned to the girl as soon as the +team had come to a standstill. +</p> +<p> +“This is where you go,” he said, indicating the +office with a nod. “You,” he grunted to Toppy, “sit +right where you are till we go see the boss.” +</p> +<p> +An Indian squaw, nearly as broad as she was tall, +came waddling out of the store as Miss Pearson +stepped stiffly from the sleigh. Toppy wished for +courage to get out and carry the girl’s suitcase, but +he feared that his action would be misinterpreted; +so he sat still, eagerly watching out of the corner +of his eyes. +</p> +<p> +“I carry um,” said the squaw as the girl dragged +forth her baggage. “You go in.” +</p> +<p> +Then the sleigh drove abruptly ahead toward the +great building at the end of the road, and Toppy’s +final view of the scene was Miss Pearson stumping +stiffly into the office-building with the squaw, the suitcase +held in her arms, waddling behind. Miss Pearson +did not look in his direction. +</p> +<p> +And now Toppy had his first shock. For he saw +that the building toward which they were hurrying was +not a building at all, but merely a stockade-wall, which +seemed to surround all of the camp except the six +buildings which were outside. What he had thought a +huge doorway was in reality a great gate. +</p> +<p> +This gate swung open at their approach, and Toppy’s +second shock came when he saw that the two hard-faced +men who opened it carried in the crooks of their +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33'></a>33</span> +arms wicked-looking, short-barrelled repeating shotguns. +One of the men caught the horses by the head +as soon as they were through the gate, and brought +them to a dead stop, while the other closed the gate +behind them. +</p> +<p> +“Can’t you see the boss is busy?” snapped the man +who had stopped the team. “You wait right here till +he’s through.” +</p> +<p> +Toppy now saw that they had driven into a quadrangle, +three sides of which were composed of long, +low, log buildings with doors and windows cut at +frequent intervals, the fourth side being formed by +the stockade-wall through which they had just passed. +The open space which thus lay between four walls of +solid logs was perhaps fifty yards long by twenty-five +yards wide. In his first swift sight of the place Toppy +saw that, with the stockade-gate closed and two men +with riot-guns on guard, the place was nothing more +nor less than an effective prison. Then his attention +was riveted spellbound by what was taking place in +the yard. +</p> +<p> +On the sunny side of the yard a group of probably +a dozen men were huddled against the log wall. Two +things struck Toppy as he looked at them—their similarity +to the group of Slavs he had seen back in Rail +Head, and the complete terror in their faces as they +cringed tightly against the log wall. Perhaps ten feet +in front of them, and facing them, stood a man alone. +And Toppy, as he beheld the terror with which the +dozen shrank back from the one, and as he looked at +the man, knew that he was looking upon Hell-Camp +Reivers, the man who was called The Snow-Burner. +</p> +<p> +Toppy Treplin was not an impressionable young +man. He had lived much and swiftly and among +many kinds of men, and it took something remarkable +in the man-line to surprise him. But the sight of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34'></a>34</span> +Reivers brought from him a start, and he sat staring, +completely fascinated by the Manager’s presence. +</p> +<p> +It was not the size of Reivers that held him, for +Toppy at first glance judged correctly that Reivers +and himself might have come from the same mold so +far as height and weight were concerned. Neither was +it the terrible physical power which fairly reeked +from the man; for though Reivers’ rough clothing +seemed merely light draperies on the huge muscles +that lay beneath, Toppy had played with strong men, +professionals and amateurs, enough to be blasé in the +face of a physical Colossus. It was the calm, ghastly +brutality of the man, the complete brutality of an +animal, dominated by a human intelligence, that held +Toppy spellbound. +</p> +<p> +Reivers, as he stood there alone, glowering at the +poor wretches who cowered from him like pygmies, +was like a tiger preparing to spring and carefully calculating +where his claws and fangs might sink in with +most damage to his victims. He stood with his feet +close together, his thumbs hooked carelessly in his +trousers pockets, his head thrust far forward. Toppy +had a glimpse of a long, thin nose, thin lips parted +in a sneer, heavily browed eyes, and, beneath the +back-thrust cap, a mass of curly light hair—hair as +light as the girl’s! Then Reivers spoke. +</p> +<p> +“Rosky!” he said in a voice that was half snarl, +half bellow. +</p> +<p> +There was a troubled movement among the dozen +men huddled against the wall, but there came no +answer. +</p> +<p> +“Rosky! Step out!” commanded Reivers in a tone +whose studied ferocity made Toppy shudder. +</p> +<p> +In response, a tall, broad-shouldered Slav, the oldest +and largest man in the group, stepped sullenly out +and stood a yard in front of his fellows. He had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35'></a>35</span> +taken off his cap and held it tightly in his clenched +right hand, and the expression on his flat face as +he stood with hanging head and scowled at Reivers +was one half of fear and half of defiance. +</p> +<p> +“You no can hit me,” he muttered doggedly. “I +citizen; I got first papers.” +</p> +<p> +Reivers’s manner underwent a change. +</p> +<p> +“Hit you?” he repeated softly. “Who wants to +hit you? I just want to talk with you. I hear you’re +thinking of quitting. I hear you’ve planned to take +these fellows with you when you go. How about it, +Rosky?” +</p> +<p> +“I got papers,” said the man sullenly. “I citizen; I +quit job when I want.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes?” said Reivers gently. It was like a tiger +playing with a hedgehog, and Toppy sickened. “But +you signed to stay here six months, didn’t you?” +</p> +<p> +The gentleness of the Manager had deceived the +thick-witted Slav and he grew bold. +</p> +<p> +“I drunk when I sign,” he said loudly. “All these +fellow drunk when they sign. I quit. They quit. You +no can keep us here if we no want stay.” +</p> +<p> +“I can’t?” Still Reivers saw fit to play with his +victim. +</p> +<p> +“No,” said the man. “And you no dare hit us again, +no.” +</p> +<p> +“No?” purred Reivers softly. “No, certainly not; I +wouldn’t hit you. You’re quite right, Rosky. I won’t +hit you; no.” +</p> +<p> +He was standing at least seven feet from his man, +his feet close together, his thumbs still hooked in +his trousers pockets. Suddenly, and so swiftly that +Rosky did not have time to move, Reivers took a step +forward and shot out his right foot. His boot seemed +barely to touch the shin-bone of Rosky’s right leg, but +Toppy heard the bone snap as the Slav, with a shriek +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36'></a>36</span> +of pain and terror, fell face downward, prone in the +trampled snow at Reivers’ feet. +</p> +<p> +And Reivers did not look at him. He was standing +as before, as if nothing had happened, as if he had not +moved. His eyes were upon the other men, who, +appalled at their leader’s fate, huddled more closely +against the log wall. +</p> +<p> +“Well, how about it?” demanded Reivers icily after +a long silence. “Any more of you fellows think you +want to quit?” +</p> +<p> +Half of the dozen cried out in terror: +</p> +<p> +“No, no! We no quit. Please, boss; we no quit.” +</p> +<p> +A smile of complete contempt curled Reivers’ thin +upper lip. +</p> +<p> +“You poor scum, of course you ain’t going to quit,” +he sneered. “You’ll stay here and slave away until I’m +through with you. And don’t you even dare think +of quitting. Rosky thought he’d kept his plans mighty +secret—thought I wouldn’t know what he was planning. +You see what happened to him. +</p> +<p> +“I know everything that’s going on in this camp. +If you don’t believe it, try it out and see. Now pick +this thing up—” he stirred the groaning Rosky contemptuously +with his foot—“and carry him into his +bunk. I’ll be around and set his leg when I get ready. +Then get back to the rock-pile and make up for the +time it’s taken to teach you this lesson.” +</p> +<p> +The brutality of the thing had frozen Toppy motionless +where he sat in the sleigh. At the same time +he was conscious of a thrill of admiration for the +dominant creature who had so contemptuously crippled +a fellow man. A brute Reivers certainly was, and well +he deserved the name of Hell-Camp Reivers; but a +born captain he was, too, though his dominance was +of a primordial sort. +</p> +<p> +Turning instantly from his victim as from a piece of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37'></a>37</span> +business that is finished, Reivers looked around and +came toward the sleigh. Some primitive instinct +prompted Toppy to step out and stretch himself leisurely, +his long arms above his head, his big chest +inflated to the limit. At the sight of him a change +came over Reivers’ face. The brutality and contempt +went out of it like a flash. His eyes lighted up with +pleasure at the sight of Toppy’s magnificent proportions, +and he smiled a quick smile of comradeship, such +as one smiles when he meets a fellow and equal, and +held out his hand to Toppy. +</p> +<p> +“University man, I’ll wager,” he said, in the easy +voice of a man of culture. “Glad to see you; more +than glad! These beasts are palling on me. They’re +so cursed physical—no mind, no spirit in them. Nothing +but so many pounds of meat and bone. Old Campbell, +my blacksmith, is the only other intelligent being +in camp, and he’s Scotch and believes in predestination +and original sin, so his conversation’s rather trying +for a steady diet.” +</p> +<p> +Toppy shook hands, amazed beyond expression. Except +for his shaggy eyebrows—brows that somehow +reminded Toppy of the head of a bear he had once +shot—Reivers now was the sort of man one would +expect to meet in the University Club rather than in +a logging-camp. The brute had vanished, the gentleman +had appeared; and Toppy was forced to smile +in answer to Reivers’ genial smile of greeting. And +yet, somewhere back in Reivers’ blue eyes Toppy saw +lurking something which said, “I am your master—doubt +it if you dare.” +</p> +<p> +“I hired out as blacksmith’s helper,” he explained. +“My name’s Treplin.” +</p> +<p> +He did not take his eyes from Reivers’. Somehow +he had the sensation that Reivers’ will and his own +had leaped to a grapple. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38'></a>38</span> +</p> +<p> +Reivers laughed aloud in friendly fashion. +</p> +<p> +“Blacksmith’s helper, eh?” he said. “That’s good; +that’s awfully good! Well, old man, I don’t care what +you hired out for, or what your right name is; you’re +a developed human being and you’ll be somebody to +talk to when these brutes grow too tiresome.” He +turned to Jerry, the driver. “Well?” he said curtly. +</p> +<p> +“She’s in the office now,” he said. +</p> +<p> +“All right.” Reivers turned and went briskly toward +the gate. “Turn Mr. Treplin over to Campbell. You’ll +live with Campbell, Treplin,” he called over his +shoulder, as he went through the gate. “And you hit +the back trail, Jerry, right away.” +</p> +<p> +As Jerry swung the team around Toppy saw that +Reivers was going toward the office with long, eager +strides. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39'></a>39</span><a name='chV' id='chV'></a>CHAPTER V—TOPPY OVERHEARS A CONVERSATION</h2> +<p> +Old Campbell, the blacksmith, had knocked off +from the day’s work when, a few minutes later, +Toppy stepped from the sleigh before the door of the +shop. +</p> +<p> +“Go through the shop to that room in the back,” +said Jerry. “You’ll find him in there.” And he drove +off without another word. +</p> +<p> +Toppy walked in and knocked at a door in a partition +across the rear of the shop. +</p> +<p> +“Come in,” spluttered a moist, cheery voice, and +Toppy entered. The old blacksmith, naked to the +waist and soaped from shoulders to ears, looked up +from the steaming tub in which he was carefully removing +every trace of the day’s smut. He peered +sharply at Toppy, and at the sight of the young man’s +good-natured face he smiled warmly through the suds. +</p> +<p> +“Come in, come in. Shut the door,” he cried, plunging +back into the hot water. “I tak’ it that you’re my +new helper? Well—” he wiped the suds from his eyes +and looked Toppy over—“though it’s plain ye never +did a day’s blacksmithing in your life, I bid ye welcome, +nevertheless. Ye look like an educated man. +Well, ’twill be a pleasure and an honour for me to teach +ye something more important than all ye’ve learned before—and +that is, how to work. +</p> +<p> +“I see ye cam’ withoot baggage of any kind. Go +ye now across to the store before it closes and draw +yerself two blankets for yer bunk. By the time you’re +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40'></a>40</span> +back I’ll have our supper started and then we’ll proceed +to get acqua’nted.” +</p> +<p> +“Tell me!” exploded Toppy, who could hold in +no longer. “What kind of a man or beast is this +Reivers? Why, I just saw him deliberately break a +man’s leg out there in the yard! What kind of a place +is this, anyhow—a penal colony?” +</p> +<p> +Campbell turned away and picked up a towel before +replying. +</p> +<p> +“Reivers is a great man who worships after strange +gods,” he said solemnly. “But you’ll have plenty of +time to learn about that later. Go ye over to the store +now without further waiting. Ye’ll find them closed +if ye dally longer; and then ye’ll have a cold night, +for there’s no blankets here for your bunk. Hustle, +lad; we’ll talk about things after supper.” +</p> +<p> +Toppy obeyed cheerfully. It was growing dark +now, and as he stepped out of the shop he saw the +squaw lighting the lamps in the building across the +street. Toppy crossed over and found the door open. +Inside there was a small hallway with two doors, one +labelled “Store,” the other “Office.” Toppy was about +to enter the store, when he heard Miss Pearson’s voice +in the office, and her first words, which came plainly +through the partition, made him pause. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Reivers,” she was saying in tones that she +struggled to make firm, “you know that if I had +known you were running this camp I would never have +come here. You deceived me. You signed the name +of Simmons to your letter. You knew that if you +had signed your own name I would not be here. You +tricked me. +</p> +<p> +“And you promised solemnly last Summer when I +told you I never could care for you that you would +never trouble me again. How could you do this? +You’ve got the reputation among men of never breaking +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41'></a>41</span> +your word. Why couldn’t you—why couldn’t you +keep your word with me—a woman?” +</p> +<p> +Toppy, playing the role of eavesdropper for the first +time, scarcely breathed as he caught the full import of +these words. Then Reivers began to speak, his deep +voice rich with earnestness and feeling. +</p> +<p> +“I will—I am keeping my word to you, Helen,” he +said. “I said I would not trouble you again; and I +will not. It’s true that I did not let you know that I +was running this camp; and I did it because I wanted +you to have this job, and I knew you wouldn’t come if +you knew I was here. You wouldn’t let me give you, +or even loan you, the three hundred dollars necessary +for your father’s operation. +</p> +<p> +“I know you, Helen, and I know that you haven’t +had a happy day since you were told that your father +would be a well man after an operation and you +couldn’t find the money to pay for it. I knew you +were going to work in hopes of earning it. I had +this place to fill in the office here; I was authorised to +pay as high as seventy-five dollars for a good bookkeeper. +Naturally I thought of you. +</p> +<p> +“I knew there was no other place where you could +earn seventy-five dollars a month, and save it. I +knew you wouldn’t come if I wrote you over my own +name. So I signed Simmons’ name, and you came. I +said I would not trouble you any more, and I keep +my word. The situation is this: you will be in charge +of this office—if you stay; I am in charge of the camp. +You will have little or nothing to do with me; I will +manage so that you will need to see me only when absolutely +necessary. Your living-rooms are in the rear +of the office. I live in the stockade. Tilly, the squaw, +will cook and wash for you, and do the hard work in +the store. In four months you will have the three +hundred dollars that you want for your father. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42'></a>42</span> +</p> +<p> +“I had much rather you would accept it from me as +a loan on a simple business basis; but as you won’t, +this is the next best thing. And you mustn’t feel +that you are accepting any favour from me. On the +contrary, you will, if you stay, be solving a big problem +for me. I simply can not handle accounts. A +strange bookkeeper could rob me and the company +blind, and I’d never know it. I know you won’t +do that; and I know that you’re efficient. +</p> +<p> +“That’s the situation. I am keeping my word; I will +not trouble you. If you decide to accept, go in and +take off your hat and coat and tell Tilly to prepare +supper for you. She will obey your orders blindly; +I have told her to. If you decide that you don’t +want to stay, say the word and I will have one of the +work-teams hooked up and you can go back to Rail +Head to-night. +</p> +<p> +“But whichever you do, Helen, please remember +that I have not broken—and never will break—my +promise to you.” +</p> +<p> +Before Reivers had begun to speak Toppy had hated +the man as a contemptible sneak guilty of lying to get +the girl at his mercy. The end of the Manager’s speech +left him bewildered. One couldn’t help wanting to +believe every word that Reivers said, there were so +much manliness and sincerity in his tone. On the +other hand, Toppy had seen his face when he was +handling the unfortunate Rosky, and the unashamed +brute that had showed itself then did not fit with this +remarkable speech. Then Toppy heard Reivers coming +toward the door. +</p> +<p> +“I will leave you; you can make up your mind +alone,” he said. “I’ve got to attend to one of the men +who has been hurt. If you decide to go back to Rail +Head, tell Tilly, and she’ll hunt me up and I’ll send a +team over right away.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43'></a>43</span> +</p> +<p> +He stepped briskly out in the hallway and saw +Toppy standing with his hand on the door of the store. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, hello, there!” he called out cheerily. “Campbell +tell you to draw your blankets? That’s the first +step in the process of becoming a—guest at Hell Camp. +Get a pair of XX; they’re the warmest.” +</p> +<p> +He passed swiftly out of the building. +</p> +<p> +“I say, Treplin,” he called back from a distance, +“did you ever set a broken leg?” +</p> +<p> +“Never,” said Toppy. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll give you ‘Davis on Fractures’ to read up on,” +said Reivers with a laugh. “I think I’ll appoint you +M.D. to this camp. ‘Doctor Treplin.’ How would +that be?” +</p> +<p> +His careless laughter came floating back as he made +his way swiftly to the stockade. +</p> +<p> +For a moment Toppy stood irresolute. Then he +did something that required more courage from him +than anything he had done before in his life. He +stepped boldly across the hallway and entered the +office, closing the door behind him. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44'></a>44</span><a name='chVI' id='chVI'></a>CHAPTER VI—“NICE BOY!”</h2> +<p> +“Miss Pearson!” Toppy spoke as he crossed +the threshold; then he stopped short. +</p> +<p> +The girl was sitting in a big chair before a desk +in the farther corner of the room. She was dressed +just as she had been on the drive; she had not removed +cap, coat or gloves since arriving. Her hands lay +palms up in her lap, her square little shoulders sagged, +and her face was pale and troubled. A tiny crease of +worry had come between her wonderful blue eyes, and +her gaze wandered uncertainly, as if seeking help in +the face of a problem that had proved too hard for her +to handle alone. At the sight of Toppy, instead of +giving way to a look of relief, her troubled expression +deepened. She started. She seemed even to shrink +from him. The words froze in Toppy’s mouth and he +stood stock-still. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t!” he groaned boyishly. “Please don’t look +at me like that, Miss Pearson! I—I’m not that sort. +I want to help you—if you need it. I heard what +Reivers just said. I——What do you take me for, +anyhow? A mucker who would force himself upon +a lady?” +</p> +<p> +The anguish in his tone and in his honest, good-natured +countenance was too real to be mistaken. He +had cried out from the depths of a clean heart which +had been stirred strangely, and the woman in the girl +responded with quick sympathy. She looked at him +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45'></a>45</span> +with a look that would have aroused the latent manhood +in a cad—which Toppy was not—and Toppy, in +his eagerness, found that he could look back. +</p> +<p> +“Why did you come out here?” she asked plaintively. +“Why did you decide to follow me, after you had +heard that I was coming here? I know you did that; +you hadn’t intended coming here until you heard. +What made you do it?” +</p> +<p> +“Because you came here,” said Toppy honestly. +</p> +<p> +“But why—why——” +</p> +<p> +Toppy had regained control of himself. +</p> +<p> +“Why do you think I did it, Miss Pearson?” he +asked quietly. +</p> +<p> +“I—I don’t want to think—what I think,” she stammered. +</p> +<p> +“And that is that I’m a cad, the sort of a mucker +who forces his attentions upon women who are alone.” +</p> +<p> +“Well—” she looked up with a challenge in her eyes—“you +had been drinking, hadn’t you? Could you +blame me if I did?” +</p> +<p> +“Not a bit,” said Toppy. “I’m the one whose to +blame. I’m the goat. I don’t suppose I had a right +to butt in. Of course I didn’t. I’m a big fool; always +have been. I—I just couldn’t stand for seeing you +start out for this Hell Camp alone; that’s all. It’s +no reason, I know, but—there you are. I’d heard +something of the place in the morning and I had a +notion it was a pretty tough place. You—you didn’t +look as if you were used to anything of the sort——Well,” +he wound up desperately, “it didn’t look right, +your going off alone among all these roughnecks; and—and +that’s why I butted in.” +</p> +<p> +She made no reply, and Toppy continued: +</p> +<p> +“I didn’t have any right to do it, I know. I deserve +to be suspected——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46'></a>46</span> +</p> +<p> +“No!” she laughed. “Please, Mr. Treplin! That +was horrid of me.” +</p> +<p> +“Why was it?” he demanded abruptly. “Especially +after you knew—after this morning. But—here’s the +situation: I thought you might need a side-kicker +to see you through, and I appointed myself to the job. +You won’t believe that, I suppose, but that’s because +you don’t know how foolish I can be.” +</p> +<p> +He stopped clumsily, abashed by the wondering +scrutiny to which she was subjecting him. She arose +slowly from the chair and came toward him. +</p> +<p> +“I believe you, Mr. Treplin,” she said. “I believe +you’re a decent sort of boy. I want to thank you; +but why—why should you think this necessary?” +</p> +<p> +She looked at him, smiling a little, and Toppy, wincing +from her “boy,” grew flustered. +</p> +<p> +“Well, you’re not sorry I came?” he stammered. +</p> +<p> +For reply she shook her head. Toppy took a long +breath. +</p> +<p> +“Thanks!” he said with such genuine relief that she +was forced to smile. +</p> +<p> +“But I’m a perfect stranger to you,” she said uncertainly. +“I can’t understand why you should feel +prompted to sacrifice yourself so to help me.” +</p> +<p> +“Sacrifice!” cried Toppy. “Why, I’m the one——” +He stopped. He didn’t know just what he had intended +to say. Something that he had no business saying, +probably. “Anybody would have done it—anybody +who wasn’t a mucker, I mean. You can’t have any use +for me, of course, knowing what kind of a dub I’ve +been, but if you’ll just look on me as somebody you +can trust and fall back on in case of need, and who’ll +do anything you want or need, I—I’ll be more than +paid.” +</p> +<p> +“I do trust you, Mr. Treplin,” she said, and held out +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47'></a>47</span> +her hand. “But—do I look as if I needed a chaperon?” +</p> +<p> +Toppy trembled at the firm grip of the small, gloved +fingers. +</p> +<p> +“I told you I’d heard what Reivers said,” he said +hastily. “I didn’t mean to; I was just coming in to +get some blankets. I don’t suppose you’re going to +stay here now, are you?” +</p> +<p> +She began to draw off her gloves. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” she said quietly. “Mr. Reivers is a gentleman +and can be depended upon to keep his word.” +</p> +<p> +Toppy winced once more. She had called him a +“decent boy”; she spoke of Reivers as a “gentleman.” +</p> +<p> +“But—good gracious, Miss Pearson! Three hundred +dollars——if that’s all——” +</p> +<p> +He stopped, for her little jaw had set with something +like a click. +</p> +<p> +“Are you going to spoil things by offering to lend +me that much money?” she asked. “Didn’t you hear +that Mr. Reivers had offered to do it? And Mr. +Reivers isn’t a complete stranger to me—as you are.” +</p> +<p> +She placed her gloves in a pocket and proceeded to +unbutton her mackinaw. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t think you could mean anything wrong by +it,” she continued. “But please don’t mention it again. +You don’t wish to humiliate me, do you?” +</p> +<p> +“Miss Pearson!” stammered Toppy, miserable. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t, please don’t,” she said. “It’s all right.” +Her natural high spirits were returning. “Everything’s +all right. Mr. Reivers never breaks his word, and +he’s promised—you heard him, you say? And you’ve +promised to be my—what did you call it?—‘side-kicker,’ +so everything’s fine. Except—” a look of disgust +passed over her eyes—“your drinking. Oh,” she +cried as she saw the shame flare into Toppy’s face, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48'></a>48</span> +“I didn’t mean to hurt you—but how can nice boys +like you throw themselves away?” +</p> +<p> +Nice boy! Toppy looked at his toes for a long time. +So that was what she thought of him! Nice boy! +</p> +<p> +“Do you know much about Reivers?” he asked at +last, as if he had forgotten her words. “Or don’t you +want to tell me about him?” He had sensed that he +was infinitely Reivers’ inferior in her estimation, and +it hurt. +</p> +<p> +“Certainly I do,” she said. “Mr. Reivers was a foreman +for the company that my father was estimator +for. When father was hurt last Summer Mr. Reivers +came to see him on company business. It’s father’s +spine; he couldn’t move; Reivers had to come to him. +He saw me, and two hours after our meeting he—he +asked me to marry him. He asked me again a +week later, and once after that. Then I told him that +I never could care for him and he went away and +promised he’d never trouble me again. You heard +our conversation. I hadn’t seen or heard of him +since, until he walked into this room. That’s all I +know about him, except that people say he never breaks +his word.” +</p> +<p> +Toppy winced as he caught the note of confidence +in her voice and thought of the sudden deadly treachery +of Reivers in dealing with Rosky. The girl with +a lithe movement threw off her mackinaw. +</p> +<p> +“By Jove!” Toppy exploded in boyish admiration. +“You’re the bravest little soul I ever saw in my life! +Going against a game like this, just to help your +father!” +</p> +<p> +“Well, why shouldn’t I?” she asked. “I’m the +only one father has got. We’re all alone, father and +I; and father is too proud to take help from any one +else; and—and,” she concluded firmly, “so am I. As +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49'></a>49</span> +for being brave—have you anything against Mr. +Reivers personally?” +</p> +<p> +Thoroughly routed, Toppy turned to the door. +“Good night, Miss Pearson,” he said politely. +</p> +<p> +“Good night, Mr. Treplin. And thank you for—going +out of your way.” But had she seen the flash in +Toppy’s eye and the set of his jaw she might not +have laughed so merrily as he flung out of the room. +</p> +<p> +In the store on the other side of the hallway Toppy +was surprised to find Tilly, the squaw, waiting patiently +behind a low counter on which lay a pair of +blankets bearing a tag “XX.” As he entered, the +woman pushed the blankets toward him and pointed to +a card lying on the counter. +</p> +<p> +“Put um name here,” she said, indicating a dotted +line on the card and offering Toppy a pencil tied on +a string. +</p> +<p> +Toppy saw that the card was a receipt for the blankets. +As he signed, he looked closely at the squaw. +He was surprised to see that she was a young woman, +and that her features and expression distinguished +her from the other squaws he had seen by the intelligence +they indicated. Tilly was no mere clod in a +red skin. Somewhere back of her inscrutable Indian +eyes was a keen, strong mind. +</p> +<p> +“How did you know what I wanted?” Toppy asked +as he packed the blankets under his arm. +</p> +<p> +The squaw made no sign that she had heard. Picking +up the card, she looked carefully at his signature +and turned to hang the card on a hook. +</p> +<p> +“So you were listening when Reivers was talking +to me, were you?” said Toppy. “Did you listen after +he went out?” +</p> +<p> +“Mebbe,” grunted Tilly. “Mebbe so; mebbe no.” +And with this she turned and waddled back into the +living-quarters in the rear of the store. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50'></a>50</span> +</p> +<p> +Toppy looked after her dumbfounded. +</p> +<p> +“Huh!” he said to himself. “I’ll bet two to one +that Reivers knows all about what we said before +morning. I suppose that will mean something doing +pretty quick. Well, the quicker the better.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51'></a>51</span><a name='chVII' id='chVII'></a>CHAPTER VII—THE SNOW-BURNER’S CREED</h2> +<p> +When Toppy returned to the room in the rear +of the blacksmith-shop he found Campbell +waiting impatiently. +</p> +<p> +“Eh, lad, but you’re the slow one!” greeted the +gruff old Scot as Toppy entered. “You’re set a record +in this camp; no man yet has been able to consume so +much time getting a pair of blankets from the wannigan. +Dump ’em in yon bunk in the corner and set +the table. I’ll have supper in a wink and a half.” +</p> +<p> +Toppy obediently tossed his blankets into the bunk +indicated and turned to help to the best of his ability. +The place now was lighted generously by two large +reflector-lamps hung on the walls, and Toppy had his +first good view of the room that was to be his home. +</p> +<p> +He was surprised at its neatness and comfort. It +was a large room, though a little low under the roof, +as rooms have a habit of being in the North. In the +farthest corner were two bunks, the sleeping-quarters. +Across the room from this, a corner was filled with +well filled bookshelves, a table with a reading-lamp, +and two easy chairs, giving the air of a tiny library. +In the corner farthest from this was the cook-stove, +and in the fourth corner stood an oilcloth-covered +table with a shelf filled with dishes hung above it. +Though the rough edges of hewn logs shown here and +there through the plaster of the walls, the room was as +spick and span as if under the charge of a finicky +housewife. Old Campbell himself, bending over the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52'></a>52</span> +cook stove, was as astonishing in his own way as the +room. He had removed all trace of the day’s smithing +and fairly shone with cleanliness. His snow-white +hair was carefully combed back from his wide forehead, +his bushy chin-whiskers likewise showed signs +of water and comb, and he was garbed from throat to +ankles in a white cook’s apron. He was cheerfully +humming a dirge-like tune, and so occupied was he +with his cookery that he scarcely so much as glanced +at Toppy. +</p> +<p> +“Now then, lad; are you ready?” he asked presently. +</p> +<p> +“All ready, I guess,” said Toppy, giving a final +look at the table. +</p> +<p> +“You’ve forgot the bread,” said Campbell, also looking. +“You’ll find it in yon tin box on the shelf. Lively, +now.” And before Toppy had dished out a loaf from +the bread-box the old man had a huge platter of steak +and twin bowls of potatoes and turnips steaming on +the table. +</p> +<p> +“We will now say grace,” said Campbell, seating +himself after removing the big apron, and Toppy sat +silent and amazed as the old man bowed his head and +in his deep voice solemnly uttered thanks for the meal +before him. +</p> +<p> +“Now then,” he said briskly, raising his head and +reaching for a fork as he ended, “fall to.” +</p> +<p> +The meal was eaten without any more conversation +than was necessary. When it was over, the blacksmith +pushed his chair leisurely back from the table +and looked across at Toppy with a quizzical smile. +</p> +<p> +“Well, lad,” he rumbled, “what would ye say was +the next thing to be done by oursel’s?” +</p> +<p> +“Wash the dishes,” said Toppy promptly, taking his +cue from the conspicuous cleanliness of the room. +</p> +<p> +“Aye,” said Campbell, nodding. “And as I cook the +meal——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53'></a>53</span> +</p> +<p> +“I’m elected dish-washer,” laughed Toppy, springing +up and taking a large dish-pan from the wall. He +had often done his share of kitchen-work on hunting-trips, +and soon he had the few dishes washed and dried +and back on the shelf again. Campbell watched critically. +</p> +<p> +“Well enough,” he said with an approving jerk of +his head when the task was completed. “Your conscience +should be easier now, lad; you’ve done something +to pay for the meal you’ve eaten, which I’ll warrant +is something you’ve not often done.” +</p> +<p> +“No,” laughed Toppy, “it just happens that I haven’t +had to.” +</p> +<p> +“‘Haven’t had to!’” snorted Campbell in disgust. +“Is that all the justification you have? Where’s your +pride? Are you a helpless infant that you’re not +ashamed to let other people stuff food into your mouth +without doing anything for it? I suppose you’ve got +money. And where came your money from? Your +father? Your mother? No matter. Whoever it came +from, they’re the people who’ve been feeding you, +but by the great smoked herring! If you stay wi’ +David Campbell you’ll have a change, lad. Aye, +you’ll learn what it is to earn your bread in the sweat +of your brow. And you’ll bless the day you come +here—no matter what the reason that made you come, +and which I do not want to hear.” +</p> +<p> +Toppy bowed courteously. +</p> +<p> +“I’ve got no come-back to that line of conversation, +Mr. Campbell,” he said good-naturedly. “Whenever +anybody accuses me of being a bum with money I +throw up my hands and plead guilty; you can’t get +an argument out of me with a corkscrew.” +</p> +<p> +Old Campbell’s grim face cracked in a genial smile +as he rose and led the way to the corner containing +the bookshelves. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54'></a>54</span> +</p> +<p> +“We will now step into the library,” he chuckled. +“Sit ye down.” +</p> +<p> +He pushed one of the easy chairs toward Toppy, and +from a cupboard under the reading-table drew a bottle +of Scotch whisky of a celebrated brand. Toppy’s +whole being suddenly cried out for a drink as his eyes +fell on the familiar four stars. +</p> +<p> +“Say when, lad,” said Campbell, pouring into a +generous glass. “Well?” He looked at Toppy in surprise +as the glass filled up. Something had smitten +Toppy like a blow between the eyes——“How can +nice boys like you throw themselves away?” And the +pity of the girl as she had said it was large before +him. +</p> +<p> +“Thanks,” said Toppy, seating himself, “but I’m +on the wagon.” +</p> +<p> +The old smith looked up at him shrewdly from the +corners of his eyes. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, aye!” he grunted. “I see. Well, by the puffs +under your eyes ye have overdone it; and for fleeing +the temptations of the world I know of no better +place ye could go to than this. For it’s certain neither +temptations nor luxuries will be found in Hell Camp +while the Snow-Burner’s boss.” +</p> +<p> +“Now you interest me,” said Toppy grimly. “The +Snow-Burner—Hell-Camp Reivers—Mr. Reivers—the +boss. What kind of a human being is he, if he is +human?” +</p> +<p> +Campbell carefully mixed his whisky with hot +water. +</p> +<p> +“You saw him manhandle Rosky?” he asked, seating +himself opposite Toppy. +</p> +<p> +“Yes; but it wasn’t manhandling; it was brute-handling, +beast-handling.” +</p> +<p> +“Aye,” said the Scot, sipping his drink. “So think +I, too. But do you know what Reivers calls it? An +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55'></a>55</span> +enlightened man showing a human clod the error of his +ways. Oh, aye; the Indians were smart when they +named him the Snow-Burner. He does things that +aren’t natural.” +</p> +<p> +“But who is he, or what is he? He’s an educated +man, obviously—’way above what a logging-boss +ought to be. What do you know about him?” +</p> +<p> +“Little enough,” was the reply. “Four year ago I +were smithing in Elk Lake Camp over east of here, +when Reivers came walking into camp. That was +the first any white men had seen of him around these +woods, though afterward we learned he’d lived long +enough with the Indians to earn the name of the Snow-Burner. +</p> +<p> +“It were January, and two feet of snow on the level, +and fifty below. Reivers came walking into camp, +and the nearest human habitation were forty mile +away. ‘Red Pat’ Haney were foreman—a man-killer +with the devil’s own temper; and him Reivers deeliberately +set himself to arouse. A week after his +coming, this same Reivers had every man in camp +looking up to him, except Red Pat. +</p> +<p> +“And Reivers drove Pat half mad with that contemptuous +smile of his, and Pat pulled a gun; and +Reivers says, ‘That’s what I was waiting for,’ and +broke Pat’s bones with his bare hands and laid him up. +Then, says he, ‘This camp is going on just the same as +if nothing had happened, and I’m going to be boss.’ +That was all there was to it; he’s been a boss ever +since.” +</p> +<p> +“And you don’t know where he came from? Or +anything else about him?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, he’s from England—an Oxford man, for that +matter,” said Campbell. “He admitted that much once +when we were argufying. He’ll be here soon; he +comes to quarrel with me every evening.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56'></a>56</span> +</p> +<p> +“Why does an Oxford man want to be ’way out here +bossing a logging-camp?” grumbled Toppy. +</p> +<p> +Campbell nodded. +</p> +<p> +“Aye, I asked that of him once,” he said. “‘Though +it’s none of your business,’ says he, ‘I’ll tell you. I got +tired of living where people snivel about laws concerning +right and wrong,’ says he, ‘instead of acknowledging +that there is only one law ruling life—that the +strong can master the weak.’ That is Mr. Reivers’ +religion. He was only worshipping his strange gods +when he broke Rosky’s leg, for he considers Rosky a +weaker man than himself, and therefore ’tis his duty +to break him to his own will.” +</p> +<p> +“A fine religion!” snapped Toppy. “And how +about his dealings with you?” +</p> +<p> +The Scot smiled grimly. +</p> +<p> +“I’m the best smith he ever had,” he replied, “and +I’ve warned him that I’d consider it a duty under my +religion to shoot him through the head did he ever +attempt to force his creed upon me.” He paused and +held up a finger. “Hist, lad. That’s him coming +noo. He’s come for his regular evening’s mouthfu’ +of conversation.” +</p> +<p> +Toppy found himself sitting up and gripping the +arms of his chair as Reivers came swinging in. He +eagerly searched the foreman’s countenance for a sign +to indicate whether Tilly, the squaw, had communicated +the conversation she had heard between Toppy +and Miss Pearson, but if she had there was nothing to +indicate it in Reivers’ expression or manner. His self-mastery +awoke a sullen rage in Toppy. He felt himself +to be a boy beside Reivers. +</p> +<p> +“Good evening, gentlemen,” greeted Reivers lightly, +pulling a chair up to the reading-table. “It is a pleasure +to find intelligent society after having spent the +last hour handling the broken leg of a miserable brute +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57'></a>57</span> +on two legs. Bah! The whisky, Scotty, please. I +wonder what miracles of misbreeding have been necessary +to turn out alleged human beings with bodies so +hideous compared to what the human body should be. +Treplin, if you or I stripped beside those Hunkies the +only thing we’d have in common would be the number +of our legs and arms.” +</p> +<p> +He drew toward him a tumbler which Campbell had +pushed over beside the bottle and, filling the glass +three-quarters full, began to drink slowly at the powerful +Scotch whisky as another man might sip at beer +or light wine. Old Campbell rocked slowly to and +fro in his chair. +</p> +<p> +“‘He that taketh up the sword shall perish by +the sword,’” he quoted solemnly. “No man is a +god to set himself up, lord over the souls and bodies +of his fellows. They will put out your light for you +one of these days, Mr. Reivers. Have care and treat +them a little more like men.” +</p> +<p> +Reivers smiled a quick smile that showed a mouthful +of teeth as clean and white as a hound’s. +</p> +<p> +“Let’s have your opinion on the subject, Treplin,” +he said. “New opinions are always interesting, and +Scotty repeats the same thing over and over again. +What do you think of it? Do you think I can maintain +my rule over those hundred and fifty clods out +there in the stockade as I am ruling them, through the +law of strength over weakness? Do you think one +superior mind can dominate a hundred and fifty inferior +organisms? Or do you think, with Scotty here, +that the dregs can drag me down?” +</p> +<p> +Toppy shook his head. He was in no mood to debate +abstract problems with Reivers. +</p> +<p> +“Count me out until I’m a little acquainted with +the situation,” he said. “I’m a stranger in a strange +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58'></a>58</span> +land. I’ve just dropped in—from almost another +world you might say.” +</p> +<p> +In a vain attempt to escape taking sides in what was +evidently an old argument he hurriedly rattled off the +story of his coming to Rail Head and thence to Hell +Camp, omitting to mention, however, that it was Miss +Pearson who was responsible for the latter part of his +journey. Reivers smote his huge fist upon the table +as Toppy finished. +</p> +<p> +“That’s the kind of a man for me!” he laughed. +“Got tired of living the life of his class, and just +stepped out of it. No explanations; no acknowledgement +of obligations to anybody. Master of his own +soul. To —— with the niceties of civilisation! Treplin, +you’re a man after my own scheme of life; I did +the same thing once—only I was sober. +</p> +<p> +“But let’s get back to our subject. Here’s the situation: +This camp is on a natural town-site. There’s +water-power, ore and timber. To use the water-power +we must build a dam; to use the timber we must get it +to the saws. That takes labour, lots of it—muscle-and-bone +labour. Labour is scarce up here. It is too far +from the pigsties of towns. Men would come, work a +few days, and go away. The purpose of the place +would be defeated—unless the men are kept here at +work. +</p> +<p> +“That’s what I do. I keep them here. To do it I +keep them locked up at night like the cattle they are. +By day I have them guarded by armed man-killers—every +one of my guards is a fugitive from man’s silly +laws, principally from the one which says, ‘Thou shalt +not kill.’ +</p> +<p> +“But my best guard is Fear—by which I rule alike +my guards and the poor brutes who are necessary to +my purpose. There you are: a hundred and fifty of +them, fearing and hating me, and I’m making them do +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59'></a>59</span> +as I please. No foolishness about laws, about order, +about right or wrong. Just a hundred and fifty half-beasts +and myself out here in the woods. As a man +with a trained mind, do you think I can keep it up? +Or do you think there is mental energy enough in +that mess of human protoplasm to muster up nerve +enough to put out my light, as Scotty puts it? It’s a +problem that furnishes interesting mental gymnastics.” +</p> +<p> +He propounded the problem with absolutely no trace +of personal interest. To judge by his manner, the matter +of his life or death meant nothing to him. It was +merely an interesting question on which to expend the +energy fulminating in his mind. In his light-blue eyes +there seemed to gleam the same impersonal brutality +which had shown out when he so casually crippled +Rosky. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, it’s an impossible proposition, Reivers!” exploded +Toppy, with the picture of the writhing Slav +in his mind’s eye. “You’ve got to consider right and +wrong when dealing with human beings. It isn’t +natural; Nature won’t stand it.” +</p> +<p> +“Ah!” Reivers’ eyes lighted up with intellectual delight. +“That’s an idea! Scotty, you hear? You’ve +been talking about my perishing by the sword, but +you haven’t given any reason why. Treplin does. +He says Nature will revolt, because my system is unnatural.” +He threw back his head and laughed coldly. +“Rot, Treplin—silly, effeminate, bookish rot!” he +roared. “Nature has respect only for the strong. It +creates the weaker species merely to give the stronger +food to remain strong on.” +</p> +<p> +Old Scotty had been rocking furiously. Now he +stopped suddenly and broke out into a furious Biblical +denunciation of Reivers’ system. When he stopped +for breath after his first outbreak, Reivers with a +few words and a cold smile egged him on. Toppy +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60'></a>60</span> +gladly kept his mouth shut. After an hour he yawned +and arose from his chair. +</p> +<p> +“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll turn in,” he said. “I’m +too sleepy to listen or talk.” +</p> +<p> +Without looking at him Reivers drew a book from +his pocket and tossed it toward him. +</p> +<p> +“‘Davis on Fractures’,” he grunted. “Cram up on +it to-morrow. There will be need of your help before +long. Go on, Scotty; you were saying that a just +retribution was Nature’s law. Go on.” +</p> +<p> +And Toppy rolled into his bunk, to lie wide awake, +listening to the argument, marvelling at the character +of Reivers, and pondering over the strange situation +he had fallen into. He scarcely thought of what +Harvey Duncombe and the bunch would be thinking +about his disappearance. His thoughts were mainly +occupied with wondering why, of all the women he +had seen, a slender little girl with golden hair should +suddenly mean so much to him. Nothing of the sort +ever had happened to him before. It was rather annoying. +Could she ever have a good opinion of him? +</p> +<p> +Probably not. And even if she could, what about +Reivers? Toppy was firmly convinced that the speech +which Reivers had made to Miss Pearson was a false +one. Reivers might have a great reputation for always +keeping his word, but Toppy, after what he had +seen and heard, would no more trust to his morals than +those of a hungry bear. If Tilly, the squaw, told +Reivers what she had heard, what then? Well, in that +case they would soon know whether Reivers meant +to keep his promise not to bother Miss Pearson with +his attentions. Toppy set his jaw grimly at the +thought of what might happen then. The mere +thought of Reivers seemed to make his fists clench +hard. +</p> +<p> +He lay awake for a long time with Reivers’ voice, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61'></a>61</span> +coldly bantering Campbell, constantly in his ears. +When Reivers finally went away he fell asleep. Before +his closed eyes was the picture of the girl as, in the +morning, she had kicked up the snow and looked up at +him with her eyes deliciously puckered from the sun; +and in his memory was the stinging recollection that +she had called him a “nice boy.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62'></a>62</span><a name='chVIII' id='chVIII'></a>CHAPTER VIII—TOPPY WORKS</h2> +<p> +At daylight next morning began Toppy’s initiation +as a blacksmith’s helper. For the next +four days he literally earned his bread in the sweat +of his brow, as Campbell had warned him he would. +The dour old Scot took it as his religious duty to give +his helper a severe introduction to the world of manual +labour, and circumstances aided him in his aim. +</p> +<p> +Two dozen huge wooden sleighs had come from +the “wood-butcher”—the camp carpenter-shop—to be +fitted with cross-rods, brace-irons and runners. Out +in the woods the ice-roads, carefully sprinkled each +night, were alternately freezing and thawing, gradually +approaching the solid condition which would mean +a sudden call for sleighs to haul the logs, which lay +mountain-high at the rollways, down to the river. +One cold night and day now, and the call would +come, and David Campbell was not the man to be +found wanting—even if handicapped by a helper with +hands as soft as a woman’s. +</p> +<p> +Toppy had no knowledge or skill in the trade, but +he had strength and quickness, and the thoughts of +Reivers’ masterfulness, and the “nice boy” in the +mouth of the girl, spurred him to the limit. The +heavy sledgework fell to his lot as a matter of course. +A twenty-pound sledge was a plaything in Toppy’s +hand—for the first fifteen minutes. +</p> +<p> +After that the hammer seemed to increase +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63'></a>63</span> +progressively in weight, until at the end of the first day’s +work Toppy would gladly have credited the statement +that it weighed a ton. Likewise the heavy runner-irons, +which he lifted with ease on the anvil in the +morning, seemed to grow heavier as the day grew +older. Had Toppy been in the splendid condition +that had helped him to win his place on the All-American +eleven four years before, he might have +gone through the cruel period of breaking-in without +faltering. But four years of reckless living had taken +their toll. The same magnificent frame and muscles +were there; the great heart and grit and sand likewise. +But there was something else there, too; the +softening, weakening traces of decomposed alcohol +in organs and tissues, and under the strain of the +terrific pace which old Campbell set for Toppy, abused +organs, fibres and nerves began to creak and groan, +and finally called out, “Halt!” +</p> +<p> +It was only Toppy’s grit—the “great heart” that +had made him a champion—and the desire to prove +his strength before Reivers that kept him at work +after the first day. His body had quit cold. He had +never before undergone such expenditure of muscular +energy, not even in the fiercest game of his career. +That was play; this was torture. On the second morning +his body shrank involuntarily from the spectacle +of the torturing sledge, anvil and irons, but pride and +grit drove him on with set jaw and hard eyes. Quit? +Well, hardly. Reivers walked around the camp and +smiled as he saw Toppy sweating, and Toppy swore +and went on. +</p> +<p> +On the third day old Campbell looked at him with +curiosity. +</p> +<p> +“Well, lad, have ye had enough?” he asked, smiling +pityingly. “Ye can get a job helping the cookee +if you find man’s work too hard for ye.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64'></a>64</span> +</p> +<p> +Toppy, between clenched teeth, swore savagely. He +was so tired that he was sick. The toxins of fatigue, +aided and abetted by the effects of hard living, had +poisoned him until his feet and brain felt as heavy +as lead. It hurt him to move and it hurt him to +think. He was groggy, all but knocked out; but something +within him held him doggedly at the tasks which +were surely mastering him. +</p> +<p> +That night he dragged himself to bed without waiting +for supper. In the morning Campbell was amazed +to see him tottering toward his accustomed place in +the shop; for old Campbell had set a pace that had +racked his own iron, work-tried body, and he had +allowed Toppy two days in which to cry enough. +</p> +<p> +“Hold up a little, lad,” he grumbled. “We’re away +ahead of our job. There’s no need laying yourself +up. Take you a rest.” +</p> +<p> +“You go to ——!” exploded the overwrought +Toppy. “Take a rest yourself if you need one; I +don’t.” +</p> +<p> +He was working on his nerve now, flogging his +weary arms and body to do his bidding against their +painful protests; and he worked like a madman, fearing +that if he came to a halt the run-down machinery +would refuse to start afresh. +</p> +<p> +It was near evening when a teamster drove up with +a broken sleigh from which Campbell and the man +strove in vain to tear the twisted runner. Reivers +from the steps of the store looked on, sneering. +Toppy, his lips drawn back with pain and weariness, +laughed shrilly at the efforts of the pair. +</p> +<p> +“Yank it off!” he cried contemptuously. “Yank it +off—like this.” +</p> +<p> +He drove a pry-iron under the runner and heaved. +It refused to budge. Toppy gathered himself under +the pry and jerked with every ounce of energy in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65'></a>65</span> +him. The runner did not move. His left ankle felt +curiously weak under the awful strain. Across the +way he heard Reivers laugh shortly. Furiously Toppy +jerked again; the runner flew into the air. Toppy +felt the weak ankle sag under him in unaccountable +fashion, and he fell heavily on his side and lay +still. +</p> +<p> +“Sprained his ankle,” grunted the teamster, as they +bore him to his bunk. “I knew something had to give. +No man ever was made to stand up under that lift.” +</p> +<p> +“But I yanked it off!” groaned Toppy, half wild +with pain. “I didn’t quit—I yanked the darn thing +off!” +</p> +<p> +“Aye,” said old Campbell, “you yanked it off, lad. +Lay still now till we have off your shoe.” +</p> +<p> +“And holy smoke!” said the teamster. “What a +yank! Hey! Whoap! Holy, red-roaring—he’s gone +and fainted!” +</p> +<p> +This latter statement was not precisely true. Toppy +had not fainted; he had suddenly succumbed to the +demands of complete exhaustion. The overdriven, +tired-out organs, wrenched and abused tissues, and +fatigue-deadened nerves suddenly had cried, “Stop!” +in a fashion that not all of Toppy’s will-power could +deny. One instant he lay flat on his back on the +blankets of his bunk, wide awake, with Campbell tugging +at the laces of his shoes; the next—a mighty sigh +of peace heaved his big chest. Toppy had fallen +asleep. +</p> +<p> +It was not a natural sleep, nor a peaceful one. The +racked muscles refused to be still; the raw nerve-centres +refused to soothe themselves in the peace of +complete senselessness. His whole body twitched. +Toppy tossed and groaned. He awoke some time in +the night with his stomach crying for food. +</p> +<p> +“Drink um,” said a voice somewhere, and a sturdy +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66'></a>66</span> +arm went under his head and a bowl containing something +savoury and hot was held against his lips. +</p> +<p> +“Hello, Tilly,” chuckled Toppy deliriously. It was +quite in keeping with things that Tilly, the squaw, +should be holding his head and feeding him in the +middle of the night. He drank with the avidity of +a man parched and starving, and the hot broth pleasantly +soothed him as it ran down his throat. +</p> +<p> +“More!” he said, and Tilly gave him more. +</p> +<p> +“Good fellow, Tilly,” he murmured. “Good medicine. +Who told you?” +</p> +<p> +“Snow-Burner,” grunted Tilly, laying his head on +the pillow. “He send me. Sleep um now.” +</p> +<p> +“Sure,” sighed Toppy, and promptly fell back into +his moaning, feverish slumber. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67'></a>67</span><a name='chIX' id='chIX'></a>CHAPTER IX—A FRESH START</h2> +<p> +When he awoke again to clear consciousness, +it was morning. The sun which came in +through the east window shone in his eyes and lighted +up the room. Toppy lay still. He was quite content +to lie so. An inexplicable feeling of peace and comfort +ruled in every inch of his being. The bored, +heavy feeling with which for a long time past he had +been in the custom of facing a new day was absolutely +gone. His tongue was cool; there was none of the +old heavy blood-pressure in his head; his nerves were +absolutely quiet. Something had happened to him. +Toppy was quite conscious of the change, though he +was too comfortable to do more than accept his peaceful +condition as a fact. +</p> +<p> +“Ho, hum! I feel like a new man,” he murmured +drowsily. “I wonder—ow!” +</p> +<p> +He had stretched himself leisurely and thus became +conscious that his left ankle was bandaged and +sore. His cry brought old Campbell into the room—Campbell +solemnly arrayed in a long-tailed suit +of black, white collar, black tie, spick and span, with +beard and hair carefully washed and combed. +</p> +<p> +“Hello!” gasped Toppy sleepily. “Where you going—funeral?” +</p> +<p> +“’Tis the Sabbath,” said Campbell reverently, as +he came to the side of the bunk. “And how do ye +feel the day, lad?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68'></a>68</span> +</p> +<p> +“Fine!” said Toppy. “Considering that I had my +ankle sprained last evening.” +</p> +<p> +The Scot eyed him closely. +</p> +<p> +“So ’twas last evening ye broke your ankle, was +it?” he asked cannily. +</p> +<p> +“Why, sure,” said Toppy. “Yesterday was Saturday, +wasn’t it? We were cleaning up the week’s +work. Why, what are you looking at me like that +for?” +</p> +<p> +“Aye,” said Campbell, his Sunday solemnity forbidding +the smile that strove to break through. “Yesterday +was Saturday, but ’twas not the Saturday you +sprained your leg. A week ago Saturday that was, +lad, and ye’ve lain here in a fever, out of your head, +ever since. Do you mind naught of the whole week?” +</p> +<p> +Toppy looked up at Campbell in silence for a long +time. +</p> +<p> +“Scotty, if you have to play jokes——” +</p> +<p> +“Jokes!” spluttered Campbell, aghast. “Losh, mon! +Didna I tell ye ’twas the Sabbath? No, ’tis no joke, +I assure you. You did more than sprain your ankle +when ye tripped that Saturday. You collapsed completely. +Lad, you were in poor condition when you +came to camp, and had I known it I would not have +broken you in so hard. But you’re a good man, lad; +the best man I ever saw, if you keep in condition. +And do you really feel good again?” +</p> +<p> +“Why, I feel like a new man,” said Toppy. “I feel +as if I’d had a course of baths at Hot Springs.” +</p> +<p> +Campbell nodded. +</p> +<p> +“The Snow-Burner said ye would. It’s Tilly he’s +had doctoring ye. She’s been feeding you some Indian +concoction and keeping ye heated till your blankets +were wet through. Oh, you’ve had scandalous +good care, lad; Reivers to set your ankle, Tilly to doctor +ye Indian-wise, and Miss Pearson and Reivers to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69'></a>69</span> +drop in together now and anon to see how ye were +standing the gaff. No wonder ye came through all +right!” +</p> +<p> +The room seemed suddenly to grow dark for Toppy. +Reivers again—Reivers dropping in to look at him +as he lay there helpless on his back. Reivers in the +position of the master again; <i>and the girl with him</i>! +Toppy impatiently threw off his covering. +</p> +<p> +“Gimme my clothes, Scotty,” he demanded, swinging +himself to the edge of the bunk. “I’m tired of +lying here on my back.” +</p> +<p> +Campbell silently handed over his clothing. Toppy +was weak, but he succeeded in dressing himself and in +tottering over to a chair. +</p> +<p> +“So Miss Pearson came over here, did she?” he +asked thoughtfully. “And with Reivers?” +</p> +<p> +“Aye,” said Scotty drily. “With Reivers. He has +a way with the women, the Snow-Burner has.” +</p> +<p> +Toppy debated a moment; then he broke out and +told Campbell all about how Reivers had deceived +Miss Pearson into coming to Hell Camp. The old +man listened with tightly pursed lips. As Toppy concluded +he shook his head sorrowfully. +</p> +<p> +“Poor lass, she’s got a hard path before her then,” +he said. “If, as you say, she does not wish to care +for Reivers.” +</p> +<p> +“What do you mean?” +</p> +<p> +“Well,” said Campbell slowly, “ye’ll be understanding +by this time that the Snow-Burner is no ordinar’ +man?” +</p> +<p> +“He’s a fiend—a savage with an Oxford education!” +exploded Toppy. +</p> +<p> +“He is—the Snow-Burner,” said Campbell with finality. +“You know what he is toward men. Toward +women—he’s worse!” +</p> +<p> +“Good Heavens!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70'></a>70</span> +</p> +<p> +“Not that he is a woman-chaser. No; ’tis not his +way. But—yon man has the strongest will in him +I’ve ever seen in mortal man, and ’tis the will women +bow to.” He pulled his whiskers nervously and looked +away. “I’ve known him four year now, and no +woman in that time that he has set his will upon but +in the end has—has followed him like a slave.” +</p> +<p> +Toppy’s fists clenched, and he joyed to find that in +spite of his illness his muscles went hard. +</p> +<p> +“Ye’ve seen Tilly,” continued Scotty with averted +eyes. “Ye’ll not be so blind that ye’ve not observed +that she’s no ordinar’ squaw. Well, three years ago +Tilly was teacher in the Chippewa Indian School—thin +and straight—a Carlisle graduate and all. She met +Reivers, and shunned him—at first. Reivers did not +chase her. ’Tis not his way. But he bent his will +upon her, and the poor girl left her life behind her +and followed him, and kept following him, until ye +see her as she is now. She would cut your throat or +nurse ye as she did, no matter which, did he but +command her. And she’s not been the only one, either. +</p> +<p> +“Nor have the rest of them been red.” +</p> +<p> +“The swine!” muttered Toppy. +</p> +<p> +“More wolf than swine, lad. Perhaps more tiger +than wolf. I don’t think Reivers intends to break +his word to yon lass. But I suspect that he won’t +have to. No; as it looks now, he won’t. Given the +opportunity to put his will upon her and she’ll change +her mind—like the others.” +</p> +<p> +“He’s a beast, that’s what he is!” said Toppy angrily. +“And any woman who would fall for him +would get no more than she deserves, even if she’s +treated like Tilly. Why, anybody can see that the +man’s instincts are all wrong. Right in an animal +perhaps, but wrong in a human being. The right +kind of women would shun him like poison.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71'></a>71</span> +</p> +<p> +“I dunno,” said Campbell, rubbing his chin. “Yon +lass over in the office is as sweet and womanly a +little lass as I’ve seen sin’ I was a lad. And yet—look +ye but out of the window, lad!” +</p> +<p> +Toppy looked out of the window in the direction +in which Campbell pointed. The window commanded +a view of the gate to the stockade. Reivers was standing +idly before the gate. Miss Pearson was coming +toward him. As she approached he carelessly turned +his head and looked her over from head to foot. From +where he sat Toppy could see her smile. Then Reivers +calmly turned his back upon her, and the smile on +the girl’s face died out. She stood irresolute for a +moment, then turned and went slowly back toward +the office, glancing occasionally over her shoulder +toward the gate. Reivers did not look, but when she +was out of sight he began to walk slowly toward the +blacksmith-shop. +</p> +<p> +“Bah!” Toppy turned his eyes from the window +in mingled anger and disgust. He sat for a moment +with a multitude of emotions working at his heart. +Then he laughed bitterly. +</p> +<p> +“Well, well, well!” he mocked. “You’d expect that +from a squaw, but not from a white woman.” +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Reivers is a remarkable man,” said Campbell, +shaking his head. +</p> +<p> +“Sure,” said Toppy, “and it’s a mistake to look for +a remarkable woman up here in the woods.” +</p> +<p> +“I dunno.” The smith looked a little hurt. “I +dunno about that, lad. Yon lass seems remarkably +sweet and ladylike to me.” +</p> +<p> +“Sure,” sneered Toppy, pointing his thumb toward +the gate. “That looked like it, didn’t it?” +</p> +<p> +“As for that, you’ve heard what I’ve told you about +the Snow-Burner and women,” said Campbell sorrowfully. +“He has a masterful way with them.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72'></a>72</span> +</p> +<p> +“A fine thing to be masterful over a little blonde +fool like that!” +</p> +<p> +Campbell scowled. +</p> +<p> +“Even though you have no respect for the lass,” +he said curtly, “I see no reason why you should put +it in words.” +</p> +<p> +“Why not? Why shouldn’t I, or any one else, put +it in words after that?” Toppy fairly shouted the +words. “She’s made the thing public herself. She +came creeping up to him right out where anybody +who was looking could see her, and there won’t be a +man in camp to-morrow but’ll have heard that she’s +fallen for Reivers. Apparently she doesn’t care; so +why should I, or you, or anybody else? Reivers has +got a masterful way with women! Ha, ha! Let it +go at that. It’s none of my business, that’s a cinch.” +</p> +<p> +“No,” agreed Campbell; “not if you talk that way, +it’s none of your business; that’s sure.” +</p> +<p> +Toppy could have struck him for the emphatic +manner in which he uttered the words. But Toppy +was beginning to learn to control himself and he +merely gritted his teeth. The sudden stab which +he had felt in his heart at the sight of the girl and +Reivers had passed. In one flash there had been overthrown +the fine structure which he had built about her +in his thoughts. He had placed her high above himself. +For some unknown reason he had looked up +to her from the first moment he had seen her. He +had not considered himself worthy of her good opinion. +And here she was flaunting her subservience to +Reivers—to a cold, sneering brute—before the eyes +of the whole camp! +</p> +<p> +The rage and pain at the sight of the pair had come +and gone, and that was all over. And now Toppy to +his surprise found that it didn’t make much difference. +The girl, and what she was, what she thought of him, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73'></a>73</span> +or of Reivers, no longer were of prime importance +to him. He didn’t care enough about that now to +give her room in his thoughts. +</p> +<p> +Reivers was what mattered now—Reivers, with +his air of contemptuous dominance; Reivers, who had +looked on and laughed when Toppy was tugging at +the runner of the broken sleigh. That laugh seemed +to ring in Toppy’s ears. It challenged him even as +it contemned him. It said, “I am your master; doubt +it if you dare”; even as Reivers’ cold smile had said +the same to Rosky and the huddled bunch of Slavs. +</p> +<p> +The girl—that was past. But Reivers had roused +something deeper, something older, something fiercer +than the feelings which had begun to stir in Toppy +at the sight of the girl. Man—raw, big-thewed, world-old +and always new man—had challenged unto man. +And man had answered. The petty considerations of +life were stripped away. Only one thing was of importance. +The world to Toppy Treplin had become +merely a place for Reivers, the Snow-Burner, and +himself to settle the question which had cried for settlement +since the moment when they first looked into +each other’s eyes: Which was the better man? +</p> +<p> +Toppy smiled as he stretched himself and noted +the new life that seemed to have come into his body. +He knew what it meant. That strenuous siege of +work and a week of fevered sweating had driven the +alcohol out of his system. He was making a fresh +start. A few weeks at the anvil now, and he would +be in better shape than at any time since leaving school. +He set his jaw squarely and heaved his big arms +high above his head. +</p> +<p> +“Well, Treplin,” came an unmistakable voice from +the doorway, “you’re looking strenuous for a man +just off the sickbed.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74'></a>74</span><a name='chX' id='chX'></a>CHAPTER X—THE DUEL BEGINS</h2> +<p> +“I’m feeling pretty good, thank you, Reivers,” said +Toppy quietly, though the voice of the man had +thrilled him with the challenge in it. He turned his +head slowly and looked up from his chair at Reivers +with an expression of great serenity. The Big Game +had begun between them, and Toppy was an expert +at keeping his play hidden. +</p> +<p> +“Much obliged for strapping up my ankle, Reivers,” +he said. “Silly thing, to sprain an ankle; but +thanks to your expert bandaging it’ll be ready to +walk on soon.” +</p> +<p> +“It wasn’t a bad sprain,” said Reivers, moving up +and standing in front of him. That was Reivers all +through. Toppy was sitting; Reivers was standing, +looking down on him, his favourite pose. The black +anger boiled in Toppy’s heart, but by his expression +one could read only that he was a grateful young +man. +</p> +<p> +“No, it wasn’t a bad sprain,” continued Reivers, +his upper lip lifting in its customary smile of scorn, +“but—a man who attempts such heavy lifts must +have no weak spot in him.” +</p> +<p> +Toppy twisted himself into a more comfortable position +in his chair and smiled. +</p> +<p> +“‘Attempts’ is hardly the right word there, Reivers. +Pardon me for differing with you,” he laughed. +“You may remember that the attempt was a success.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75'></a>75</span> +</p> +<p> +A glint of amusement in Reivers’ cold eyes showed +that he appreciated that something more weighty than +a mere question of words lay beneath that apparently +casual remark. For an instant his eyes narrowed, +as if trying to see beyond Toppy’s smile and read what +lay behind, but Toppy’s good poker-face now stood +him in good stead, and he looked blandly back at +Reivers’ peering eyes and continued to smile. Reivers +laughed. +</p> +<p> +“Quite right, Treplin; obliged to you for correcting +me,” he said. “A chap gets rusty out here, where +none of the laws of speech are observed. I’ll depend +upon you to bring me back to form again—later on. +Is your ankle really feeling strong?” +</p> +<p> +For answer Toppy rose and stood on it. +</p> +<p> +“Well, well!” laughed Reivers. “Then Miss Pearson’s +sympathy was all wasted. What’s the matter, +Treplin? Aren’t you glad to hear that charming young +lady is enough interested in you to hunt me up and +ask me to step in and see how you are this morning?” +</p> +<p> +“Not particularly,” replied Toppy, although he was +forced to admit to himself a glow at this explanation +of the girl’s conversation with Reivers. +</p> +<p> +“What are you interested in?” said Reivers suddenly. +</p> +<p> +Toppy looked up at him shrewdly. +</p> +<p> +“I tell you what I’d like to do, Reivers; I’d like +to learn the logging-business—learn how to run a +camp like this—run it efficiently, I mean.” +</p> +<p> +“Worthy ambition,” came the instant reply, “and +you’ve come to the right school. How fortunate for +you that you fell into this camp! You might have +got into one where the boss had foolish ideas. You +might even have fallen in with a humanitarian. Then +you’d never have learned how to make men do things +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76'></a>76</span> +for you, and consequently you’d never have learned +to run a camp efficiently. +</p> +<p> +“Thank your lucky stars, Treplin, that you fell in +with me. I’ll rid you of the silly little ideas about +right and wrong that books and false living have instilled +in your head. I believe you’ve got a good +head—almost as good as mine. If, for instance, you +were in a situation where it was your life or the other +fellow’s, you’d survive. That’s the proof of a good +head. Want to learn the logging-business, do you? +Good! Is your ankle strong enough for you to get +around on?” +</p> +<p> +Toppy took an ax-handle from the corner and, using +it as a cane, hobbled around the room. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, it will stand up all right,” he said. “What’s +the idea?” +</p> +<p> +“Come with me,” laughed Reivers, swinging toward +the door. “We’re just in time for lesson number +one on how to run a camp efficiently.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77'></a>77</span><a name='chXI' id='chXI'></a>CHAPTER XI—“HELL-CAMP” COURT</h2> +<p> +As Reivers led the way out of the shop Toppy saw +that Miss Pearson was standing in the door of +the office across the way. He saw also that she was +looking at him. He did not respond to her look nor +volunteer a greeting, but deliberately looked away +from her as he kept pace with Reivers, who was setting +the way toward the gate of the stockade. +</p> +<p> +It was a morning such as the one when, back in +Rail Head, the girl had kicked up the snow and said +to him, “Isn’t it glorious?” But since then Toppy +felt bitterly that he had grown so much older, so +disillusioned, that never again would he be guilty +of the tender feelings that the girl had evoked that +morning. The sun was bright, the crisp air invigorating, +and the blood bounded gloriously through his +young body. But Toppy did not wax enthusiastic. +</p> +<p> +He was grimly glad of the mighty stream of life +that he felt surging within him; he would have use +for all the might later on. But no more. The world +was a harder, a less pretty place than he, in his inexperience, +had fancied it before coming to Hell +Camp. +</p> +<p> +“What’s this lesson?” he asked gruffly of Reivers. +“What are you going to show me?” +</p> +<p> +“A little secret in the art of keeping brute-men satisfied +with the place in life which a superior mind +has allotted to them,” replied Reivers. “What is the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78'></a>78</span> +first need of the brute? Food, of course. And the +second is—fight. Give the lower orders of mankind, +which is the kind to use in running a camp efficiently, +plenty of food and fight, and the problem of restlessness +is solved. +</p> +<p> +“That’s history, Treplin, as you know. If these +foolish, timid capitalists and leaders of men who are +searching their petty souls for a remedy to combat +the ravages of the modern disease called Socialism +only would read history intelligently, they would find +the remedy made to order. Fight! War! Give the +lower brutes war; let ’em get out and slaughter one +another, and they’d soon forget their pitiful, clumsy +attempts to think for themselves. Give them guns +with a little sharp steel on the end of the barrel, turn +them loose on each other—any excuse would do—and +they’d soon be so busy driving said steel into one +another’s thick bodies that the leaders could slip the +yoke back on their necks and get ’em under hand +again, where they belong. +</p> +<p> +“And they’d be happier, too, because a man-brute +has got to have so much fighting, or what he calls +his brain begins to trouble him; and then he imagines +he has a soul and is otherwise unhappy. If there is +fighting, or the certain prospect of fighting, there’s +no alleged thinking. There’s the solution of all difficulties +with the lower orders. Of course you’ve noticed +how perfectly contented and happy the men in +this camp are?” he laughed, turning suddenly on +Toppy. +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said Toppy. “Especially Rosky and his +bunch.” +</p> +<p> +The Snow-Burner smiled appreciatively. +</p> +<p> +“Rosky, poor clod, hadn’t had any fighting. I’d +overlooked him. Had I known that thoughts had begun +to trouble his poor, half-ox brain, I’d have given +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79'></a>79</span> +him some fighting, and he’d have been as content for +the next few weeks as a man who—who’s just been +through delirium tremens. +</p> +<p> +“He had no object in life, you see. If he’d had +a good enemy to hate and fight, he wouldn’t have been +troubled by thoughts, and consequently he wouldn’t +now be lying in his bunk with his leg in splints. +</p> +<p> +“There is the system in a nutshell—give a man an +enemy to hate and wish to destroy, and he won’t be +any trouble to you during working-hours or after. +That’s what I do—pick out the ones who might get +restless and set them to hating each other. And now,” +he concluded, as they reached the gate and passed +through, “you’ll have a chance to see how it works +out.” +</p> +<p> +The big gate, opened for them by two armed guards, +swung shut behind them, and Toppy once more looked +around the enclosure in which he had had his first +glimpse of the Snow-Burner’s system of handling the +men under him. The place this morning, however, +presented a different, a more impressive scene. It +was all but filled with a mass of rough-clad, rough-moving, +rough-talking male humanity. +</p> +<p> +Perhaps a hundred and fifty men were waiting +in the enclosure. For the greater part they were +of the dark, thick and heavily clumsy type that Toppy +had learned to include under the general title of +Bohunk; but here and there over the dark, ox-like +faces rose the fair head of a tall man of some Northern +breed. Slavs comprised the bulk of the gathering; +the Scandinavians, Irish, Americans—the “white +men,” as they called themselves—were conspicuous +only by contrast and by the manner in which they +isolated themselves from the Slavs. +</p> +<p> +And between the two breeds there was not much +room for choice. For while the faces of the Slavs +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80'></a>80</span> +were heavy with brute stupidity and malignity, those +of the North-bred men reeked with fierceness, cruelty +and crime. The Slavs were at Hell Camp because they +were tricked into coming and forced to remain under +shotgun rule; the others were there mostly because +sheriffs found it unsafe and unprofitable to seek any +man whom the Snow-Burner had in his camp. They +were “hiding out.” Criminals, the majority of them, +they preyed on the stupid Slavs as a matter of course; +and this situation Reivers had utilised, as he put it, +“to keep his men content.” +</p> +<p> +Though there was a gulf of difference between the +extreme types of the crowd, Toppy soon realised that +just now their expressions were strangely alike. They +were all impatient and excited. The excitement +seemed to run in waves; one man moved and others +moved with him. One threw up his head and others +did likewise. Their faces were expectant and cruel. +It was like the milling of excited cattle, only worse. +</p> +<p> +“Come along, Treplin,” said Reivers, and led the +way toward the centre of the enclosure. The noises +of the crowd, the talking, the short laughter, the +shuffling, ceased instantly at his appearance. The +crowd parted before him as before some natural force +that brushed all men aside. It opened up even to +the centre of the yard, and then Toppy saw whither +Reivers was leading. +</p> +<p> +On the bare ground was roped off a square which +Toppy, with practised eye, saw was the regulation +twenty-four-foot prize-fight ring. Rough, unbarked +tamarack poles formed the corner-posts of the ring, +and the ropes were heavy wire logging-cable. A yard +from one side of the ring stood a table with a chair +upon it. Reivers, with a careless, “Take a seat on +the table and keep your eyes open,” stepped easily +upon the table, seated himself in the chair and looked +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81'></a>81</span> +amused as the men instinctively turned their faces up +toward him. +</p> +<p> +“Well, men,” he said in a voice which reached like +cold steel into the far corners of the enclosure, “court +is open. The first case is Jan Torta and his brother +Mikel against Bill Sheedy, whom they accuse of stealing +ninety-eight dollars from them while they slept.” +</p> +<p> +As he spoke the names two young Slavs, clumsy +but strongly built, their heavy faces for once alight +with hate and desire for revenge, pushed close to one +side of the ring, while on the other side a huge red-haired +Celt, bloated and evil of face, stepped free of +the crowd. +</p> +<p> +“Bill stole the money, all right,” continued Reivers, +without looking at any of them. “He had the chance, +and being a sneak thief by nature he took it. That’s +all right. The Torta boys had the money; now Bill’s +got it. The question is: Is Bill man enough to keep +it? That’s what we’re going to settle now. He’s got +to show that he’s a better man than the two fellows +he took the money from. If he isn’t, he’s got to give +up the money, or the two can have him to do what +they want to with him. All right, boys; get ’em +started there.” +</p> +<p> +At his brisk order four men whom Toppy had seen +around camp as guards stepped forward, two to +Sheedy, two to the Torta brothers, and proceeded first +to search them for weapons, next to strip them to the +waist. Sheedy hung back. +</p> +<p> +“Not two av um tuh wanst, Mr. Reivers?” he asked +humbly. “One after deh udder it oughta be; two +tuh wanst, that ain’t no way.” +</p> +<p> +“And why not, Bill?” asked Reivers gently. “You +took it from both of them, didn’t you? Then keep it +against both of ’em, Bill. Throw ’em in there, boys!” +</p> +<p> +Toppy looked around at the rows of eager faces +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82'></a>82</span> +that were pressing toward the ringside. Prize-fights +he had witnessed by the score. He had even participated +in one or two for a lark, and the brute lust +that springs into the eyes of spectators was no stranger +to him. But never had he seen anything like this. +There was none of the restraint imposed upon the +human countenance by civilisation in the fierce faces +that gathered about this ring. +</p> +<p> +Out of the dull eyes the primitive killing-animal +showed unrestrained, unashamed. No dilettante interest +in strength or skill here; merely the bare bloodthirsty +desire to see a fellow-animal fight and bleed. +Up above, the sky was clean and blue; the rough +log walls shut out the rest of the world; the breathing +of a mob of excited men was the only sound upon +the quiet Sunday air. It was the old arena again; +the merciless, gore-hungry crowd; the maddened +gladiators; and upon the chair on the table, Reivers, +lord of it all, the king-man, to whom it was all but +an idle moment’s play. +</p> +<p> +Reivers, above it all, untouched by it all, and yet +directing and swaying it all as his will listed. Laws, +rules, teachings, creeds—all were discarded. Primitive +force had for the nonce been given back its rule. +And over it, and controlling it, as well as each of the +maddened eight-score men around the ring—Reivers. +</p> +<p> +And so thoroughly did Reivers dominate the whole +affair that Toppy, sitting carelessly on the edge of +the table, was conscious of it, and knew that he, too, +felt instinctively inclined to do as the men did—to +look to Reivers for a sign before daring to speak or +make a move. The Snow-Burner was in the saddle. +It wasn’t natural, but every phase of the situation +emanated from his master-man’s will. It was even +his wish that Toppy should sit thus at his feet and +look on, and his wish was gratified. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83'></a>83</span> +</p> +<p> +But it was well that the visor of Toppy’s cap hid +his eyes, else Reivers might have wondered at the +look that flashed up at him from them. +</p> +<p> +“Throw ’em in!” snapped Reivers, and the handlers +thrust the three combatants, stripped to the waists +but wearing calked lumberjack shoes, through the +ropes. +</p> +<p> +A cry went up to the sky from a hundred and fifty +throats around the ringside—a cry that had close kinship +with the joyous, merciless “<i>Au-rr-ruh</i>” of a wolf +about to make its kill. Then an instant’s silence as +the rudely handled fighters came to their feet and +faced for action. Then another hideous yelp rent +the still air; the fighters had come together! +</p> +<p> +“Queer ring-costumes, eh, Treplin?” came Reivers’ +voice mockingly. “Our own rules; the feet as well +as the hands. Lord, what oxen!” +</p> +<p> +The two Slavs had sprung upon their despoiler like +two maddened cattle. Sheedy, rushing to meet them, +head down, swung right and left overhand; and with +a mighty smacking of hard fist on naked flesh, one +Torta rolled on the ground while his brother stopped +in his tracks, his arms pressed to his middle. The +crowd bellowed. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, I knew Sheedy had been a pug,” said Reivers +judicially. +</p> +<p> +Sheedy deliberately took aim and swung for the jaw +of the man who had not gone down. The Slav instinctively +ducked his head, and the blow, slashing +along his jawbone, tore loose his ear. Half stunned, +he dropped to his knees, and Sheedy stepped back +to poise for a killing kick. But now the man who +had been knocked down first was on his feet, and +with the scream of a wounded animal he hurled himself +through the air and went down, his arms close-locked +around Sheedy’s right leg. Sheedy staggered. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84'></a>84</span> +The ring became a little hell of distorted human speech. +Sheedy bellowed horrible curses as he beat to a pulp +the face that sought to bury itself in his thigh; his +assailant screeched in Slavish terror; and the bull-like +roar of his brother, rising to his feet with cleared +senses and springing into the battle, intermingled with +both. Sheedy’s red face went pale. +</p> +<p> +Around the ringside the faces of the Slavs shone +with relief. The fight was going their way; they +roared encouragement and glee in their own guttural +tongue. The others—Irish, Americans, Scandinavians—rooting +for Sheedy only because he was of their +breed, were silent. +</p> +<p> +“Hang tough, Bill,” said one man quietly; and then +in a second the slightly superior brains in Sheedy’s +head had turned the battle. Like a flash he dropped +flat on his back as his fresh assailant reached out to +grip him. The furious Slav followed him helplessly +in the fall; and a single gruff, appreciative shout came +from the few “white men.” +</p> +<p> +For they had seen, even as the Slav stumbled, Bill +Sheedy’s left leg shoot up like a catapult, burying +the calked shoe to the ankle in the man’s soft middle +and flinging him to one side, a shuddering, senseless +wreck. The man with his arms around Sheedy’s leg +looked up and saw. He was alone now, alone against +the big man who had knocked him down with such +ease. Toppy saw the man’s mouth open and his face +go yellow. +</p> +<p> +“Na, na, na!” he cried piteously, as Sheedy’s blows +again rained upon him. “I give up, give up, give +up!” +</p> +<p> +He tried to bury his face in Bill’s thigh; and Bill, +mad with success, strove to pound him loose. +</p> +<p> +“Kill him, Bill!” said one of the Irishmen quietly. +“You got him now; kill him.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85'></a>85</span> +</p> +<p> +“Stop.” Reivers did not raise his voice. He +seemed scarcely interested. Yet the roars around the +ring died down. Sheedy stopped a blow half delivered +and dropped his arms. The Slav released his +clawlike hold and ran, sobbing, toward his prostrate +brother. +</p> +<p> +“All right, Bill; you keep the money—for all +them,” said Reivers. “Clear out the ring, boys, and +get that other pair in there.” +</p> +<p> +The guards, springing into the ring as if under a +lash, picked up the senseless man and thrust him like +a sack of grain through the ropes and on to the ground +at the feet of a group of his countrymen. Toppy +saw these pick the man up and bear him away. The +man’s head hung down limply and dragged on the +ground, and a thin stream of blood ran steadily out +of one side of his mouth. His brother followed, loudly +calling him by name. +</p> +<p> +“Very efficacious, that left leg of Bill’s; eh, Treplin?” +said Reivers lightly. “Bill was the superior +creature there. He had the wit and will to survive +in a crisis; therefore he is entitled to the rewards +of the superior over the inferior, which in this case +means the ninety-eight dollars which the Torta boys +once had. That’s justice—natural justice for you, +Treplin; and all the fumbling efforts of the lawmakers +who’ve tried through the ages to reduce life to a +pen-and-paper basis haven’t been able to change the +old rule one bit. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll admit that courts and all the fakery that goes +with them have reduced the thing to a battle of brains, +but after all it’s the same old battle; the stronger +win and hold. And,” he concluded, waving his hand +at the crowd, “you’ll admit that Bill, and those Torta +boys wouldn’t be at their best in a contest of intelligence.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86'></a>86</span> +</p> +<p> +Toppy refused Reivers the pleasure of seeing how +the brutality of the affair disgusted him. +</p> +<p> +“Why don’t you follow the thing out to its logical +conclusion?” he said carelessly. “The thing isn’t settled +as long as the Torta boys can possibly make reprisals. +To be a consistent savage you’d have to let +’em go to it until one had killed the other. But even +you don’t dare to do that, do you, Reivers?” +</p> +<p> +Reivers laughed, but the look that he bent on Toppy’s +bland face indicated that he was a trifle puzzled. +</p> +<p> +“Then you wouldn’t be running the camp efficiently, +Treplin,” he said. “It wouldn’t make any difference +if they were all Tortas; but Bill’s a valuable man. +He furnishes some one a bellyful of hating and fighting +every week. No; I wouldn’t have Bill killed for +less than two hundred dollars. He’s one of my best +antidotes for the disease of discontent.” +</p> +<p> +The guards now had pulled two other men up to +the ropes and were searching and stripping them. +Toppy stared at the disparity in the sizes of the men +as the clothes were pulled off them. One stood up +strong and straight, the muscles bulging big beneath +his dark skin, his neck short and heavy, his head +cropped and round. He wore a small, upturned moustache +and carried himself with a certain handy air +that indicated his close acquaintance with ring-events. +The other man was short and dark, obviously an Italian; +the skin of his body was a sickly white, his face +olive green. He stood crouched, and beneath his +ragged beard two teeth gleamed, like the fangs of a +snarling dog. +</p> +<p> +“Antonio, the Knife-Expert, and Mahmout, the +Strangling Bulgarian,” announced Reivers laughingly. +“Tony tried to stick Mahmout because of a little lady +back in Rail Head, and made such a poor job of +it that Mahmout has offered to meet him in the ring; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87'></a>87</span> +Tony with his knife, Mahmout with his wrestling-tricks. +Start ’em off.” +</p> +<p> +The Bulgarian was under the ropes and upright in +the ring before the Italian had started. He was in +his stocking-feet, and despite the clumsiness of his +build he moved with a quickness and ease that told +of the fine co-ordination of the effective athlete. +When the Italian entered the ring he held his right +hand behind his back, and in the hand gleamed the +six-inch blade of a wicked-looking stiletto. +</p> +<p> +A shiver ran along Toppy’s spine, but he continued +to play the game. +</p> +<p> +“Evidently Mahmout isn’t a valuable man; you +don’t care what happens to him,” he said. +</p> +<p> +“Not particularly,” replied Reivers seriously. “He’s +a good man on the rollways—nothing extra. Still, I +hardly believe Tony can kill him—not this time, at +least.” +</p> +<p> +The faces around the ring grew fiercer now. +Growled curses and exclamations came through +clenched teeth. Here was the spectacle that the brute-spirit +hungered for—the bare, living flesh battling for +life against the merciless, gleaming steel. +</p> +<p> +The big Bulgarian moved neatly forward, bent over +at the waist, his strong arms extended, hands open +before him in the practised wrestler’s guard and attack. +His feet did not leave the ground as he sidled +forward, and his eyes never moved from the Italian’s +right arm. The latter, snarling and panting, retreated +slightly, then began to circle carefully, his small eyes +searching for the opening through which he could leap +in and drive home his steel. +</p> +<p> +The Bulgarian turned with him, his guard always +before him, as a bull turns its head to face the circling +wolf. Without a sound the knife-man suddenly +stopped and lunged a sweeping slash at the menacing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88'></a>88</span> +hands. Mahmout, grasping for a hold on hand or +wrist, caught the tip of the blade in his palm, and a +slow bellow of rage shook him as he saw the blood +flow. But he did not lower his guard nor take his +eyes from his opponent. +</p> +<p> +The Italian retreated and circled again. A horrible +sneer distorted his face, and the knife flashed in +the sunlight as he slashed it to and fro before the +other’s hands. The crowd growled its appreciation. +Three times Antonio leaped forward, slashed, and +leaped back again; and each time the blood flowed +from Mahmout’s slashed fingers. But the wrestler’s +guard never lowered nor did he falter in his set plan +of battle. He was working to get his man into a +corner. +</p> +<p> +The Italian soon saw this and, leaping nimbly sidewise, +lunged for Mahmout’s ribs. The right arm of +the Bulgarian dropped in time to save his life, but +the knife, deflected from its fatal aim, ripped through +the top muscles of his back for six inches. The mob +roared at the fresh blood, but Mahmout was working +silently. In his spring the Italian had only leaped +toward another corner of the ring. +</p> +<p> +Mahmout leaped suddenly toward him. Antonio, +stabbing swiftly at the hands reached out for him, +jumped back. A cry from a countryman in the crowd +warned him. Swiftly he glanced over his shoulder, +saw that he was cornered, and with a low, sweeping +swing of the arm he threw the knife low at Mahmout’s +abdomen. +</p> +<p> +The blade glinted as it flashed through the air; +it thudded as it struck home; but the death-cry which +the mob yelped out died short. With the expert’s +quickness Mahmout had flung his huge forearms before +the speeding blade. Now he held his left arm +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89'></a>89</span> +up. The stiletto, quivering from the impact, had +pierced it through. +</p> +<p> +With a fierce roar Mahmout plucked out the knife, +hurled it from the ring and dived forward. The +Italian fought like a fury, feet, teeth and fingernails +making equal play. He sank his teeth in the injured +left arm. Mahmout groped with his one sound hand +and methodically clamped a hold on an ankle. He +made sure that the hold was a firm one; then he +wrenched suddenly—once. The Italian screamed and +stiffened straight up under the appalling pain. Then +he fell flat to the ground, and Toppy saw that his +right foot was twisted squarely around and that the +leg lay limp on the ground like a twisted rag. +</p> +<p> +“Stop,” said Reivers, and Mahmout stepped back. +“Take Tony’s knife away from him, boys. Mahmout +wins—for the time being.” +</p> +<p> +“Inconsistent again,” muttered Toppy. “Your +scheme is all fallacies, Reivers. You give Tony a +knife with which he may kill Mahmout at one stroke, +but you don’t let Mahmout finish him when he’s got +him down. Why don’t you carry your system to its +logical conclusion?” +</p> +<p> +“Why don’t I?” chuckled Reivers, stepping down +from the table. “Why, simply because Signor Antonio +is the camp cook, and cooks are too scarce to +be destroyed unnecessarily. Now come along, Treplin. +Court’s adjourned; a light docket to-day. I’ve +been thinking of your wanting to learn how to run +a logging-camp. I’m going to give you a change of +jobs. You’ll be no good in the blacksmith-shop till +your ankle’s normal again. Come along; I’ll show you +what I’ve picked out for you.” +</p> +<p> +He turned away from the ring as from a finished +episode in the day’s work. That was over. Whether +Torta or Antonio lived or died, were whole or +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90'></a>90</span> +crippled for the rest of their lives, had no room in his +thoughts. He strode toward the gate as if the yard +were empty, and the crowd opened a way far before +him. Outside the gate he led the way around +the stockade toward where the river roared and tumbled +through the chutes of Cameron Dam. +</p> +<p> +A cliff-like ledge, perhaps thirty feet in height, +situated close to one end of the dam, was Reivers’ +objective, and he led Toppy around to the side facing +the river. Here the dirt had been scraped away +on the face of the ledge, and a great cave torn in +the exposed rock. The hole was probably fifty feet +wide, and ran from twelve to fifteen feet under the +brow of the ledge. Toppy was surprised to see no +timbers upholding the rocky roof, which seemed at +any moment likely to drop great masses of jagged +stone into the opening beneath. +</p> +<p> +“My little rock-pile,” explained Reivers lightly. +“When my brutes aren’t good I put ’em to work here. +The rock goes into the dam out there. Just at present +Rosky’s band of would-be malcontents are the +ones who are suffering for daring to be dissatisfied +with the—ah—simplicity, let us say, of Hell Camp.” +</p> +<p> +He laughed mirthlessly. +</p> +<p> +“I’m going to put you in charge of this quarry, +Treplin. You’re to see that they get one hundred +wheelbarrows of rock out of here per hour. You’ll +be here at daylight to-morrow.” +</p> +<p> +Toppy nodded quietly. +</p> +<p> +“What’s the punishment here?” he asked, puzzled. +“It looks like nothing more than hard work to me.” +</p> +<p> +Reivers smiled the same smile that he had smiled +upon Rosky. +</p> +<p> +“Look at the roof of that pit, Treplin,” he said. +“You’ve noticed that it isn’t timbered up. Occasionally +a stone drops down. Sometimes several stones. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91'></a>91</span> +But one hundred barrows an hour have to come out +of there just the same. And those rocks up there, +you’ll notice, are beautifully sharp and heavy.” +</p> +<p> +Toppy felt Reivers’ eyes upon him, watching to see +what effect this explanation would have, and consequently +he no more betrayed his feelings than he had +at the brutal scenes of the “court.” +</p> +<p> +“I see,” he said casually. “I suppose this is why +you made me read up on fractures?” +</p> +<p> +“Partly,” said Reivers. He looked up at the jagged +rocks in the roof of the pit and grinned. “And sometimes +an accident here calls for a job for a pick and +shovel. But I’m just, Treplin; only the malcontents +are put to work in here.” +</p> +<p> +“That is, those who have dared to declare themselves +something besides your helpless slaves.” +</p> +<p> +“Or dared to think of declaring themselves thus,” +agreed Reivers promptly. +</p> +<p> +“I see.” Toppy was looking blandly at the roof, +but his mind was working busily. +</p> +<p> +“Just why do you give me charge of this hole, +Reivers—if you don’t mind my asking? Isn’t it rather +an unusual honour for a green hand to be put over a +crew like this?” +</p> +<p> +“Unusual! Oh, how beastly banal of you, Treplin!” +laughed Reivers carelessly. “Surely you didn’t +expect me to do the usual thing, did you? You say +you want to learn how to handle a camp like this. +You’re an interesting sort of creature, and I’d like to +see you work out in the game of handling men, so I +give you this chance. Oh, I’ll do great things for you, +Treplin, before I’m done with you! You can imagine +all that I’ve got in store for you.” +</p> +<p> +The smile vanished and he turned away. He was +through with this incident, too. Without another +word or look at Toppy he went back to the stockade, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92'></a>92</span> +his mind already busy with some other project. +Toppy stood looking after him until Reivers’ broad +back disappeared around the corner of the stockade. +</p> +<p> +“No, you clever devil!” he muttered. “I can’t imagine. +But whatever it is, I promise I’ll hand it back +to you with a little interest, or furnish a job for a +pick and shovel.” +</p> +<p> +He walked slowly back to the blacksmith-shop. He +was glad to be left alone. Though he had permitted +no sign of it to escape him, Toppy had been enraged +and sickened at what he had seen in the stockade. +He admitted to himself that it was not the +fact that men had been disabled and crippled, nor +the brutal rules that had governed, nor that men had +been exposed to death at the hands of others before +his eyes, that had stirred him so. It was—Reivers. +Reivers sitting up there on the table playing with +men’s bodies and lives as with so many cards—Reivers, +the dominant, lord over his fellows. +</p> +<p> +The veins swelled in Toppy’s big neck as he thought +of Reivers, and his hitherto good-natured face took +on a scowl that might have become some ancestral +man-captain in the days of mace and mail, but which +never before had found room on Toppy’s countenance—not +even when the opposing half-backs were guilty +of slugging. But he was playing another game now, +an older one, a fiercer one, and one which called to +him as nothing had called before. It was the man-game +now; and out there in the old, stern forest, +spurred by the challenge of the man who was his natural +enemy, the primitive fighting-man in Toppy shook +off the restraint with which breeding, education and +living had cumbered him, and stood out in a fashion +that would have shocked Toppy’s friends back East. +</p> +<p> +Near the shop he met Miss Pearson. By her manner +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93'></a>93</span> +he saw that she had been waiting for him, but +Toppy merely raised his cap and made to pass on. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Treplin!” There was astonishment at his +rudeness in her exclamation. +</p> +<p> +“Well?” said Toppy. +</p> +<p> +“Your ankle?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, yes. Pardon me for not expressing my thanks +before. It’s almost well—thanks to you and Mr. +Reivers.” +</p> +<p> +She made a slight shrinking movement and stood +looking at him for a moment. She opened her lips, +but no words came. +</p> +<p> +“Old Scotty told me about your kindness in coming +to see me, you and Mr. Reivers together,” said +Toppy. “It was a relief to learn that your confidence +in Reivers was justified.” +</p> +<p> +She looked up quickly, straight into his eyes. A +troubled look swept over her face. Then with a toss +of the head she turned and crossed the road, and +Toppy swung on his way to the room in the rear of +the shop and closed the door behind him with a vicious +slam. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94'></a>94</span><a name='chXII' id='chXII'></a>CHAPTER XII—TOPPY’S FIRST MOVE</h2> +<p> +Next morning, in the cold stillness which precedes +the coming of daylight in the North, +Toppy stood leaning on his axe-handle cane and +watched his crew of a dozen men file out of the stockade +gate and turn toward the stone-quarry. They +walked with the driven air of prisoners going to punishment. +In the darkness their squat, shapeless figures +were scarcely human. Their heads hung, their +steps were listless, as if they had just completed a +hard day’s work instead of having arisen from a +hearty breakfast. +</p> +<p> +The complete lack of spirit evinced by the men irritated +Toppy. Was Reivers right after all? Were +they nothing but clods, undeserving of fair and intelligent +treatment? +</p> +<p> +“Hey! Wake up there! You look like a bunch +of corpses. Show some life!” cried Toppy, in whom +the bitter morning air was sending the red blood +tingling. +</p> +<p> +The men did not raise their heads. They quickened +their stumbling steps a little, as a heavy horse +shambles forward a little under the whip. One or +two looked back, beyond where Toppy was walking +at the side of the line. Treplin with curiosity followed +their glances. A grim-lipped shotgun guard +with a hideous hawk nose had emerged from the darkness, +and with his short-barrelled weapon in the crook +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95'></a>95</span> +of his arm was following the line at a distance of +fifty or sixty feet. Toppy halted abruptly. So did +the guard. +</p> +<p> +“What’s the idea?” demanded Toppy. “Reivers +send you?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said the guard gruffly. +</p> +<p> +“Does it take two of us to make this gang work?” +Toppy was irritated. Reivers, he knew, would have +handled the gang alone. +</p> +<p> +“The boss sent me,” said the guard, with a finality +that indicated that for him that ended the discussion. +</p> +<p> +The daylight now came wanly up the gap made +in the forest by the brawling river, and the men stood +irresolute before the quarry and peered up anxiously +at the roof of the pit. +</p> +<p> +“Grab your tools,” said Toppy. “Get in there and +get to it.” +</p> +<p> +The men, some of them taking picks and crowbars, +some wheelbarrows, were soon ready to begin the +day’s work. But there was a hitch somewhere. They +stood at the entrance to the pit and did not go in. +They looked up at the threatening roof; then they +looked anxiously, pleadingly, at Toppy. But Toppy +was thinking savagely of how Reivers would have +handled the gang alone and he paid no attention. +</p> +<p> +“Get in there!” he roared. “Come on; get to +work!” +</p> +<p> +Accustomed to being driven, they responded at once +to his command. Between two fears, fear of the dropping +rocks and fear of the man over them, they entered +the quarry and began the day’s work. The guard +took up a position on a slight eminence, where he was +always in plain sight of the men, whether in the cave +or wheeling the rock out to the dam. He held his +gun constantly in the hollow of his arm, like a hunter. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96'></a>96</span> +</p> +<p> +Ten minutes after the first crowbar had clanged +against rock in the quarry there was a rumbling sound, +a crash, a scream; and the men came scrambling out +in terror. Their rush stopped abruptly just outside +the cave. Toppy was standing directly before them; +the man with the gun had noisily cocked his weapon +and brought the black barrel to bear on the heads +of the men. Half of them slunk at once back into +the cave. One of the others held up a bleeding hand +to Toppy. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, pleess, bahss, pleess,” he pleaded. “Rock kill +us next time. Pleess, bahss!” +</p> +<p> +There was a moment of silence while Toppy looked +at the men’s terror-stricken faces. The shotgun guard +rattled the slide on his gun. The men began to retreat +into the cave, their helplessness and hopelessness +writ large upon their flat faces. +</p> +<p> +“Hold on there!” said Toppy suddenly. After all, +a fellow couldn’t do things like that—drive helpless +cattle like these to certain injury, even possible death. +“I’ll take a look in there.” +</p> +<p> +He hobbled and shouldered his way through the men +and entered the pit. A few rocks had dropped from +the roof, luckily falling in a far corner beyond where +the men were working. But Toppy saw at once how +serious this petty accident was; for the whole roof +of the cave now was loosened, and as sure as the +men pounded and pried at the rocks beneath they +would bring a shower of stone down upon their heads. +</p> +<p> +“Like rats in a trap,” he thought. “Hi!” he called. +“Get out of here. Get out!” +</p> +<p> +Down near the dam he had noticed a huge pile +of old timbers which probably had been used for piling +while the dam was being put in. Thither he now +led his men, and shouldering the largest piece himself +he hobbled back to the cave followed by the gang, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97'></a>97</span> +each bearing a timber. A sudden change had come +over the men as he indicated what he was going to +do. They moved more rapidly. Their terror was +gone. Some of them smiled, and some talked excitedly. +Under Toppy’s direction they went to work +with a vim shoring up the loosened roof of the cave. +It was only a half-hour’s work to place the props so +that the men working beneath were free of any serious +danger from above. Toppy could sense the +change of feeling toward him that had come over the +men as they saw the timbers go into place, and he +was forced to admit that it warmed him comfortably. +They sprang eagerly to obey his slightest behest, and +the gratitude in their faces was pitiful to behold. +</p> +<p> +“Now jump!” said Toppy when the roof was safely +propped. “Hustle and make up the time we’ve lost.” +</p> +<p> +As he came out of the cave the place fairly rang +with noise as the men furiously tore loose the rock +and dumped it in the barrows. Toppy took a long +breath and wiped his brow. The hawk-nosed guard +spat in disgust. +</p> +<p> +“Will you do me a favour?” said Toppy, suddenly +swinging toward him. +</p> +<p> +“What is it?” asked the man. +</p> +<p> +“Take a message to Mr. Reivers from me. Tell him +your services are no longer required at this spot. Tell +him I said you looked like a fool, standing up there +with your bum gun. Tell him—” Toppy, despite his +sore ankle, had swung up the rise and was beside +the guard before the latter thought of making a +move—“that I said I’d throw you and your gun in +the river if you didn’t duck. And for your own information—” +Toppy was towering over the man—“I’ll +do it right now, unless you get out of here—quick!” +</p> +<p> +The guard’s shifty eyes tried to meet Toppy’s and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98'></a>98</span> +failed. Against the Slavs he would have dared to +use his gun; they were his inferiors. Against Toppy +he did not dare even so much as to think of the +weapon, and without it he was only a jail-rat, afraid +of men who looked him in the eyes. +</p> +<p> +“The boss sent me here,” he said sullenly. +</p> +<p> +Toppy leaned forward until his face was close to +the guard’s. The man shrank. +</p> +<p> +“Duck!” said Toppy. That was all. The guard +moved away with an alacrity that showed how uncomfortable +the spot had become to him. +</p> +<p> +“You’ll hear about this!” he whined from a distance. +</p> +<p> +And Toppy laughed, laughed carelessly and loudly, +rampant with the sensation of power. The men, scurrying +past with barrows of rock, noted the retreat +of the guard and smiled. They looked up at Toppy +with slavish admiration, as lesser men look up to +the champion who has triumphed before their eyes. +One or two of the older men raised their hats as they +passed him, their Old-World serf-like way of showing +how they felt toward him. +</p> +<p> +“Jump!” ordered Toppy gruffly. “Get a move on +there; make up that lost time.” +</p> +<p> +Reivers had said that a hundred barrows an hour +must be dumped into the dam. With a half hour +lost in shoring up the roof, there were fifty loads to +be caught up during the day if the average was to +be maintained. Carefully timing each load and keeping +tally for half an hour, Toppy saw that a hundred +loads per hour was the limit of his gang working +at a normal pace. To get out the hundred loads they +must keep steadily at work, with no time lost because +of the falling rocks from above. +</p> +<p> +He began to see the method of Reivers’ apparent +madness in placing him in charge of the gang. With +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99'></a>99</span> +the gang working in the dead, terrorised fashion that +had characterised their movements before the timbers +were in place, Toppy knew that he would have +failed; he could not have got out the hundred loads +per hour. Reivers would have proved him to be his +inferior; for Reivers, with his inhumanity, would have +driven the gang as if no lives nor limbs hung on the +tissue. +</p> +<p> +Toppy smiled grimly as he looked at his watch and +marked new figures on the tally sheet. The men, pitifully +grateful for the protecting timbers, had taken +hold of their work with such new life that the rock +was going into the dam at the rate of one hundred and +twenty loads an hour. +</p> +<p> +“Move number one!” muttered Toppy, snapping +shut his watch. “I wonder what the Snow-Burner’s +come-back will be when he knows. Hey, you roughnecks! +Keep moving, there; keep moving!” +</p> +<p> +The men responded cheerfully to his every command. +They could gladly obey his will; they were +safe under him; he had taken care of them, the helpless +ones. That evening, when they filed back into +the stockade under Toppy’s watchful eye, one of the +older men, a swarthy old fellow with large brass rings +in his ears, sank his hat low as he passed in. +</p> +<p> +“Buna nopte, Domnule,” he said humbly. +</p> +<p> +“What did he say?” demanded Toppy of one of +the young men who knew a little English. +</p> +<p> +“Plees, bahss; old man, he Magyar,” was the reply. +“He say, ‘Good night, master.’” +</p> +<p> +Toppy stood dumfounded while the line passed +through the gate. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” he said with a grin, “what do you know +about that?” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100'></a>100</span><a name='chXIII' id='chXIII'></a>CHAPTER XIII—REIVERS REPLIES</h2> +<p> +Reivers did not come to the shop that night for +his evening diversion, nor did Toppy see him +at all during the next day. But in the morning following +he saw that Reivers had taken cognizance in +his own peculiar way of Toppy’s action in driving +the shotgun guard away from the quarry. As the +line of rock men filed out of the stockade in the chill +half light Toppy saw that the best worker of his gang, +a cheerful, stocky man called Mikal, was missing. In +his place, walking with the successful plug-ugly’s insolent +swagger, was none other than Bill Sheedy, the +appointed trouble-maker of Hell Camp; and Toppy +knew that Reivers had made another move in his tantalising +game. +</p> +<p> +He went hot despite the raw chilliness at the thought +of it. Reivers was playing with him, too, playing even +as he had played with Rosky! And Toppy knew that, +like Rosky, the Snow-Burner had selected him, too, +to be crushed—to be marked as an inferior, to be +made to acknowledge Reivers as his master. +</p> +<p> +Reivers had read the challenge which was in Toppy’s +eyes and had, with his cold smile of complete +confidence and contempt, taken up the gauge. The +substitution of Bill Sheedy, Reivers’ pet troublemaker, +for an effective workman was a definite move +toward Toppy’s humiliation. +</p> +<p> +There was nothing in Toppy’s manner, however, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101'></a>101</span> +to indicate his feelings as he followed the line to +the quarry. Toppy allowed Sheedy’s swagger, by +which he plainly indicated that he was hunting for +trouble, to go as if unobserved. Sheedy, being extremely +simple of mind, leaped instantly to the conclusion +that Toppy was afraid of him and swaggered +more insolently than ever. He was in an irritable +mood this morning, was Bill Sheedy; and as soon +as the gang was out of sight of the stockade—and, +thought Toppy bitterly, therefore out of possible sight +of Reivers—he began to vent his irritation upon his +fellow-workmen. +</p> +<p> +He shouldered them out of his way, swore at them, +threatened them with his fists, kicked them carelessly. +There was no finesse in Bill’s method; he was mad +and showed it. When the daylight came up the river +sufficiently strong to begin the day’s work, Bill had +worked himself up to a proper frame of mind for +his purpose. He stood still while the other men willingly +seized their tools and barrows and tramped into +the quarry. +</p> +<p> +Toppy apparently did not notice. So far as he indicated +by his manner he was quite oblivious of Sheedy’s +existence. Bill stood looking at Toppy with +a scowl on his unpretty face, awaiting the order to +go in with the other men. The order did not come. +Toppy was busy directing the men where to begin their +work. He did not so much as look at Bill. Bill finally +was forced to call attention to himself. +</p> +<p> +“——!” he growled, spitting generously. “Yah +ain’t goin’ tuh git me tuh wurruk in no hole like that.” +</p> +<p> +“All right, Bill,” said Toppy instantly. “All right.” +</p> +<p> +Bill was staggered. His simple mind failed utterly +to comprehend that there might lie something behind +Toppy’s apparently humble manner. Bill could see +only one thing—the straw-boss was afraid of him. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102'></a>102</span> +</p> +<p> +“Yah —— know it, it’s all right!” he spluttered. +“If it ain’t I’d —— soon make it all right.” +</p> +<p> +“Sure,” said Toppy, and without looking toward +Bill he hurried into the quarry to see how the timbers +were standing the strain. Bill stood puzzled. He had +bluffed the straw-boss, sure enough; but still the thing +wasn’t entirely satisfactory. The boss didn’t seem to +care whether he worked or whether he loafed. Bill +refused to be treated with such little consideration. +He was of more importance than that. +</p> +<p> +“Hey, you!” he called as Toppy emerged from the +pit. “I’m going to wheel rock down to the dam, that’s +what I’m going tuh do. Going to wheel it; but yuh +ain’t goin’ tuh make me go in there and dig it. See? +I’m going to wheel rock.” +</p> +<p> +Now for the first time Toppy seemed to consider +Bill. +</p> +<p> +“What makes you think you are?” he said quietly. +He was looking at his watch, but Bill noticed that +in spite of his sore ankle and cane the boss had managed +to move near to him in uncannily swift fashion. +</p> +<p> +“You know you can’t work here now,” Toppy continued +before Bill’s thick wits had framed an answer. +“You won’t go into the quarry, so I can’t use you.” +</p> +<p> +Bill stared as if bereft of all of his faculties. The +boss had slipped his watch back into his pocket. He +had turned away. +</p> +<p> +“Can’t use me—can’t——Say! Who says I can’t +work here?” roared Bill, shaking his fists. He was +standing on the plank on which the wheelbarrows were +rolled out of the cave, blocking the way of the men +with the first loads of the day. +</p> +<p> +“Look out, Bill!” said Toppy softly, turning around. +Instinctively Bill threw up his guard—threw it up +to guard his jaw. Toppy’s left drove into his solar +plexus so hard that Bill seemed to be moulded on to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103'></a>103</span> +the fist, hung there until he dropped and rolled backward +on the ground. +</p> +<p> +“Get along there!” commanded Toppy to the wheel-barrowmen. +“The way’s clear. Jump!” +</p> +<p> +Grinning and snatching glances of ridicule at the +prostrate Sheedy, they hurried past. They dumped +their loads in the dam and came back with empty +barrows, and still Sheedy lay there, like a dumped +grain-sack, to one side of their path. The flat faces +of the men cracked with grins as they looked worshipfully +at Toppy. +</p> +<p> +“Jump!” said he. “Get a move on, you roughnecks” +</p> +<p> +And they grinned more widely in sheer delight at +his rough ordering. +</p> +<p> +Bill Sheedy lay for a long time as he had fallen. +The blow he had stopped would have done for a pugilist +in good condition, and Sheedy’s midriff was soft +and fat. Finally he raised his head and looked around. +Such surprise and wobegoneness showed in his expression +that the grinning Slavs laughed outright at +him. Bill slowly came to a sitting posture and drew +a hand across his puzzled brow while he looked dully +at the laughing men and at Toppy. Then he remembered +and he dropped his eyes. +</p> +<p> +“Get on your way, Bill,” said Toppy casually. “If +you’re not able to walk, I’ll have half a dozen of the +men help you. You’re through here.” +</p> +<p> +Bill lurched unsteadily to his feet and staggered +away a few steps. That terrific punch and the iron-calm +manner of the man who had dealt it had scared +him. His first thought was to get out of reach; his +second, one of anger at the Bohunks who dared to +laugh at him, Bill Sheedy, the fighting man! +</p> +<p> +But the fashion in which the men laughed took the +nerve out of Bill. They were laughing contemptuously +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104'></a>104</span> +at him; they looked down upon him; they were +no longer afraid. And there were a dozen of them, +and they laughed together; and Bill Sheedy knew that +his days as camp bully were over. The straw-boss +was looking at him coldly, and Bill moved farther +away. Fifteen minutes later the straw-boss, who had +apparently been oblivious of his presence, swung +around and said abruptly: +</p> +<p> +“What’s the matter, Bill? Why don’t you go back +to Reivers?” +</p> +<p> +Bill’s growled reply contained several indistinct but +definitely profane characterisations of Reivers. +</p> +<p> +“I can’t go back to him,” Sheedy said sullenly. +</p> +<p> +“Why not?” laughed Treplin. “He’s your friend, +isn’t he? He let you keep the money you’d stolen, +and all that.” +</p> +<p> +“Keep——!” growled Sheedy. “He’s got that himself. +Made me make him a present of it, or—or he’d +turn me over for a little trouble I had down in +Duluth.” +</p> +<p> +Toppy stiffened and looked at him carefully. +</p> +<p> +“Telling the truth, Bill?” +</p> +<p> +“Ask him,” replied Sheedy. “He don’t make no +bones about it; he gets something on you and then +he grafts on you till you’re dry.” +</p> +<p> +Toppy stood silent while he assimulated this information. +His scrutiny of Sheedy told him that +the man was telling the truth. He felt grateful to +Sheedy; through him he had got a new light on +Reivers’ character, light which he knew he could use +later on. +</p> +<p> +“Through making an ass of yourself here, Bill?” he +asked briskly. Bill’s answer was to hang his head +in a way that showed how thoroughly all the fight +was taken out of him. +</p> +<p> +“All right, then; grab a wheelbarrow and get into +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105'></a>105</span> +the pit. Keep your end up with the other men and +there’ll be no hard feelings. Try to play any of your +tricks, and it’s good night for you. Now get to it, +or get out.” +</p> +<p> +Sheedy’s rush for a wheelbarrow showed how relieved +he was. He had been standing between the +devil and the deep sea—between Reivers with his awful +displeasure and Toppy with his awful punch; and he +was eager to find a haven. +</p> +<p> +“I ain’t trying any tricks,” he muttered as he made +for the quarry. “The Snow-Burner—he’s the one. +He copped me dough and sent me down here and told +me to work off my mad on you.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, you’ve worked it off now, I guess,” said +Toppy curtly. “Dig in, now; you’re half a dozen +loads behind.” +</p> +<p> +Sheedy did not fill the place of the man he had +supplanted, for in his mixed-ale condition he was unable +to work a full day at a strong man’s pace. However, +he did so well that when Toppy checked up in +the evening he found that his tally again was well +over the stipulated average of a hundred loads of rock +per hour. +</p> +<p> +“Move two,” he thought. “I wonder what comes +next?” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106'></a>106</span><a name='chXIV' id='chXIV'></a>CHAPTER XIV—“JOKER AND DEUCES WILD”</h2> +<p> +When Toppy went back to the shop that evening +he found old Campbell cooking the evening +meal with only his right hand in use, the left being +wrapped in a neat bandage. +</p> +<p> +“That’s what comes of leaving me without a helper,” +grumbled the Scot as Toppy looked enquiringly at the +injured hand. “I maun have ye back, lad; I will not +be knocking my hands to pieces doing two men’s work +to please any man. And yet—” he cocked his head +on one side and looked fondly at the bandage—“I +dunno but what ’twas worth it. I’m an auld man, and +it’s long sin’ I had a pretty lass make fuss over me.” +</p> +<p> +“What?” snapped Toppy. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, go on with ye, lad,” teased Scotty, holding the +bandage up for his admiration. “Can not you see +that I’m by nature a fav’rite with the ladies? Yon +lass in the office sewed this bandage on my old meat +hook. +</p> +<p> +“‘Does it hurt, Mr. Campbell?’ says she. ‘Not +as much as something that’s heavy on my mind, lass,’ +says I. ‘What’s that?’ she says. ‘Mr. Reivers and +you, lass,’ says I; and I told her as well as an old +man can tell a lass who’s little more than a child just +what the Snow-Burner is. ‘I can’t believe it,’ says +she. ‘He’s a gentleman.’ ‘More’s the pity,’ I says. +’That’s what makes him dangerous.’ ‘Were you not +afraid of him at first?’ says I. ‘Yes,’ she says. ‘Tell +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107'></a>107</span> +me honest, as you would your own father,’ says I, ‘are +you not afraid of him now?’ +</p> +<p> +“With that she gave me a look like a little fawn +that has smelled the wolf circling ‘round it, but she +will not answer. ‘He can’t be what you say he is,’ +she says, trembling. ‘Lass,’ says I, ‘a week ago you +would never have believed it possible that you’d ever +wish aught to do with him. Now you walk with him +and talk with him, and smile when he does.’ And +I told her of Tilly. +</p> +<p> +“‘It’s not so,’ says she. ‘It can’t be so. Mr. +Reivers is a gentleman, not a brute. He’s too strong +and fine,’ says she, ‘for such conduct.’ And the bandage +being done, I was dismissed with a toss of the head. +Aye, aye, lad; but ’twas fine to have her little fingers +sewing away around my old hand. Yon’s a fine, sweet +lass; but I fear me Reivers has set his will to win +her.” +</p> +<p> +Toppy made no reply. Campbell’s words aroused +only one emotion in him—a fresh flare of anger +against Reivers. For it was Reivers, and his strength +and dominance, that was responsible. Toppy already +was sorry for the swift judgment that he had passed +on the girl on Sunday, and for the rudeness which, +in his anger, he had displayed toward her. He knew +now the power that lay in Reivers’ will, the calm, +compelling fire that lurked in his eyes. +</p> +<p> +Men quailed before those eyes and did their bidding. +And a girl, a little girl who must naturally +feel grateful toward him for her position, could hardly +be expected to resist the Snow-Burner’s undeniable +fascinations. Why should she? Reivers was everything +that women were drawn to in men—kinglike in +his power of mind and body, striking in appearance, +successful in whatever he sought to do. +</p> +<p> +It was inevitable that the girl should fall under his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108'></a>108</span> +spell, but the thought of it sent a chill up Toppy’s +spine as from the thought of something monstrous. +He raged inwardly as he remembered how clearly the +girl had let him see his own insignificance in her estimation +compared with Reivers. She had refused +to believe Campbell; Toppy knew that she would refuse +to listen to him if he tried to warn her against +Reivers. +</p> +<p> +The fashion in which he slammed the supper-dishes +on the table brought a protest from Scotty. +</p> +<p> +“Dinna be so strong with the dishes, lad; they’re not +iron,” said he. +</p> +<p> +“You ‘tend to your cooking,” growled Toppy. “I’ll +set this table.” +</p> +<p> +Campbell paused with a spoon in midair and gaped +at him in astonishment. He opened his mouth to +speak, but the black scowl on Toppy’s brow checked +his tongue. Silently he turned to his cooking. He +had seen that he was no longer boss in the room behind +the shop. +</p> +<p> +After supper Campbell brought forth a deck of +cards and began to play solitaire. Toppy threw himself +upon his bunk and lay in the darkness with his +troublesome thoughts. An unmistakable step outside +the door brought him to his feet, for he had an +instinctive dislike to meeting Reivers save face to +face and standing up. Reivers came in without speaking +and shut the door behind him. He stood with +his hand on the knob and looked over at Toppy and +shook his head. +</p> +<p> +“Treplin, how could you disappoint me so?” he +asked mockingly. “After I had reposed such confidence +in you, too! I’m sorely disappointed in you. +I never looked for you to be a victim of the teachings +of weak men and I find—ye gods! I find that +you’re a humanitarian!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109'></a>109</span> +</p> +<p> +By this and this only did Reivers indicate that he +had knowledge of how Toppy had protected his men. +</p> +<p> +Toppy looked steadily across the room at him, a +grim smile on his lips. +</p> +<p> +“Did Bill Sheedy call me that?” he asked drily. +“Shame on him if he did; I didn’t make him slip me +the Torta boys’ money as a present.” +</p> +<p> +Reivers’ laugh rang instantly through the room. +</p> +<p> +“So you’ve won Bill’s confidences already, have +you?” he said without the slightest trace of shame +or discomfiture. “Dear old Bill! He actually seemed +to be under the impression that he had a title to that +money—until I suggested otherwise. I ask you, Treplin, +as a man with a trained if not an efficient mind, +is Bill Sheedy a proper man to possess the title to +ninety-eight dollars?” +</p> +<p> +He swung across the room, laughing heartily, and +reached into the cupboard for Scotty’s whiskey. As +he did so his eyes fell upon the cards which Scotty +was placing upon the table, and for the first time +Toppy saw in his eyes the gleam of a human weakness. +Reivers stood, paused, for an instant, his eyes +feasting upon the cards. It was only an instant, but +it was enough to whisper to Toppy the secret of the +Snow-Burner’s passion for play. And Toppy exulted +at this chance discovery of the vulnerable joint in +Reivers’ armour; for Toppy—alas for his misspent +youth!—was a master-warrior when a deck of cards +was the field of battle. +</p> +<p> +“It’s none of my funeral, Reivers,” he said carelessly, +strolling over to the table where Campbell +went on playing, apparently oblivious to the conversation. +“I don’t know anything about Sheedy. Of +course, if you’re serious, the Torta boys are the only +ones in camp who’ve got any right to the money.” +</p> +<p> +Reivers stopped short in the act of pouring himself +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110'></a>110</span> +a drink. Campbell, with his back toward Reivers, +paused with a card in his hand. Toppy yawned and +dropped into a chair from which he could watch Campbell’s +game. +</p> +<p> +“But that’s none of my business,” he said as if +dropping the subject. “There’s a chance for your +black queen, Scotty.” +</p> +<p> +Reivers poured himself his tumbler full of Scotch +whiskey, drew up a third chair to the table and sat +down across from Toppy. The latter apparently was +absorbed in watching Campbell’s solitaire. Reivers +took a long, contented sip of his fiery tipple and +smiled pleasantly. +</p> +<p> +“You turned loose an idea there, Treplin,” he said. +“But can you make your premise stand argument? +Are you sure that the Torta boys are the ones who +have a right to that ninety-eight dollars? On what +grounds do you give them the exclusive title to the +money?” +</p> +<p> +“It’s theirs. Bill stole it from them. You said he +did. That’s all I know about it,” said Toppy, scarcely +raising his eyes from the cards. +</p> +<p> +“Why do you say it was theirs, Treplin?” persisted +Reivers smilingly. “Merely because they had it in +their possession! Isn’t that so? You don’t know +how they came by it, but because they had it in their +possession you speak of it as theirs. Very well. Bill +Sheedy took it away from them. It was in his possession, +so, following your line of logic, it was his—for +a short while. +</p> +<p> +“I took it from Bill. It’s in my possession now. +Therefore, if your premise is sound, the money is +mine. Why, Treplin, I’m really obliged to you for +furnishing me such a clear title to my loot. It was—ah—beginning +to trouble my conscience.” He +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111'></a>111</span> +laughed suddenly, punctuating his laughter with a +blow of his fist on the table. +</p> +<p> +“All rot, Treplin; all silly sophistry which weak +men have built up to protect themselves from the +strong! The infernal lie that because a man is in +possession of a certain thing it is his to the exclusion +of the rest of the world! Property-rights! I’ll tell +you the truth—why this money is mine, why I’m the +one who has the real title to it. I was able to take +it, and I am able to keep it. There’s the natural law +of property-rights, Treplin. What do you say to +that?” +</p> +<p> +“Fine!” laughed Toppy, throwing up his hands in +surrender. “You bowl me over, Reivers. The money +is yours; and—” he glanced at the cards “—and if +you and I should play a little game of poker, joker +and deuces wild, and I should take it away from you, +it would be mine; and there you are.” +</p> +<p> +The words had slipped out of him, apparently without +any aim; but Toppy saw by the sudden glance +which Reivers dropped to the cards that the gambling-hunger +in the Snow-Burner had been awakened. +</p> +<p> +“Joker and deuces wild,” he repeated as if fascinated. +“Yes, that ought to help make a two-handed +game fast.” +</p> +<p> +The whole manner of the man seemed for the moment +changed. For the first time since Toppy had +met him he seemed to be seriously interested. Previously, +when he played with the lives and bodies +of men or devilled their minds with his wiles, his +interest had never been deeper than that of a man +who plays to keep himself from being bored. He was +the master in all such affairs; they could furnish +him at their best but an idle sort of interest. But +not even the Snow-Burner was master of the inscrutable +laws of Chance. Nor was he master of himself +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112'></a>112</span> +when cards were flipping before his eyes. Toppy had +guessed right; Reivers had a weakness, and it was +to be “card-crazy.” +</p> +<p> +“Get over there on that other table with your solitaire, +Campbell!” he ordered. He reached into Campbell’s +liquor-cabinet and drew out a fresh pack of +cards, which he tossed to Toppy. “You started something, +Mr. Humanitarian,” he continued, clearing the +table. “Open the deck and cut for deal. Then show +me what you’ve got to stack up against this ninety-eight +dollars.” And he slapped a wad of crumpled +bills on the table. +</p> +<p> +Toppy nonchalantly reached into his pockets. Then +he grinned. The two twenty-dollar bills which he had +paid the agent back in Rail Head for the privilege +of hiring out to Hell Camp were all the money he +had with him. He was broke. He debated with himself +a moment, then unhooked his costly watch from +the chain and pushed it across to Reivers. +</p> +<p> +“You can sell that for five hundred—if you win it,” +he said. “I’ll play it even against your ninety-eight +bucks. Give me forty-nine to start with. If you win +them give me forty-nine more, and the watch is yours. +Right?” +</p> +<p> +“Right,” said Reivers, keeping the watch and dividing +his roll with Toppy. “Dollar jack-pots, table-stakes. +Deal ’em up.” +</p> +<p> +Toppy lost ten dollars on the first hand almost before +he realised that the game had begun. He called +Reivers’ bet and had three fours and nothing else +in his hand. Reivers had two of the wild deuces +and a king. Toppy shook his head, like a pugilist +clearing his wits after a knockdown. Why had he +called? He knew his three fours weren’t good. His +card-sense had told him so. He had called against +his judgment. Why? +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113'></a>113</span> +</p> +<p> +Suddenly, like something tangible pressing against +his brain, he felt Reivers’ will thrusting itself against +his. Then he knew. That was why he had called. +Reivers had willed that he do so, and, catching him off +his guard, had had his way. +</p> +<p> +“Good work!” said Toppy, passing the cards. He +was himself again; his wits had cleared. He allowed +Reivers to take the next three pots in succession without +a bet. Reivers looked at him puzzled. The fourth +pot Toppy opened for five dollars and Reivers +promptly raised him ten. After the draw Toppy bet +a dollar, and Reivers again raised it to ten more. +Toppy called. Reivers, caught bluffing without a single +pair, stared as Toppy laid down his hand and +revealed nothing but his original openers, a pair of +aces. A frown passed over Reivers’ face. He peered +sharply at Toppy from beneath his overhanging brows, +but Toppy was raking in the pot as casually as if such +play with a pair of aces was part of his system. +</p> +<p> +“Good work!” said Reivers, and gathered the cards +to him with a jerk. +</p> +<p> +Half a dozen hands later, on Reivers’ deal, Toppy +picked up his hand and saw four kings. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll pass,” said he. +</p> +<p> +“I open for five,” said Reivers. +</p> +<p> +“Take the money,” laughed Toppy carelessly throwing +his hand into the discard. For an instant Reivers’ +eyes searched him with a look of surprise. The glance +was sufficient to tell Toppy that what he had suspected +was true. +</p> +<p> +“So he’s dealing ’em as he wants ’em!” thought +Toppy. “All right. He’s brought it on himself.” +</p> +<p> +An hour later Reivers arose from the table with +a smile. The money had changed hands. Toppy was +snapping his watch back on its chain, and stuffing the +bills into his pocket. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114'></a>114</span> +</p> +<p> +“Your money now, Treplin,” laughed Reivers. +“Until somebody takes it away from you.” +</p> +<p> +But there was a new note in his laughter. He had +been beaten, and his irritation showed in his laughter +and in the manner in which, after he had taken another +big drink of whiskey, he paused in the doorway +as he made to leave. +</p> +<p> +“Great luck, Treplin; great luck with cards you +have!” he said laughingly. “Too bad your luck ends +there, isn’t it? What’s that paraphrase of the old +saw? ‘Lucky with cards, unlucky with women.’ +Good night, Treplin.” +</p> +<p> +He went out, laughing as a man laughs when he +has a joke on the other fellow. +</p> +<p> +“What did he mean by that?” asked Campbell, +puzzled. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know,” said Toppy. But he knew now that +Tilly had told Reivers of his talk with Miss Pearson +the first evening in camp, and that Reivers had saved +it up against him. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115'></a>115</span><a name='chXV' id='chXV'></a>CHAPTER XV—THE WAY OF THE SNOW-BURNER</h2> +<p> +In the morning, before the time for beginning the +day’s work, Toppy went to the stockade; and with +one of his English-speaking Slavs acting an interpreter +hunted up the Torta brothers and returned to +them the stolen money which he had won from Reivers. +He did not consider it necessary to go into +the full details of how the money came to be in +his possession, or attempt to explain the prejudice +of his kind against keeping stolen goods. +</p> +<p> +“Just tell them that Sheedy gave up the money, and +that it’s theirs again; and they’d better hide it in +their shoes so they won’t lose it,” he directed the +interpreter. +</p> +<p> +Whereat the latter, a garrulous young man who +had been telling the camp all about the wonderful +new “bahss” in the quarry—a “bahss” who saved +men’s lives—whenever he could get any one to listen, +broke forth into a wonderful tale of how the money +came to be returned, and of the wonderful “bahss” +that stood before them, whom they should all take +off their caps to and worship. +</p> +<p> +For this was no ordinary man, this “bahss.” No, +he was far above all other men. It was an honour +to work under him. For instance, as to this money: +the “bahss” had heard how the red-haired one—Sheedy—had +stolen, how he oppressed many poor men and +broke the noses of those who dared to stand up against +him. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116'></a>116</span> +</p> +<p> +The “bahss” had the interests of poor men at heart. +What had he done? He had struck the red-haired one +such a mighty blow in the stomach that the red-haired +one had flown high in the air, and alighting on the +ground had been moved by the fear of death and disgorged +the stolen money that his conscience might be +easy. +</p> +<p> +The story of how Toppy had propped up the roof +of the stone quarry, and saved the limbs and possibly +lives of his workmen; how he had driven the +shotgun guard away, and how he had smitten Sheedy +and laid him low before all men, had circulated +through the camp by this time. Everybody knew that +the new straw-boss, though fully as big and strong +as the Snow-Burner himself, was a man who considered +the men under him as something more than +cattle and treated them accordingly. True, he drove +men hard; but they went willingly for him, whereas +under the Snow-Burner they hurried merely because +of the chill fear that his eyes drove into their hearts. +In short, Toppy was just such a boss as all men wished +to work under—strong but just, firm but not inhuman. +</p> +<p> +Even Sheedy was loyal to him. +</p> +<p> +“He laid me out, all right,” he grumbled to a group +of “white men,” “but, give him credit for it, he give +me a chanct to get up me guard. There won’t be +any breaking yer bones when yuh ain’t lookin’ from +him. And he wouldn’t graft on yuh, either. He’s +right. That other ——, he—he ain’t human.” +</p> +<p> +The fact that he had been humane enough, and +daring enough, to prop up the roof of the quarry +had no effect on the “white men” toward developing +a respect for Toppy. They despised the Slavs too +thoroughly to be conscious of any brotherhood with +them. But that he could put Bill Sheedy away with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117'></a>117</span> +a single punch, that he could warn Bill to put up +his guard and then knock him out with one blow, that +was something to wring respect even from that hard-bitten +crew. +</p> +<p> +The Snow-Burner never had done anything like +that. He had laid low the biggest men in camp, +but it was usually with a kick or with a blow that +was entirely unexpected. The Snow-Burner never +warned any body. He smiled, threw them off their +guard, then smote like a flash of lightning. He had +whipped half a dozen men at once in a stand-up fight, +but they had been poor Bohunks, fools who couldn’t +fight unless they had knives in their hands. But to +tell a seasoned bruiser like Bill, the best man with +his fists in camp, to put up his hands and then beat +him to the knockout punch—that was something that +not even the Snow-Burner had attempted to do. +</p> +<p> +That was taking a chance, that was; and the Snow-Burner +never took chances. That was why these +cruel-fierce “white men,” though they admired and +applauded him for his dominance and his ruthlessness +toward the Slavs, hated Reivers with a hatred that +sprang from the Northern man’s instinctive liking for +fair play in a fight. They began naturally to compare +him with Toppy, who had played fair and yet +won. And, naturally, because such were the standards +they lived and died by, they began to predict +that some day the Snow-Burner and Toppy must fight, +and they hoped that they might be there to see the +battle. +</p> +<p> +So Toppy, this morning, as he came to the stockade, +was in the position of something of a hero to +most of the rough men who slouched past him in the +gloom to their day’s work. He had felt it before, this +hero-worship, and he recognised it again. Though the +surroundings were vastly different and the men about +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118'></a>118</span> +him of a strange breeding, the sense of it was much +the same as that he had known at school when, a +sweater thrown across his huge shoulders, he had +ploughed his way through the groups of worshipping +undergrads on to the gridiron. It was much the +same here. Men looked up to him. They nudged +one another as they passed, lowered their voices when +he was near, studied him appraisingly. Toppy had +felt it before, too often to be mistaken; and the youth +in his veins responded warmly. The respect of these +men was a harder thing to win than the other. He +thought of how he had arrived in camp, shaky from +Harvey Duncombe’s champagne, with no purpose in +life, no standing among men who were doing men’s +work. Grimly also he thought of how Miss Pearson, +that first evening, had called him a “nice boy.” Would +she call him that now, he wondered, if she could see +how these rough, tired men looked up to him? Would +Reivers treat him as a thing to experiment with after +this? +</p> +<p> +Thus it was a considerably elated Toppy, though +not a big-headed one, who led his men out of the +stockade, to the quarry—to the blow that Reivers +had waiting for him there. His first hint that something +was wrong was when the foremost men, whistling +and tool-laden, made for the pit in the first grey +light of day and paused with exclamations and curses +at its very mouth. Others crowded around them. +They looked within. Then, with fallen jaws, they +turned and looked to the “bahss” for an explanation, +for help. +</p> +<p> +Toppy shouldered his way through the press and +stepped inside. Then he saw what had halted his +men and made their faces turn white. To the last stick +the shoring-timbers had been removed from the pit, +and the roof, threatening and sharp-edged, hung ready +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119'></a>119</span> +to drop on the workmen below, as it had before Toppy +had wrought a change. +</p> +<p> +The daylight came creeping up the river and a wind +began to blow. So still was it there before the pit-mouth +that Toppy was conscious of these things as +he stepped outside. The men were standing about +with their wheelbarrows and tools in their hands. +They looked to him. His was the mind and will to +determine what they should do. They depended upon +him; they trusted him; they would obey his word +confidently. +</p> +<p> +Toppy felt a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. +He wanted to take off his cap, to bare his +head to the chill morning wind, to draw his hand +across his eyes, to do something to ease himself and +gather his wits. He did none of these things. The +instinct of leadership arose strong within him. He +could not show these men who looked up to him as +their unquestioned leader that he had been dealt a blow +that had taken the mastery from him. +</p> +<p> +For Toppy, in that agonised second when he glanced +up at the unsupported roof and knew what those loose +rocks meant to any men working beneath, realised +that he could not drive his men in there to certain +injury for many, possibly death for some. It wasn’t +in him. He wasn’t bred that way. The unfeeling +brute had been removed from his big body and spirit +by generations of men and women who had played +fair with inferiors, and by a lifetime of training and +education. +</p> +<p> +He understood plainly the significance of the thing. +Reivers had done it; no one else would have dared. +He had lifted Toppy up to a tiny elevation above the +other men in camp; now he was knocking him down. +It was another way for Reivers to show his mastery. +The men who had begun to look up to Toppy would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120'></a>120</span> +now see how easily the Snow-Burner could show himself +his superior. Miss Pearson would hear of it. +He would appear in the light of a “nice boy” whom +the Snow-Burner had played with. +</p> +<p> +These thoughts ran through Toppy’s mind as he +stood outside the pit, with his white-faced men looking +up to him, and groped for a way out of his dilemma. +Within he was sickened with the sense of a +catastrophe; outside he remained calm and confident +to the eye. He stepped farther out, to where he could +see the end of the dam where he had secured the props +for the roof. It was as he had expected; the big pile +of timbers that had lain there was gone to the last +stick. He turned slowly back, and then in the grey +light of coming day he looked into the playfully smiling +face of Reivers, who had emerged, it seemed, +from nowhere. +</p> +<p> +“Looking for your humanitarian props, Treplin?” +laughed the Snow-Burner. “Oh, they’re gone; they’re +valuable; they served a purpose which nothing else +would fill—quite so conveniently. I used them for a +corduroy road in the swamp. Between men and timbers, +Treplin, always save your timbers.” His manner +changed like a flash to one hurried and business-like. +“What’re you waiting for?” he snarled. “Why +don’t you get ’em in there? Mean to say you’re wasting +company money because one of these cattle might +get a broken back?” +</p> +<p> +They looked each other full in the eyes, but Toppy +knew that for the time being Reivers had the whiphand. +</p> +<p> +“I mean to say just that,” he said evenly. “I’m not +sending any men in there until I get that roof propped +up again.” +</p> +<p> +“Bah!” Reivers’ disgust was genuine. “I thought +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121'></a>121</span> +you were a man; I find you’re a suit of clothes full +of emotions, like all the rest!” +</p> +<p> +He seemed to drive away his anger by sheer will-force +and bring the cold, sneering smile back to his +lips. +</p> +<p> +“So we’re up against a situation that’s too strong +for us, are we, Mr. Humanitarian?” he laughed. “In +spite of our developed intelligence, we lay down cold +in the face of a little proposition like this! Good-bye +to our dreams of learning how to handle men! +It isn’t in us to do it; we’re a weak sister.” +</p> +<p> +His bantering mood fled with the swiftness of all +his changes. Toppy and his aspirations as a leader—that +was another incident of the day’s work that +was over and done with. +</p> +<p> +“Go back to the shop, to Scotty, Treplin,” he said +quietly. “You’re not responsible for your limitations. +Scotty says you make a pretty fair helper. +Be consoled. He’s waiting for you.” +</p> +<p> +He turned instantly toward the men. Toppy, with +the hot blood rushing in his throat, but helpless as +he was, swung away from the pit without a word. +As he did so he saw that the hawk-faced shotgun +guard had appeared and taken his position on the little +rise where his gun bore slantwise on the huddled +men before the pit, and he hurried to get out of +sight of the scene. His tongue was dry and his temples +throbbing with rage, but the cool section of his +mind urged him away from the pit in silence. +</p> +<p> +Between clenched teeth he cursed his injured ankle. +It was the ankle that made him accept without return +the shame which Reivers had put upon him. The +canny sense within him continued to whisper that +until the ankle was sound he must bide his time. +Reivers and he were too nearly a pair to give him +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122'></a>122</span> +the slightest chance for success if he essayed defiance +at even the slightest disadvantage. +</p> +<p> +Choking back as well as he could the anger that +welled up within him, he made his way swiftly to +the blacksmith-shop. Campbell, bending over the +anvil, greeted Toppy cheerily as he heard the heavy +tread behind him. +</p> +<p> +“The Snow-Burner promised he’d send you here, +and——Losh, mon!” he gasped as he turned around +and saw Toppy’s face. “What’s come o’er ye? You +look like you’re ripe for murder.” +</p> +<p> +“There’ll probably be murder done in this camp before +the day’s over, but I won’t do it,” replied Toppy. +</p> +<p> +As he threw off his mackinaw preparatory to starting +work he snapped out the story of the situation at +the quarry. Campbell, leaning on his hammer, grew +grim of lips and eyes as he listened. +</p> +<p> +“Aye; I thought at the time it were better for you +had ye lost at poker last night,” he said slowly. “He’s +taking revenge. But they will put out his light for +him. Human flesh and blood won’t stand it. The +Snow-Burner goes too far. He’ll——Hark! Good +Heavens! Hear that!” +</p> +<p> +For a moment they stood near the open doorway +of the shop staring at one another in horrified, mute +questioning. The crisp stillness of the morning rang +and echoed with the sharp roar of a shotgun. The +sound came from the direction of the quarry. Across +the street they heard the door of the office-building +open sharply. The girl, without hat or coat, her light +hair flying about her head, came running like a deer +to the door of the shop. +</p> +<p> +“Mr. Campbell, Mr. Campbell!” she called tremblingly, +peering inside. Then she saw Toppy. +</p> +<p> +“Oh!” she gasped. She started back a little. There +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123'></a>123</span> +were surprise and relief in her exclamation, in her +eyes, in her movement. +</p> +<p> +“I was afraid—I thought maybe——” She drew +away from the door in confusion. “I only wanted +to know—to know—what that noise was.” +</p> +<p> +But Toppy had stepped outside the shop and followed +closely after her. +</p> +<p> +“What did you think it was, Miss Pearson?” he +asked. “What were you afraid of when you heard +that shot? That something had happened between +Reivers and myself?” +</p> +<p> +“I—I meant to warn you,” she said, greatly flustered. +“Tilly told me all about—a lot of things last +night. She told me that she had told Reivers all she +heard you say to me that first night here, and that +he—Mr. Reivers, she said, was your enemy, and that +he would—would surely hurt you.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes?” +</p> +<p> +“I didn’t want to see you get hurt, because I felt +it was because of me that you came here. I—I don’t +want any one hurt because of me.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s all?” he asked. +</p> +<p> +She looked surprised. +</p> +<p> +“Why, yes.” +</p> +<p> +Toppy nodded curtly. +</p> +<p> +“Then Tilly told you that Mr. Reivers had a habit +of hurting people?” +</p> +<p> +At this the red in her cheeks rose to a flush. Her +blue eyes looked at him waveringly, then dropped to +the ground. +</p> +<p> +“It isn’t true! It can’t be true!” she stammered. +</p> +<p> +“Did Tilly tell you—about herself?” he persisted +mercilessly. +</p> +<p> +The next instant he wished the words unsaid, for +she shrank as if he had struck her. She looked very +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124'></a>124</span> +small just then. Her proud, self-reliant bearing was +gone. She was very much all alone. +</p> +<p> +“Yes.” The word was scarcely more than a whisper +and she did not look up. “But it—it can not be +so; I know it can not.” +</p> +<p> +Toppy was no student of feminine psychology, but +he saw plainly that just then she was a woman who +did not wish to believe, therefore would not believe, +anything ill of the man who had fascinated her. He +saw that Reivers had fascinated her; that in spite +of herself she was drawn toward him, dominated by +him. Her mind told her that what she had heard of +the man was true, but her heart refused to let her +believe. Toppy saw that she was very unhappy and +troubled, and unselfishly he forgot himself and his +enmity toward Reivers in a desire to help her. +</p> +<p> +“Miss Pearson!—Miss Pearson!” he cried eagerly. +“Is there anything I can do for you—anything in +the world?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” she said slowly. “Tell me that it isn’t so—what +Mr. Campbell and Tilly have said about Mr. +Reivers.” +</p> +<p> +“I——” He was about to say that he could do +nothing of the sort, but something made him halt. +“Has Reivers broken his word to you—about leaving +you alone?” +</p> +<p> +“No, no! He’s—he’s left me alone. He’s scarcely +spoken to me half a dozen times.” +</p> +<p> +Toppy looked down at her for several seconds. +</p> +<p> +“But you’ve begun to care for Reivers, haven’t +you?” he said. +</p> +<p> +The girl looked up at him uncertainly. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know. Oh, I don’t know! I don’t seem +to have any will of my own toward him. I seem +to see him as a different man. I know I shouldn’t; +but I can’t help it, I can help it! He—he looks at me, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125'></a>125</span> +and I feel as if—as if—” her voice died down to a +horrified whisper—“I were nothing, and his wishes +were the only things in the world.” +</p> +<p> +Toppy bowed his head. +</p> +<p> +“Then I guess there’s nothing for me to say.” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t!” she cried, stretching out her hand to restrain +him as he turned away. “Don’t leave me—like +that. You’re so rude to me lately. I feel so +terribly alone when you—aren’t nice to me.” +</p> +<p> +“What difference can I make?” he said bitterly. +“I’m not Reivers.” +</p> +<p> +She looked up at him again. +</p> +<p> +“Oh!” she cried suddenly. “Won’t you help me, +Mr. Treplin? Can’t you help me?” +</p> +<p> +“Help you?” gasped Toppy. “May I? Can I? +What can I do?” +</p> +<p> +He leaned toward her eagerly. +</p> +<p> +“What can I do” he repeated. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I don’t know!” she murmured in anguish. +“But if you—if you leave me—Oh! What was that?” +</p> +<p> +From the direction of the quarry had come a great +scream of terror, as if many men suddenly had cried +out in fear of their lives. Then, almost ere the echoes +had died away, came another sound, of more sinister +significance to Toppy. There was a sudden low rumble; +the earth under their feet trembled; then the +noise of a crash and a thud. Then it was still again. +</p> +<p> +A chill seemed to pass over the entire camp. Men +began running toward the quarry with swift steps, +their faces showing that they dreaded what they expected +to see. Toppy and Campbell looked silently +at one another. +</p> +<p> +“Go into the office,” he said quietly to the girl. +“Come on, Scotty; that roof’s caved in.” And without +another word they ran swiftly toward the quarry. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126'></a>126</span> +As they reached the river-bank they heard Reivers’ +voice quietly issuing orders. +</p> +<p> +“You guards pick those two fellows up and carry +them to their bunks. You scum that’s left, pick up +your tools and dig into that fallen rock. Hustle now! +Get right back to work!” +</p> +<p> +The first thing that Toppy saw as he turned the +shoulder of the ledge was that two of the older +Slavs were lying groaning on the ground to one side +of where the pit mouth had been. Then he saw what +was left of the pit. The entire side of the ledge had +caved down, and where the pit had been was only a +jumbled pile of jagged rock. Reivers stood in his +old position before the pile. The hawk-nosed shotgun +guard stood up on the little rise, his weapon +ready. The remaining workmen were huddled together +before the pile of fallen stone. The terror in their +faces was unspeakable. They were like lost, driven +cattle facing the butcher’s hammer. +</p> +<p> +“Grab those tools there! Get at it! The rock’s +right in front of you now! Get busy!” +</p> +<p> +Reivers’ voice in no way admitted that anything +startling had occurred. He glared at the cowering men, +and in terror they began hastily to resume their interrupted +work, filling their wheelbarrows from the pile +of stone before them. Reivers turned toward Toppy +who had bent over the injured men. “Hello, Dr. +Treplin,” he laughed lightly. “A couple of jobs there +for you to experiment on. Get ’em out of here—to +their bunks; they’re in the way. Patch ’em up if you +can. If you can’t they’re not much loss, anyhow. +They’re rather older than I like ’em.” +</p> +<p> +The last words came carelessly over his shoulder as +he turned back toward the men who were toiling at +the rock. A string of curses rolled coldly from his lips. +They leaped to obey him. He smiled contemptuously. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127'></a>127</span> +</p> +<p> +Toppy was relieved to see that the two men on the +ground were apparently not fatally hurt. With the aid +of Campbell and two guards who had run up he +hurried to have the men placed in their bunks in the +stockade. One of the guards produced a surgeon’s +kit. Toppy rolled up his sleeves. It wasn’t as bad as +he had feared it would be, apparently; only two injured, +where he had looked for some surely to be killed. +One of the men was growing faint from loss of blood +from a wound in his right leg. Toppy, turning his +attention to him first, swiftly slit open the trousers-leg +and bared the injured limb. +</p> +<p> +“What—what the devil?” he cried aghast. The +calf of the man’s leg was half torn away, and from +knee to ankle the flesh was sprinkled with buckshot-holes. +</p> +<p> +“They shot you?” he asked as he fashioned a tourniquet. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, bahass. Snow-Burner say, ‘Get t’ ‘ell in +there.’ Rocks fall; we no go in. Snow-Burner hold +up hand. Man with gun shoot. I fall. Other men +go in. Pretty soon rocks fall. Other men come out. +He shoot me. I no do anything; he shoot me.” +</p> +<p> +Toppy choked back the curse that rose to his lips, +dressed the man’s wound to the best of his slight ability, +and turned to the other, who had been caught in +the cave-in of the quarry-roof. His right leg and arm +were broken, and the side was crushed in a way that +suggested broken ribs. Toppy filled a hypodermic +syringe and went to work to make the two as comfortable +as he knew how. That was all he could pretend +to do. Yet when he left the stockade it was with a +feeling of relief that he looked back over the morning. +The worst had happened; the danger to the men +was over; and, so far as Toppy knew, the consequences +were represented in the two men whom he had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128'></a>128</span> +treated and who, so far as he could see, were sure to +live. It hadn’t turned out as badly as he was afraid +it would. +</p> +<p> +As he passed the carpenter-shop he saw the “wood-butcher” +sawing two boards to make a cover for a +long, narrow box. Toppy looked at him idly, trying +to think of what such a box could be used for around +the camp. It was too narrow for its length to be of +ordinary use as a box. +</p> +<p> +“What are you making there?” asked Toppy carelessly. +</p> +<p> +The “wood-butcher” looked up from his sawing. +</p> +<p> +“Didn’t you ever see a logging-camp coffin?” he +asked. “We always keep a few ready. This one is +for that Bohunk that’s down there under the rocks.” +</p> +<p> +“Under the rocks!” cried Toppy. “You don’t mean +to say there was anybody under that cave-in!” +</p> +<p> +“Is yet,” was the laconic reply. “One of ’em was +caught ’way inside. Whole roof on top of him. Won’t +find him till the pit’s emptied.” +</p> +<p> +Toppy struggled a moment to speak quietly. +</p> +<p> +“Which one was it, do you know?” he asked. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, it was that old brown-complected fellow,” +said the carpenter. “That old Bohunk guy with the +big rings in his ears.” +</p> +<p> +Reivers came to the shop at his customary time in +the evening, nothing in his manner containing a hint +that anything unusual had happened during the day. +He found a solemn and silent pair, for Campbell had +sought relief from the day’s tragedy in his customary +manner and sat in the light of the student-lamp steadily +reading his Bible, while Toppy, in a dark corner, sat +with his great shoulders hunched forward, his folded +hands before him, and stared at the floor. Reivers +paused in the doorway, his cold smile broadening as +he surveyed the pair. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129'></a>129</span> +</p> +<p> +“Poker to-night—doctor?” he said softly, and the +slur in his tones was like blasphemy toward all that +men hold sacred. +</p> +<p> +“No, by ——, no!” growled Toppy. +</p> +<p> +Laughing lightly, Reivers closed the door and came +across the room. +</p> +<p> +“What? Aren’t you going to give me my revenge—doctor?” +The manner in which he accented “doctor” +was worse than an open insult. +</p> +<p> +Old Campbell peered over his thick glasses. +</p> +<p> +“The sword of judgment is sharpening for you, +Mr. Reivers,” he said solemnly. “You ha’ this day +sealed your own doom. A life for a life; and you +have taken a life to-day unnecessarily. It is the holy +law; you will pay. It is so written.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, yes, yes!” laughed Reivers in great amusement. +“But you’ve said that so many times before +in just that same way, Scotty. Can’t you evolve a +new idea? Or at least sing it in a different key?” +</p> +<p> +The old Scot looked at him without wavering or +changing his expression. +</p> +<p> +“You are the smartest man I have ever known, Mr. +Reivers, and the domdest fool,” he said in the same +tone. “Do you fancy yourself more than mortal? +Losh, man! A knife in the bowels, or a bullet or ax +in the head will as readily make you a bit of poor clay +as you’ve this day made yon poor old Bohunk.” +</p> +<p> +Reivers listened courteously to the end, waiting +even a moment to be sure that Campbell had had his +say. +</p> +<p> +“And you—doctor?” he said turning to Toppy. +“What melancholy thoughts have you to utter?” +</p> +<p> +Toppy said nothing. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, come, Treplin!” said Reivers lightly. “Surely +you’re not letting a little thing like that quarry-incident +give you a bad evening? Where’s your philosophy, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130'></a>130</span> +man? Consider the thing intelligently instead of +sentimentally. There was so much rock to go into that +dam in a day—and incidentally to-day finished the +job. That was a useful, necessary work. +</p> +<p> +“For that old man to continue in this life was not +useful or necessary. He was far down in the order +of human development; centuries below you and me. +Do you think it made the slightest difference whether +he returned to the old cosmic mud whence he came, +and from which he had not come far, in to-day’s +little cave-in, or in a dirty bed, say ten years from +now? +</p> +<p> +“He accomplished a tiny speck of useful work, +through my direction. He has gone, as the wood will +soon be gone that is heating that stove. There was no +spirit there; only a body that has ceased to stand upright. +And you grow moody over it! Well, well! +I’m more and more disappointed in you—doctor.” +</p> +<p> +Toppy said nothing. He was biding his time. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131'></a>131</span><a name='chXVI' id='chXVI'></a>CHAPTER XVI—THE SCREWS TIGHTEN</h2> +<p> +That night came the heavy snow for which the +loggers had been waiting, and a rush of activity +followed in Hell Camp. The logs which had lain in +the woods for want of sleighing now were accessible. +Following the snow came hard, freezing nights, and +the main ice-roads which Reivers had driven into the +timber for miles became solid beds of ice over which +a team could haul log loads to the extent of a carload +weight. It was ideal logging-weather, and the big +camp began to hum. +</p> +<p> +The mastery of Reivers once more showed itself in +the way in which he drove his great crew at top speed +and beyond. The feeling against him on the part of +the men had risen to silent, tight-lipped heat as the +news went around of how the old Magyar with the +ear-rings had met his death. Each man in camp knew +that he might have been in the old man’s shoes; each +knew that Reivers’ anger might fall on him next. In +the total of a hundred and fifty men in camp there was +probably not one who did not curse Reivers and rage +against his rule, and there were few who, if the opportunity +had offered, would not cheerfully have taken +his life. +</p> +<p> +The feeling against him had unified itself. Before, +the men had been split into various groups on the +subject of the boss. They remained divided now, but +on one thing they were unanimous: the Snow-Burner +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132'></a>132</span> +had gone too far to bear. Men sat on the bunk-edges +in the stockade and cursed as they thought of the +boss and the shotgun guards that rendered them helpless. +Reivers permitted no firearms of any kind in +camp save those that were carried by his gunmen. +</p> +<p> +The gunmen when not on guard kept to their quarters, +in the building just outside of the stockade gate, +where Reivers also lived. When armed, they were +ordered to permit no man to approach nearer than +ten feet to them—this to prevent a possible rushing +and wresting the weapons from their hands. So +long as the guards were there in possession of their +shotguns the men knew that they were helpless. Driven +to desperation now, they prayed for the chance to get +those guns into their own hands. After that they +promised themselves that the score of brutality would +be made even. +</p> +<p> +Then came the time for rush work, and under +the lash of Reivers’ will the outraged men, carried +off their feet, were driven with a ferocity that told +how completely Reivers ignored the spirit of revolt +which he knew was fomenting against him. He quit +playing with them, as he expressed it; he began to +drive. +</p> +<p> +Long before daylight began to grey the sky above +the eastern timber-line the men were out at their posts, +waiting for sufficient light to begin the day’s work. +Once the work began it went ahead with a fury that +seemed to carry all men with it. Reivers was everywhere +that a man dared to pause for a moment to +shirk his job. He used his hands now, for a broken +leg or rib laid a man up, and he had use for the present +for every man he could muster. He scarcely +looked at the men he hit, breaking their faces with +a sudden, treacherous blow, cursing them coldly until, +despite their injuries, they leaped at their work, then +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133'></a>133</span> +whirling away to fall upon some other luckless one +elsewhere. +</p> +<p> +He was a fury, a merciless elemental force, with +no consideration for the strength and endurance of +men; sparing no one any more than he spared himself, +and rushing his whole force along at top speed +by sheer power of the spirit of leadership that possessed +him. Men ceased for the time being to growl +and pray that the Snow-Burner would get his just +due. They had no thought nor energies for anything +but keeping pace in the whirlwind rush of work +through which the Snow-Burner drove them. +</p> +<p> +In the blacksmith-shop the same condition prevailed +as elsewhere in the camp. The extra hurry +of the work in the timber meant extra accidents, +which meant breakages. There were chain-links to +be forged and fitted to broken chains; sharp two-inch +calks to be driven into the horses’ shoes, peaveys and +cant-hooks to be repaired. Besides the regular blacksmith-work +of the camp, which was quite sufficient to +keep Campbell and one helper comfortably employed, +there was now added each day a bulk of extra work +due to the strain under which men, horses and tools +were working. +</p> +<p> +Old Campbell, grimly resolute that Reivers should +have no excuse to fall foul of him, drove himself +and his helper at a speed second only to that with +which he had so roughly greeted Toppy to the rough +world of bodily labour. But the Toppy who now hammered +and toiled at Campbell’s side was a different +man from the champagne-softened youth who had +come into camp a little while before. The puffiness +was gone from under his eyes, the looseness from his +lips and the fat from around the middle. Through +his veins the blood now surged with no taint of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134'></a>134</span> +cumbering poison; his tissues tingled with life and healthiness. +</p> +<p> +Day by day he did his share and more in the shop-work, +and instead of the old feeling of fatigue, which +before had followed any prolonged exertion, felt his +muscles spring with hardness and new life at each +demand made upon them. The old joy of a strong +man in his strength came back in him. Stripped to +the waist he stretched himself and filled his great lungs +with deep drafts, his arms like beams stretched out +and above his head. Under the clean skin, rosy and +moist from exertion, the muscles bunched and relaxed, +tautened instantly to iron hardness or rippled softly +as they were called upon, in the perfect co-ordination +which results in great athletes. Old Campbell, +similarly stripped, stared at the marvel of a giant’s +perfect torso, beside which his own work-wrought +body was ugly in its unequal development. +</p> +<p> +“Losh, man! But you’re full grown!” he growled +in admiration. “I’ve seen but one man who could +strip anywhere near to you.” +</p> +<p> +“Who was he?” asked Toppy. +</p> +<p> +“The Snow-Burner.” +</p> +<p> +Day by day Toppy hammered and laboured at +Campbell’s side, holding his end up against the grim +old smith, and day by day he felt his muscles growing +toward that iron condition in which there is no tiring. +Presently, to Scotty’s vexation, he was doing more +than his share, ending the day with a laugh and waking +up in the morning as fresh as if he had not taxed +his energies the day before. +</p> +<p> +At first he continued to favour his injured ankle, +lest a sudden strain delay its recovery. Each night +he massaged and bandaged it scientifically. Later on, +when he felt that it was stronger, he began to exercise +it, slowly raising and lowering himself on the balls +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135'></a>135</span> +of his feet. In a couple of weeks the old spring and +strength had largely come back, and Campbell snorted +in disgust at the antics indulged in by his helper when +the day’s work was done. +</p> +<p> +“Skipping a rope one, twa hundred times! What +brand o’ silliness do ye call that?” he grumbled. “Ha’ +ye nothing useful to do wi’ them long legs of yourn, +that you have to make a jumping-jack out o’ yourself?” +</p> +<p> +At which Toppy smiled grimly and continued his +training. +</p> +<p> +The rush of work had its compensations. Reivers, +driving his force like mad, had no time to waste either +in bantering Toppy and Campbell in the evening or in +paying attention to Miss Pearson. All the power that +was in the Snow-Burner was concentrated upon the +problem of getting out every stick of timber possible +while the favourable weather continued. He spent +most of his time in the timber up-river where the +heaviest logging was going on. +</p> +<p> +By day he raged in the thick of the men with only +one thought or aim—to get out the logs as fast as +human and horse-power could do it. At night the +road-crews, repairing with pick and shovel and sprinkling-tanks +the wear and tear of the day’s hauling, +worked under Reivers’ compelling eyes. All night +long the sprinkling-tanks went up and down the ice-coated +roads, and the drivers, freezing on the seats, +were afraid to stop or nod, not knowing when the +Snow-Burner might step out from the shadows and +catch them in the act. +</p> +<p> +The number of accidents, always too plentiful in +logging-camps, multiplied, but Reivers permitted nothing +short of broken bones to send a man to his bunk. +Toppy, besides his work in the shop, cared as best he +could for the disabled. Reivers had no time to waste +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136'></a>136</span> +that way now. The two men hurt at the quarry were +recovering rapidly. One day a tall, lean “white man,” +a Yankee top-loader, came hobbling out of the woods +with his foot dangling at the ankle, and mumbling +curses through a smashed jaw. +</p> +<p> +“How did you get this?” asked Toppy, as he dressed +the cruelly crushed foot. +</p> +<p> +“Pinched between two logs,” mumbled the man. +“They let one come down the skids when I wasn’t +lookin’. No fault of mine; I didn’t have time to jump. +And then, when I’m standin’ there leanin’ against a +tree, that devil Reivers comes up and hands me this.” +He pointed to his cracked jaw. “He’ll teach me to get +myself hurt, he says. ——! That ain’t no man; he’s +a devil! By ——! I know what I’d ruther have +than the wages comin’ to me, and that’s a rifle with one +good cattridge in it and that —— standin’ afore me.” +</p> +<p> +Yet that evening, when Reivers came to the top-loader’s +bunk and demanded how long he expected to +lie there eating his head off, the man cringed and whimpered +that he would be back on the job as soon as his +foot was fit to stand on. In Reivers’ presence the +men were afraid to call their thoughts their own, but +behind his back the mumblings and grumblings of +hatred were growing to a volume which inevitably soon +must break out in the hell-yelp of a mob ripe for +murder. +</p> +<p> +Reivers knew it better than any man in camp. To +indicate how it affected him he turned the screws on +tighter than ever. Once, at least, “they had him dead,” +as they admitted, when he stood ankle-deep in the +river with the saw-logs thundering over the rollways +to the brink of the bluff above his head. One cunning +twist of a peavey would have sent a dozen logs tumbling +over the brink on his head. Reivers sensed his +danger and looked up. He smiled. Then he turned +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137'></a>137</span> +and deliberately stood with his back to the men. And +no man dared to give his peavey that one cunning twist. +</p> +<p> +During these strenuous days Toppy tried in vain to +muster up sufficient courage to reopen the conversation +with Miss Pearson which had been so suddenly interrupted +by the cave-in at the quarry. He saw her +every day. She had changed greatly from the high-spirited, +self-reliant girl who had stood on the steps +of the hotel back at Rail Head and told the whole +world by her manner that she was accustomed and able +to take care of herself. A stronger will than hers +had entered her scheme of life. +</p> +<p> +Although she knew now that Reivers had tricked +her into coming to Hell Camp because he was confident +of winning her, the knowledge made no difference. +The will of the man dominated and fascinated +her. She feared him, yet she was drawn toward him +despite her struggles. She fought hard against the inclination +to yield to the stronger will, to let her feelings +make her his willing slave, as she knew he wished. +The pain of the struggle shone in her eyes. Her +cheeks lost their bloom; there were lines about the +little mouth. +</p> +<p> +Toppy saw it, but an unwonted shyness had come +upon him. He could no longer speak to her with +the frank friendliness of their previous conversations. +Something which he could not place had, he felt, set +them apart. +</p> +<p> +Perhaps it was the fact that he saw the fascinations +which Reivers had for her. Reivers was his enemy. +They had been enemies from the moment when they +first had measured each other eye to eye. He felt +that he had one aim in life now, and one only; that was +to prove to himself and to Reivers that Reivers was +not his master. +</p> +<p> +Beyond that he had no plans. He knew that this +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138'></a>138</span> +meant a grapple which must end with one of them +broken and helpless. The unfortunate one might be +himself. In that case there would be no need to +think of the future, and it would be just as well not +to have spoken any more with the girl. +</p> +<p> +It might be Reivers. Then he would be guilty in her +eyes of having injured the man for whom the girl now +obviously had feelings which Toppy could construe in +but one way. She cared for Reivers, in spite of herself; +and she would not be inclined to friendliness +toward the man who had conquered him, if conquered +he should be. +</p> +<p> +The more Toppy thought it over the less enviable, +to his notion, became his standing with the girl. He +ended by resolutely determining to put her out of +his thoughts. After all, he was no girl’s man. He +had no business trying to be. For the present he saw +one task laid out before him as inevitable as a revealed +fate—to prove himself with Reivers, to get to grips +with the cold-blooded master-man who had made him +feel, with every man in camp, that the place veritably +was a Hell Camp. +</p> +<p> +Reivers’ brutal dominance lay like a tangible weight +upon Toppy’s spirit. He longed for only one thing—for +the opportunity to stand up eye to eye with him +and learn who was the better man. Beyond that +he did not see, nor care. He had given up any thought +that the girl might ever care for him. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139'></a>139</span><a name='chXVII' id='chXVII'></a>CHAPTER XVII—TILLY’S WARNING</h2> +<p> +November passed, and the first half of December. +The shortest days of the year were approaching, +and still the cold, crisp weather, ideal for +logging, continued without a break. Hell Camp continued +to hum with its abnormal activity. A thaw +which would spoil the sleighing and ice-roads for the +time being was long over-due. With the coming of +the thaw would come a temporary lull in the work of +the camp. +</p> +<p> +The men prayed for the thaw; Reivers asked that +the cold weather continue. It had continued now +longer than he had expected or hoped, and the output +of the camp already was double that of what would +have been successful logging at that season. But +Reivers was not satisfied. The record that he was +setting served only to spur his ambition to desperation. +</p> +<p> +The longer the cold spell hung on the harder he +drove. Each day, as he looked at the low, grey sky +and saw that there were no signs of a break-up, he +turned to and set the pace a little faster than the day +before. The madness of achievement, the passion to +use his powers to accomplish the impossible, the characteristics +which had won him the name of Snow-Burner, +were in possession. He was doing the impossible; +he was accomplishing what no other man could +do, what all men said was impossible; and the feat only +created a hunger to do more. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140'></a>140</span> +</p> +<p> +The men were past grumbling now, too tired of +body and too crushed of mind to give expression to +their feelings. So long as the rush of work continued +they were as harmless as harnessed and driven cattle, +incapable of anything more than keeping step in the +mad march that the Snow-Burner was leading. But +all men knew that with the coming of a thaw and the +cessation of work would come an explosion of the +murderous hatred which Reivers’ tactics had driven +into the hearts of the men. Now and then a man, +driven to a state of desperation which excluded the +possibility of fear, stopped and rebelled. One day a +young swamper, a gangling lad of twenty, raging and +weeping, threw himself upon Reivers like a cat upon a +bear. Reivers, with a laugh, thrust him off and kicked +him out of the way. Another time a huge Slav sprang +at him with his razor-edged ax up-raised, and, quailing +before Reivers’ calm look, hurled the ax away +with a scream and ran blindly away into the trackless +woods. Three days later, starving and with frozen +hands and feet, he came stumbling up to the stockade +and fell in a lump. +</p> +<p> +“Feed him up,” ordered Reivers, smiling. “I’ve +got a little use for him when he’s fixed up so he can +feel. You see, Treplin,” he continued to Toppy, who +had been called to bring the man back to life, “I’m not +all cruelty. When I want to save a man to amuse myself +with I’m almost as much of a humanitarian as +you are.” +</p> +<p> +He hurried on his way, but before he was out of +hearing he flung back—— +</p> +<p> +“You remember how carefully I had Tilly nurse you, +don’t you—doctor?” +</p> +<p> +It was only the guards that Reivers did not make +enemies of. He knew that he had need of their +loyalty. At night the “white men” sat on the edges +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141'></a>141</span> +of their bunks and tried to concoct feasible schemes +for securing possession of the shotguns of the guards. +</p> +<p> +On the morning of the shortest day of the year +Toppy heard a scratching sound at the window near +his bunk and sprang up. It was still pitch dark, long +before any one should be stirring around camp save +the cook and cookees. +</p> +<p> +“Who’s there?” demanded Toppy. +</p> +<p> +“Me. Want talk um with you,” came the low response +from without. “You no come out. No make +noise. Hear through window. You can hear um +when I talk huh?” +</p> +<p> +“Tilly!” gasped Toppy. “What’s up?” +</p> +<p> +“You hear um what I talk?” asked the squaw +again. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, yes; I can hear you. What is it?” +</p> +<p> +“You like um li’l Miss Pearson, huh?” said Tilly +bluntly. +</p> +<p> +“What?” Toppy’s heart was pounding with sudden +excitement. “What—what’s up, Tilly? There +hasn’t anything happened to Miss Pearson, has there?” +</p> +<p> +“Uh! You like um Miss Pearson? Tell um Tilly +straight or Tilly go ’way and no talk um more with +you. You like her? Huh?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said Toppy breathlessly, after a long pause. +“Yes, I like her. What is it?” +</p> +<p> +“You no like see um Miss Pearson get hurt?” +</p> +<p> +“No, no; of course not. Who’s going to hurt her?” +</p> +<p> +“Snow-Burner,” said Tilly. “Tilly tell you this +before she go ’way. Tilly going ’way now. Tilly going +’way far off to father’s tepee. Snow-Burner tell +um me go. Snow-Burner tell um me go last night. +Snow-Burner say he no want Tilly stay in camp +longer. Tilly know why Snow-Burner no want her +stay in camp. Snow-Burner through with Tilly. Snow-Burner +now want um Miss Pearson. So.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142'></a>142</span> +</p> +<p> +“Tilly! Hold on!” She had already turned away, +but she halted at his voice and came close to the window. +“What is this? Are you going away at once—because +the Snow-Burner says so?” +</p> +<p> +The squaw nodded, stoically submissive. +</p> +<p> +“Snow-Burner say ‘go’; Tilly go,” she said. “Snow-Burner +say go before any one see um me this morning. +I go now. Must go; Snow-Burner say so.” +</p> +<p> +“And Miss Pearson?” whispered Toppy frantically. +“Did he say anything about her?” +</p> +<p> +Tilly nodded heavily. +</p> +<p> +“Tell um me long ’go. Tell um me before Miss +Pearson come. Tell um me he going marry Miss +Pearson for um Christmas present. Christmas Day +come soon now. Snow-Burner no want Tilly here +then. Send Tilly ’way.” +</p> +<p> +The breath seemed to leave Toppy’s body for an +instant. He swayed and caught at the window-frame. +</p> +<p> +“Marry her—Christmas Day?” he whispered, horrified. +</p> +<p> +“Yes. He no tell um Miss Pearson yet. He tell me +no tell um her, no tell um anybody. I tell you. Now +go.” +</p> +<p> +Before Toppy had sufficiently recovered his wits +to speak again he heard the crunch of her moccasins +on the snow dying away in the darkness as the cast-off +squaw stolidly started on her journey into the +woods. +</p> +<p> +“Tilly!” called Toppy desperately, but there was no +answer. +</p> +<p> +“What’s matter?” murmured Campbell, disturbed +in his deep slumber, and falling to sleep again before +he received a reply. +</p> +<p> +Toppy stood for a long time with his face held +close to the window through which he had heard Tilly’s +startling news. The shock had numbed him. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143'></a>143</span> +Although he had been prepared to expect anything of +Reivers, he now realised that this was something more +than he had thought possible even from him. The +Snow-Burner—marry Miss Pearson—for a Christmas +present—Christmas Day! He seemed to hear Tilly +repeating the words over and over again. And Reivers +had not even so much as told Miss Pearson of what +he intended to do. He had not even told her that +he intended to marry her. So Tilly said, and Tilly +knew. What did Reivers intend to do then? How +did he know he was going to marry her? How did +he know she would have him? +</p> +<p> +Toppy shivered a little as his wits began to work +more clearly, and the full significance of the situation +began to grow clear to him. He understood now. +Reivers had good reason for making his plans so confidently. +He had studied the girl until he had seen +that his will had dominated hers; that though she +might not love him, might even fear him, she had not +the will-power against him to say nay to his wishes. +</p> +<p> +He knew that she was helplessly fascinated, that +she was his for the taking. He had been too busy to +take her until now; the serious duties of his position +had allowed no time for dalliance. So the girl had +been safe and unmolested—until now! And now +Reivers was secretly preparing to make her his own! +</p> +<p> +A sudden thought struck Toppy, and he tiptoed to +the door and looked out. Instead of the crisp coldness +of recent mornings there was a warm mugginess +in the air; and Toppy, bending down, placed his hand +on the snow and felt that it had begun to soften. The +thaw had come. +</p> +<p> +“I thought so,” he said to himself. “The work +will break up now, and he’s going to amuse himself. +Well, he made a mistake when he told Tilly. She’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144'></a>144</span> +been civilised just enough to make her capable of jealousy.” +</p> +<p> +He went back to his bunk and dressed. +</p> +<p> +“What are you stirring around so early for?” +grumbled Campbell. “Dinna ye get work enough during +the day, to be getting up in the dark?” +</p> +<p> +“The thaw’s come,” said Toppy, throwing on his +cap. “There’ll be something doing besides work now.” +</p> +<p> +He went out into the dark morning, crossed the +road and softly tried the door to the office. He felt +much better when he had assured himself that the door +was securely locked on the inside. Then he returned +to the shop and waited for the daylight to appear. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145'></a>145</span><a name='chXVIII' id='chXVIII'></a>CHAPTER XVIII—“CANNY BY NATURE”</h2> +<p> +Old Campbell arose at his usual time, surprised +and pleased to find that Toppy had breakfast already +cooked and on the table. Being a canny Scot, +he did not express his surprise or pleasure, but proceeded +to look about for signs to indicate the reason of +Toppy’s unwonted conduct. All that he could make +out was that Toppy’s eyes were bright with some sort +of excitement, and that the grim set of his mouth had +given way to an expression of relief. So the Scot +sat down to eat, shaking his grey head in puzzled +fashion. +</p> +<p> +“I dinna see that this thaw should be any reason +for your parading around before the night’s done,” +he grumbled. “Were you so tired of a little useful +work that ye maun greet a let-down with such early +rising?” +</p> +<p> +Toppy sat down and proceeded to breakfast without +venturing a reply. When they had finished the +meal he pushed back his chair and looked across at +Campbell. Huge and careless, he sprawled in his +chair, the tension and uncertainty gone now that he +had made his resolution; and Campbell, studying his +face, sensed that something was up and leaned forward +eagerly. +</p> +<p> +“I want to lay off to-day, Scotty,” said Toppy deliberately. +“I’ve got a little business that I want to +settle with Reivers.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146'></a>146</span> +</p> +<p> +Old Campbell did not start nor in any way indicate +surprise. +</p> +<p> +“Aye!” he said quietly after a pause. “I ha’ seen +from the first it would have to be that in the end. Ye +maun settle which is best man. But why to-day?” +</p> +<p> +“Because now that the thaw has spoiled the sleighing +Reivers will have time for deviltry.” And Toppy went +on and told all that he had heard from Tilly’s lips +that morning. Campbell shook his head angrily as +he heard. +</p> +<p> +“Many things has the Snow-Burner done ill,” he +said, “and his sins against men and women cry for +punishment; but that—to yon little lass—gi’n he did +that, that would be worst of all. What are your plans, +lad?” +</p> +<p> +“Nothing,” said Toppy. “I will go and find him, +and we’ll have it out.” +</p> +<p> +“Not so,” said Campbell swiftly. “Gi’n you did +that ‘twould cost you your life did you chance to +win o’er him. Do you think those devils with the +guns would not murder to win favour of the Snow-Burner, +him holding the lives and liberty of all of +them in his hands as he does? Nay, lad! Fight ye +must; you’re both too big and spirited to meet without +coming to grips; but you have aye the need of an +old head on your side if you’re to stand up with +Reivers on even terms. +</p> +<p> +“What think you he would fancy, did you go to +him with a confident bold challenge as you suggest? +That you had a trick up your sleeve, with the men +in on it, perhaps; and he’d have the guards there +with their guns to see he won as sure as we’re sitting +here talking. No; I ha’ seen for weeks ’twas coming +on, and I ha’ been using this auld head o’ mine. I may +even say I ha’ been doing more than thinking; I ha’ +been talking. I have told Reivers that you were +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147'></a>147</span> +becoming unbearable in this shop, and that I could +not stand you much longer as my helper.” +</p> +<p> +Toppy looked across the table, amazed and pained. +</p> +<p> +“Why—what’s wrong, Scotty?” he stammered. +</p> +<p> +“Tush, lad!” snapped the old man. “Dinna think +I meant it. I only told Reivers so for the effect.” +</p> +<p> +Toppy was bewildered. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t see what you’re driving at, Scotty.” +</p> +<p> +“Listen, then; I ha’ told Reivers that you were getting +the swell head so bad there was no working you. +I ha’ told him you were at heart nothing but a fresh +young whiffet who needed taming, and gi’n he made +me keep you here I mysel’ would do the taming with +an ax-handle. Do you begin to get my drift now, +lad?” +</p> +<p> +“I confess I don’t,” admitted Toppy. +</p> +<p> +“Well, then—Reivers said: ‘That’s how I sized +him up, too. But don’t you do the taming, Campbell,’ +says he. ‘I am saving him for mysel’,’ he says. ‘But +I will not put up with his lip longer,’ said I. ‘Man, +Reivers,’ I says, ‘he thinks he’s a fighter, and the other +day I slammed him on his back mysel’; and gi’n I +had my old wind,’ I says, ‘I would have whipped him +then and there.’ +</p> +<p> +“Oh, carried on strong, losing my temper and all. +‘Five year ago I would ha’ broken his back, the big +young fool!’ I says. ‘An’ he swaggers around me +and thinks he’s a boss man because he licked that bloat +Sheedy. Ah!’ I says. ‘I’ll stand it till he gives me lip +again; then I’ll lay him out with whatever I have in +my hands,’ says I. +</p> +<p> +“‘Don’t do it,’ says Reivers, smiling to see me so +worked up, and surmising, as I intended he should, +that I was angry only because I’d discovered that +you were a better man than mysel’. ‘Save him for me,’ +says he. ‘As soon as I have more time I will ’tend to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148'></a>148</span> +him. In the meantime,’ he says, ‘let him go on thinking +he is a good man.’ +</p> +<p> +“Lad, he swallowed it all, for it’s four years since +he knew me first, and that was the first lie I’d told him +at all. ‘I’ll take him under my eye soon as I have +more time,’ says he. ‘He’ll not swagger after I’ve +tamed him a little.’” +</p> +<p> +“But I don’t just see——” +</p> +<p> +“Dolt! Dinna you see that noo he considers you as +an overconfident young fool whom he’s going to take +the conceit out of? Dinna ye see that noo you’re in +the same category as the other men he’s broken down? +He’ll not think it worth while to have his shotgun +men handy noo when he starts in to do his breaking. +He’ll start it, ye understand; not you. ’Twill be +proper so. I will go this morning and tell him that +the end has come; that I can not stand you longer +around me. He’ll give you something to do—under +him. Under him, do you see? Then you must e’en +watch your chance, and—and happen I’ll manage to +be around in case the guards should show up.” +</p> +<p> +“Better keep out of it altogether,” said Toppy. +“They won’t use their guns in an even fight, and you +couldn’t do anything with your bare hands if they did.” +</p> +<p> +“With my bare hands, no,” said Campbell, going +to his bunk. “But I am not so bare-handed as you +think, lad.” He dug under the blankets and held up +a huge black revolver. “Canny by nature!” he said; +thrusting the grim weapon under his trousers-band. +“I made no idle threat when I told Reivers I would +shoot his head off did he ever try to make a broken +man out of me. I have had this utensil handy ever +since.” +</p> +<p> +“Scotty,” cried Toppy, deeply moved at the old +man’s staunch friendship, “when did you begin to plan +this scheme?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149'></a>149</span> +</p> +<p> +Campbell looked squarely into his eyes. +</p> +<p> +“The same day that I talked with yon lassie and +learned how Reivers had fascinated her.” +</p> +<p> +“Why?” +</p> +<p> +“Dinna ye know nothing about women, lad?” +</p> +<p> +“I——What do you mean?” +</p> +<p> +“Do you fancy Reivers could carry his will so strong +with folks gi’n ye happen to make a beaten man out +of him? And do you not think yon lass would come +back to her right mind gi’n the Snow-Burner loses +his power o’er her? You’re no’ so blind as not to +see she’s no liking for him, but the de’il has in a way +mesmerised her.” +</p> +<p> +“Then you mean——” +</p> +<p> +“That when you and the Snow-Burner put up your +mitts ye’ll be fighting for more than just to see who’s +best man. Now think that over, lad, while I go and +complain to Reivers that I can not stand you an +hour longer, and arrange for him to give you your +taming.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150'></a>150</span><a name='chXIX' id='chXIX'></a>CHAPTER XIX—THE FIGHT</h2> +<p> +It was past sunrise now; the mugginess in the +air had fled before the unclouded sun, and the day +was pleasantly bright and warm. The sunlight coming +in through the eastern window flooded the room. +Outside could be heard the steady <i>drip-drip</i> from the +melting icicles, and the chirp of the chickadees industriously +seeking a breakfast around the door made +the morning cheery. +</p> +<p> +Toppy sat heaved forward in his chair after Campbell +had gone on his errand, and looked out of the +open door, and waited. From where he sat he could +see the office across the way. Presently he saw Miss +Pearson come out, stand for a moment in the doorway +peering around in puzzled fashion, and go in +again. +</p> +<p> +Toppy did not move. He knew what that signified—that +the girl was puzzled and perhaps frightened +over the absence of the squaw, Tilly; but he had no +impulse to cross the street and break the news to her. +The girl, Tilly’s absence, such things were to him +only incidentals now. He saw the girl as if far away, +as if she were something that did not greatly concern +him. +</p> +<p> +Through his mind there ran recollections of other +moments like this—moments of waiting in the training-quarters +back at school for the word of the coach +to trot out on the field. The same ease of spirit after +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151'></a>151</span> +the tension of weeks of hard training; the same sinking +of all worry and nervousness in the knowledge that +now that the test was on he would do the best that was +in him, and that beyond this there was nothing for +a man to think or worry about. +</p> +<p> +Back there at school there had also been that sense +of dissociation from all things not involved in the +contest before him. The roaring stands, the pretty +girls waving the bright-hued banners, the sound of +his name shouted far down the field—he had heard +them, but they had not affected him. For the time +being, then as now, he had become a wonderful human +machine, completely concentrated, as machines +must be, upon the accomplishment of one task. Then +it had been to play a game; now it was to fight. But +it was much the same, after all; it was all in the man-game. +</p> +<p> +A feeling of content was the only emotion that +Toppy was conscious of in the long minutes during +which he waited for Campbell to return. The <i>drip-drip</i> +from the eaves and the chirp of the chickadees +came as music to his ears. The Snow-Burner and +he were going to fight; in that knowledge there was +relief after the weeks of tension. +</p> +<p> +Heavy, crunching steps sounded on the snow outside, +and Campbell’s broad shoulders filled the doorway. +Toppy bent over and carefully tightened a +shoe-lace. +</p> +<p> +“It’s all set,” said Campbell rapidly. “He says send +you to him at once. You’re in luck. He’s in the +stockade. Get you up and go to him. There is only +one guard at the gate. I’ll follow and be handy in +case he should interfere.” +</p> +<p> +That was all. Toppy rose up and strode out without +a word. He made his way to the stockade gate +with a carelessness of manner that belied his purpose. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152'></a>152</span> +He noted that the guard stood on the outside of the +gate and that the snow already was squashy underfoot. +The gate opened and admitted him and closed +behind him. Then he was walking across the yard +toward Reivers, who stood waiting before the camp +kitchen at the far end of the yard. +</p> +<p> +Here and there Toppy saw men in the bunkhouses, +perhaps fifty in all, and realised that the sudden thaw +had at once enforced a period of idleness for some +of the men. He nodded lightly in response to the +greeting from one of the men whom he had doctored; +then he was standing before Reivers, and Reivers was +looking at him as he had looked at Rosky the day +when he broke the Bohunk’s leg. Toppy looked back, +unmoved. For a moment the two stood silent, eye +measuring eye. Then Reivers spoke savagely, enraged +at finding a will that braved his own. +</p> +<p> +“What kind of a game are you trying to play, Treplin?” +</p> +<p> +“Game?” repeated Toppy innocently. +</p> +<p> +“Come, come!” Reivers’ brows were drawing down +over his eyes, and again Toppy for some reason was +reminded of a bear. “You don’t suppose I’m as innocent +as Campbell, do you? You’ve been raising —— +in the shop, I hear. You’re doing that with an object. +You’re trying some game. I don’t care what it is; +it doesn’t go. There doesn’t anybody try any games +in this place except myself.” +</p> +<p> +“How about poker-games?” suggested Toppy +quietly. +</p> +<p> +A man hidden in the darkness of the bunkhouse behind +Reivers snickered audibly; for Campbell had told +the story of how Toppy had bested the boss at poker +and the man understood Toppy’s thrust. Reivers’ +eyes flashed and his jaw shot out, but in an instant +he had his anger under control again. He smiled. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153'></a>153</span> +</p> +<p> +“Well, well; so we’re playing the wit, are we—doctor?” +he sneered softly. “We’re trying to drive that +trained mind of ours to be brilliant, are we? Well, +I wouldn’t, Treplin; the strain on inferior machinery +may be fatal.” Suddenly his whole face seemed to +change, convulsed in a spasm of brute threatening. +“Get over there in that corner and dig a slop-sink; you +hear me?” Reivers’ voice was a snarl as he pointed +to the corner near the kitchen, where a pick and shovel +lay waiting. “That’s what you’re going to do, my fine +buck, with your nerve to dare to come into my camp +and think you’re my equal. Dig slop-holes for my +Dago cook; that’s what you’re going to do! +</p> +<p> +“Do you hear? You’re going to be the lowest +scavenger in this gang of scum. I’m going to break +you. I’m going to keep you here until I’m through +with you. I’m going to send you out of here so low +down that a saloon scrub-out would kick you on general +principles. That’s what’s going to happen to you! +I’m going to play with you. I’m going to show you +how well it pays to think of yourself as my equal in +my own camp. Get over there now—right over there +where the whole camp can see you, and dig a hole +for the Dago to throw his slops!” +</p> +<p> +Few men could have faced the sight of the Snow-Burner’s +face as the words shot from his iron-like +lips without retreating, but Toppy stood still. He began +to smile. +</p> +<p> +“Pardon, Reivers,” he said softly, “I never thought +of myself as your equal.” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t whine now; it’s too late! Go——” +</p> +<p> +“Because I know I’m a better man than you ever +could be.” +</p> +<p> +It grew very still with great suddenness there in +the corner of the big yard. The men within hearing +held their breaths. The <i>drip-drip</i> from the eaves +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154'></a>154</span> +sounded loud in the silence. And now Toppy saw the +wolf-craft creeping to its own far back in Reivers’ +eyes, and without moving he stood tensed for sudden, +flash-like action. +</p> +<p> +“So that’s it?” said Reivers, smiling; and then he +struck with serpent-tongue swiftness. And with that +blow Toppy knew how desperate would be the battle; +for, skilled boxer and on the alert as he was, he had +time only to snap his jaw to one side far enough to +save himself from certain knockout, while the iron-like +fist tore the skin off his cheek as it shot past. +</p> +<p> +Reivers had not thrown his body behind the blow. +He stood upright and ready. He was a little surprised +that his man did not go down. Toppy, recovering +like a flash, likewise was prepared. A tiny instant they +faced each other. Then with simultaneous growls +they hurled themselves breast to breast and the fight +was on. +</p> +<p> +Toppy had yielded to the impulse to answer in kind +the challenge that had flared in Reivers’ eyes. It +wasn’t science; it wasn’t sense. It was the blind, +primitive impulse to come into shock with a foe, to +stop him, to force him back, to make him break ground. +Breast upon breast Reivers and Toppy came together +and stopped short, two bodies of equal force suddenly +meeting. +</p> +<p> +Neither gave ground; neither made a pretense at +guarding. Toe to toe they stood, head to head, and +drove their fists against one another’s iron-strong +bodies with a rapidity and a force that only giants +like themselves could have withstood for a moment. +It was madness, it was murder, and the group of men +who were watching held their breaths and waited for +one or the other to wilt and go down, the life knocked +out of him by those pile-driver blows. +</p> +<p> +Then, as suddenly as they had come together, the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155'></a>155</span> +pair leaped apart, rushed together again, gripped into +a clinch, struggled in Titan fashion with futile heaving +and tripping, flew apart once more, then volleyed +each other with vicious punches—a kaleidoscope of +springing legs, rushing bodies, and stiffly driven arms. +</p> +<p> +It was a battle that drove the fear of Reivers from +the heart of the men who witnessed and dragged them +forth to form a ring around the two fighters. It was +a battle to make men roar with frenzy; but not a sound +came from the ring that expanded and closed as the +battle raged here and there. The men were at first too +shocked to cry out at the sight of any one daring to +give the Snow-Burner fight; and after the shock had +worn away they were too wary to give a sign that +might bring the guards. Silently and tight-lipped the +ring formed; and each pair of eyes that watched shot +nothing but hatred for Reivers. +</p> +<p> +Toppy was the first to recover from the initial +frensied impulse to strive to annihilate in one rush +his hated enemy. He shook his head as he was wont +to do after a hard scrimmage on the gridiron, and his +fighting-wits were clear again. So far he knew he +had held his own, but only held it. Perhaps he out-bulked +Reivers slightly in body and was a trifle quicker +on his feet, but Reivers’ blows were enough heavier +than his to even up this advantage. +</p> +<p> +He had driven his fist flush home on his foreman’s +neck under the ear, and the neck had not yielded +any more than a column of wood. He had felt +Reivers’ fist drive home full on his cheekbone and it +seemed that he had been struck by a handful of iron. +When they had strained breast against breast in the +first clash the fact that they were of equal strength +had been apparent to both. Equally matched, and +both equally determined to win, Toppy knew that the +fight would be long; and he began to circle scientifically, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156'></a>156</span> +striking and guarding with all his cunning, saving +himself while he watched for a slip or an opening +that might offer an advantage. +</p> +<p> +Suddenly the opening came, as Reivers for a second +paused, deceived by Toppy’s tactics. Like a bullet +to the mark Toppy’s right shot home on the exposed +chin; but Reivers, felled to his knees as if shot, was +up like a flash, staggering Toppy with a left on the +mouth and rushing him around and around in fury +at the knockdown. An added grimness to Toppy’s +expression told how he appreciated the significance of +this incident. He had put all his force, from toes to +knuckles, into that blow; and Reivers had merely been +staggered. Again Toppy began circling, deliberately +saving himself for a drawn-out battle which now to +him seemed uphill. +</p> +<p> +The ring of watchers around the pair grew more +close, more eager. All of the men present in the +bunkhouses had rushed out to see the fight. As Toppy +circled he saw in the foremost ranks the Torta boys +and most of the gang that had worked under him in +the quarry; and by the looks in their eyes he knew +that he was fighting in the presence of friends. In the +next second their looks had turned to dismay as Reivers, +swiftly feinting with his left, drove home the right +against Toppy’s jaw and knocked him to his haunches. +But Toppy, rising slowly, caught Reivers as he closed +in to follow up his advantage and with a heavy swing +to the eye stopped him in his tracks. A low cry escaped +the tight lips around the ring. The blood was spurting +from a clean cut in Reivers’ brow and a few men +called— +</p> +<p> +“First blood!” +</p> +<p> +Then Toppy spat out the blood he had held in after +Reivers’ blow. The feel of the blood running down +his face turned Reivers to a fury. He rushed with an +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157'></a>157</span> +impetuosity which nothing could withstand, his fists +playing a tattoo on Toppy’s head and body. Like a +tiger Toppy fought back; but Reivers’ rage for the +moment had given him added strength. He fought as +a man who intends to end a fight in a hurry; he rushed +and struck with power to annihilate with one blow, and +rushed and struck again. +</p> +<p> +Toppy was pressed back. A groan came from the +crowd as they saw him stagger from a blow on the jaw +and saw Reivers set himself for one last desperate +effort. Reivers rushed, his face the face of a demon, +his left ripping up for the body, his right looping +overhand in a killing swing at the head; and then +the crowd gasped, for Toppy, with his superior quickness +of foot, side-stepped and as Reivers plunged past +dealt him a left in the mouth that flung him half around +and sent him staggering against the outheld hands of +the crowd. +</p> +<p> +When Reivers turned around now he was bleeding +from the mouth also, and in his eyes was a look of +caution that Toppy had never seen there before. +</p> +<p> +The fight now became as dogged as it was furious. +Each man had tried to end it with a single and, failing, +knew that he must wear his opponent down. +Neither had been seriously damaged by the blows +struck and neither was in the least tired. The thud +of blow followed blow. Back and forth the pair +shuffled, first one driving the other with volleys of +punches, then his antagonist suddenly turning the +tables. +</p> +<p> +Toppy, feeling that he was fighting an uphill fight, +saved himself more than Reivers. The latter, who +felt himself the master, became more and more enraged +as Toppy continued to stand up before him and +give him back as good as he gave. Each time that +Toppy reached face or body with a solid blow the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158'></a>158</span> +savage fury flared in Reivers’ eyes, and he lunged forward +like a maddened bull. Always, however, he +recovered himself and resumed the fight with brains +as well as brawn. +</p> +<p> +Toppy never lost his head after the first wild spasm. +He realised that they were so evenly matched that +the loser would lose by a slip of the mind by letting +some weak spot in his character master him; and he +held himself in with an iron will. Reivers’ blows +goaded and tempted him to rush in madly, but he held +back. The men about the ring thought he was losing, +and their voices rose in growled encouragement. +</p> +<p> +Toppy was not losing. As he saw Reivers become +more and more furious his hopes began to rise. At +each opportunity he reached Reivers’ face, cutting open +his other eye, bringing the blood from his nose, stinging +him into added furies. Toppy was knocked down +several times in the rushes that invariably followed +such blows, but each time he recovered himself before +Reivers could rush upon him. Suddenly his fighting-instinct +telegraphed him that Reivers was about to +try something new. He drew back a little, Reivers +following closely. Suddenly it came. Without warning +Reivers kicked. The blow took Toppy in the +groin and he stumbled backward from its force. A cry +of rage went up from the watching men. But Toppy +sprung erect in an instant. +</p> +<p> +“All right!” he called. “It didn’t hurt me. Shut +up, you fools.” +</p> +<p> +Thanks to his training, his hard muscles had turned +the kick and saved him from being disabled. +</p> +<p> +“What’s the matter, Reivers?” he taunted as he circled +carefully. “Losing confidence in your fists? Got +to use your feet, eh? Lost your kick, too, haven’t +you? Well, well! Then you certainly are in for a fine +trimming!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159'></a>159</span> +</p> +<p> +Again Reivers kicked, this time aiming low at the +shin-bone; but Toppy avoided it easily and danced +back with a laugh. +</p> +<p> +“Can’t even land it any more!” Treplin chuckled. +“Show us some more tricks, Reivers!” +</p> +<p> +Reivers had thrown off all restraint now. He fought +with lowered head, and Toppy once more, as he saw +the eyes watching him through the thick brows, +thought of a bear. The savagery at the root of Reivers’ +character was coming to the top. It was mastering, +choking down his intelligence. He struck and +kicked and gnashed his teeth; and curses rolled in a +steady stream from his lips. One kick landed on +Toppy’s thigh with a thud. +</p> +<p> +“Here, bahass!” screamed a voice to Toppy, and +from somewhere in the crowd an ax was pitched at +his feet. +</p> +<p> +Laughingly Toppy kicked the weapon to one side, +and, though in deep pain from the last kick, continued +fighting as if nothing had happened. +</p> +<p> +The savage now dominating Reivers had seen and +been caught by the sight of the flashing steel. A +gleam of animal cunning showed in the depths of his +ferocious eyes. To cripple, to kill, to destroy with +one terrible stroke—that was his single passion. The +axe opened the way. +</p> +<p> +Craftily he began rushing systematically. Little +by little he drove Toppy back. Closer and closer he +came to the spot where the axe lay on the ground. +Once more Toppy’s instinct warned him that Reivers +was after a terrible <i>coup</i>, and once more his whole +mind and body responded with extra vigilance. +</p> +<p> +As he circled, presently he felt the axe under his +feet and understood. He saw that Reivers was systematically +working toward the weapon, though apparently +unconscious of its existence. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160'></a>160</span> +</p> +<p> +It was in Toppy’s mind to dance away, to call out +to the men to remove the axe; but before he could +do so something had whispered to him to hold his +tongue. He continued to retreat slowly, fighting back +at every inch. +</p> +<p> +Now he had stepped beyond the axe. +</p> +<p> +Now it lay between him and Reivers. +</p> +<p> +Now it lay beneath Reivers’ feet, and now, as +Reivers stooped to pick it up, Toppy, like a tiger, +flung himself forward. It was what he had foreseen, +what had made him hold his tongue. +</p> +<p> +The savage in Reivers had made him reach for the +weapon; the calmly reasoning brain in Toppy’s head +had foreseen that in that lay his advantage. It was +for only an instant, a few eye-winks, that Reivers +paused and bent over for the axe; but as Toppy had +flung himself forward at the psychological moment +it was enough. Reivers was bent over with his hand +on the axe, and for a flash he had left the spot behind +his left ear exposed. +</p> +<p> +Toppy’s fist, swung from far behind him, struck the +spot with the sound of a pistol crack. Reivers, stooped +as he was, rolled over and over and lay still. Toppy +first picked up the axe and threw it far out of reach. +Then he turned to Reivers, who was rising slowly, a +string of foul curses on his lips. +</p> +<p> +Toppy set himself as the Snow-Burner came forward. +His left lifted Reivers from his feet. Even +while he was in the air, Toppy’s right followed on +the jaw. The Snow-Burner wavered. Then Toppy, +drawing a long breath, called into play all the strength +he had been saving. He struck and struck again so +rapidly that the eye could not follow, and each blow +found its mark; and each was of deadly power. +</p> +<p> +He drove Reivers backward. He drove him as he +willed. He beat him till he saw Reivers’ eyes grow +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161'></a>161</span> +glassy. Then he stepped back. The almost superhuman +strength of Reivers had kept him on his feet +until now in spite of the pitiless storm of blows. Now +he swayed back and forth once. His breath came +in gasps. His arms fell inert, his eyes closed slowly; +and as a great tree falls—slowly at first, then with a +sudden crash—the Snow-Burner toppled and fell face +downward on the ground. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162'></a>162</span><a name='chXX' id='chXX'></a>CHAPTER XX—TOPPY’S WAY</h2> +<p> +Toppy stood and looked down at his vanquished +foe. The convulsive rise and fall of his breast +as he panted for breath told how desperately and +savagely he had fought. Now as he stood victorious +and looked down upon the man he had conquered, the +chivalry innate in him began to stir with respect and +even pity for the man whom he had beaten. He looked +at Reivers’ bloody face as, the head turned on one +side, it lay nuzzled helplessly against the soft ground. +A wave of revulsion, the aftermath of his fury, passed +over him, and he drew his hand slowly across his eyes +as if to shut out the sight of the havoc that his fists +had wrought. +</p> +<p> +And now happened the inevitable. Toppy had not +foreseen it, never had dreamed it possible. But now +the men who had watched cried aloud their hatred of +the big man who lay before them. The king-man, +their master, was down! Upright, they would have +quailed before his mere look. But now he was down! +The man who had mastered them, broken them, +tortured them, lay helpless there before them. The +courage and hate of slaves suddenly in power over +their master flamed through them. This was their +chance; they had him now. +</p> +<p> +“We got him! Kill him! Come on! Finish him!” +they roared, and threw themselves like a pack of +wolves upon the prostrate man. Even as they rushed +Reivers raised his head in returning consciousness; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163'></a>163</span> +then he went down under a shower of heavily booted +feet. +</p> +<p> +With a bellow of command Toppy flung himself +forward. He knew quite well that this was what +Reivers deserved; he had even at times hoped that the +men some time would have the opportunity for such +revenge. But now he discovered that he couldn’t +stand by and see it done. It wasn’t in him. Reivers +was down, fairly beaten in a hard fight. He was +helpless. Toppy’s rage suddenly swerved from Reivers +to the men who were trying to kick the life out of him. +</p> +<p> +“Back! Get back there, I say!” he ordered. +</p> +<p> +He reached in and threw men right and left. He +knocked others down. One he picked up and used +as a battering-ram, and so he fought his way in and +cleared the rabble away from Reivers. Reivers with +more than human tenaciousness had retained a glimmer +of consciousness. He saw Toppy standing astride +of him fighting for his life. And in that beaten, +desperate moment Reivers laughed once more. +</p> +<p> +“You’re a —— fool, Treplin,” said he. “You’d +better let them finish the job.” +</p> +<p> +Toppy dragged him to his feet. A gleam of mastery +flashed over the Snow-Burner as he felt himself +standing upright. He swung to face the men. +</p> +<p> +“Out of the way there, you scum!” he ordered, in +his old manner. The men laughed in reply. The +spell had been broken. The men had seen the Snow-Burner +knocked down and beaten. They had seen that +Toppy was his master. They had kicked him; they +had had him under them. No longer did he stand +apart and above them. They cursed him and swarmed +in, striking, kicking, hauling, and dragged him to the +ground. +</p> +<p> +“Give him to us, bahss!” they cried. “Let us kill +him, bahss!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164'></a>164</span> +</p> +<p> +Some of them hung back. They did not wish to run +contrary to the wishes of Toppy, their “bahss” and +champion. Toppy once more got Reivers on his feet +and dragged him toward the gate. A knife or two +gleamed in the crowd. +</p> +<p> +“Run for the gate!” cried Toppy. Reivers tottered +a few steps and fell. Over him Toppy stormed, +fought, commanded, but the mob pressed constantly +closer. Then, suddenly, they stopped striking. They +began to break. Toppy, looking around for the reason, +saw Campbell and a guard running toward them—Campbell +with his big revolver, the guard with his +gun at a ready. With a last tremendous effort he +picked Reivers up in his arms and ran to meet them. +He heard the guard fire once, heard Campbell ordering +the men to stand back; then he staggered out of the +stockade and dropped his heavy burden on the ground. +Behind him Campbell and the guard slammed shut +the gate, and within the cries and curses of the men +rose in one awful wail, the cry of a blood-mob cheated +of its prey. +</p> +<p> +Reivers rose slowly, first to his hands and knees, +then to his feet. He looked at Toppy, and the only +expression upon his face was a sneer. +</p> +<p> +“You —— fool!” he laughed. “You poor weak +sister! You’ll be sorry before morning that you didn’t +let the men finish that job!” +</p> +<p> +He turned, and without another word went staggering +away to the building where he and the guards +lived. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165'></a>165</span><a name='chXXI' id='chXXI'></a>CHAPTER XXI—THE END OF THE BOSS</h2> +<p> +Back in the shop Campbell went to work with a +will to doctor up Toppy’s battered face. +</p> +<p> +“I dunno, lad, I dunno,” he muttered as he patched +up the ragged cuts. “It was the poetry of justice +that the men should have had him, but I dunno that +I could ha’ left him lie there myself.” +</p> +<p> +“Of course you couldn’t,” said Toppy. “A man +can’t do that sort of thing. But, say, Campbell, what +do you suppose he meant about being sorry before +morning because I saved him?” +</p> +<p> +Although he had won in the contest which he had +so longed for, although he had proved and knew that +he was a better man than Reivers, Toppy for some +reason experienced none of the elation which he had +expected. The thing wasn’t settled. Reivers was still +fighting. He was still boss of Hell Camp. He was +fighting with craft now. What had that final threat +meant? +</p> +<p> +“It has to do with the lass; I’ll wager on that,” said +Campbell. “He will aye be taking his revenge on +her. I know the man; he has that way.” +</p> +<p> +“The dog!” +</p> +<p> +“Aye.—Hold still wi’ that ear now.—Aye; it’s the +way of the man, as I know him. But I’m thinking +some one else will play dog, too. Watchdog, I mean. +And I’m thinking the same will be mysel’.” +</p> +<p> +“You don’t think he’ll try——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166'></a>166</span> +</p> +<p> +“The Snow-Burner will try anything if his mind’s +set. Even force.—Hold still wi’ your chin.—You +licked him fair, lad. ’Twas a great fight. You’re best +man. But I’m glad I have my shooting-utensil handy, +for if I’m any judge Hell Camp will aye deserve its +name to-night.” +</p> +<p> +“What do you think will happen?” +</p> +<p> +“’Tis hard to say. But ’tis sure Reivers means to +do something desperate, and as I know the man ’tis +something that concerns the lass. Then there are the +men. They have tasted blood. They have seen the +Snow-Burner beaten. His grip has been torn off them. +They’re no longer afraid. When the working gangs +come in this noon and hear the story there’ll be nothing +can hold them from doing what they please. You +know what that will be. They’re wild to break loose. +Gi’n they lay hands on Reivers they’ll tear him and +the camp to pieces. Aye, there’ll be things stirring +here before evening, or I’m a dolt.” +</p> +<p> +True to Campbell’s prediction, the stockade shook +with cheers, roars and curses that noon when the +working men came in and heard the tale of the Snow-Burner’s +downfall. The discipline of the camp vanished +with those shouts. The men were no longer +cowed. They were free and unafraid. After they had +eaten, the straw-bosses and guards prepared to lead +them back to their work. +</p> +<p> +The men laughed. The bosses joined them. The +guards threatened. The men jeered. Reivers, the +only force that had kept them cowed, was lying beaten +and helpless in his bunk, and not even the shotguns +of the guards could cow the fierce spirit that had +broken loose in the men when they heard this news. +</p> +<p> +“Shoot, —— you, shoot!” they jeered at the guards. +</p> +<p> +The guards faltered. The whole camp was in revolt +and they knew that as sure as one shot was fired the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167'></a>167</span> +men would rush at no matter how great the cost +to themselves. There were a hundred and fifty maddened, +desperate men in the camp now, instead of a +hundred and fifty cattle; and the guards, minus Reivers’ +leadership, retreated to their quarters and locked +the door. +</p> +<p> +The men did not go back to work. Not an axe, peavey +or cant-hook was touched; not a team was hitched +up. The men swaggered and shouted for Reivers +to come out and boss them. They begged him to come +out. They wanted to talk with him. They had a lot +to tell him. They wouldn’t hurt him—no, they would +only give him a little of his own medicine! +</p> +<p> +However, they gave the guards’ house a wide berth, +on account of the deadly shotguns. The short afternoon +passed quickly and the darkness came on. +</p> +<p> +Toppy and Campbell were sitting down to supper +when they noticed that it was unusually light in the +direction of the stockade. Presently there was a roaring +crackling; then a chorus of cries, demonlike in +their ferocity. Toppy sprang to the window and staggered +back at the sight that met his eyes. +</p> +<p> +“Great Scot, Campbell! Look, look!” he cried. +“They’ve fired the camp!” +</p> +<p> +Together they rushed to the door. From the farther +end of the stockade a billow of red, pitchy flame was +sweeping up into the night, and the roar and crackle +of the dried pine logs burning was drowned in the +cries of the men as they cheered the results of their +handiwork. +</p> +<p> +Toppy and Campbell ran toward the stockade gate. +The gate had been chopped to pieces, but the guards, +from the shelter of their building, were shooting at the +opening and preventing the men from rushing out. +The flames at the far end of the stockade rose higher +and fiercer as they began to get their hold on the pitchy +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168'></a>168</span> +wood. The smoke, billowing low, came driving back +into the faces of Campbell and Toppy. +</p> +<p> +“They’ve done it up brown now!” swore Campbell. +“The wind’s this way. The whole camp will go unless +yon fire’s checked.” +</p> +<p> +Over the front of the stockade something flew +through the darkness, its parabola marked by a string +of sparks that spluttered behind it. It fell near one +side of the guards’ quarters. A second later it exploded +with a noise and shock that shook the whole +camp. +</p> +<p> +“Dynamite,” said Scotty. “The men have been +stealing it and saving it for this occasion. Gi’n one +of those sticks lands on that building there’ll be dead +men inside.” +</p> +<p> +But the men inside evidently had no mind to wait +for such a catastrophe. They came rushing out in +the darkness, slipping quickly out of sight, yet firing +at the gate as they went. One of them rushed past +Toppy in the direction of the office. Toppy scarcely +noticed him. On second thought something about +the man’s great size, his broad shoulders, the hang of +his arms, attracted him. He turned to look; the man +had vanished in the dark. A vague uneasiness took +possession of Toppy. For a moment he stood puzzled. +</p> +<p> +“My ——!” he cried suddenly. “That was Reivers, +and he was going to her!” +</p> +<p> +He started in pursuit. Reivers was pounding on +the door of the office when Toppy reached him. The +door was locked. +</p> +<p> +“Open up; open up at once!” he ordered. Beyond +the door Toppy heard the voice of the girl. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, please, please, Mr. Reivers! I’m afraid!” +</p> +<p> +Reivers’ tone changed. +</p> +<p> +“Nothing to be afraid of, Miss Pearson,” he said +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169'></a>169</span> +blandly. “There’s a fire in camp. I want to get in to +save the books and papers.” +</p> +<p> +“Is that why you sent Tilly away this morning?” +said Toppy quietly, coming up behind him. +</p> +<p> +Reivers turned with a start. +</p> +<p> +“Hello, Treplin!” he said, recovering himself instantly. +“No hard feelings, I hope.” His manner was +so at ease that Toppy was thrown off his guard. +</p> +<p> +“I won’t make the mistake of fighting with you any +more, Treplin,” continued Reivers. “Look at the way +you’ve spoiled my nose. You ought to fix that up for +me. Look at it.” +</p> +<p> +He came closer and pointed with two fingers to +his broken nose. Toppy, unsuspecting, leaned forward. +Before he could move head or arms Reivers’ +two hands had shot out and fastened like two iron +claws upon his unprotected throat. +</p> +<p> +“Now, —— you!” hissed Reivers. “Tear me loose +or kiss your life good-by.” +</p> +<p> +And Toppy tried to tear him loose—tried with a +desperation born of the sudden knowledge that his +life depended upon it; and failed. The Snow-Burner +had got his death-hold. His arms were like bars of +steel; his fingers yielded no more to Toppy’s tugging +than claws of moulded iron. “Struggle, —— you! +Fight, —— you!” hissed Reivers. “That’s right; die +hard; for, by ——, you’re done now!” +</p> +<p> +The eyes seemed starting from Toppy’s head. His +brains seemed to be bursting. He felt a strange emptiness +in his chest. Things went red, then they began +to go black. He made one final futile attempt. He +felt his legs sinking, felt his whole body sagging, felt +that the end had come; then heard as if far away the +office-door fly open, heard the girl crying—— +</p> +<p> +“Stop, Mr. Reivers, or I’ll shoot!” +</p> +<p> +Then the roar of a shot. He felt the hands loosen +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170'></a>170</span> +on his throat, swayed and fell sidewise as the whole +world turned black. +</p> +<p> +He opened his eyes soon and saw by the light of the +rising flames that Campbell was running toward him. +In the doorway of the office stood the girl, her left +hand over her eyes, Campbell’s big black revolver in +her right. Down the road, with strange, drunken +steps, Reivers was running toward the river. Behind +him ran half a dozen men armed with axes screaming +his name in rage, but Reivers, despite his queer gait, +was distancing his pursuers. It was some time before +Toppy grasped the significance of these sights. Then +he remembered. +</p> +<p> +“You—you saved me,” he said clumsily, rising to +his feet. The girl dropped the revolver and burst into +a fit of sobbing. +</p> +<p> +“’Twas aye handy I thought of giving her the gun +and telling her to keep the door locked,” said Campbell. +“Do you go in, lassie. All’s well. Go in.” +</p> +<p> +“Eh? What’s this?” he cried, for in spite of her +sobbing she drew sharply away from his sheltering +arm as he tried to usher her indoors. +</p> +<p> +The smoke from the fire swept down into their +faces in a choking cloud. Toppy looked toward the +stockade. By this time the whole end of the great +building was in flames. The men in pursuit of Reivers +were howling as they gained on their quarry, and +Toppy lurched after them. +</p> +<p> +“Bob! Mr. Treplin!” +</p> +<p> +Toppy stopped. +</p> +<p> +“I mean—Mr. Treplin—you—don’t go down there—you’re +hurt—please!” +</p> +<p> +Toppy moved toward her. Was it true? Was it +really there the note in her voice that he yearned +to hear? +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171'></a>171</span> +</p> +<p> +“What did you say—please?” he stammered. +</p> +<p> +And now it was her turn to be confused. The sobs +came back to her. Toppy took a long breath and +nerved himself to desperation. +</p> +<p> +“Helen!” he said hoarsely. +</p> +<p> +“Bob! Oh, Bob!” she whispered. “Don’t leave +me—don’t leave me alone.” +</p> +<p> +Once more Toppy filled his lungs with air and +ground his teeth in desperate resolution. He tried +to speak, but only a gurgling sound came from his +throat; so he held out his big arms in mute appeal, +and suddenly he found himself whispering incoherently +at a little blonde head which lay snuggled in great +content against his bosom. +</p> +<p> +A maddened yell came from the men who were +after Reivers. But Toppy and the girl might have +been a thousand miles away for all the attention they +paid. One end of the stockade fell in with a great +roar and a shower of flame and sparks; but the twain +did not hear. +</p> +<p> +“Aye, aye!” Old Campbell moved swiftly away. +“He’s a grown man now, and so he’s a right to have +his woman.—Aye. A real man he had to be to take +her away from the Snow-Burner.” +</p> +<p> +Down by the river the pursuing men gave tongue +to a cry with the note of the wolf in it. +</p> +<p> +Campbell turned from the young couple and stared +with gleaming eyes in the direction whence came the +cry. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, Reivers!” he murmured. “Ye great man gone +wrong! How goes it with ye now, Reivers? Can ye +win through? Can ye? I wonder—I wonder!” +</p> +<p> +And as Toppy and Helen, holding closely to one +another, entered the office building, the old man hastened +to join the throng by the river where the fate of +the Snow-Burner was being spun. +</p> +<p class='center fs12' style='margin-top:3em;'>PART TWO: THE SUPER MAN</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175'></a>175</span><a name='chXXII' id='chXXII'></a>CHAPTER XXII—THE CHEATING OF THE RIVER</h2> +<p> +“It’s got him! The river’s got him. He’s +drowned! ‘Hell-Camp’ Reivers—he’s gone. +He’s done for. The ‘Snow-Burner’ is dead, dead +dead!” +</p> +<p> +Like wolves in revolt the men of “Hell Camp” lined +the bank of the rushing, ice-choked river and cursed +and roared into the blackness of the night. Behind +them the buildings of the camp, scene of the Snow-Burner’s +inhuman brutality and dominance over the +lives of men, were going up in seas of flame which they +had started. +</p> +<p> +Before them the tumultuous river, the waters battling +the ice which strove to cover it, tossed black and +white under the red glow of tumbling fire. And somewhere +out in the murderous current, whirled and +sucked down by the rushing water, buffeted and +crushed by the grinding ice, a bullet-hole through his +shoulder, was all that was left of the man whose life +they had cried for. +</p> +<p> +The river had cheated them. Like panting wolves, +their hands outstretched claw-like to clutch and kill, +they had pursued him closely to the river’s edge. A +cry of rage, short, sharp, unreasoning, had leaped +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176'></a>176</span> +from their throats as Reivers, staggering from his +wound, had leaped unhesitatingly out on to the heaving +cakes of ice. +</p> +<p> +Spellbound, open-mouthed and silent, they had stood +and watched as their erstwhile oppressor ran zigzagging, +leaping from cake to cake, out toward the black +slip of open water which ran silently, swiftly in the +river’s middle. And then they had cried out again. +</p> +<p> +For the open water had caught him. Straight into +it, without pausing or swerving, Reivers had run on. +And the black water had taken him home. Like a +stone dropped into its midst, it had taken him plump—a +flirt of spray, a gurgle. Then the waters rushed +on as before, silent, deadly, unconcerned. +</p> +<p> +And so the men of Hell Camp, drunk with the spirit +and success of their revolt, cried out in triumph. Their +cry rose over the roar of flame. It rang above the +rumble of crunching ice. It reached, pæan-like, up +through the star-filled northern night—a cry of victory, +of gratification, the old, terrible cry of the kill. +</p> +<p> +For the Snow-Burner was gone. Wolf-like he had +harried them and wolf-like he had died. No man, not +even Hell-Camp Reivers, they knew, could live a minute +in that black water. They had seen the waters +close above him; a floe of ice swept serenely over +the spot where he had gone down. He was gone. The +world was rid of him. +</p> +<p> +And so the men of Cameron-Dam Camp, while their +cry still echoed in the timber, turned to carry the news +of the Snow-Burner’s end back to the men who were +milling about the burning camp. The Snow-Burner +was dead! +</p> +<p> +Out in the deadly river, Hell-Camp Reivers stayed +under water until he knew that the men on the bank +counted him drowned. He had sought the open water +deliberately, his giant lungs filling themselves with air +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177'></a>177</span> +as he plunged down to the superhuman test which +was to spell life or death for him. +</p> +<p> +He realised that if he were to live he must appear to +perish in the river, before the eyes of the men who +pursued him. To have won through the open water, +and over the ice beyond, and in their sight have +reached the farther shore would have sealed his doom +as surely as to have returned to the bank where +stood the men. +</p> +<p> +The camp had revolted. Two hundred men had +said that he must die; and had he been seen to cross +the river and enter the timber beyond, half of the +two hundred, properly armed, would have crossed the +stringers of the dam, not to pause or rest until they +had hunted him down. He was without weapons +of any kind save his bare fists. He was bleeding +heavily from the bullet-hole in his right shoulder. He +would have died like a wounded wolf run to earth had +he been seen to cross the river safely. His only chance +for life was to appear to die in the river. +</p> +<p> +He made no fight as he went down. The swift +waters sucked him under like a straw. They rolled +him over the rocky bottom, whirled him around and +around sunken piles of ice. Into the sluice-like current +of the stream’s middle they spewed him, and the +current caught him and shot him into the darkness +below the glare of the burning camp. +</p> +<p> +He lay inert in the water’s grasp, recking not how +the sharp ice gashed and tore face and hands, how +the rocks crushed and bruised his body. A sweeping +ice-floe caught him and held him down. Like some +great river-beast he lay supine beneath it, conserving +every atom of his giant’s strength for the test +that was to win him life. +</p> +<p> +Then, with the blood roaring in his temples, and +his bursting lungs warning him that the next second +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178'></a>178</span> +must yield him air or death, he threw his body upward +against the ice, felt it slip to one side, thrust his +upturned face out of the water, caught a finger-hold +on another floe that strove to thrust him down, gasped, +clawed and—laughed. +</p> +<p> +He was a dead man, and he lived. Men had driven +him into the jaws of death, and death had engulfed +and apparently swallowed him. Men counted him +now as one who had gone hence. Far and wide the +word would be flung in a hurry: the Snow-Burner +was no more; Hell-Camp Reivers had passed away. +</p> +<p> +The face of the Snow-Burner as it rode barely above +the icy, lapping waters, bore but one single expression, +a sardonic appreciation of the joke he had played +upon men and Death. The loss of Cameron Camp, +of his position, of all that he called his own did not +trouble him. +</p> +<p> +As the current swept him down there, he was a +beaten man, stripped of all the things that men struggle +for to have and to hold, and with but a slippery finger-hold +on life itself. Yet he was victorious, triumphant. +</p> +<p> +He had placed himself within the clammy fingers +of the River Death. The fingers had closed upon him, +and he had torn them apart, had thrust death away, +had clutched life as it fleeted from him and had drawn +it back to hold for the time being. And Reivers +laughed contemptuously, tauntingly, at the sucking +waters cheated of their prey. +</p> +<p> +“Not yet, Nick, old boy,” he muttered. “It doesn’t +please me to boss your stokers just yet.” +</p> +<p> +The current tore the ice from his precarious grip +and he was forced to swim for it. In the darkness he +struck the grinding icefield on the far side of the open +water, and like the claws of a bear his stiffening fingers +sought for and found a crevice to afford a secure hold. +</p> +<p> +A pull, a heave and a wriggle, and he lay face-down +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179'></a>179</span> +on the jagged ice—heart, lungs and brain crying +for the cold air which he sucked in avidly. The ice-cakes +parted beneath his weight. Once more he fought +through the water to a resting place on the ice; once +more the treacherous ice parted and dropped him into +the water. +</p> +<p> +Swimming, crawling, wriggling his way, he fought +on. At last an outstretched hand groped to a hold on a +snow-covered root on the far bank of the river. +</p> +<p> +“About time,” he said and, slowly drawing himself +up onto the bank, he rolled over in the snow and lay +with his face turned back toward Cameron Camp. +</p> +<p> +The fire which the men had started in the long +bunk-house when they had revolted against the inhumanity +of Reivers now had gained full headway. +In pitchy, red billows of flame the dried log walls +were roaring upward into the night. Like the yipping +of maddened demons, the bellowing shouts of the men +came back to him as they danced and leaped around +the fire in celebration of the passing of Reivers and +of the camp for which his treatment of men had justly +earned the title of Hell-Camp. +</p> +<p> +But louder and more poignant even than the roar of +flame and the shouts of jubilant men, there came to +Reivers’ ears a sound which prompted him to drag +himself to an elbow to listen. Somewhere out in the +timber near the camp a man was crying for mercy. A +rifle cracked; the pleading stopped. Reivers smiled +contemptuously. +</p> +<p> +“One of the guards; they got him,” he mused. +“The fool! That’s what he gets for being silly enough +to be faithful to me.” +</p> +<p> +But the fate of the guard, one of the “shot-gun +artists” who had served him faithfully and brutally in +the task of keeping the men of the camp helpless +under his heel, roused Reivers to the need of quick +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180'></a>180</span> +action. If the guards had escaped into the woods +and were being hunted down by the maddened crew, +the hunt might easily lead across the dam and up the +bank to where he lay. Once let it be known that he +had not perished in the river, and the whole camp +would come swarming across the dam, each man’s +hand against him, resolved to take his trail and hunt +him down, no matter where the trail might lead or +how long the hunt might take. +</p> +<p> +The fight through the river ice was but the preliminary +to his flight for safety. Many miles of cold +trail between him and the burning camp were his most +urgent present needs, and with a curse he staggered +to his feet and stood for a moment lowering back +across the water to the scene of his overthrow. +</p> +<p> +To a lesser man—or a better man—there would have +been deep humiliation in the situation. Reivers’s +mind flashed back over the incidents of the last few +hours. Over there, across the river, he had been +beaten for the first time in his life in a fair, stand-up +fist fight. He had underestimated young Treplin, +and Treplin had beaten him. +</p> +<p> +Following his defeat had come the revolt of the men. +Following that had come flight. The power and leadership +of the camp had been wrested from his hands +by a better man; he himself had been driven out, +helpless, beaten, yet Reivers only laughed as he stood +now and looked back across the river. For in the +river the Snow-Burner had died. +</p> +<p> +The past was dead. A new life was beginning +for him. It had to be so, for if word went back +that the Snow-Burner was still alive the men of Cameron-Dam +Camp would come clamouring to the hunt. +To die, and yet to live; to slough one life, as an old +coat, and to take up another, not having the slightest +notion of what it might hold—that was the great +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181'></a>181</span> +adventure, that was something so interesting that the +humiliation of defeat never so much as reached beneath +Reivers’ skin. +</p> +<p> +He stood for a moment, looking back at the camp, +and he smiled. He waved his left hand in a polished +gesture of contemptuous farewell. +</p> +<p> +“Good-by, Mr. Hell-Camp Reivers,” he growled. +“Hello, Mr. New Man, whoever you are. Let’s +go and lay up till the puncture in your hide heals. +Then we’ll go out and see what you can do to this +silly old world.” +</p> +<p> +With his fingers clutching the hole in his shoulder, +he turned and lurched drunkenly away into the blackness +of the thick timber. +</p> +<p> +The icy waters of the river had been kind to him in +more ways than one. They had congealed the warm +blood-spurts from his wound into a solid red clot, and +his thick woolen shirt and mackinaw were frozen stiff +and tight against the clot. +</p> +<p> +He held to his staggering run for an hour, seeking +bare spots in the timber, travelling on top of windfalls +when he found them, hiding his trail in uncanny fashion, +before his body grew warm enough to thaw the +icy bandages. Then he halted and, by the light of +the cold moon, bared his shoulder and took stock. +It was a bad, ragged wound. He moved the shoulder +and smiled sardonically as he noted that no bone was +touched. +</p> +<p> +From the butt of a shattered windfall he tore a +flat sliver of clean pine. With his teeth he worried it +down to a proper size, and with handkerchief and belt +he bound it over the wound so tightly that it sunk +deep into the muscles of the shoulder. It chafed and +cut the skin and started the blood in half a dozen +places, but he pulled the belt up another hole despite +the inclination to grimace from pain. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182'></a>182</span> +</p> +<p> +“Suffer, Body,” he muttered, “suffer all you please. +You’ve nothing to say about this. Your job for the +present is merely to serve life by keeping it going. +Later on you may grow whole again. I shall need +you.” +</p> +<p> +He buttoned his mackinaw with difficulty and, finding +an open space, turned and took his bearings. Far +behind him a dull red glow on the sky marked the +location of Cameron-Dam Camp. From this he +turned, carefully scanning the heavens, until above the +top of the timber he caught the weird glint of the +northern lights. That way lay his course. +</p> +<p> +The white man’s country stopped with the timber +in which he stood. Beyond was Indian country, the +bleak, barren Dead Lands, a wilderness too bare of +timber to tempt the logger, a land of ridge upon ridge +of ragged rock, unexplored by white man, save for +a rare mining prospector, and uninhabited save for the +half-starved camp of the people of Tillie, the Chippewa, +Reivers’ slave, by the power of the love she +bore him. +</p> +<p> +White men shunned the white wastes of the Dead +Lands as, in warmer climes, they shun the unwatered +sands of the desert. That was why Reivers sought +it. Out there in the camp of Tillie’s people he could +lie safe, well fed, well nursed, until his wound healed +and the strength of his body came back to him. And +then.... +</p> +<p> +“Cheer up, Body!” he chuckled as he started northward. +“We’ll make the world pay bitterly for all of +this when we’re in shape again. For the present +we’re going north, going north, going north. You +can’t stop, Body; you can’t lay down. Groan all +you want to. You’re going to be dragged just as far +to-night as if you weren’t shot up at all.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183'></a>183</span><a name='chXXIII' id='chXXIII'></a>CHAPTER XXIII—THE GIRL WHO WAS NOT AFRAID</h2> +<p> +Break of day in Winter time comes to the Dead +Lands slowly and without enthusiasm, as if the +rosy morning sun wearied at the hopeless landscape +which its rays must illumine. Aimless rock formation +was a drug on the creation’s market the day that the +Bad Lands were made. Gigantic boulders, box-like +bluffs, ragged rock-spires, cliffs and plateaus of bare +rock were in oversupply. +</p> +<p> +Nature, so a glimpse of the place suggests, had +resolved to get rid of a vast surplus of ugly, useless +stone, and with one cast of its hands flung them solidly +down and made the Dead Lands. There they lie, +hog-back, ridge, gully and ravine, hopelessly and aimlessly +jumbled and tumbled, a scene of desolate greyness +by Summer; by Winter the raw, bleak ridges and +spires, thrusting themselves through the covering of +snow like unto the bones of a half concealed skeleton. +</p> +<p> +Daylight crept wearily over the timber belt and +spread itself slowly over the barrenness, and struck the +highest rise of ground, running crosswise through +the barrens, which men called “Hog-Back Ridge.” +Little by little it lighted up the bleak peaks and tops +of ridge and rock-spire. +</p> +<p> +A wind came with it, a bleak, morning Winter wind +which whined as it whipped the dry snow from high +places and sent it flying across coulée and valley in +the grey light of dawn. Nothing stirred with the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184'></a>184</span> +coming of daylight. No nocturnal animal, warned +of the day’s coming, slunk away to its cave; no beast +or bird of daylight greeted the morning with movement +or song. The grey half-light revealed no living +thing of life upon the exposed hump of the ridge. +</p> +<p> +The sun came, a ball of dull red, rising over the +timber line. It touched the topmost spires of rock, +sought to gild them rosily, gave up as their sullen +sides refused to take the colour, and turned its rays +along the eastern slope. Then something moved. A +single speck of life stirred in the vast scene of desolation. +</p> +<p> +On the bare ground in the lea of a boulder a man +sat with his back to the stone and slept. His face was +hollow and lined. The corners of his mouth were +drawn down as if a weight were hung on each of them, +and the thin cheeks, hugging the bones so tightly that +the teeth showed through, told that the man had driven +himself too far on an empty stomach. Yet, even in +sleep, there was a hint of a sardonic smile on the misshapen +lips, a smile that condemned and made naught +the pain and cruelty of his fate. +</p> +<p> +The sun crept down the slope of Hog-Back Ridge +and found him. It reached his eyes. Its rays had +no more warmth than the rays of the cold Winter +moon, but its light pierced through the tightly drawn +lids. They twitched and finally parted. Reivers awoke +without yawning or moving and looked around. +</p> +<p> +It was the second morning after his flight from +Cameron-Dam Camp, and he had yet to reach the +Winter camp of the people of Tillie the squaw. Somewhere +to the west it lay. He would reach it and reach +it in good time, he swore; but he had not had a bite +of food in his mouth for two days, and the fever of +his wound had sapped heavily his strength. +</p> +<p> +“Be still, Body,” he growled, as with the return +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185'></a>185</span> +of consciousness his belly cried out for food. “You +will be fed before life goes out of you.” +</p> +<p> +He rose slowly and stiffly to his knees and looked +down the ridge to where the rays of the sun now +were illumining the snow-covered bottom of the valley +below. The valley ran eastward for a mile or two, +and at first glance it was empty and dead, save for +the flurries of wind-swept snow, dropping down from +the heights above. But Reivers, as he rose to his feet, +swept the valley with a second glance, and suddenly +he dropped and crouched down close to the ground. +</p> +<p> +Far down at the lower end of the valley a black +speck showed on the frozen snow, and the speck was +moving. +</p> +<p> +Reivers lay on the bare patch of ground, as silent +and immovable as the rock above him. The speck +was too large to be a single animal and too small to be +a pack of travelling caribou. +</p> +<p> +For several minutes he lay, scarcely breathing, his +eyes straining to bring the speck into comprehensible +shape. His breath began to come rapidly. Presently +he swore. The speck had become two specks now, a +long narrow speck and a tiny one which moved beside +it, and they were coming steadily up the valley +toward where he lay. +</p> +<p> +“One man and a dog-team,” mused Reivers. “He +won’t be travelling here without grub. Body, wake +up! You are crying for food. Yonder it comes. +Get ready to take it.” +</p> +<p> +Slowly, with long pauses between each movement, +and taking care not to place his dark body against +the white snow, Reivers dragged himself around to +a hiding-place behind the boulder against which he +had slept. The sun had risen higher now. Its rays +were lighting the valley, and as he peered avidly around +one side of the stone, Reivers could make out some +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186'></a>186</span> +detail of the two specks that moved so steadily toward +him. +</p> +<p> +It was a four-dog team, travelling rapidly, and the +man, on snow-shoes, travelled beside his team and +plied his whip as he strode. Reivers’ brows drew +down in puzzled fashion. The sledge which whirled +behind the running dogs seemed flat and unloaded; +the dogs ran in a fashion that told they were strong +and fresh. Why didn’t the man ride? +</p> +<p> +Reivers drew back to take stock of the situation. +The man might be a stranger, travelling hurriedly +through the Dead Lands, or he might be one of the +men from Cameron-Dam Camp. If the former, food +might be had for a mere hail and the asking; if the +latter—Reivers’s nostrils widened and he smiled. +</p> +<p> +Yet a third possibility existed. The man was +travelling in strange fashion, running beside an apparently +empty sled, and whipping his dogs along. So +did men travel when they were fleeing from various +reasons, and men fleeing thus do not go unarmed nor +take kindly to having the trail of their flight witnessed +by casual though starving strangers. Thus +there was one chance that a hail and plea for food +would be met with a friendly response; two chances +that they would be met with lead or steel. +</p> +<p> +Reivers, not being a careless man, looked about for +ways and means to place the odds in his favour. A +hundred yards to the north of him the valley narrowed +into a mere slit between two straight walls of rock. +Through this gap the traveller must pass. +</p> +<p> +When Reivers had crawled to a position on the rock +directly above the narrow opening, he lay flat down +and grinned in peace. He was securely hidden, and +the dog-driver would pass unsuspectingly, unready, +thirty feet beneath where he lay. Things were looking +well. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187'></a>187</span> +</p> +<p> +The driver and team came on at a steady pace. +Even at a great distance, his stride betrayed his race +and Reivers muttered, “White man,” and pushed to +the edge of the bluff a huge, jagged piece of rock. +The man might not listen to reason, and Reivers +was taking no chances of allowing an opportunity to +feed to slip by. +</p> +<p> +The sleigh still puzzled him. As it came nearer +and nearer he saw that it was not empty. Something +long and flat lay upon it. Reivers ceased to watch +the driver and turned his scrutiny entirely to the +bundle upon the sleigh. Minute after minute he +watched the sleigh to the exclusion of everything else. +</p> +<p> +He made out eventually that the bundle was the +size and form of a human body. Soon he saw that +it moved now and then, as if struggling to rise. +</p> +<p> +The sleigh came nearer, came into a space where +the sunlight, streaming through a gap in the ridge, +lighted it up brightly, and Reivers’ whole body suddenly +stiffened upon the ground and his teeth snapped +shut barely in time to cut short an ejaculation of +surprise. +</p> +<p> +The bundle on the sleigh was a woman—a white +woman! And she was bound around from ankle to +forehead with thongs passed under the sleigh. +</p> +<p> +“Food—and a woman—a white woman,” he mused. +“The new life becomes interesting. Body, get ready.” +</p> +<p> +He held the rock balanced on the edge of the cliff, +ready to hurl it down with one supreme effort of his +waning strength. Hugging the cliff he lay, his head +barely raised sufficiently to watch his approaching +quarry. He could make out the face of the man by +this time, a square face, mostly covered with hair, with +the square-cut hair of the head hanging down below +the ears. Two fang-like teeth glistened in the sunlight +when the man opened his mouth to curse at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188'></a>188</span> +the dogs, and he turned at times to leer back at the +helpless burden on the sleigh. +</p> +<p> +As he approached the narrow defile, where the rock +walls hid a man and what he might do from the +eyes of all but the sky above, the man turned to look +more frequently, more leeringly at his victim. Reivers +saw that the woman was gagged as well as bound. +</p> +<p> +The driver shouted a command at his dogs, and +their lope became a walk, and even as Reivers, up +on the cliff, arched his back to hurl his stone, the +outfit came to a halt directly beneath where he lay. +Reivers waited. He had no compunction about disabling +or killing the man below; a crying belly knows +no conscience. But he would wait and see what was +to develop. +</p> +<p> +The man swiftly jerked his team back in the traces +and turned toward his victim. Reivers, turning his +eyes from the man to the woman, received a shock +which caused him to hug closer to the cliff. The +woman lay helpless on the sleigh, face up. A cloth +gag covered her face up to the nose, and a cap, drawn +down over the forehead, left only the eyes and nose +visible. And the eyes were wide open—very wide +open—and they were looking quite calmly and unafraid +up at Reivers. +</p> +<p> +The driver came back and tore the gag from the +woman’s lips. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll give you a chance,” he exploded, and Reivers, +up on the cliff, caught the passion-choked note in +voice and again held the stone ready. “I’m stealing +you for the chief—for Shanty Moir, the man who’s +got your father’s mine, and who’s determined to put +shame on you, Red MacGregor’s daughter. I’m taking +you there to him—in his camp. You know what +that means. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I’ve changed my mind. I—I’ll give you a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189'></a>189</span> +chance. I’ll save you. Come with me. I won’t take +you up there. We’ll go out of the country. You +know what it’d mean to go up there. Well,—I’ll +marry you.” +</p> +<p> +Many things happened in the next few seconds. +The man threw himself like a wild beast beside the +sledge, caught the woman’s face in his hands and +kissed her bestially upon the helpless lips. +</p> +<p> +The girl did not struggle or cry out. Only her +wide eyes looked up to the top of the cliff, looked +questioningly, speculatively, calmly. He of the hairy +face caught the direction of her look and sprang up +and whirled around, the glove flying from his right +hand, and a six-shooter leaping into it apparently +from nowhere. +</p> +<p> +His face was upturned, and he fired even as the +big rock smote him on the forehead and crushed him +shapelessly into the snow. Reivers dragged forward +another stone and waited, but the man was too obviously +dead to render caution necessary. +</p> +<p> +“He was experienced and quick,” said Reivers to +the woman, “but I was too hungry to miss him. Did +you think I did it to save you? Oh, no! Just a minute, +till I get down; you’ll know me better.” +</p> +<p> +He staggered and fell as he rose to pick his way +down, for the cast with the heavy stone had tapped +the last reservoirs of his depleted strength, had +wrenched open the wounded shoulder and started +the blood. Painfully he dragged himself on hands +and knees to a snow-covered slope, and slipping and +sliding made his way to the valley-bottom and came +staggering up to the sledge. The woman to him for +the time being did not exist. +</p> +<p> +“Steady, Body,” he muttered, as he tore open the +grub-bag on the sleigh. “Here’s food.” +</p> +<p> +His fingers fell first on a huge chunk of cooked +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190'></a>190</span> +venison, and he looked no farther. Down in the +snow at the side of the helpless woman he squatted +and proceeded to eat. Only when the pang in his +stomach had been appeased did he look at the woman. +Then, for a time, he forgot about eating. +</p> +<p> +It was not a woman but a girl. Her face was fair +and her hair golden red. Her big eyes were looking +at him appraisingly. There was no fear in them, no +apprehension. She noted the hollowness of his cheeks, +the fever in his eyes. Reivers almost dropped his +meat in amazement. The girl actually was pitying +him! +</p> +<p> +He stood up, thrust the meat back into the grub-bag +and stood swaying and towering over her. The girl’s +eyes looked back unwaveringly. +</p> +<p> +“—— you!” growled Reivers as he bent down and +loosed the thongs. “What do you mean? Why aren’t +you afraid?” +</p> +<p> +“MacGregor Roy was my father,” she said quietly. +“I am not afraid.” She sat up as the bonds fell from +her and looked at the still figure in the snow. “He +is dead, I suppose?” +</p> +<p> +“As dead as he tried to make me,” sneered Reivers. +</p> +<p> +A look of annoyance crossed her face. +</p> +<p> +“Then you have spoiled it all,” she broke out, leaping +from the sledge. “Spoiled the fine chance I had +to find the cave of Shanty Moir, murderer of my +father.” +</p> +<p> +Reivers’ jaw dropped in amazement, and hot anger +surged to his tongue. Many women of many kinds +he had looked in the eyes and this was the first one— +</p> +<p> +“Spoiled it, you red-haired trull! What do you +mean? Didn’t I save you from our bearded friend +yonder. Or—” his thin lips curled into their old +contemptuous smile—“or perhaps—perhaps you are +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191'></a>191</span> +one of those to whom such attentions are not distasteful.” +</p> +<p> +The sudden flare and flash of her anger breaking, +like lightning out of a Winter’s sky, checked his words. +The contempt of his smile gave place to a grin of admiration. +Tottering and wavering on his feet, he +did not stir or raise his arms, though the thin-bladed +knife which seemed to spring into her hands as claws +protrude from a maddened cat’s paws, slipped through +his mackinaw and pricked the skin above his heart, +before her hand stopped. +</p> +<p> +“‘Trull’ am I? The daughter of MacGregor Roy +is a helpless squaw who takes kindly to such words +from any man on the trail? Blood o’ my father! +Pray, you cowardly skulker! Pray!” +</p> +<p> +His grin grew broader. +</p> +<p> +“Pretty, very pretty!” he drawled. “But you can’t +make it good, can you? You thought you could. +Your little flare of temper made you feel big. You +were sure you were going to stick me. But you +couldn’t do it. You’re a woman. See; your flash of +bigness is dying out. You’re growing tame. That’s +one of my specialties—taming spitfires like you. Oh, +you needn’t draw back. Have no fear. I never did +have any taste for red hair.” +</p> +<p> +A painter would have raved about the daughter of +MacGregor Roy as she now stood back, facing her tormentor. +The fair skin of her face was flushed red, +the thin sharp lines of mouth and nostril were tremulous +with rage, and her wide, grey eyes burned. Her +head was thrown back in scorn, her cap was off; the +glorious red-golden hair of her head seemed alive +with fury. With one foot advanced, the knife held +behind her, her breath coming in angry gasps, she +stood, a figure passionately, terribly alive in the dead +waste of the snows. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192'></a>192</span> +</p> +<p> +“Oh, what a coward you are!” she panted. “You +knew I couldn’t avenge myself on a sick man. You +coward!” +</p> +<p> +Reivers laughed drunkenly. The fever was blurring +his sight, dulling his brain and filling him with an +irresistible desire to lie down. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, I knew it,” he mumbled. “I saw it in your +eye. You couldn’t do it—because I didn’t want you +to. I want you—I want you to fix me up—hole in +the shoulder—fever—understand?” +</p> +<p> +“I understand that when Duncan Roy, my father’s +brother, catches up with us he will save me the trouble +by putting a hole through your head.” +</p> +<p> +“Plenty of time for that later on.” Reivers fought +off the stupor and held his senses clear for a moment. +“Have you got my whisky?” +</p> +<p> +“And what if I have?” +</p> +<p> +“Answer me!” he said icily. “Have you?” +</p> +<p> +“Duncan Roy has whisky,” she replied reluctantly. +“He will be on our trail now.” +</p> +<p> +“How long—how long before he’ll get here?” +</p> +<p> +“Yon beast—” she nodded her head toward the still +figure in the snow—“raided our camp, struck me down +and stole me away with my team two hours before +sundown, yestere’en. Duncan Roy was out meat-hunting, +and would be back by dark. He’ll be two +hours behind us, and his dogs travel even with these.” +</p> +<p> +“Two hours? Too long,” groaned Reivers and +pitched headlong into the snow. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193'></a>193</span><a name='chXXIV' id='chXXIV'></a>CHAPTER XXIV—THE WOMAN’S WAY</h2> +<p> +When he came to, it was from the bite and sting +of the terrible white whisky of the North, being +poured down his throat by a rude, generous hand. +</p> +<p> +“Aye; he’s no’ dead,” rumbled a voice like unto a +bear’s growl. “He lappit the liquor though his eye’s +closed. Hoot, man! Ye take it in like mother’s milk.” +</p> +<p> +“Have done, Uncle Duncan,” warned another voice—the +bold, free voice of the girl, Reivers in his semi-consciousness +made out. “’Tis a sick man. Don’t +give him the whole bottle.” +</p> +<p> +“Let be, let be,” grumbled the big voice, but nevertheless +Reivers felt the bottle withdrawn from his +lips. “’Tis no tender child that a good drink of liquor +would hurt that we have here. Do you not note that +mouth and jaw? I’m little more pleased with the look +of him than with yon thing in the snow.” +</p> +<p> +“’Tis a sick, helpless being,” said the girl. +</p> +<p> +The big voice rumbled forth an oath. +</p> +<p> +“And what have we—you and I—to do with sick, +helpless beings? Are we not on the trail to find Shanty +Moir, who is working your father’s mine, wherever +it is, and there take vengeance on said Shanty for +your father’s murder, as well as recover your own +property? Is this a trail on which ’tis fit and well +we halted to nurse and care for sick, helpless beings? +Blood of the de’il! An unlucky mess! What +business has man to be sick and ailing on the Winter +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194'></a>194</span> +trail here in the North? ’Tis the law of Nature that +such die!” +</p> +<p> +“And do you think that law will be followed here?” +demanded the girl. +</p> +<p> +“Were I alone, it would,” retorted the man. “Our +task is to find the place of Shanty Moir and do him +justice.” +</p> +<p> +“And the hospitality of the MacGregors? Is it +like Duncan Roy to see beast or man needing or wanting +help without stretching his hand to help it?” +</p> +<p> +The man was silent. +</p> +<p> +“Do you think any good could come to you or me +if we turned our hearts to stones and let a sick man +perish after he had fallen helpless on our hands?” +</p> +<p> +“I tell you what I think, Hattie MacGregor,” broke +out the big voice. “I think there is trouble travelling +as trail-fellow with this man. I see trouble in the +cut of his jaw and the lines of his mouth. There +is a fate written there; he’s a fated man and no else, +and nothing would please me better than to have him +a thousand days mushing away from me and never to +see him again. Trouble and trouble! It’s written +on him plain. +</p> +<p> +“Who is he? Whence came he? Why is he alone, +dogless, foodless, weaponless, here in these Dead +Lands! ’Tis uncanny. Blood o’ the de’il! He might +be dropped down from somewhere, or more like shot +up from somewhere—from the black pit, for instance. +It’s no’ proper for mere human being to be found in +his condition out this far on the barrens, with no sign +of how he came or why?” +</p> +<p> +“Have no fear, Uncle Duncan,” laughed the girl. +“He’s only a common man.” +</p> +<p> +Reivers opened his eyes, chuckling feverishly. +</p> +<p> +“You’ll pay for that ‘common,’ you spitfire, when +I’ve tamed you,” he mumbled. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195'></a>195</span> +</p> +<p> +“Only a common man, Uncle Duncan,” repeated +the girl steadfastly, “and I’ve a bone to pick with him +when he’s on his feet, no longer helpless and pitiable +as he is now.” +</p> +<p> +Again Reivers laughed through the haze of fever. +He did not have the strength to hold his eyes open, +but his mind worked on. +</p> +<p> +“Helpless! Did you notice the incident of the +rock?” he babbled. “Bare, primitive, two-handed man +against a man with a gun. Who won?” +</p> +<p> +“Aye,” said the man seriously, “we owe you thanks +for that. For a helpless man, you deal stout knocks.” +</p> +<p> +“And speak big words,” snapped the girl. “Now, +around with the teams, Uncle Duncan, and back to +camp. There’s been talk enough. We must take him +in and shelter and care for him, since he has fallen +helpless and pitiable on our hands. We owe him no +thanks. Can you not lay his head easier—the boasting +fool! There; that’s better. Now, all that the +dogs can stand, Uncle, for I misdoubt we’ll be hard-pressed +to keep the life in him till we get him back to +camp.” +</p> +<p> +Reivers heard and strove to reply. But the paralysis +of fever and weakness was upon him, and all that +came from his lips was an incoherent babbling. In +the last vapoury stages of consciousness he realised +that he was being placed more comfortably upon the +sledge, that his head was being lifted and that blankets +were being strapped about him. +</p> +<p> +He felt the sledge being turned, heard the runners +grate on the snow; then ensued an easy, sliding movement +through space, as the rested dogs started their +lope back through the valley. The movement soothed +him. It lulled him to a sensation of safety and +comfort. +</p> +<p> +The phantasmagoria of fever pounded at his brain, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196'></a>196</span> +his eyes and ears, but the steady, swishing rush of the +sleigh drove them away. He slept, and awoke when +a halt was called and more whisky forced down his +throat. Then he slept again. +</p> +<p> +There were several halts. Once he realised that +he was being fed thin soup, made from cooked venison +and snow-water. That was the last impression +made on remaining consciousness. After that the +thread snapped. +</p> +<p> +The sledges went on. They left the valley. +Through the jumbled ridges of the Dead Lands they +hurried. They reached a stretch of stunted fir, and +still they continued to go. At length they pulled +up before a solid little cabin built in a cleft of rocks. +</p> +<p> +The Snow Burner was carried in and put to bed. +After a rest Duncan Roy and the fresher of the dogteams +took the trail again. They came, back after +a day and a night, bringing with them a certain Père +Batiste, skilled in treating fevers and wounds of the +body as well as of the soul. The good curé gasped at +the torso which revealed itself to his gaze as he stripped +off the clothes to work at the wound. +</p> +<p> +“If <i>le bon Dieu</i> made him as well inside as outside, +this is a very good man,” he said simply; and Duncan +MacGregor smiled grimly. +</p> +<p> +“God—or the de’il—made him to deal stout knocks, +that’s sure,” he grunted. “’Tis a rare animal we have +stripped before us.” +</p> +<p> +“A rare human being—a soul,” reproved Father +Batiste. “And it is <i>le bon Dieu</i> who makes us all.” +</p> +<p> +“But the de’il gets hold of some very young,” insisted +the Scotchman. +</p> +<p> +Father Batiste stayed in the cabin for two days. +</p> +<p> +“He was not meant to die this time,” he said later. +“It will be long—weeks perhaps—before he will be +strong enough to take the trail. He will need care, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197'></a>197</span> +such care as only a woman can give him. If he does +not have this care he will die. If he does have it he +will live. <i>Adieu</i>, my children; you have a sacred, human +life in your hands.” +</p> +<p> +And he got the care that only a woman could give +him. For the next two weeks Duncan MacGregor +watched his niece’s devoted nursing and gnawed his +red beard gloomily. +</p> +<p> +“Trouble—trouble—trouble!” he muttered over and +over to himself. “It rides around the man’s head +like a storm-cap. Hattie MacGregor, take care. Yon +man will be a different creature to handle when he +has the strength back in his body.” +</p> +<p> +At the end of a week Reivers awoke as a man wakes +after a long, fever-breaking slumber, weak and wasted, +yet with a grateful sense of comfort and well-being. +Before he opened his eyes he sensed by the warmth +and odours of the air that he was in a small, tight +room, and in a haze he fancied that he had fallen +in the tepee of Tillie, the squaw. Then he remembered. +He opened his eyes. +</p> +<p> +He was lying in a bunk, raised high from the floor, +and above the foot of the bed was a small window, +shaded by a frilled white curtain. Reivers lay long +and looked at the curtain before his eyes moved to +further explore the room. For once, long, long ago, +he had belonged in a world where white frilled curtains +and frills of other kinds were not an exception. +</p> +<p> +In his physically washed-out condition his memory +reached back and pictured that world with uncanny +clearness, and he turned from the curtain with +a frown of annoyance to look straight into the eyes +of Duncan Roy, who sat by the fireplace across the +room and studied him from beneath shaggy red +brows. +</p> +<p> +Reivers looked the man over idly at first, then with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198'></a>198</span> +a considerable interest and appreciation. Sitting +crouched over on a low stone bench, with the light +of the fire and of the sun upon him, MacGregor resembled +nothing so much as an old red-haired bear. +He was short of leg and bow-legged, but his torso +and head were enormous. His arms, folded across +the knees, were bear-like in length and size, and his +hair and beard flamed golden red. +</p> +<p> +There was no friendliness in the small, grey eyes +which regarded Reivers so steadily. Duncan MacGregor +was no man to hide his true feelings. Reivers +looked enquiringly around. +</p> +<p> +“She’s stepped outside to feed the dogs,” said MacGregor, +interpreting the look. “You’ll have to put up +with my poor company for the time being.” +</p> +<p> +“I accept your apology,” said Reivers and turned +comfortably toward the wall. +</p> +<p> +A deep, chesty chuckle came from the fireside. +</p> +<p> +“Man, whoever are you or whatever are you, to +take it that Duncan MacGregor feels any need to +apologise to you?” +</p> +<p> +The words were further balm to Reivers’s new-found +feeling of comfort and content. +</p> +<p> +“Say that again, please,” he requested drowsily. +</p> +<p> +Laughingly the giant by the fire repeated his query. +</p> +<p> +“Good!” murmured Reivers. “I just wanted to be +sure that you didn’t know who I am—or, rather, who +I was?” +</p> +<p> +“Blood o’ the de’il!” laughed the Scotchman. “So +it’s that, is it? Tell me, how much reward is there +offered for you, dead or alive? I’m a thrifty man, +lad, and you hardly look like a man who’d have a +small price on his head.” +</p> +<p> +“Wrong, quite wrong, my suspicious friend,” said +Reivers. “I see you’ve the simple mind of the man +who’s spent much time in lone places. You jump at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199'></a>199</span> +the natural conclusion. When you know me better +you’ll know that that won’t apply to me.” +</p> +<p> +“Well,” drawled the Scotchman good-naturedly, +“I do not say that it looks suspicious to be found +a two-days’ march out in the Dead Lands, without +food, dog, or weapons, with an empty belly and a +hole through the shoulder, but there are people who +might draw the conclusion that a man so fixed was +travelling because some place behind him was mighty +bad for his health. But I have no doubt you have an +explanation? No doubt ’tis quite the way you prefer +to travel?” +</p> +<p> +“Under certain circumstances, it is,” said Reivers. +</p> +<p> +“Aye; under certain circumstances. Such as an +affair with a ‘Redcoat,’ for instance.” +</p> +<p> +“Wrong again, my simple-minded friend. You’re +quite welcome to bring the whole Mounted Police here +to look me over. I’m not on their lists, or the lists +of any authority in the world, as ‘wanted.’” +</p> +<p> +“For that insult—that I’m of the kind that bears +tales to the police—I’ll have an accounting with you +later on,” said MacGregor sharply. “For the rest—you’ll +admit that you’re under some small obligation +to us—will you be kind enough to explain what +lay behind you that you should be out on the barrens +in your condition? I’ll have you know that I am no +man to ask pay for succouring the sick or wounded. +Neither am I the man to let any well man be near-speaking +with my ward and niece, Hattie MacGregor, +without I know what’s the straight of him.” +</p> +<p> +Reivers turned luxuriously in his bunk and regarded +his inquisitor with a smile. +</p> +<p> +“Poor, dainty, helpless, little lady!” he mocked. +“So weak and frail that she needs a protector. Never +carries anything more than an eight-inch knife up +her sleeve. You do right, MacGregor; your niece +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200'></a>200</span> +certainly needs looking after. She certainly doesn’t +know how to take care of herself. +</p> +<p> +“But about obligations, I don’t quite agree with +you. Didn’t you owe me a little something for that +turn with the bearded fellow? Not that I did it +to save the girl,” he continued loudly, as he heard +the door open behind him and knew that Hattie MacGregor +had entered. “What was she to me? Nothing! +But I was hungry. I needed food. But for +that our black-bearded friend might now have been +wandering care-free over the snows, a red-haired +woman still strapped to his sledge, his taste seeming +to run to that colour, which mine does not.” +</p> +<p> +Hattie MacGregor stilled her uncle’s retort with a +shake of her golden-red head, crossed to the fireplace +and took up a bowl that was simmering there, and +approached the bed. Reivers looked at her closely, +striving to catch her eye, but she seated herself beside +him without apparently paying the slightest attention. +She spoke no word, made no sign to welcome him +back from his unconsciousness, but merely held a +spoonful of the steaming broth up to his lips. +</p> +<p> +There was a certain dexterity in her movements +which told that she had performed this action many, +many times before, and there was nothing in her manner +to indicate her sensibility of the change in his +condition. Reivers opened his mouth to laugh, and +the girl dexterously tilted the contents of the spoon +down his throat. +</p> +<p> +“You fool!” he sputtered, half strangling. +</p> +<p> +He strove to rise, but her round, warm arm held +him down. Over by the fireplace Duncan MacGregor +slapped his thigh and chuckled deep down in his hairy +throat, but on the face of his niece there was only +the determined patience of the nurse dealing with a +patient not yet entirely responsible for his behaviour. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201'></a>201</span> +</p> +<p> +She was not surprised at his outbreak, Reivers saw. +Apparently she had fed him many times just so—he +utterly helpless and childish, she capable and calm. +Apparently she was determined to sit there, firm and +patient, until he was ready to take his broth quietly +and without fuss. +</p> +<p> +Indignantly he raised his hands to take the bowl +from her; then he opened his eyes wide in surprise. +He was so weak that he could barely lift his arms, +and when she offered him a second spoonful he swallowed +it without further demur. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, well, we’ll soon be able to take the trail again,” +drawled MacGregor mockingly. “We’re getting +strong now; soon we’ll be able to eat with our own +hands.” +</p> +<p> +“Hold tongue, Uncle,” snapped the girl, and continued +to feed her patient. +</p> +<p> +“I suppose I must thank you?” taunted Reivers, +when the bowl was empty. +</p> +<p> +Hattie MacGregor made no sign to indicate that +she had heard. She put the bowl away, felt Reivers’ +pulse, laid her hand upon his forehead—never looking +at him the while—arranged the pillows under +his head, tucked him in and without speaking went +out. Reivers’ eyes followed her till the door closed +behind her. +</p> +<p> +“The little spitfire!” he growled in grudging admiration; +and Duncan MacGregor, by the fire, laughed +till the room echoed. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202'></a>202</span><a name='chXXV' id='chXXV'></a>CHAPTER XXV—GOLD!</h2> +<p> +Next morning when she came to feed him +Reivers angrily reached for the bowl. He was +stronger than the day before, and he held his hands +forth without trembling. +</p> +<p> +“There’s no need of your feeding me by hand any +longer,” said he. “I assure you I’ll enjoy my food +much better alone than I do with you feeding me.” +</p> +<p> +The girl seated herself at the bunk-side, holding +the bowl out of his reach, and looked him quietly +in the eyes. It was the first time she had appeared +to notice his return to consciousness, and Reivers +smiled quizzically at her scrutiny. She did not smile +in return, merely studied him as if he were an interesting +subject. +</p> +<p> +In the grey light of morning Reivers for the first +time saw her with eyes cleared of the fever blur. +His smile vanished, for he saw that this woman, to +him, was different from any woman he ever had +known before. And he had known many. +</p> +<p> +In her wide grey eyes there rode a sorrow that +reached out and held the observer, despite her evident +efforts to keep it hidden. But the mouth belied the +eyes. It was set with an expression of determination, +almost superhuman, almost savage. It was as if this +girl, just rounding her twenties, had turned herself +into a force for the accomplishment of an object. The +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203'></a>203</span> +mouth was harsh, almost lipless, in its set. Yet, beneath +all this, the woman in Hattie MacGregor was +obvious, soft, yearning. +</p> +<p> +Many women had had a part in Reivers’ life—far +too many. None of them had held his interests longer +than for a few months; none of them had he failed +to tame and break. And none of them had reached +below the hard husk of him and touched the better +man as Hattie MacGregor did at this moment. His +past experiences, his past attitude toward women, his +past manner of life, flashed through his mind, each +picture bringing with it a stab of remorse. +</p> +<p> +Remorse! The Snow Burner remorseful! He +laughed his old laugh of contempt and defiance of +all the world, but, though he refused to acknowledge +it to himself, the old, invincible, self-assured ring was +not in it. This girl was not to him what other women +had been, and he saw that he could not tame her as +he had tamed them. +</p> +<p> +Strange thoughts rose in his mind. He wished that +the past had been different. He actually felt unworthy. +Well, the past was past. It had died with +him in the river. He was beginning a new life, a +new name, a new man. Why couldn’t he? He drove +the weak thoughts away. What nonsense! He—Hell-Camp +Reivers—getting soft over a woman? +Pooh! +</p> +<p> +“I said I could feed myself,” he snarled. “Give +me that bowl. I don’t want you around.” +</p> +<p> +For reply she dipped the spoon into the food and +held it ready. +</p> +<p> +“Lie down quietly, please,” she said coldly. “This +is no time for keeping up your play of being a big +man.” +</p> +<p> +“Give me that bowl,” he commanded. +</p> +<p> +“Uncle,” she called quietly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204'></a>204</span> +</p> +<p> +Her big kinsman came lurching in from the other +room of the cabin. +</p> +<p> +“Aye, lass?” said he. +</p> +<p> +“It looks as if we would have to obey Father +Batiste’s directions and feed him by force,” said the +girl quietly. “He has come out of the fever, but he +hasn’t got his senses back. He thinks of feeding +himself. Do you get the straps, Uncle. You recollect +Father Batiste’s orders.” +</p> +<p> +Duncan MacGregor scratched his hairy head in +puzzled fashion. +</p> +<p> +“How now, stranger?” he growled. “Can you no +take your food in peace?” +</p> +<p> +“I can take it without anybody’s help,” insisted +Reivers. He knew that the situation was ridiculous, +but he saw no way of getting the whip-hand. +</p> +<p> +“It was the word of the good Father, without +whom you would now be resting out in the snow with +a cairn of rock over you, that you should be fed so +much and so little for some days after your senses +come back,” said MacGregor slowly. “I do not ken +the right of it quite, but the lass does. The lass—she’ll +have her way, I suspect. I can do naught but +obey her orders.” +</p> +<p> +“Get the straps,” commanded the girl curtly. +</p> +<p> +Reivers glared at her, but she looked back without +the least losing her self-possession or determination. +</p> +<p> +“You’ll pay for this!” he snorted. +</p> +<p> +“Will you take your food without the straps?” said +she. +</p> +<p> +For a minute their eyes met in conflict. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” snapped Reivers. “Have +your silly way.” +</p> +<p> +“Good. That’s a good boy,” she said softly; and +Duncan Roy ran from the room choking. +</p> +<p> +“You see,” she continued, as he swallowed the first +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205'></a>205</span> +spoonful, “it isn’t always possible to have your own +way, is it? I am doing this only for your own good.” +</p> +<p> +“Hold your tongue,” he growled. “I’ve got to eat +this food, but I don’t have to listen to your talk.” +</p> +<p> +“Quite right,” she agreed, and the meal was finished +in silence. +</p> +<p> +At noon she fed him again, without speaking a +word. Apparently she had given her uncle orders +likewise to refrain from talking to Reivers, for not +a word did he speak during the day. +</p> +<p> +In the evening the same silent feeding took place. +After she and her uncle had supped, they drew up to +the fireplace, where, in silence, Duncan repaired a dog-harness +while the girl sewed busily at a fur coat. At +short intervals the uncle cast a look toward Reivers’ +bunk, then choked a chuckle in his beard, each chuckle +bringing a glance of reproof from his niece. +</p> +<p> +“No, Hattie,” MacGregor broke out finally, “I cannot +hold tongue any longer. Company is no’ so plentiful +in the North that we can sit by and have no +speech. Do you keep still if you wish—I must talk. +Stranger, are you going to tell me about yoursel’, as +I asked you yestereve?” +</p> +<p> +“Does her Royal Highness, the Red-Headed Chieftainess, +permit me to speak?” queried Reivers sarcastically. +</p> +<p> +“’Twas your own sel’ told me to hold tongue,” said +the girl evenly, without looking up. “I am glad to +see you are reasonable enough to give in.” +</p> +<p> +“Let be, Hattie,” grumbled the old man. “He’s our +guest, and we in his debt. Stranger, who are you?” +</p> +<p> +“Nobody,” said Reivers. +</p> +<p> +“Ah!” cried the girl. “Now he’s come to his senses, +sure enough.” +</p> +<p> +“Hattie!” said the old man ominously. “I beg pardon +for her uncivility, stranger.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206'></a>206</span> +</p> +<p> +“Never mind,” said Reivers lightly. “Apparently +she doesn’t know any better. Speaking to you, sir, +I am nobody. I’m as much nobody as a child born +yesterday. My life—as far as you’re concerned—began +up there on the rocks in the Dead Lands. +</p> +<p> +“I died just a few days before that—died as effectively +as if a dozen preachers had read the service +over me. You don’t understand that. You’ve got a +simple mind. But I tell you I’m beginning a new +life as completely as if there was no life behind me, +and as you know all that’s happened in this new life, +you see there’s nothing for me to tell you about myself.” +</p> +<p> +“You died,” repeated the old man slowly. “I’ll warrant +you had a good reason.” +</p> +<p> +“A fair one. I wanted to live. I died to save my +life.” +</p> +<p> +“Speak plain!” growled MacGregor. “You were +not fleeing from the law?” +</p> +<p> +“No—as I told you yesterday. The only law I was +fleeing from was the good old one that cheap men +make when they become a mob.” +</p> +<p> +“I tak’ it they had a fair reason for becoming a +mob?” +</p> +<p> +“The best in the world,” agreed Reivers. “They +wanted to kill me. Now, why they wanted to do that +is something that belongs to my other life—with the +other man—has nothing at all to do with this man—with +me—and therefore I am not going to tell you +anything about it, except this: I didn’t come away +with anything that belonged to them, except possibly +my life.” +</p> +<p> +MacGregor nodded sagely as Reivers ended. +</p> +<p> +“And his own bare life a man has a right to get +away with if he can, even though it’s property +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207'></a>207</span> +forfeited to others,” he said. “I suppose you have, or +had, a name?” +</p> +<p> +“I did. I haven’t now; I haven’t thought of one +that would please me.” +</p> +<p> +“How would the ‘Woman Tamer’ suit you?” asked +the girl, without pausing in her sewing. “You remember +you told me one of your specialties was +taming spitfires like me?” +</p> +<p> +Reivers smiled. +</p> +<p> +“I am glad to see that you’ve become sufficiently interested +in me, Miss MacGregor, to select me a name.” +</p> +<p> +“Interested!” she flared; then subsided and bent +over her sewing. “I will speak no more, Uncle,” she +said meekly. +</p> +<p> +“Good!” sneered Reivers. “Your manners are improving. +And now, Mr. MacGregor, what about yourselves, +and your brother, and a mine, and a man +named Moir that I’ve heard you speak of?” +</p> +<p> +Duncan MacGregor tossed a fresh birch chunk into +the fire and carefully poked the coals around it. Outside, +the dogs, burrowing in the snow, sent up to +the sky their weird night-cry, a cry of prayer and +protest, protest against the darkness and mystery +of night, prayer for the return of the light of day. +A wind sprang up and whipped dry snow against the +cabin window, and to the sound of its swishing wail +Duncan MacGregor began to speak. +</p> +<p> +“Little as you’ve seen fit to tell about yourself, +stranger,” he said, “’tis plain from your behaviour +out on the rocks that you’re no man of that foul Welsh +cutthroat and thief, Shanty Moir. For the manner +in which you dealt with yon man, we owe you a +debt.” +</p> +<p> +“We owe him nothing,” interrupted the niece. +“Had he not interfered, I would have found the way +to Shanty Moir.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208'></a>208</span> +</p> +<p> +“But as how?” +</p> +<p> +“What matter as how? What matter what happens +to me if I could find what has become of my +father and bring justice to the head of Shanty Moir?” +</p> +<p> +MacGregor shook his head. +</p> +<p> +“We owe you a debt,” he continued, speaking to +Reivers, “and can not refuse to tell you how it is +with us. It is no pleasant situation we are in, as +you may have judged. My brother, father of Hattie, +is—or was, we do not know which—James MacGregor, +‘Red’ MacGregor so-called in this land, therefore +MacGregor Roy, as is all our breed. You would +have heard of him did you belong in this country. +</p> +<p> +“Ten year ago we built this cabin, he and I, and +settled down to trap the country, for the fur here +is good. Five year ago a Cree half-breed gave James +a sliver of rock to weight a net with, and the rock, +curse it forever, was over half gold. The breed +could not recall where the rock had come from, save +that he had chucked it into his canoe some place up +north. +</p> +<p> +“James MacGregor stopped trapping then. He began +to look for the spot where the gilty rock came +from. Three years he looked and did not find it. +Two years ago Shanty Moir came down the river and +bided here, and Moir was a prospector among other +things. Together they found it, after nearly two +years looking together; for James took this Moir into +partnership, and that was the unlucky day of his +life.” +</p> +<p> +MacGregor kicked savagely at the fire and sat silent +for several minutes. +</p> +<p> +“Six months gone they found it,” he continued +dully, “in the Summer time. They came in for provisions—for +provisions for all Winter. A deposit +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209'></a>209</span> +for two men to work, they said. My brother would +not even tell me where they found it. The gold had +got into his brain. It was his life’s blood to him. +We only knew that it was somewhere up yonder.” +</p> +<p> +He embraced the whole North with a despairing +sweep of his long arms and continued: +</p> +<p> +“Then they went back, five months, two weeks gone, +to dig out the gold, the two of them, my brother, James, +and the foul Welsh thief, Shanty Moir. For foul he +has proven. In three months my brother had promised +he would be back to say all was well with him. +We have had no word, no word in these many months. +</p> +<p> +“But Shanty Moir we have heard of. Aye, we have +heard of him. At Fifty Mile, and at Dumont’s Camp +he had been, throwing dust and nuggets across the +bars and to the painted women, boasting he is king +of the richest deposit in the North, and offering to +kill any man who offers to follow his trail to his +holdings. Aye, that we have heard. And that must +mean only one thing—the cut-throat Moir has done +my brother to death and is flourishing on the gold +that drew James MacGregor to his doom. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” he went on harshly, “what men have found +others can find. We have sent word broadcast that +we will find Shanty Moir and his holdings, and that +I will have an accounting with him, aye, an accounting +that will leave but one of us above ground, if it takes +me the rest of my life.” +</p> +<p> +“And mine,” interjected the girl hotly. “Shanty +Moir is mine, and I take toll for my father’s life. +It’s no matter what comes to me, if I can bring justice +to Shanty Moir for what he has done to my +father. My hand—my own hand will take toll when +we run the dog to earth.” +</p> +<p> +In his bunk Reivers laughed scornfully. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210'></a>210</span> +</p> +<p> +“I’ve a good notion to go hunting this Moir and +bring him to you just to see if you could make those +words good,” said he. “With your own hand, eh? +You’d fail, of course, at the last moment, being a +woman, but it would almost be worth while getting +this Moir for you to see what you’d do. Yes, it would +be an interesting experiment.” +</p> +<p> +It was the girl’s turn to laugh now, her laughter +mocking his. +</p> +<p> +“‘Twould be interesting to see what you would do +did you stand face to face with Shanty Moir,” she +sneered. “Yes, ’twould be an interesting experiment—to +see how you’d crawl. For this can be said of the +villain, Shanty Moir, that he does not run from men +to get help from women. You bring Shanty Moir in! +How would you do it—with your mouth?” +</p> +<p> +“On second thought it would be cruel and unusual +punishment to make any man listen to your tongue,” +concluded Reivers solemnly. +</p> +<p> +MacGregor growled and shook his head. +</p> +<p> +“There’s no doubt that Shanty Moir of the black +heart is a hard-grown, experienced man,” said he. +“Henchmen of his—three of them, Welshmen all—came +through here while James and he were hunting +the mine, and he treated them like dogs and they +him like a chieftain. ’Twas one of them you slew +with the rock out yon, and the matter is very plain: +Shanty Moir has got word to them and they have +come to the mine and overpowered my brother James. +You may judge of the strong hand he holds over +his men when a single one of them dares to raid my +camp in my absence and steal the daughter of James +MacGregor for his chieftain—a strong, big man. +’Twill make it all the sweeter when we get him. He +will die hard.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211'></a>211</span> +</p> +<p> +“Also—being of a thrifty breed—you won’t feel +sorry at getting hold of whatever gold he’s taken out,” +suggested Reivers. +</p> +<p> +“That’s understood,” said MacGregor, and put a +fresh chunk on the fire for the night. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212'></a>212</span><a name='chXXVI' id='chXXVI'></a>CHAPTER XXVI—THE LOOK IN A WOMAN’S EYES</h2> +<p> +Next morning Hattie MacGregor, after she had +fed him his morning’s meal, said casually +to Reivers: +</p> +<p> +“You have about six days more to pump my uncle +and get all he knows about my father’s mine. In +six days you should be strong enough to travel, and +so long and no longer do I keep you.” +</p> +<p> +“Six days?” repeated Reivers. “I may take it into +my head to start before.” +</p> +<p> +“And that’s all the good that would do you,” she +replied promptly. “You don’t go from here until +you are firm on your feet, and that will be six days, +about.” +</p> +<p> +“Your interest flatters me,” he mocked. +</p> +<p> +“Interest!” Her laugh was bitter. “No stray, +wounded cur even goes from this camp till he’s fit +to rustle a living on the trail. I could do no less even +for you.” +</p> +<p> +“And if I should make up my mind and go?” +</p> +<p> +“I would shoot you if necessary to keep you here +till my duty by you is done!” +</p> +<p> +“You spitfire!” laughed Reivers, hiding the admiration +that leaped into his eyes. “And what makes +you think I’m going hunting for this alleged mine +when I depart from your too warm hospitality?” +</p> +<p> +“Pooh! ’Tis easy enough to see that you’re that +kind—you with your long, hungry nose! I was watching +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213'></a>213</span> +you when my uncle babbled away last night. +You’ve naught a thing in the world but the clothes +you stand in. What would you do but go snooping +around when you hear of gold? I see it in your +mean eyes. Well, seek all you please. You’re welcome. +You’ll not interfere with our quest. In the +first place, you have not the heart to stay on the +trail long enough to succeed; in the second, you’d back-track +quick enough did you once come face to face +with Shanty Moir.” +</p> +<p> +“And you—I suppose this bad man, Shanty Moir, +will quail when he sees your red hair? Or perhaps +you expect to charm him as you charmed the gentleman +who had you tied on the sledge?” +</p> +<p> +“I do not know that,” she said without irritation. +“But I do know that my uncle and I will run Shanty +Moir to earth, and that he will pay in full for the +wrong he has done.” +</p> +<p> +“You silly, childish fool!” he broke out. “Haven’t +you brains enough to realise what an impossible wild-goose +chase you’re on? Since it took your father five +years to find the mine, you ought to realise that it’s +pretty hard to locate. Since he didn’t find it until +this Moir, a prospector, came to help him, you ought +to understand that it takes a miner to find it. +</p> +<p> +“You’re no miner. Your uncle is no miner. You’ve +neither of you had the slightest experience in this +sort of thing. You wouldn’t know the signs if you +saw them. You’ll go wandering aimlessly around, +maybe walking over Shanty Moir’s head; because, +since nobody has stumbled across his camp, it must be +so well hidden that it can’t be seen unless you know +right where to look. Find it! You’re a couple of +children!” +</p> +<p> +“Mayhap. But we are not so aimless as you may +think. We go to Fifty Mile and to Dumont’s Camp +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214'></a>214</span> +and stay. Sooner or later Shanty Moir will come +there, to throw my father’s gold over the bars and +to worse. It may be a month, a year—it doesn’t make +any difference. But I suppose a great man like you +has a quicker and surer way of doing it?” +</p> +<p> +“I have,” said Reivers. +</p> +<p> +“No doubt. I could see your eyes grow greedy +when you heard my uncle tell of gold.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no; not especially,” taunted Reivers. “The +gold is an incident. Shanty Moir is what interests +me. He seems to be a gentleman of parts. I’m +going to get him. I’m going to bring you face to +face with him. I want to see if you could make +good the strong talk you’ve been dealing out as to +what you would do. You interest me that way, Miss +MacGregor, and that way only. It will be an interesting +experiment to get you Shanty Moir.” +</p> +<p> +“Thank Heaven!” she said grimly. “We’ll soon +be rid of you and your big talk. Then I can forget +that any man gave me the name you gave me and +lived to brag about it afterward.” +</p> +<p> +He laughed, as one laughs at a petulant child. +</p> +<p> +“You will never forget me,” he said. “You know +that you will not forget me, if you live a thousand +years.” +</p> +<p> +“I have forgotten better men than you,” she said +and went out, slamming the door. +</p> +<p> +That evening Reivers sat up by the fire and further +plied old MacGregor with questions concerning the +mine. +</p> +<p> +“You say that your brother claimed the mine lay to +the north,” he said. “I suppose you have searched +the north first of all?” +</p> +<p> +“For a month I have done nothing else,” was the +reply. “I have not gone far enough north. My +brother James said it lay north from here; and ’twas +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215'></a>215</span> +north he and Shanty Moir went when they started on +their last trip together, from which my brother did +not return or send word.” +</p> +<p> +“Dumont’s Camp and Fifty Mile, where Moir’s +been on sprees; lay to the west.” +</p> +<p> +“Northwest, aye. Four days’ hard mushing to Fifty +Mile. Dumont’s hell-hole’s a day beyond.” +</p> +<p> +“And you think the mine lies to the north of that?” +</p> +<p> +“Aye. More like in a direct line north of here, +for ’twas so they went when they left here.” +</p> +<p> +Reivers hid the smile of triumph that struggled +on his lips. The Dead Lands were strange country +to him, but in the land north of Fifty Mile he was at +home. In his wanderings he had spent months in +that country in company with many other deluded +men who thought to dig gold out of the bare, frozen +tundra. He had found no gold there, and neither +had any one else. There was no gold up there, could +be none there, and, what was more important to him +just now, there was no rock formation, nothing but +muskeg and tundra. The mine could not be up north. +</p> +<p> +It must, however, be within easy mushing distance +of Fifty Mile and Dumont’s Camp, say two or three +days, else Shanty Moir would not have hied himself +to these settlements when the need for riot and wassail +overcame him. +</p> +<p> +“You know the ground between here and Fifty +Mile, I suppose?” he said suddenly. +</p> +<p> +“’Tis my trapping-ground,” replied MacGregor. +</p> +<p> +So the mine couldn’t be east of the settlements. It +was to the west or the south. +</p> +<p> +“Your brother was particularly careful to keep the +location of his find secret even from you?” +</p> +<p> +“Aye,” said MacGregor sorrowfully. “It had gone +to his head, he had searched so long, and the find +was so big. He took no chances that I might know +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216'></a>216</span> +it, or his daughter Hattie; only the thief, Shanty +Moir.” +</p> +<p> +And he said that the mine lay to the north. That +might mean that it lay to the south—west or south +of the settlements, there his search would lie. It was +new country to him, and, as MacGregor well knew +before he gave him his confidence, a man not knowing +the land might wander aimlessly for years without +covering those vast, broken reaches. But MacGregor +did not know of the Chippewa squaw, Tillie, +and her people. +</p> +<p> +“And now I suppose you will be able to find it +soon,” snapped Hattie MacGregor, “now that you +have pumped my uncle dry?” +</p> +<p> +“I will,” said Reivers. “I’ll be there waiting for +you when you come along.” And Duncan MacGregor +chuckled deeply. +</p> +<p> +For the remainder of his stay at the cabin, Reivers +maintained a sullen silence toward the girl. Had she +been different, had she affected him differently, he +would have cursed her for daring to disturb him even +to this slight extent. But he knew that if she had +been different she would not have disturbed him at +all. Well, he would soon be away, and then he +would forget her. +</p> +<p> +He had an object again. His nature was such +that he craved power and dominance over men, as another +man craves food. He would not live at all +unless he had power. He had used this power too +ruthlessly at Cameron-Dam Camp, and it had been +wrested from him. For the time being he was down +among the herd. But not for long. +</p> +<p> +Shanty Moir had a mine some place south or west +of the settlements, and the mine yielded gold nuggets +and gold dust for Shanty Moir to fling across the +bars. Gold spells power. Given gold, Reivers would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217'></a>217</span> +have back his old-time power over men, aye, and +over women. Not merely a power up there in the +frozen North, but in the world to which he had long +ago belonged: the world of men in dress clothes, of +lights and soft rugs, or women, soft-speaking women, +shimmery gowns and white shoulders, their eyes and +apparel a constant invitation to the great adventure of +love. +</p> +<p> +After all, that was the world that he belonged in. +And gold would give him power there, and in that +whirl he would forget this red-haired, semi-savage who +looked him in the eye as no other woman ever had +dared. His fists clenched as his thoughts lighted up +the future. The Snow-Burner had died, but he would +live again, and he would forget, absolutely and completely, +Hattie MacGregor. +</p> +<p> +On the morning of the sixth day Duncan MacGregor +gravely placed before him outside the cabin door a +pair of light snowshoes and a grub-bag filled with food +for four days. Reivers strapped on the snowshoes +and ran his arms through the bagstraps without a +word. +</p> +<p> +“Stranger,” said MacGregor, holding out his hand, +“I did not like you when first I saw you. I do not +say I like you now. But—shake hands.” +</p> +<p> +Reivers hurriedly shook hands and tore himself +away. He had resolved to go without seeing Hattie, +and he was inwardly raging at himself because he +found this resolution hard to keep. He laid his course +for the nearest rise of land, half a mile away. Once +over the rise the cabin would be shut out of sight, +and even though he should weaken and look back +there would be no danger of letting her see. +</p> +<p> +Bent far over, head down, lunging along with the +cunning strides of the trained snowshoer, he topped +the rise and dropped down on the farther side. There +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218'></a>218</span> +he paused to rest himself and draw breath, and as he +stood there Hattie MacGregor and her dog-team swept +at right angles across his trail. +</p> +<p> +She was riding boy-fashion, half sitting, half lying, +on the empty sledge, driving the dogs furiously for +their daily exercise. She did not speak. She merely +looked up at him as she went past. Then she was +gone in a flurry of snow, and Reivers went forth on his +quest of power with a curse on his lips and in his +heart the determination that no weakening memories +of a girl’s wistful eyes should interfere with his aim. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219'></a>219</span><a name='chXXVII' id='chXXVII'></a>CHAPTER XXVII—ON THE TRAIL OF FORTUNE</h2> +<p> +Reivers travelled steadily for an hour at the +best pace that was in him. It was not a good +pace, for he was far from being in his old physical +condition, and the lift and swing of a snowshoe will +cramp the calves and ankle-tendons of a man grown +soft from long bed-lying, no matter how cunning +may be his stride. +</p> +<p> +He swore a little at first over his slow progress. +He was like a wolf, suddenly released from a trap, +who desires to travel far, swiftly and instantly, and +who finds that the trap has made him lame. +</p> +<p> +Reivers wanted to put the MacGregor cabin, and +the scenes about it, which might remind him of Hattie, +behind him with a rush. But the rush, he soon found, +threatened to cripple him, so he must perforce give +it up. The trail that he had set out to make was +not one that any man, least of all one recently convalescent, +could hope to cover in a single burst of +speed. +</p> +<p> +He was going to the Winter camp of the people +of Tillie, the squaw. The camp lay somewhere in +the northwest. How far away he did not know; and +it was no part of his plans to arrive at the camp of +the Chippewas depleted in energy and resource. The +role he had set out to play now called for the character +of the Snow-Burner at his best—dominant, unconquerable. +Therefore, when he found that his first +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220'></a>220</span> +efforts at speed threatened to cripple him with the +treacherous snow-shoe cramp, he resigned himself to a +pace which would have shamed him had he been in +good condition. It was poor snow-shoeing, but at the +end of an hour he had placed between himself and +all possible sight of Hattie MacGregor the first ragged +rock-ramparts of the Dead Lands, and he was content. +</p> +<p> +On the western slope of a low ridge he unstrapped +his snow-shoes and sat down on a bare boulder for a +rest. His heart throbbed nervously from his exertion +and his lungs gasped weakly. But with each +breath of the crisp air his strength was coming back +to him, and in his head the brains of the Snow-Burner +worked as of old. He smiled with great self-satisfaction. +He was not considering his condition, was +not counting the difficulties that lay in his path. He +was merely picturing, with lightning-like play of that +powerful mental machinery of his, the desperate +nature of the adventure toward which he was travelling. +</p> +<p> +It was desperate enough even to thrill Hell-Camp +Reivers. For probably never did born adventurer set +forth of his own free will on a more deadly, more +hopeless-looking trail. As he sat on the rock there +in the Dead Lands, Reivers was in better condition +than on his flight from Cameron-Dam Camp to this +extent: the bullet-hole in his shoulder was healed, and, +he had recuperated from the fever brought on by +exposure and exhaustion. That was all. He was +still the bare man with empty hands. He possessed +nothing in the world but the clothes he stood in, the +food on his back and the gift snow-shoes on his feet. +</p> +<p> +He had not even a knife that might be called a +weapon, for the case-knife that old MacGregor had +given him upon parting could scarcely be reckoned +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221'></a>221</span> +such. In this condition he was setting forth—first, +to find a cunningly hidden mine; second, to take it and +keep it for his own from one Shanty Moir, who treated +his henchmen like dogs and was looked up to as a +chieftain. +</p> +<p> +The Snow-Burner lived again as he contemplated +the possibilities of a clash with Moir. If what the +MacGregors had said was true, Shanty Moir was a +boss man himself. And as instinctively and eagerly as +one ten-pronged buck tears straight through timber, +swamp and water to battle with another buck whose +deep-voiced challenge proclaims him similarly a giant, +so Reivers was going toward Shanty Moir. +</p> +<p> +He leaped to his feet, with flashing eyes, at the +thought of what was coming. Then he remembered +his weakened condition and sat down again. For +the immediate present, until his full strength returned, +he must make craft take the place of strength. +</p> +<p> +When he was ready to start again, Reivers took +his bearings from the sun, it being a clear day, and +laid his trail as straight toward the northwest as the +formation of the Dead Lands would allow. He slept +that night by a hot spring. A tiny rivulet ran unfrozen +from the spring southward down into the +maze of barren stone, a thread of dark, steaming +water, wandering through the white, frozen snow. +</p> +<p> +Had he been a little less tired with the day’s march +Reivers might have paid more attention to this phenomenon +that evening. In the morning he awoke with +such eagerness to be on toward his adventure that he +marched off without bestowing on the stream more +than a casual glance. And later he came to curse his +carelessness. +</p> +<p> +Bearing steadily toward the northwest, his course +lay in the Dead Lands for the greater part of the day. +Shortly before sundown he saw with relief that ahead +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222'></a>222</span> +the rocks and ridges gave way to the flat tundra, +with small clumps of stunted willows dotting the +flatness, like tiny islands in a sea of snow. +</p> +<p> +Reivers quickened his pace. Out on the tundra he +hurried straight to the nearest bunch of willows. Even +at a distance of several rods the chewed white branches +of the willows told him their story, and he gave vent +to a shout of relief. The caribou had been feeding +there. The Chippewas lived on the caribou in Winter. +He had only to follow the trail of the animals +and he would soon run across the moccasin tracks +of his friends, the Indians. +</p> +<p> +Luck favoured him more than he hoped for. At +his shout there was a crash in a clump of willows a +hundred yards ahead and a bull caribou lumbered +clumsily into the open. At the sight of him the +beast snorted loudly and turned and ran. From right +and left came other crashes, and in the gathering +dusk the herd which had been stripping the willows +fled in the wake of the sentinel bull, their ungainly gait +whipping them out of sight and hearing in uncanny +fashion. +</p> +<p> +Reivers smiled. The camp of Tillie’s people would +not be far from the feeding ground of the caribou. +He ate his cold supper, crawled into the shelter of the +willows and went to sleep. +</p> +<p> +Dry, drifting snow half hid the tracks of the caribou +during the night, and in the morning he was +forced to wait for the late-coming daylight before +picking up the trail. The herd had gone straight +westward, and Reivers followed the signs, his eyes +constantly scanning the snow for moccasin tracks +or other evidence of human beings. +</p> +<p> +In the middle of the forenoon, in a birch and willow +swamp, he jumped the animals again. They +caught his scent at a mile’s distance, and Reivers +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223'></a>223</span> +crouched down and watched avidly as they streaked +from the swamp to security. +</p> +<p> +To the north of the swamp lay the open, snow-covered +tundra, where even the knife-like fore-hoof +of the caribou would have hard time to dig out a living +in the dead of Winter. To the south lay clumps +of brush and stunted trees, ideal shelter and feed. +</p> +<p> +The animals went north. Reivers nodded in great +satisfaction. There were wolves or Indians to the +south, probably the latter. Accordingly he turned +southward. Toward noon he found his first moccasin +track, evidently the trail of a single hunter who had +come northward, but not quite far enough, on a hunt +for caribou. +</p> +<p> +The track looped back southward and Reivers +trailed it. Soon a set of snow-shoe tracks joined +the moccasins, and Reivers, after a close scrutiny had +revealed the Chippewa pattern in the snow, knew that +he was on the right track. The tracks dropped down +on to the bed of a solidly frozen river and continued +on to the south. +</p> +<p> +Other tracks became visible. When they gathered +together and made a hard-packed trail down the middle +of the river, Reivers knew that a camp was not far +away, and grew cautious. +</p> +<p> +He found the camp as the swift Winter darkness +came on, a group of half a dozen tepees set snugly +in a bend of the river, one large tepee in the middle +easily recognisable as that of Tillie, the squaw, chief +of the band. +</p> +<p> +Reivers sat down to wait. Presently he heard the +camp-dogs growling and fighting over their evening +meal and knew that they would be too occupied to +notice and announce the approach of a stranger. Also, +at this time the people of the camp would be in their +tepees, supping heavily if the hunter’s god had been +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224'></a>224</span> +favourably inclined, and gnawing the cold bones of +yesterday if that irrational deity had been unkind. +</p> +<p> +By the whining note in the growls of the dogs, +Reivers judged that the latter was the case this evening; +and when he moved forward and stood listening +outside the flap of the big tepee he knew that it was so. +Within, an old squaw’s treble rose faintly in a whining +chant, of which Reivers caught the despairing motif: +</p> +<p> + Black is the face of the sun, Ah wo!<br /> + The time has come for the old to die. Ah wo, ah wo!<br /> + There is meat only to keep alive the young. Ah wo!<br /> + We who are old must die. Ah wo! Ah wo! Ah wo!<br /> +</p> +<p> +Any other white man but Reivers would have +shuddered at the terrible, primitive story which the +wail told. Reivers smiled. His old luck was with +him. The camp was short of meat and the hunters +had given up hopes of making a kill. +</p> +<p> +With deft, experienced fingers he unloosed the flap +of the tepee. There was no noise. Suddenly the old +squaw’s wail ceased; those in the tepee looked up from +their scanty supper. The Snow-Burner was standing +inside the tepee, the flap closed behind him. +</p> +<p> +There were six people in the tepee, the old squaw, +an old man, two young hunters, a young girl, and +Tillie. They were gathered around the fire-stone in +the centre, making a scant meal of frozen fish. Tillie, +by virtue of her position, had the warmest place and +the most fish. +</p> +<p> +No one spoke a word as they became aware of +his presence. Only on Tillie’s face there came a look +in which the traces of hunger vanished. Reivers stood +looking down at the group for a moment in silence. +Then he strode forward, thrust Tillie to one side and +sat down in her place. For Reivers knew Indians. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225'></a>225</span> +</p> +<p> +“Feed me,” he commanded, tossing his grub-bag +to her. +</p> +<p> +He did not look at her as she placed before him +the entire contents of the bag. Having served him +she retired and sat down behind him, awaiting his +pleasure. Reivers ate leisurely of the bountiful supply +of cold meat that remained of his supply. When +he had his fill he tossed small portions to the old +squaw, the old man and the young girl. +</p> +<p> +“Hunters are mighty,” he mocked in the Chippewa +tongue, as the young men avidly eyed the meat. “They +kill what they eat. The meat they do not kill would +stick in their mighty throats.” +</p> +<p> +Last of all he beckoned Tillie to come to his side +and eat what remained. +</p> +<p> +“Men eat meat,” he continued, looking over the +heads of the two hunters. “Old people and children +are content with frozen fish. When I was here before +there were men in this camp. There was meat +in the tepees. The dogs had meat. Now I see the +men are all gone.” +</p> +<p> +One of the hunters raised his arms above his head, +a gesture indicating strength, and let them fall resignedly +to his side, a sign of despair. +</p> +<p> +“The caribou are gone, Snow-Burner,” he said dully. +“That is why there is no meat. All gone. The god +of good kills has turned his face from us. Little +Bear—” to the old man—“how long have our people +hunted the caribou here?” +</p> +<p> +Little Bear lifted his head, his wizened, smoked +face more a black, carved mask than a human countenance. +</p> +<p> +“Big Bear, my father, was an old man when I was +born,” he said slowly. “When he was a boy so small +that he slept with the women, our people came here +for the Winter hunt.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226'></a>226</span> +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Little Bear,” chanted the hunter, “great was +your father, the hunter; great were you as a hunter +in your young days. Was there ever a Winter before +when the caribou were not found here in plenty?” +</p> +<p> +The old man shook his head. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Snow-Burner,” said the hunter, “these are +the words of Little Bear, whose age no one knows. +Always the caribou have been plenty here along this +river in the Winter. Longer than any old man’s tales +reach back have they fed upon the willows. They +are not here this Winter. The gods are angry with us. +We hunt. We hunt till we lie flat on the snow. We +find no signs. There are men still here, Snow-Burner, +but the caribou have gone.” +</p> +<p> +“Have gone, have gone, have gone. Ah wo!” +chanted the old squaw. +</p> +<p> +“Where do you hunt?” asked Reivers tersely. +</p> +<p> +“Where we have always hunted; where our fathers +hunted before us,” was the reply. “Along the river in +the muskeg and bush to the south we hunt. The caribou +are not there. They are nowhere. The gods +have taken them away. We must die and go where +they are.” +</p> +<p> +“We must go,” wailed the old squaw. “The gods +refuse us meat. We must go.” +</p> +<p> +Her chant of despair was heard beyond the tepee. +In the smaller tents other voices took up the wail. The +women were singing the death song, their primitive +protest and acquiescence to what they considered the +irrevocable pleasure of their dark gods. +</p> +<p> +Reivers waited until the last squaw had whined +herself into silence. Even then he did not speak at +once. He knew that these simple people, who for +his deeds had given him the expressive name of Snow-Burner, +were waiting for him to speak, and he knew +the value of silence upon their primitive souls. He +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227'></a>227</span> +sat with folded arms, looking above the heads of the +two hunters. +</p> +<p> +“You have done well,” he said, nodding impressively, +but not looking at the two young men. “You +have hunted as men who have the true hunter’s heart. +But what can man do when the gods are against him? +The gods are against you. They are not against me. +To-morrow I slay you your fill of caribou.” +</p> +<p> +“Snow-Burner,” whispered one of the hunters in +the awe-stricken silence that followed this announcement, +“there are no caribou here. Are you greater +than the gods?” +</p> +<p> +Reivers looked at him, and at the light in his eyes +the young man drew back in fright. +</p> +<p> +“To-morrow I give you your fill of meat,” he said +slowly. “Not only enough for one day, but enough +for all Winter. Each tepee shall be piled high with +meat. Even the dogs shall eat till they want no more. +I have promised. I alone. Do you—” he pointed +at the hunters—“bring me to-night the two best rifles +in the camp. If they do not shoot true to-morrow, do +not let me find you here when I return from the hunt. +And now the rest of you—all of you—go from here. +Go, I will be alone.” +</p> +<p> +They rose and went out obediently, except Tillie +who watched Reivers’s face with avid eyes as the +young girl left the tepee. Then she crawled forward +and touched her forehead to his hand, for Reivers +had not bestowed upon the girl a glance. +</p> +<p> +Presently the hunters came back and placed their +Winchesters at his feet. He examined each weapon +carefully, found them in perfect order and fully +loaded, and dismissed the men with a wave of his arm. +Tillie sat with bowed head, humbly waiting his pleasure, +but Reivers rolled himself in his blanket and lay +down alone by the fire. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228'></a>228</span> +</p> +<p> +“I wish to sleep warm,” he said. “See that the +fire does not go out till the night is half gone. Be +ready to go with me in the hour before daylight. Have +the swiftest and strongest team of dogs and the largest +sledge hitched and waiting to bear us to the hunt. +Go! Now I sleep.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229'></a>229</span><a name='chXXVIII' id='chXXVIII'></a>CHAPTER XXVIII—THE SNOW-BURNER HUNTS</h2> +<p> +The snarling of dogs being put into harness awoke +him in the morning, but he lay pretending to +sleep until Tillie, having overseen the hitching-up, +came in, prepared food over the fire, which had not +gone out all night, and came timidly and laid a hand +on his shoulder. +</p> +<p> +It was pitch dark when they went from the tepee. +The dogs whined at the prospect of a dark trail, and +the hunter who held them plied his whip savagely. +With the rifles carefully stowed in their buckskin cases +on the sledge, and a big camp-axe, as their whole burden, +Reivers immediately took command of the dogs +and headed down the river. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Snow-Burner!” chattered the frozen hunter in +disappointment. “There are no caribou to the south. +It is a waste of strength to hunt there.” +</p> +<p> +“There are no caribou anywhere for you,” retorted +Reivers. “For me it does not make any difference +where I hunt; the spirits are with me. Stay close to +the tepees to-day. If any one follows my trail the +spirits will refuse their help. Hi-yah! Mush!” +</p> +<p> +Under the sting of his skilfully wielded whip the big +team whirled down the river, Reivers riding in front, +Tillie behind. But they did not go south for long. A +few miles below the camp Reivers abruptly swung the +dogs off the river-bed and bore westward. +</p> +<p> +Half a mile of this and he shifted and changed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230'></a>230</span> +his course to right angles, straight toward the north. +</p> +<p> +“And now, mush! —— you! Mush for all that’s +in you!” he cried, plying the whip. “You’ve got many +miles to cover before daylight. Mush, mush!” +</p> +<p> +He held straight northward until he left the bush +and reached the open tundra at the spot where the +caribou the day before had swung away farther north. +He knew that the herd, being in a country undisturbed +by man, would not travel far from the willows where +he had jumped them the day before, and he held cautiously +on their trail until the first grey of daylight +showed a rise in the land ahead. Here he halted +the dogs and crept forward on foot. +</p> +<p> +It was as he expected. The caribou had halted +on the other side of the height of land, feeling secure +in that region where no man ever came. Below him +he could see them moving, and he realised that he must +act at once, before they began their travels of the day. +</p> +<p> +“Tillie,” he whispered, coming back to the sledge, +“as soon as you can see the snow on the knoll ahead +do you drive the dogs around there, to the right, and +swing to the left along the other side of the knoll. +Drive fast and shout loud. Shout as if the wolves +had you. There are caribou over the knoll. When +the dogs see them let them go straight for the herd. +But wait till the snow shows white in the daylight.” +</p> +<p> +Snatching both rifles from their covers, he ran +around the left shoulder of the knoll and ambushed in +a trifling hollow. He waited patiently, one rifle +cocked and in his hand, the other lying ready at his +side. The light grew broader; the herd, just out of +safe rifle shot, began milling restlessly. +</p> +<p> +Suddenly, from around the right of the knoll, came +the sharp yelp of a dog as Tillie’s leader, rounding +the ridge, caught scent and sight of living meat ahead. +The caribou stopped dead. Then bedlam broke loose +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231'></a>231</span> +as the dogs saw what was before them. And the +caribou, trembling at the wolf-yells of the dogs, broke +into their swift, lumbering run and came streaking +straight past Reivers at fifty yards’ distance. +</p> +<p> +Reivers waited until the maddened beasts were running +four deep before him. Then the slaughter began. +No need to watch the sights here. The crash of +shot upon shot followed as quickly as he could pump +the lever. There were ten shots in each rifle, and he +fired them all before the herd was out of range. +Then only the hideous yelps of the maddened dogs +tore the morning quiet. A dozen caribou, some dead, +some kicking, some trying to crawl away, were scattered +over the snow, and Reivers nodded and knew +that his hold on Tillie’s people was complete. +</p> +<p> +The dogs were on the first caribou now, snarling, +yelping, fighting, eating, for the time being as wild +and savage as any of their wolf forebears. Tillie, +spilled from the sledge in the first mad rush of the +team, came waddling up to Reivers and bowed down +before him humbly. +</p> +<p> +“Snow-Burner, I know you are only a man, because +I alone of my people have seen you among other +white men,” she said. “Yet you are more than other +men. Snow-Burner, I have lived among white people +and know that the talk of spirits is only for children. +But how knew you that the caribou were here?” +</p> +<p> +“The meat is there,” said Reivers, pointing at his +kill. “Your work is to take care of it. The axe is on +the sledge. Cut off as many saddles and hind-quarters +as the dogs can drag back to camp. The rest we will +cache here. To your work. Do not ask questions.” +</p> +<p> +He reloaded and put the wounded animals out of +their misery, each with a shot through the head, and +sat down and watched her as she slaved at her butcher’s +task. Tillie had lived among white people, had been +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232'></a>232</span> +to the white man’s school even, but Reivers knew +he would slacken his hold on her if he demeaned himself +by assisting her in her toil. +</p> +<p> +When the dogs had stayed their hunger he leaped +into their midst with clubbed rifle and knocked them +yelping away from their prey. When they turned and +attacked him he coolly struck and kicked till they had +enough. Then with the driving whip he beat them +till they lay flat in the snow and whined for mercy. +</p> +<p> +By the time Tillie had the sledge loaded and the +rest of the kill cached under a huge heap of snow, +it was noon, and the dogs started back with their +heavy load, open-mouthed and panting, their excitement +divided between fear of the man who had mastered +them and the odour of fresh blood that reeked +in their avid nostrils. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233'></a>233</span><a name='chXXIX' id='chXXIX'></a>CHAPTER XXIX—THE WHITE MAN’S WILL</h2> +<p> +That night in the camp at the river bend the +Indians feasted ravenously, and Reivers, sitting +in Tillie’s place as new-made chief, looked on without +smiling. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Snow-Burner!” said the oldest man at last. +“What is it you want with us? Our furs? Speak. +We obey your will.” +</p> +<p> +“Furs are good,” replied Reivers, “when a man has +nothing else, but gold is better, and the gold that another +man has is best of all.” +</p> +<p> +The old man cackled respectfully. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Snow-Burner! Do you come to us for gold? +Do you think we would sit here without meat if we +had gold? No, Snow-Burner. What we have you +can have. Your will with the tribe from the oldest +to the youngest is our law. We owe you our lives. +The strength of our young men is yours; the wisdom +of our old heads is yours. But gold we have not. Do +not turn your frown upon us, Snow-Burner; you +must know it is the truth.” +</p> +<p> +“Since when,” said Reivers sternly, “has my friend, +old Little Bear, dared say that the Snow-Burner has +the foolishness of a woman in his head? Do you think +I come seeking gold from you? No. It is the strength +of your young men and the wisdom of your old heads +that I want. I seek gold. You shall help me find it.” +</p> +<p> +Little Bear raised his arms and let them fall in +the eloquent Indian gesture of helplessness. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234'></a>234</span> +</p> +<p> +“White men have been here often to seek for gold. +The great Snow-Burner once was one of them. They +have digged holes in the ground. They have taken the +sand from creek bottoms. Did the Snow-Burner, who +finds caribou where there are none, find any gold here? +No. It is an old story. There is no gold here.” +</p> +<p> +Reivers leaned forward and spoke harshly. +</p> +<p> +“Listen, Little Bear; listen all you people. There +is gold within three days’ march from here. Much +gold. Another man digs it. You will find it for me. +I have spoken.” +</p> +<p> +Silence fell on the tepee. The Indians looked at +one another. Little Bear finally spoke with bowed +head. +</p> +<p> +“We do the Snow-Burner’s will.” +</p> +<p> +Nawa, the youngest and strongest of the hunters, +turned to Reivers respectfully. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Snow-Burner, Nawa serves you with the +strength of his leg and the keenness of his eyes. Nawa +knows that the Snow-Burner sees things that are hidden +to us. Our oldest men say there is no gold here. +Other white men say there is no gold here. The Snow-Burner +says there is gold near here. +</p> +<p> +“The Snow-Burner sees what is hidden to others. +Nawa does not doubt. Nawa waits only the Snow-Burner’s +commands. But Nawa has been to the settlements +at Fifty Mile and Dumont’s Camp. He has +heard the white men talk. They talk there of a man +who carries gold like gunpowder and gold like bullets, +instead of the white man’s money. +</p> +<p> +“Nawa has talked with Indians who have seen +this man. They call him ‘Iron Hair,’ because his hair +is black and stiff like the quills of a porcupine. Oh, +Snow-Burner, Nawa knows nothing. He merely tells +what he has heard. Is this the man the Snow-Burner, +too, has heard of!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235'></a>235</span> +</p> +<p> +Reivers looked around the circle of smoke-blackened +faces about the fire. No expression betrayed what was +going on behind those wood-like masks, but Reivers +knew Indians and sensed that they were all waiting +excitedly for his answer. +</p> +<p> +“That is the man,” he said, and by the complete +silence that followed he knew that his reply had +caused a sensation that would have made white men +swear. “What know you of Iron Hair, Nawa?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Snow-Burner,” said Nawa dolefully, “our tribe +knows of Iron Hair to its sorrow. Two moons ago +the big man with the hair like a porcupine was at +Fifty Mile for whisky and food. He hired Small Eyes +and Broken Wing of our tribe to haul the food to +his camp, a day’s travelling each way, so he said. The +pay was to be big. Small Eyes and Broken Wing +went. So much people know. Nothing more. The +sledges did not come back. Small Eyes and Broken +Wing did not come back. So much do we know of +Iron Hair. Nawa has spoken.” +</p> +<p> +“Once there were men in these tepees,” said Reivers, +looking high above Nawa’s head. “Once there were +men who would have gone from their tepees to follow +to the end the trail of their brothers who go and do +not come back. Now there are no men. They sit in +the tepees with the women and keep warm. Perhaps +Small Eyes and Broken Wing were men and did not +care to come back to people who sit by their fires +and do not seek to find their brothers who disappear.” +</p> +<p> +“We have sought, oh, Snow-Burner,” said Nawa +hopelessly. “Do not think we have only sat by our +fires. We sought to follow the trail of Iron Hair +out of Fifty Mile——” +</p> +<p> +“How ran the trail?” interrupted Reivers. +</p> +<p> +“Between the north and the west. We went to +hunt our brothers. But a storm had blotted out the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236'></a>236</span> +trail. Iron Hair had gone out in the storm. Who can +follow when there is no trail to see?” +</p> +<p> +“Once,” resumed Reivers in the tone of contempt, +“there were strong dog-drivers and sharp eyes here. +They would have found the camp of Iron Hair in +those days.” +</p> +<p> +“Our dogs still are strong, our young men drive +well, our eyes are sharp even now, Snow-Burner,” +came Nawa’s weary reply. “We searched. Even as +we searched for the caribou we searched for the camp +of Iron Hair. We found no camp. There is no +white man’s camp in this country. There is no camp +at all. We searched till nothing the size of a man’s +cap could be hidden. The white men from Dumont’s +Camp and Fifty Mile have searched for the gold which +white men are mad for. They found nothing. At +the settlements the white men say, ‘This man must be +the devil himself and go to hell for his gold, because +his camp certainly is not in this world where men can +see it with their eyes.’” +</p> +<p> +“And the caribou were not in this world, either?” +mocked Reivers. +</p> +<p> +Nawa shook his head. +</p> +<p> +“White men, too, have looked for the camp of +Iron Hair.” +</p> +<p> +“Many white men,” supplemented old Little Bear. +“White men always look when they hear of gold. +They find gold if it is to be found. The earth gives +up its secrets to them. Snow-Burner, they could not +find the place where Iron Hair digs his gold.” +</p> +<p> +“Nawa and his hunters could not find the caribou,” +said Reivers. +</p> +<p> +There was no reply. He had driven his will home. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Snow-Burner,” said Nawa, at last, “as Little +Bear has said, we do your will.” +</p> +<p> +“Good;” Reivers rose and towered over them. “My +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237'></a>237</span> +will at present is that you go to your tepees. Sleep +soundly. I have work for you in the morning.” +</p> +<p> +He stood and watched while they filed, stooped over, +through the low opening in the tepee wall. They +went without question, without will of their own. A +stronger will than theirs had caught them and held +them. From hence on they were wholly subservient +to the superior mentality which was to direct their +actions. Reivers smiled. Old MacGregor had felt +safe in telling about the mine; a strange man had no +chance to find it. But MacGregor did not know of +Tillie’s people. +</p> +<p> +Reivers suddenly turned toward the fire. Tillie +was standing there, arrayed in buckskin so white that +she must have kept it protected from the tepee smoke +in hope of his coming. At the sight of her there came +before Reivers’ eyes the picture of Hattie MacGregor’s +face as she had looked up at him when he was leaving +the MacGregor cabin. The look that came over +his face then was new even to Tillie. +</p> +<p> +“You, too, get out!” he roared, and Tillie fled from +the tepee in terror. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238'></a>238</span><a name='chXXX' id='chXXX'></a>CHAPTER XXX—ANY MEANS TO AN END</h2> +<p> +In the big tepee Reivers rolled on his blankets and +cursed himself for his weakness. What had happened +to him? Was he getting to be like other men, +that he would let the memory of an impudent, red-haired +girl interfere with his plans or pleasures? Had +he not sworn to forget? And yet here came the +memory of her—the wide grey eyes, the suffering +mouth, the purity of the look of her—rising before his +eyes like a vision to shame him. +</p> +<p> +To shame him! To shame the Snow-Burner! He +understood the significance of the look she had given +him, and which had stood between him and Tillie. +Womanhood, pure, noble womanhood, was appealing +to his better self. +</p> +<p> +His better self! Reivers laughed a laugh so ghastly +that it might have come from a bare skull. His better +self! If a man believed in things like that he had to +believe in the human race—had to believe in goodness +and badness, virtue and sin, right and wrong, and +all that silly, effeminate rot. Reivers didn’t believe in +that stuff. He knew only one life-law, that of strength +over weakness, and that was the law he would live +and die with, and Miss Hattie MacGregor could not +interfere. +</p> +<p> +With his terrible will-power he erased the memory +of her from his mind. He did not erase the resentment +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239'></a>239</span> +at his own weakness. On the contrary, the +resentment grew. He would revenge himself for that +moment of weakness. +</p> +<p> +There were two ways of finding Moir and the mysterious +mine. One—the way he had first planned to +follow—was to scatter his Indians, and as many +others as he could bribe with caribou meat, over the +country lying to the south of Fifty Mile, where he +knew the mine must be. Moir, or his men, must show +themselves sooner or later. In time the Indians would +find Moir’s camp. +</p> +<p> +But there was also a shorter and surer way—a +shameful way. Moir, by the talk he had heard of him, +came to Fifty Mile and Dumont’s Camp for such +whisky and feminine company as might be found. He +had even sent one of his henchmen to steal Hattie +MacGregor. Such a move proved that Moir was +desperate, and by this time, by the non-appearance of +the would-be-kidnapper, the chief would know that his +man was either killed or captured, and that no hope +for a woman lay in that quarter. Moir’s next move +would be to come to Fifty Mile and Dumont’s, or +to send a man there, to procure the means of salving +his disappointment. And Reivers had two attractive +women at his disposal, Tillie, and the young girl who +was nearly beautiful. Thus did Reivers overcome his +momentary weakness. The black shamefulness of his +scheme he laughed at. Then he went to sleep. +</p> +<p> +He gave his orders to Tillie early next morning. +</p> +<p> +“Have this tepee and another one loaded on one +sledge,” he directed. “Have a second sledge loaded +with caribou meat. Do you and the young girl prepare +to come with me. We are going on a long +journey. You will both take your brightest clothes.” +</p> +<p> +He waited with set jaws while his orders were +obeyed. No weakness any more. There was only +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240'></a>240</span> +one law, the strong over the weak, and he was the +strong one. +</p> +<p> +A call from Tillie apprised him that all was ready, +and he strode forth to find Nawa, the young hunter, +waiting with the two women ready for the trail. +</p> +<p> +“How so?” he demanded. “Did I say aught about +Nawa?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Snow-Burner,” whispered Tillie, “Neopa is +to be Nawa’s squaw with the coming of Spring. They +wish to go together.” +</p> +<p> +“And I do not wish them to go together,” said +Reivers harshly. “Give me that rifle.” He took the +weapon from Nawa’s hands. “Do you stay here and +eat caribou meat and grow fat against the coming of +Spring, Nawa.” +</p> +<p> +“Snow-Burner,” said Nawa, a flash of will lighting +his eyes for the moment, “does Neopa come back to +me?” +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps,” said Reivers, cocking the rifle. “But if +you try to follow you will never come back. Is it +understood?” +</p> +<p> +Nawa bowed his head and turned away. Neopa +made as if to run to him, but Reivers caught her +brutally and threw her upon the lead sledge. He +had resolved to travel the way of shame, no matter +what the cost to others. +</p> +<p> +“Mush! Get on!” he roared at the dogs, and with +the rifle ready and with a backward glance at Nawa, +he drove away for Fifty Mile and Dumont’s Camp. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241'></a>241</span><a name='chXXXI' id='chXXXI'></a>CHAPTER XXXI—THE SQUAW-MAN</h2> +<p> +A day after Reivers drove out of the Indian +camp, Dumont’s Camp had something to talk +about. A half-witted, crippled-up squaw-man went +through with a couple of squaws, and the youngest +of the squaws was a beaut’! The old bum hadn’t +stopped long, just long enough to trade a chunk of +caribou meat for a bottle of hooch, but long enough, +nevertheless, to let the gang get a peek at the squaws. +</p> +<p> +Dumont’s Camp opined that it was a good thing +for the old cripple that he hadn’t stayed longer, else +he might have found himself minus his squaws, especially +the young one. But Dumont’s Camp would have +been mightily puzzled had it seen how the limp and +stoop went out of the squaw-man’s body the moment +he had left their camp behind, how the foolish leer +and stuttering speech disappeared from his mouth, +and how, straight-backed and stern-visaged, he threw +the bottle of hooch away in contempt and hurried on +toward Fifty Mile. +</p> +<p> +Reivers had played many strange parts in his +tumultuous life, and his squaw-man was a masterpiece. +Fifty Mile had its sensation early next morning. +The half-witted, crippled-up squaw-man with +the two extremely desirable squaws came through, +stopped for another bottle of hooch, and drove on and +made camp just outside the settlement. +</p> +<p> +“He certainly was one soft-headed old bum,” said +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242'></a>242</span> +Jack Raftery, leaning on the packing-case that served +as bar in his logcabin saloon. “Yes, men, he certainly +is bumped in the bean and locoed in his arms. Gimme +that chunk o’ meat there for a bottle o’ hooch. +’Bout fifty pounds, it’ll weigh. I’d give ‘im a gallon, +but he grins foolish and says: ‘Bottle. One bottle.’ +‘Drag your meat in,’ says I. Well, gents, will you +b’lieve he couldn’t make it. No, sir; paralysed in the +arms or something. +</p> +<p> +“That young squaw o’ his did the toting. A beaut’? +Gents, there never was anything put up in a brown +hide to touch it. An’ that locoed ol’ bum running +’round loose with it. Tempting providence, that’s +what he is, when he comes parading ‘round real men-folks +with skirts like them. Shouldn’t wonder if +something’d happen to him one o’ these cold days. +Looks like he might ‘a’ been an awful good man in +his day, too. Well built. Reckon he’s been used +mighty rough to be locoed and crippled up the way +he is.” +</p> +<p> +“I reck-ong,” drawled Black Pete, who ran the +games at Raftery’s when there was any money in +sight. “I reck-ong too mebbe he get handle more +rough some tam ef he’s hang ‘round long wid dem +two squaw. Tha’ small squaw’s too chic, she, to +b’long to ol’ bum lak heem.” +</p> +<p> +The assembled gents laughed. Had they seen the +“ol’ bum” at that moment their laughter would have +been cut short. Reivers, in a gully out of sight of the +settlement, had thrown away his hooch, pitched camp, +tethered the dogs and made all secure with a swiftness +and efficiency that belied the characterisation Black +Pete had applied to him. He had the two tepees set +up far apart, the dogs tied between them, and Tillie +and Neopa had one tepee, and Reivers the other, alone. +</p> +<p> +Having made camp, Reivers knew what the boys +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243'></a>243</span> +would expect of him in his character of sodden squaw-man. +Having resolved to use the most shameful means +in the world to achieve his end, he played his base part +to perfection. +</p> +<p> +“Do you take this chunk of meat,” he directed +Tillie, “and go down to the saloon and get another +bottle of hooch. Yes, yes; I know I have destroyed +one bottle. You are not to ask questions but to obey +my commands. Go down and trade the meat for +hooch. Do not stop to speak to the white men. Come, +back at once. Go!” +</p> +<p> +But down in Raftery’s the assemblage had no hint +of these swift changes, and they laughed merrily at +Black Pete’s remarks. +</p> +<p> +“What d’you reckon his lay is, Jack?” asked one. +</p> +<p> +“Booze,” replied Raftery instantly. “Nothing else. +When you see a man who’s sure been as good a man +in his day as this relic, trailing ’round with squaw +folks, you can jest nacherlly whittle a little marker +for him and paint on it, ‘’Nother white man as the +hooch hez got.’ Sabbe? I trace him out as some +prospector who’s got crippled up and been laying out +’mongst the Indians with a good supply of the ol’ +frost-bite cure ’longside of ’im. Nothin’ to do but +tuh hit the jug offen enough to keep from gettin’ sober +and remembering what he used to was. Sabbe? Been +layin’ out sucking the neck of a jug till his ol’ thinker’s +got twisted. +</p> +<p> +“I’ve seen dozens of ’em. You can’t fool me when +I see one, and I saw him when he was comin’ through +the door. Ran out o’ hooch and was afraid he’d get +sober, so he comes down here to get soaked up some +more. Brings his load o’ meat ‘long to trade in, an’ +these two brown dolls to make sure in case the caribou +have been down this way, which they ain’t. Bet the +drinks against two bits that he’ll be chasin’ one o’ the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244'></a>244</span> +squaws down here for another bottle before an hour’s +gone. They all do. I’ve seen his kind before.” +</p> +<p> +Black Pete took the bet. +</p> +<p> +“Because I’m onlucky, <i>moi</i>, lately, an’ I want to lose +this bet,” he explained. +</p> +<p> +Raftery laughed homerically. +</p> +<p> +“What’s on you’ chest, Jack?” demanded one of his +friends. +</p> +<p> +“I was just thinking,” gurgled the saloonist, “what +’ud happen in case this stiff gent, Iron Hair, was to run +in ’bout this time.” +</p> +<p> +“By Gar!” laughed Pete. “An’ Iron Hair, he’s +just ’bout due.” +</p> +<p> +At that moment Tillie came waddling in, laid down +her bundle of meat before Raftery and said— +</p> +<p> +“One bottle.” +</p> +<p> +“What’d I tell you?” chuckled Raftery, handing +over the liquor. “Boss him get laid out, eh?” he said +to Tillie. +</p> +<p> +But Tillie did not pause for conversation. She +whipped the bottle under her blanket and waddled out +without a word. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I’m a son-of-a-gun!” proclaimed Raftery. +“That ol’ bum has got ’em well trained, anyhow.” +</p> +<p> +Black Pete pulled his beard reflectively. +</p> +<p> +“Come to theenk,” he mused aloud, “dere was wan +rifle on those sledge. I theenk mebbe I no go viseet +thees ol’ bum, he’s camp, teel she’s leetle better acquaint’ +weeth <i>moi</i>.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245'></a>245</span><a name='chXXXII' id='chXXXII'></a>CHAPTER XXXII—THE SCORN OF A PURE WOMAN</h2> +<p> +And Fifty Mile talked. It talked to all who came +in from the white wastes of the country around. +It talked in its tents. It talked while trifling with +Black Pete’s games of no-chance. It talked around +Raftery’s bar. It talked so loudly that men heard it up +at Dumont’s Camp. +</p> +<p> +From Fifty Mile and Dumont’s the talk spread up +and down the trails, and even out to solitary cabins +and dugouts where there were no trails. Wherever +men were to be found in that desolate region the talk +of Fifty Mile soon made its way. And the talk was +mainly of the young squaw, of the old crippled-up +squaw-man, and that she was of a beauty to set men’s +heads a-whirling and make them murder each other +for her possession. +</p> +<p> +Men meeting each other on the trails asked three +questions in order: +</p> +<p> +“Where you traveling? How’s your tobacco? +Heard about the beaut’ of a little squaw down to Fifty +Mile?” +</p> +<p> +Men travelling in the direction of the settlements +bent their steps toward Fifty Mile, even though it +lay far out of their course. Men travelling in the +opposite direction passed the news to all whom they +bespoke. Of those who came to the settlement, many +strolled casually up the gully where the squaw-man +had his camp. And all of them strolled down again +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246'></a>246</span> +with nothing to brag about but a drink of hooch and +a mouthful of talk with the squaw-man. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t quite follow that gent’s curves,” summed +up Jack Raftery, speaking for the gang. “He gets +enough hooch here to keep any human gent laid out +twenty-six hours out of the twenty-four, but somehow +whenever you come moseying up to his camp he’s on +his pins, ready to give you a drink and a lot of locoed +talk. Yessir, he sure is locoed until he needs a guardian, +but for one I don’t go to do no rushing of his +lady-folks, not while he’s able to stand on his pins +and keep his eyes moving. Gents, there’s been one +awful stiff man in his day, and his condition goes to +show what booze’ll do to the best of ’em, and ought to +be a warning to us all. Line up, men; ’bout third +drink time for me.” +</p> +<p> +“There is sometheeng about heem,” agreed Black +Pete, “I don’t know what ‘tees, but there is sometheeng +that whispairs to me, ‘Look out!’” +</p> +<p> +While Fifty Mile thus debated his character, Reivers +lay in his tepee, carefully playing the shameful part he +had assumed. He knew that by now the news of his +arrival, or rather the arrival of Neopa and Tillie, had +been bruited far and wide around the settlements. Soon +the news must come to the ears of the man for whose +benefit the scheme had been arranged. +</p> +<p> +Shanty Moir, being what he was, would become +interested when he heard the descriptions of Neopa, +and, also because he was what he was, he would waste +no time, falter at no risks, stop at nothing when his +interest had been aroused. Reivers had only to wait. +Moir would come. The only danger was that Hattie +and her uncle might come before him. +</p> +<p> +On the third day after the squaw-man’s arrival, +Fifty Mile had a second sensation. That morning, +as Reivers, staggering artistically, came out of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247'></a>247</span> +Raftery’s house of poison, he all but stumbled over a +sledge before the door. With his assumed grin of +idiocy growing wider, he examined the sledge carefully, +next the team which was hitched to it, then +lifted his eyes to the man and woman that stood beside +the outfit. At the first glance he had recognised +the sledge, and he needed the time thus gained to recover +from the shock. +</p> +<p> +“Hello, Mac, ol’ timer!” he bellowed drunkenly at +Duncan MacGregor. “Come have a drink with me.” +</p> +<p> +MacGregor looked at him dourly, disgust and anger +on his big red face. Hattie, at his side, looked away, +her lips pressed tightly together to control the anger +rising within her. She had gone deadly pale at the +first sight of Reivers; now the red of shame was +burning in her cheeks. +</p> +<p> +“I shook hands with you, stranger, when you left +our roof,” said MacGregor gruffly. “I do not do so +now. I thought you were a man.” +</p> +<p> +“I never did!” snapped Hattie, still looking away. +“I knew it was not a man.” Something like a sob +seemed to wrench itself from her chest in spite of her +firm lips. “I knew it was—just what it is.” +</p> +<p> +Suddenly she flared around on Reivers, her face wan +with mingled pain, shame and anger. +</p> +<p> +“Now you are doing just what you are fit for. I’ve +heard. Living on your squaws! And you dared to +talk big to me—to a decent woman. Blood of my +father! You dared to talk to me at all! Drive on, +Uncle. We’ll go on to Dumont’s. We’ll get away +from this thing; it pollutes the air. Hi-yah, Bones! +Mush, mush, mush!” +</p> +<p> +Reivers leered and grinned foolishly—for the benefit +of the onlookers—as the sledge went on out of +sight. +</p> +<p> +“See?” he said boastfully. “I used to know white +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248'></a>248</span> +folks once. Yes sir; used to know lot of ’em. Don’t +now. Only know Indians. S’long, boys; got to go +home.” +</p> +<p> +All that day he sat alone in his tepee. Tillie came +to him at noon with food and he cursed her and +drove her away. In the evening she came to him +again, and again Reivers ordered her not to lift +the flap on his tepee. +</p> +<p> +Tillie by this time was fully convinced that the +Snow-Burner had gone mad. Else why had he repulsed +all her advances? Why had he refused to look +at the young and attractive Neopa? And now he +even spurned food. Yes, the Snow-Burner had gone +mad, as white men sometimes go mad in the North; +but she was still his slave. That was her fate. +</p> +<p> +Reivers sat alone in his tepee, once more fighting +to put away the face of Hattie MacGregor as it rode +before his eyes, a burning, searing memory. He was +not faltering. The shame for him, because he was +a white man, because she had once had him under her +roof, that Hattie MacGregor had suffered as she saw +him now, did not swerve him in the least from the +way he was going. +</p> +<p> +He had decided to do it this way. That was settled. +The shame and degradation of his assumed position +he had reckoned and counted as naught in the game +he was playing. Any means to an end. These same +men who were despising him for a sodden squaw-man +would bow their heads to him when the game was won. +And he would win it, the memory of the face of Hattie +MacGregor would not halt him in the least. Rather it +would spur him on. For when the game was won, he +would laugh at her—and forget. +</p> +<p> +For the present it was a little hard to forget. That +was why he sat alone in the tepee and swore at Tillie +when she timidly offered to bring him food. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249'></a>249</span> +</p> +<p> +So the red-headed girl thought that of him, did she—that +he was living on his squaws? Well, let her +think it. What difference did it make? She thought +he was that base, did she? All right. She would pay +for it all when the time came. +</p> +<p> +Reivers roused himself and strode outdoors. His +thoughts persisted in including Hattie MacGregor +in their ramblings as he sat in the tepee, and he felt +oppressed. What he needed was to mingle with other +men. He’d forget, then. He condemned the company +that was to be found at Raftery’s, but his need for +distraction drove him and, assuming the stoop, limp +and leer of the sodden squaw-man, he slumped off +down the gully to the settlement. +</p> +<p> +It was a clear, starlit night, and as he slumped along +he mused on what a fine night it would be for picking +out a trail by the stars. As he approached Raftery’s +he saw and heard evidences of unusual activity +in the bar. A team of eight dogs, hitched to an +empty sledge, was tied before the door. Within there +was sound of riot and wassail. Over the sound of +laughter and shuffling feet rose a voice which drowned +the other noises as the roar of a lion drowns the +chirping of birds, a voice that rattled the windows in +a terrifying rendition of “Jack Hall.” +</p> +<p> + Oh, I killed a man ’tis said, so ’tis said;<br /> + I killed a man ’tis said, so ’tis said.<br /> + I kicked ‘is bloody head, an’ I left ‘im lyin’ dead;<br /> + Yes, I left ‘im lyin’ dead —— ’is eyes!<br /> +</p> +<p> +Reivers opened the door and strode in silently and +unobserved. He made a base, contemptible figure as, +stooped and shuffling, a foolish leer on his face, he +stood listening apologetically to the song. The broad +back of the singer was turned toward him. As the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250'></a>250</span> +song ended Raftery’s roaming eye caught sight of +Reivers. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, there he is; here he is, Iron Hair. There’s +the man with the squaws I was telling you about.” +</p> +<p> +The man swung around, and Reivers was face to +face with the man he sought, Shanty Moir. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251'></a>251</span><a name='chXXXIII' id='chXXXIII'></a>CHAPTER XXXIII—SHANTY MOIR</h2> +<p> +Reivers’ tumultuous scheme of life often had led +him into situations where his life had hung on his +ability to play artistically the part he had assumed. +But never had his self-control been put to such a test +as now, when he faced Shanty Moir. +</p> +<p> +Had he not prepared himself for a shock, his surprise +must surely have betrayed him, for even the +Snow-Burner could not look upon Shanty Moir without +amazement. To Reivers, the first impression that +came was that he was looking at something as raw +and primitive as the sources of life itself. +</p> +<p> +Shanty Moir had little or nothing in common with +the other men in the room. He was even shaped +differently. He belonged, so it seemed to Reivers, +to the age of the saber-tooth tiger, the long-haired +mammoth, and a diet of roots and raw flesh. +</p> +<p> +There was about him the suggestion of man just +risen to the dignity of an upright position. His body +was enormous—longer, wider, denser than a man’s +body should be; the legs beneath it short and bowed. +There was no neck that could be seen. His arms +seemed to begin close up to the ears, and ran downward +in curves, like giant calipers, the hands even with +the knees. +</p> +<p> +The head fitted the body, squat and enormous, the +forehead running abruptly back from the brows, and +the face so flat and bony that the features seemed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252'></a>252</span> +merely to dent it. The brow-bones came down and +half hid the small eyes; the nose was small, but a +pair of great nostrils ran back in the skull; the mouth +was huge, yet it seemed small, and there was more +of the head below it than above. +</p> +<p> +Iron Hair was well nicknamed. His hair was probably +three inches long, and it stood out straight from +his head—black, wiry, menacing. Reivers, with his +foolish grin growing larger on his face, appraised +Moir with considerable admiration. Here was the +real thing, the pure, unadulterated man-animal, unweakened, +untouched by effeminising civilisation. This +man knew no more law or conscience than the ancient +cave-tiger, whose only dictates sprang from appetite. +</p> +<p> +Reivers had rejected morals because it pleased him +to run contrary to all the rest of the world; this man +never knew that right or wrong existed. What his +appetites told him to take he took as a matter of +course. And it was written in his face that his appetites +were as abnormally powerful as was he. +</p> +<p> +Reivers had been a leader of men because his mind +was stronger than the minds of the men with whom +he had dealt. This man was a leader because of the +blind, unintelligent force that was in him. And inwardly +the fighting man in Reivers glowed at the +prospects of the Titanic clash that would come between +them. +</p> +<p> +Shanty Moir as he looked from under his bony brows +saw exactly what Reivers wished him to see: a drunken +broken squaw-man, so weak that he could not possibly +be the slightest source of trouble. Being primitive of +mind he listed Reivers at once as helpless. Having +done this, nothing could alter his opinion; and Reivers +had gained the vantage that he sought. +</p> +<p> +Moir threw back his head and laughed, softly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253'></a>253</span> +and behind set teeth, when his quick inspection of +Reivers was ended. +</p> +<p> +“So that’s tuh waster who’s got tuh squaws ‘at +hass tuh camp upset,” he said languidly. “Eh, sonnies! +Art no men among ye that ye have not gone +woman-stealing by this? Tuh waster does not look +hard to take a young woman from.” +</p> +<p> +Reivers broke into an apologetic snigger. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t you try to steal my two kids, mister,” he +whined. “You’d be mighty sorry for your bargain if +you did.” +</p> +<p> +“How so, old son?” demanded Moir with a tolerant +laugh. +</p> +<p> +“Them kids—if you was to steal them without my +permission—one or both of ’em—they’d make you +wish you’d never seen ’em—‘less I was along,” +chuckled Reivers. +</p> +<p> +“Speak it up, old son,” said Moir sharply. “What’s +behind thy fool’s words?” +</p> +<p> +“Them kids—they’d die if they was took away +from me,” replied Reivers seriously. “And they’d +take the man who stole ’em to the happy hunting +ground along with ’em.” He winked prodigiously. +“Lots of funny things in this ol’ world, mister. You +wouldn’t think to look at me that those two kids +wouldn’t want to live if I wasn’t with ’em, but that’s +the fact. I wasn’t always what I’m now, mister. +Once—well, I was different once—and them kids will +just nacherlly manage to poison the first man who +touches ’em—unless I give the word.” +</p> +<p> +The men of Fifty Mile looked at one another, and +Black Pete shuddered. +</p> +<p> +“The ol’ moocher sure has got ’em trained, Iron +Hair,” said Raftery. “He’s locoed, but those squaws +look up to him like a little tin god, and that’s no lie.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254'></a>254</span> +</p> +<p> +“Poison?” repeated Moir doubtingly. “Art a medicine +man, old son?” +</p> +<p> +Reivers shook his head loosely. +</p> +<p> +“Not me, mister, not me,” he chuckled. “It’s something +Indian that I don’t sabbe. But there’s a couple +graves ’way up where we came from, and they hold +what’s left of a couple of bad men who raided my +camp and stole my kids. I don’t know how it happened, +mister. The kids come back to me the same +night, and the two bad men were stiff and black—as +black as your hair, mister, after the first kiss.” +</p> +<p> +“The kiss of Death,” chimed in Black Pete, crossing +himself. “I have heard of eet. <i>Sacré!</i> I am the +lucky dog, <i>moi</i>.” +</p> +<p> +Shanty Moir nodded. He, too, had heard of the +method by which Indian women of the North on rare +occasions revenge themselves upon the brutal white +men who steal them from their people. Having often +indulged in that thrilling sport himself, Moir was well +versed in the obstacles and dangers to be met in its +pursuit. Being crafty, with the craft of the lynx +that eschews the poisoned deer carcass, he had thus +far managed to select his victims from the breed of +squaws that do not seriously object to playing a Sabine +part; and he had no intention of decreasing his caution +now, although what men had spoken of Neopa +had fired his blood. +</p> +<p> +“Ho, ho! I see how ’tis, old son,” he said with a +grin of appreciation. “Dost manage well for a +waster.” +</p> +<p> +He suddenly drew his hand from his mackinaw +pocket and held it out, opened, toward Reivers. Two +jagged nuggets of dull gold the size of big buckshot +jiggled on his palm, and Moir laughed uproariously +as Reivers, at the sight of them, bent forward, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255'></a>255</span> +rubbing his hands together, apparently frantic with avarice. +</p> +<p> +“Eh—hey!” drawled Moir, closing his fist as Reivers’ +fingers reached for the gold. “I thought so. ’Tis +tub gold thy wants, eh, old sonny? Well, do thee +bring me tuh cattle to look at and we’ll try to bargain.” +</p> +<p> +“Come up to my camp,” chattered Reivers, eying +the fist that contained the nuggets. He was anxious +to get out of the bar. He had no fear that the primitive +Moir would be able to see any flaw in his acting, +but Black Pete and Jack Raftery were less primitive, +and he knew that they had not quite accepted +him for the weakling that he pretended to be. “Come +and visit me. Buy a bottle of hooch and we go up +to my camp.” +</p> +<p> +Moir tossed one of the nuggets across the bar to +Raftery. +</p> +<p> +“Is’t good for a round, lad?” he laughed. +</p> +<p> +Raftery cunningly hefted the nugget and set out +the bottles. +</p> +<p> +“Good for two,” he replied. +</p> +<p> +Moir tossed over the second nugget. +</p> +<p> +“Then that’s good for four,” said he. “Do ye boys +drink it up while I’m away to tuh camp of old sonny +here. A bottle, Raftery. Now, sonny, do thee lead on, +and if I’m not satisfied I’ll wring thy neck to let thee +know my displeasure.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256'></a>256</span><a name='chXXXIV' id='chXXXIV'></a>CHAPTER XXXIV—THE BARGAIN</h2> +<p> +Reivers led the way to his tepee and bade Moir +wait a moment by the fire, while he spoke to +Tillie. “Dress yourself and Neopa in your newest,” +he commanded. “Then do you both come in to me, +bringing food for two men.” +</p> +<p> +“What’s wrong, sonny?” laughed Moir, seeing +Reivers come under the door flap alone. “Hast lost +the whip over thy cattle?” +</p> +<p> +“They’re getting some grub ready,” replied Reivers +fawningly. “They’ll be here in a minute. Let’s +have a drink out of that bottle, mister. That’s the +stuff.” +</p> +<p> +He tipped the bottle to his lips and lowered the +burning liquor in a fashion that made even Moir +open his eyes in admiration. +</p> +<p> +“Takest a man-sized nip for a broken waster, +sonny,” he chuckled, and measuring with his fingers +on the bottle a drink larger than Reivers’ he tossed it +gurgling down his hairy throat. Reivers took the +bottle from his hand. +</p> +<p> +“I always take an eye-opener before my real drink,” +said Reivers, and, measuring off twice the amount that +Moir had taken, he drank it off like so much water. +</p> +<p> +The fiercest liquor made was to Reivers only a mild +stimulant. On his abnormal organisation it merely +had the effect of intensifying his characteristics. When +he wished to drink whisky he drank—out of full-sized +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257'></a>257</span> +water tumblers. When he did not wish to drink he put +liquor from him with contempt. Now he handed the +bottle back to Moir. The latter looked at him and at +the bottle, a trifle puzzled but not dismayed. Reivers +had apparently unconsciously passed the challenge to +him, and it was not in his nature to play second to any +man in a drinking bout. +</p> +<p> +“Shouldst have taken all thee wanted that time, +sonny,” said Moir, and finished the bottle. +</p> +<p> +“No more?” muttered Reivers vacantly. +</p> +<p> +“Gallons!” replied Moir. “Whisky enough to drown +you dead—if your women satisfy.” +</p> +<p> +“Look at them,” said Reivers as the door-flap was +flung back. “Here they are.” +</p> +<p> +Tillie came in first. She was dressed in white buckskin, +her hair hanging in two thick braids down her +shoulders. Neopa followed, and the wistfulness that +had come into her face from thinking of Nawa made +her the more interesting in Shanty Moir’s eyes. +</p> +<p> +A glance from Neopa’s fawn-like eyes at the big +man whom Reivers had brought home with him, and +then her eyes sought the ground and she trembled. +Tillie looked at Moir with interest. Save for the +Snow-Burner, she had never seen so masterful a man. +She looked at Reivers and saw that he was not watching +her. So she smiled upon Moir slyly. She was the +Snow-Burner’s slave; his will was her law. But since +he refused to notice her smiles it would do no harm +to smile upon a man like this Iron Hair—just a +little, when the Snow-Burner was not looking. +</p> +<p> +Moir read the smile wrong and spoke sharply to +Reivers. +</p> +<p> +“Take the young one outside for two minutes. +I’ve a word to say to this one.” +</p> +<p> +To his surprise Reivers rose without demur, thrust +Neopa out before him, and dropped the flap. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258'></a>258</span> +</p> +<p> +“Listen,” whispered Moir swiftly in her own tongue +to Tillie, “we will put his man out of the way. It is +easily done. Then you will go with me, you and the +young one, and you will be first in my tepee and the +young one your slave. Speak quickly. We will be +on the trail in an hour.” +</p> +<p> +Still smiling invitingly, Tillie shook her head. +</p> +<p> +“The Snow-Burner is the master,” she said seriously. +“I will slay the man who does him harm. I +can not do what he does not wish. I can not go +away from him.” +</p> +<p> +“But when he is dead, fool, he can have no wish.” +</p> +<p> +The smile went from Tillie’s full lips and she took a +step toward the opening. +</p> +<p> +“Stop,” laughed Moir softly. “I merely wished to +know if you are a true woman. All right, old sonny!” +he called. “Come on in.” +</p> +<p> +“I takest off cap to you, lad,” he continued as Reivers +and Neopa re-entered. “Hast got thy squaws fair +buffaloed.” His eyes ran over the shrinking Neopa +in cruel appraisal. “Now, old sonny, out with it. +What’s thy idea of tuh bargain?” +</p> +<p> +Reivers looked longingly toward the empty whisky +bottle. +</p> +<p> +“Said enough,” laughed Moir. “Shall have all tuh +hooch thy guts can hold.” +</p> +<p> +Reivers shook his head, a sly grin appearing on +his lips. +</p> +<p> +“Hooch is good,” said he, “but gold is better.” +</p> +<p> +“Go on,” said Moir sullenly. +</p> +<p> +“You’ve got gold,” continued Reivers. “I saw it. +You’ve got lots of gold; I’ve heard them talk about +you down at Raftery’s. You want us to go with you +when you go back to your camp, don’t you?” +</p> +<p> +Moir nodded angrily. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259'></a>259</span> +</p> +<p> +“I want the women,” he said brutally. “I might +be able to use you, too.” +</p> +<p> +Reivers cackled and rubbed his hands. +</p> +<p> +“You’ve got to use me if you’re going to have the +women,” he chuckled. “You know that by this time, +don’t you, mister?” +</p> +<p> +Again Moir’s black head nodded in grudging assent. +</p> +<p> +“What then?” he demanded. +</p> +<p> +“I’m a handy man around a camp, mister,” whined +Reivers. “You got to take me along if you take the +women, but I can be a help——” +</p> +<p> +“Canst cook?” snapped Moir suddenly. +</p> +<p> +“Heh, heh! Can I cook?” Reivers rubbed his +hands. “I’m an old—I used to be an old sour-dough, +mister. Did you ever see one of the old-timers who +couldn’t cook?” +</p> +<p> +“Might use thee then,” said Moir. “My fool of a +cook has gone. Sent him after a woman for me, and +he hasn’t come back. Happen he got himself killed, +tuh fool. Wilt kill him myself if he ever shows up +without tuh woman. Well, then, if that’s settled—what’s +tuh bargain?” +</p> +<p> +Reivers appeared to struggle with indecision. In +reality the situation was very clear to him. Moir +had listed him as a weakling; therefore he had no fear +of taking him to the mine. Once there, Moir would +be confident of winning the loyalty of the two women +from their apparently helpless master. And as it +was apparent that the man whom Reivers had slain +with a rock had been Moir’s cook, it was probable +that he was sincere in his offer to use Reivers in +that capacity. +</p> +<p> +“In the Spring,” said Reivers in reply to Moir’s +question, “me and my two kids go north again, back +among their own people.” +</p> +<p> +“In the Spring,” growled Moir, “canst go to —— for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260'></a>260</span> +all of me. I’ll be travelling then myself. Speak +out, sonny. How much?” +</p> +<p> +“Plenty of hooch for me all Winter,” Reivers +leered with drunken cunning. +</p> +<p> +“I said plenty,” retorted Moir. “What else?” +</p> +<p> +“Gold,” said Reivers, rubbing his hands. “Gold +enough to buy me hooch for all next Summer.” +</p> +<p> +Moir smiled at the miserable request of the man he +was dealing with. His eyes ran over the plump Tillie, +over Neopa, the supple child-woman. +</p> +<p> +“Done,” he laughed. “And now, old son, break +up thy camp while I load my sledge with hooch. Be +ready to travel when I come back. I’ll bring plenty +of liquor, but none to be drinked till we’re on the trail. +Wilt travel fast and far to-night, I warn thee. But +willst have a snug berth in my camp when we get +there. Yes,” he laughed as he hurried out, “wilt not +be able to tear thyself away.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261'></a>261</span><a name='chXXXV' id='chXXXV'></a>CHAPTER XXXV—THE TEST OF THE BOTTLE</h2> +<p> +Under Reivers’ sharp orders—given in a way +that would have startled Moir had he heard—Tillie +and Neopa hurriedly packed the dog-sledges +with their belongings, harnessed the dogs and hooked +them to the traces. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Snow-Burner,” said Neopa timidly, “do we +go back to Nawa?” +</p> +<p> +“In good time,” said Reivers. “For the present, +you have only to obey my wishes. Get on the first +sledge.” +</p> +<p> +With bowed head the girl took the place directed, +and Reivers turned to find Tillie smiling craftily at +his elbow. +</p> +<p> +“Snow-Burner,” she said softly, “this is the man, +Iron Hair, who digs the gold which you want. We +go to rob him. I understand. You play at drinking +to fool Iron Hair. It is well. Tillie will help the +Snow-Burner. We will kill Iron Hair and take his +gold. Then the Snow-Burner will come with Tillie +to her tepee?” +</p> +<p> +Reivers looked at her, and for the first time he +felt a revulsion against the base part he was playing. +Would he return with Tillie to her tepee when this +affair was over? Would he go on with his old way +of living, the base part of him triumphant over the +better self? The strange questions rapped like trip-hammers +on Reivers’ conscience. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262'></a>262</span> +</p> +<p> +“Get on the sledge!” he growled, choked with +anger. +</p> +<p> +She did not stir. He struck her cruelly. Tillie +smiled. That was like the Snow-Burner of old; and +she waddled to her appointed place without further +question. +</p> +<p> +Up the gulch from Raftery’s came Moir quietly +leading his dogs, the sledge well loaded with cases +of liquor. +</p> +<p> +“Wilt have a kiss first of all,” he laughed excitedly, +and catching Neopa in his arms tossed her in the air, +kissed her loudly on her averted cheeks and set her +back on the sledge. “Now, old son, follow and follow +quietly. When Iron Hair travels he wants no +Fifty Mile gang on his trail. Say nothing, but keep +me in sight. Heyah, mush, mush!” +</p> +<p> +Out of the gully he led the way swiftly and silently +to the open country beyond the settlement. There +he circled in a confusing way, bearing northward. +After an hour he began circling again, doubling on his +trail to make it hard for any one to follow, but finally +Reivers knew by the stars that the course lay to the +south. Another series of false twists in the trail, then +Moir struck out in determined fashion on a straight +course, east and a trifle south from Fifty Mile. +</p> +<p> +Reivers, silently guiding his dogs in the tracks made +by Moir, breathed hard as he read the stars. By the +pace that Moir was setting it seemed certain that +he now was making for his camp in a direct line. But +if so, if this trail were held, it would take them back +toward the Dead Lands, straight into the country that +was Duncan MacGregor’s trapping-ground. Could the +mine be in that region. If so, how could it have escaped +the notice of the old trapper? +</p> +<p> +It was well past midnight when Reivers saw the +team ahead disappear in a depression in the ground +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263'></a>263</span> +and heard Moir’s voice loudly calling a halt. By the +time Reivers came up with his two sledges Moir had +unhitched his dogs on the flat of a frozen river-bed +and was hurriedly dragging a bottle from one of the +cases on his sledge. +</p> +<p> +“Hell’s fire, old son; unhook and camp. The liquor’s +dying in me, and I had just begun to feel good.” +</p> +<p> +“I was wondering,” gasped Reivers in assumed exhaustion. +“I was wondering how much farther you +were going before you opened a bottle.” +</p> +<p> +“Have your squaws get out tuh grub,” ordered +Moir, jamming down the cork. “And now you ‘n’ me, +wilt see who drinks t’other off his feet.” +</p> +<p> +For reply Reivers promptly gulped down a drink +that would have strangled most men. +</p> +<p> +“Good enough,” admitted Moir. “Here’s better, +though.” And he instantly improved on Reivers’ +record. +</p> +<p> +The first bottle was soon emptied—a quart of raw, +fiery hooch—and a second instantly broached. +</p> +<p> +The food was forgotten by Moir; the women were +forgotten. His primitive mind was obsessed with the +idea of pouring more burning poison down his throat +than this broken-down waster who dared to drink +up to him. Bolt upright he sat, laughing and singing, +never taking his eyes off Reivers, while drink +after drink disappeared down their throats. +</p> +<p> +No movement of Reivers escaped Moir’s vigilant +watch for signs of weakness. As Reivers gave no +apparent sign of toppling over he grew enraged. +</p> +<p> +“Hell’s fire! Wilt sit here till daylight if thou wilt,” +he roared. “Drink on there! ’Tis thy turn.” +</p> +<p> +Tillie and Neopa got food ready from the grub-bag +and sat waiting patiently; the dogs ceased moving, +bedded down in the snow and went to sleep; and still +the contest went on. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264'></a>264</span> +</p> +<p> +Finally Reivers discerned the slight thickening of +speech and the glassy stare in his opponent’s eyes +that he had been waiting for. Then, and not until +then, did he begin to betray apparent signs of failing. +</p> +<p> +“Sh-sh-shtrong liquor, m-m-mishter,” he stuttered. +“Awful sh-sh-shtrong liquor.” +</p> +<p> +Moir cackled in drunken triumph. +</p> +<p> +“’Tish bear’s milk, old shon. ’Tish made for men. +Drink, —— ye, drink again!” +</p> +<p> +Reivers drank, drank longer and heavier than he +had yet done. +</p> +<p> +“There; take the mate of that, mister, and you’ll +know you been drinking,” he stammered. +</p> +<p> +Moir’s throat by this time had been burned too raw +to taste, and his sight was too dulled to measure quantities. +He tipped the bottle up and drained it. The +dose would have killed a normal man. To Shanty +Moir it brought only an inclination to slumber. His +head fell forward on his breast. +</p> +<p> +With a thick-tongued snarl he sat up straight and +looked at Reivers. Reivers hiccoughed, swayed in +his seat, and collapsed with a drunken clatter. +</p> +<p> +Moir smiled. He winked in unobserved triumph. +Then the superhuman strength with which he had +fought off the effects of the liquor snapped like a +broken wire, and he pitched forward on his face into +the snow. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265'></a>265</span><a name='chXXXVI' id='chXXXVI'></a>CHAPTER XXXVI—THE SNOW-BURNER BEGINS TO WEAKEN</h2> +<p> +Reivers stood up, looked down at his fallen rival +and yawned. +</p> +<p> +“Body,” he mused, “but for a hard head, there lies +you.” +</p> +<p> +He bent cautiously over Moir. The Welshman lay +with his face half buried in the crusted snow, his +lungs pumping like huge bellows, and the snow flying +in gusts from around his nostrils at every expulsion of +breath. Reivers laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. +There was no movement. +</p> +<p> +“Hey, mister,” he called. +</p> +<p> +The undisturbed breathing showed that the words +had not penetrated to the clouded consciousness. Deliberately +Reivers turned the big man over on his back. +Moir lay as stiff and dead as a log. With swift, deft +hands Reivers searched him to the skin, looking for a +trail-map, a mark or a sign of any kind that might +indicate the location of Moir’s mine. He was not +greatly disappointed when he failed to find anything +of the sort; he had hardly expected that an experienced +pirate like Shanty Moir would travel with his +secrets on his person. +</p> +<p> +Next he considered the dogs. It was barely possible +that the dogs knew the way to the mine. If +they had travelled the way before, they would know +when they were on the home-trail, and if so they +would travel thither if given their heads, even though +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266'></a>266</span> +their master lay helplessly bound on the sledge. Then +at the mine, a sudden surprise, and probably a second +of sharp work with the rifle on Moir’s henchmen. +</p> +<p> +Reivers stepped eagerly over to where Moir’s team +lay sleeping. He swore softly when he saw them. +Moir had traded his tired team for a fresh outfit +at Fifty Mile, and the new dogs were as strange to +this trail as Reivers himself. +</p> +<p> +His triumph over Moir in the drinking bout had +been in vain. There was no march to be stolen, even +with Moir lying helpless on the snow. He would have +to go through with it as he had planned. Tillie and +Neopa must be the means by which he would obtain +his ends. +</p> +<p> +He suddenly looked over to the sledge where the +two women were patiently waiting with the food +they had prepared. Tillie, squat and stolid, was sitting +as impassive and content as a bronze figure at the +door of the shelter tepee which she had erected, but +Neopa sat bowed over on the end of the sledge, her +head on her folded arms, her slim figure shaking with +silent sobs. +</p> +<p> +“Put back the food and go to your blankets,” he +commanded harshly. “Stop that whining, girl, or +you will have something to whine for.” +</p> +<p> +He waited until his orders had been obeyed and the +women were in the tepee. Then he unrolled his blanket +and lay down on the snow. +</p> +<p> +He did not sleep. He knew that he would not. +For all through the day, during his dealing with Moir, +on the night trail under the clean stars, his mind had +been fighting to shut out a picture that persisted in +running before his eyes. Now, alone in the star-lit +night, with nothing to occupy him, the picture rushed +into being, vivid and living. He could not shut it +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267'></a>267</span> +out. He could not escape it. It was the picture of +Hattie MacGregor as he had seen her that morning +with the pain and scorn upon her young, fine face. +Her voice rang in his ears, the burning words as clear +as if she stood by his side: +</p> +<p> +“I knew it was not a man. Living on your squaws! +And you dared to talk to me—a decent woman!” +</p> +<p> +Reivers cursed and lay looking straight up at the +white stars. From the tepee there came a sound that +brought him up sitting. He listened, amazed and +puzzled. It was Neopa sobbing because she had been +torn from her young lover, Nawa, and in the plaint +of her pain-racked tones there was something which +recalled with accursed clearness the rich voice of Hattie +MacGregor. +</p> +<p> +It was probably an hour after he had lain down that +Reivers rose up and quietly hooked his strongest dogs +to a sledge. +</p> +<p> +“Tillie! Neopa! Come out!” he whispered, throwing +open the flap of the little tepee. +</p> +<p> +Neopa came, wet-faced and haggard, her wide-open +eyes showing plainly that there had been no sleep +for her that night. Tillie was rubbing her eyes sleepily, +protesting against being wakened from comfortable +slumber. +</p> +<p> +Reivers pointed northward up the river bed. +</p> +<p> +“Up there, on this river, one day’s march away, is +the camp of your people, which we came from,” he +whispered. “Do you both take this team and drive +rapidly thither. Hold to the river-bed and keep away +from the black spots where the water shows through +the snow. Do not stop to rest or feed. You should +reach your people in the middle of the afternoon. +Then do you give Nawa this rifle. Tell him to shoot +any white man who comes after you. Now go +swiftly.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268'></a>268</span> +</p> +<p> +Neopa looked at him with her fawn-like eyes large +with incredibility and hope. +</p> +<p> +“Snow-Burner! Do you let me go back to Nawa?” +she whispered. +</p> +<p> +“Get on the sledge,” he commanded. “Do as I’ve +told you, or you’ll hear from me.” +</p> +<p> +As emotion had all but paralysed the young girl +he forced her to a seat on the sledge and thrust the +whip into her hand, then turned to Tillie. Tillie was +making no move to approach the sledge. +</p> +<p> +“Did you hear what I said?” he demanded. +</p> +<p> +Tillie smiled strangely. +</p> +<p> +“Has the Snow-Burner become afraid of Iron +Hair?” she asked. +</p> +<p> +“So little afraid that I no longer need you to help +me in this matter,” retorted Reivers. +</p> +<p> +The shrewd squaw shook her head. +</p> +<p> +“How will the Snow-Burner find Iron Hair’s gold +how? Iron Hair will not take the Snow-Burner to +his camp alone. It is not the Snow-Burner that Iron +Hair wants. It is a woman. Has the Snow-Burner +given up the fight to get the gold which he wants +so much? He knows he can not reach Iron Hair’s +camp—alone.” +</p> +<p> +“Then I will not reach it at all. Get on the sledge.” +</p> +<p> +Tillie smiled but did not move. +</p> +<p> +“The Snow-Burner at last has become like other +white men. He wishes to do what is right.” She +pointed at the snoring Moir. “He would not be so +weak.” +</p> +<p> +While Reivers looked at her in amazement the +squaw stepped forward, straightened out the dogs, +kicked them viciously and sent the sledge, bearing +Neopa alone, flying up the river-bed. +</p> +<p> +“To send Neopa back to Nawa is well and good,” +she said, returning to Reivers. “She would weep for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269'></a>269</span> +Nawa all day and night, and would grow sick and die +on our hands. But there is no Nawa waiting for +Tillie. Tillie is tired of her tepee with no man in it. +Iron Hair has smiled upon me, Snow-Burner. I will +smile upon him. His smile will answer mine as the +dry pine lights up when the match is touched to it. I +have looked in his eyes and know. He will forget +Neopa. Tillie will help the Snow-Burner rob Iron +Hair. Is it well?” +</p> +<p> +“Get back to your blankets,” commanded Reivers. +“If you wish it, we will let it be so. Sleep long. Do +not stir until you hear that Iron Hair has awakened.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270'></a>270</span><a name='chXXXVII' id='chXXXVII'></a>CHAPTER XXXVII—INTO THE JAWS OF THE BEAR</h2> +<p> +Shanty Moir stirred when the first rays of the +morning sun, glancing off the snow, struck his +eyes. He rose like a musk-ox lifting itself from its +snow wallow, with mighty heaves and grunts, and +looked around. +</p> +<p> +He was blear-eyed and puffed of face, his throat +was raw and burning from the unbelievable amount +of hooch he had swallowed in the night, but his abnormal +organisation had thrown off the effects of the +alcohol and he was cold sober. His first move was to +cool his throat with handfuls of snow, his second to +step over and regard the apparently paralysed Reivers +with a look of mingled triumph and contempt. +</p> +<p> +“Eh, old sonny! Would a drinked with Shanty +Moir, wouldst ’ee?” he chuckled. “Happen thee got +thy old soak’s skin filled to overflow that time. Get +up, you waster!” he commanded, stirring the prostrate +form with a heavy foot “Up with you!” +</p> +<p> +Reivers did not stir, but he put that touch of the +foot down as something extra that Moir would have +to pay for. He was apparently lying steeped in the +depths of drunken slumber, and he wished to drive +the impression firmly into Shanty Moir’s mind that he +had been dead to the world all night. Hence he did +not interrupt his snoring as Moir’s foot touched him. +</p> +<p> +“Laid out stiff!” laughed Moir. +</p> +<p> +He reached down, lifted Reivers’ head from the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271'></a>271</span> +snow and let it fall heavily. Still Reivers made no +sign of awakening. Moir looked at him for a moment, +then slily tiptoed toward the shelter tepee and threw +up the flap. The next instant a bellow of rage shattered +the morning quiet. Like a maddened bear Moir +was back at Reivers, cuffing, kicking, cursing, commanding +that he wake up. +</p> +<p> +Reivers awoke only in degree. Not until Moir +had opened a new bottle of hooch and poured a drink +down his throat did he essay to sit up and open his +eyes. +</p> +<p> +“Wha’ smatter? Can’t a man shleep?” he protested. +“Wha’ smatter with you?” +</p> +<p> +“Matter!” bellowed Moir. “Plenty of matter, you +old waster. Where’s the young lass, eh? Where’s the +girl gone? Look in the tepee and see what’s the matter. +You told me you had the trulls buffaloed. What’s +become of the young girl?” +</p> +<p> +It was some time before Reivers appeared to understand. +Finally he stumbled to his feet and started +toward the tent, met Tillie as she stepped out rubbing +her eyes, and recoiled drunkenly. +</p> +<p> +“Neopa? Where is she?” muttered Tillie. “She +slept near the door. Now she is gone.” +</p> +<p> +She had let her shiny black hair fall loosely over +her shoulders and now she threw it back, looked +straight at Moir and smiled. +</p> +<p> +“Neopa gone?” demanded Reivers thickly. “She +can’t be; she wouldn’t dare.” +</p> +<p> +“Dare, you fool? Look there.” Moir pointed to +the hollows where the missing dog team had lain and +to the tracks that ran straight and true up the river +bed. “She’s run away. Been gone half a night. +Well, what have you got to say?” +</p> +<p> +Reivers turned with a scowl on Tillie, but Tillie +was comfortably plaiting her thick hair. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272'></a>272</span> +</p> +<p> +“Neopa has run away—back to our people,” she +said with a smile, as she turned back into the tepee. +“Tillie does not run away,” she added as she disappeared. +</p> +<p> +Moir sat down on a sledge and cursed Reivers steadily +for five minutes, but at every few words his eyes +would stray back to the tepee which hid Tillie. +</p> +<p> +“We’ll go after her,” said Reivers. “We’ll bring +her back.” +</p> +<p> +“Go after her!” snorted Moir. “She has half a +night’s start on us. She’ll reach her people before +we could get her. Do you think I want half the +country following my trail.” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll go after her alone then,” insisted Reivers. +</p> +<p> +“Will you?” Moir’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I +think not. Let me tell thee something, old son: he +who goes this far on the home trail with Shanty Moir +goes all the way. Understand? You’ll come with me +or you’ll be wolf-meat out here on the snow. No; +there’ll be no following of that kid. She’s gone. The +other one’s here. There is no telling what tale the +kid will spin when she meets people, or who will be +down here looking for our trail. Therefore we are +going to travel and travel quick. Have the squaw +get food in a hurry. Get your dogs together. We’ll +be on the trail in half an hour.” +</p> +<p> +Moir was masterful and dominant now. It was +evident that he was more worried over the possibility +of some one hearing of his whereabouts through +Neopa than he was over the girl’s escape. He gave +Reivers a second drink of liquor, since he seemed to +need it to fully awaken him, and set about making +ready for the trail. +</p> +<p> +“Eat plenty,” he commanded, when Tilly served +the cold meat and tea. “The next meal you have will +be about sundown.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273'></a>273</span> +</p> +<p> +He tore down the tepee, packed the sledges and had +the outfit ready for the start in an amazingly short +while. +</p> +<p> +“Now, old son,” he said quietly, pointing to the rifle +that lay uncovered on top of his sledge, “do ’ee take +good look at her. She’s a good old Betsy and I’ve +knocked o’er smaller men than you at the half mile. +Do you keep well up with me on the trail I’ll be making +this day and there’ll be no trouble. Try any tricks +and the wolves will have whiskey-soaked meat to feed +on. There’s no turning back now. He who comes +this far with Shanty Moir goes all the way.” +</p> +<p> +“You can’t lose me, mister,” stammered Reivers. +“I want that money for hooch for next Summer like +you promised.” +</p> +<p> +“Wilt get more than you bargained for, old son,” +laughed Moir. “Yes, more than you ever dreamed +of. Hi-yah! Buck! Bugle! Mush; mush up!” +</p> +<p> +Moir made no pretence at hiding his trail when +he started this time. Apparently he reasoned that +the damage was done. If any one wished to trail +him after hearing Neopa’s story they would have no +trouble in finding his tracks, despite any subterfuge +he might attempt. He went straight forward, as a +man who has nothing to fear if he can but reach his +fastness, and Reivers’ wonderment grew as the trail +held straight toward the rising sun. +</p> +<p> +The course was parallel to the one he had taken +westward from MacGregor’s cabin to Tillie’s encampment. +If it held on as it was going it would lead +straight into the heart of the Dead Lands, and within +half a day’s travel of the MacGregor home. Was +it possible that the mine lay in the Dead Lands? Duncan +MacGregor made this territory his trapping-ground. +How could his brother’s find have escaped +his trained outdoor eyes? +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274'></a>274</span> +</p> +<p> +The next instant Reivers was cursing himself for +a blind fool. There was no trapping in the Dead +Lands. There was no feed there. Except for a stray +wolf-cave, fur-bearing beasts would shun those barren +rocks as a desert, and Duncan MacGregor, being a +knowing trapper, might trap around it twenty years +without venturing through after a first fruitless search +for signs. +</p> +<p> +The mine was in the Dead Lands, of course. It +was as safely hidden there as if within the bowels +of the earth. And he, Reivers, had probably been +within shooting distance of it during his two days’ +wandering in that district. The man whom he had +killed with the rock had undoubtedly been hurrying +with Hattie MacGregor straight to his chief’s fastness. +</p> +<p> +It was noon when the ragged ground on the horizonhead +told Reivers that his surmises were correct and +that they were hurrying straight for the Dead Lands. +An hour of travel and the jagged formation of the +rock country was plainly distinguishable a little over +a mile ahead. Then Moir for the first time that day +called a halt. When Reivers caught up with him +he saw that Moir held in each hand a small pouch-like +contrivance of buckskin, pierced near the middle with +tiny holes and equipped with draw-strings at the +bottom. +</p> +<p> +“Come here, lass,” he beckoned to Tillie. “Must +hide that smiling mouth of thine for the present.” +</p> +<p> +With a laugh he threw the pouch over the squaw’s +head, pulled the bottom tightly around her neck, and +tied the strings securely. +</p> +<p> +“The same with thee, old son,” he said, and treated +Reivers in the same summary manner. “You see, I do +not wish to have to put you away,” he explained +genially, “and that I would do if by chance thy eyes +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275'></a>275</span> +should see the way to Shanty Moir’s mine. One or +two men have been unlucky enough to see it. They +will never be able to tell the tale.” He skilfully +searched the pair for hidden weapons, but Reivers had +expected this and carried not so much as a knife. “All +right. Keep in my steps, old son. Presently thou’ll +get wet. Do not fear. Wilt not let ’ee come to harm. +Neither thee nor tuh squaw. I have use for you +both. Come now; I’ll go slow.” +</p> +<p> +The buckskin pouch pierced only by the tiny air-holes, +masked Reivers’ eyes in a fashion that precluded +any possible chance of sight. He knew instinctively +that Moir was turning. First the turn was +to the left. Then back to the right. Then in a circle, +and after that straight ahead. +</p> +<p> +Presently the feel of a sharp rock underfoot told +him that they had entered the Dead Lands. He stumbled +purposely to one side of the trail and bumped +squarely against a solid wall of stone. Next he tried +it on the opposite side with the same result. Moir +was leading the way through a narrow defile in the +rocks. +</p> +<p> +Suddenly there came to Reivers’ ears the sound of +running water, the lazy murmur of a small brook. +Almost at the same instant came the splash of Moir +and his dogs going into the stream and Moir’s +laughing: +</p> +<p> +“Wilt get a little wet here, old son. But follow +on.” +</p> +<p> +Fumbling with his feet Reivers found the stream +and stepped in. To his surprise the water was warm. +Warm water? Where had he seen warm water recently +in this country? His thoughts leaped back with +a snap. There was only one open stream to be found +thereabouts, and that was the brook that came from +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276'></a>276</span> +the warm springs by which he had camped on his way +to Tillie’s. +</p> +<p> +“Warm water!” laughed Moir. “Wilt find all snug +in my camp. Aye, as snug as in a well-kept jail.” +</p> +<p> +The stream was knee-deep, and by the pressure of +the water against the back of his legs Reivers knew +that they were going down-stream. Presently Moir +spoke again. +</p> +<p> +“Now, if you value the tops of your heads, do you +duck as low as you can. Duck now, quick; and do +you keep that position till I tell you to straighten up.” +</p> +<p> +Reivers and Tillie ducked obediently. Suddenly the +tiny light that had come through the air-holes of +their masks was shut out. The darkness was complete. +Reivers thrust his hand above his bowed head +and came in contact with cold, clammy rock. No +wonder it had taken MacGregor and Moir two years +to find the mine, since the way to it lay by a subterranean +river! +</p> +<p> +The light reappeared, but it was not the sunny light +that had come through the air-holes before they had +entered the river tunnel. It was grey and dead, as +the light in a room where the sunshine does not enter. +</p> +<p> +“Now you can lift your heads,” laughed Moir. +“Come to the right. Up the bank. Here we are.” +</p> +<p> +He jerked Reivers out of the water roughly, and +roughly pulled the sack from his head. Reivers +blinked as the light struck his eyes. Moir treated +him to a generous kick. +</p> +<p> +“Welcome,” he hissed menacingly. “Welcome to +the camp of Shanty Moir.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277'></a>277</span><a name='chXXXVIII' id='chXXXVIII'></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII—MACGREGOR ROY</h2> +<p> +Reivers’ first impression was that he was standing +in a gigantic stockade. The second that he +was on the floor of a great quarry-pit. Then, when +the situation grew clear to him, he stood dumfounded. +</p> +<p> +The camp of Shanty Moir lay in what would have +been a solid rock cave but for the lack of a roof. +It was an irregular hollow in the strange formation +of the Dead Lands, perhaps fifty yards long and thirty +yards wide at its greatest breadth. The hollow was +surrounded completely by ragged stone walls about +fifty feet in height. These walls slanted inward to +a startling degree. Thus while the floor of the strange +spot was thirty yards wide, the opening above, through +which showed the far-away sky, could scarcely have +been more than half that width. The brook ran +through the middle of the chasm, entering the upper +end by a tunnel five feet in height and disappearing in +the solid wall of rock at the lower end by a similar +opening. +</p> +<p> +On each side of the narrow stream, and running +back to the rock walls, was a floor of smooth river-sand. +Beneath an overhanging ledge on the side where +Reivers stood were the rude skin fronts of two dugouts. +A tin smoke-stack protruded from the larger +of the two habitations; the other, which was high +enough only to admit a man stooping far over, was +merely a flap of hide hanging down from the rock. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278'></a>278</span> +</p> +<p> +On the beach at the other side of the creek a fire +burned beneath a great iron pan, the wood smoke filling +the chasm with its pungent odour. Behind the fire +a series of tunnels ran down in the sand under the +cliffs. From the tunnel immediately behind the fire +came a thin spiral of sluggish smoke, and Reivers +knew that this tunnel was being worked and that the +fire was being used to thaw the frozen earth. +</p> +<p> +A man who resembled Moir on a small scale was +at work at the thawing-pan, breaking the hard earth +with his fingers and tossing it into a washing-pan +at his side. He stood now with a chunk of frozen sand +in his hand, and at sight of Reivers and Tillie he +tossed the sand recklessly into the air and whooped. +</p> +<p> +“Ha! Hast done well this time, Shanty,” he cried +in an accent similar to theirs. “Hast made tuh life +endurable. A new horse for me and a woman for +’ee. ’Tis high time. Since Blacky went off and did +not come back, and tuh two Indians tried to flee, we’ve +had but one horse to do with. Now wilt have two. +Wilt clean up in a hurry now, and live in tuh meanwhile.” +</p> +<p> +Shanty Moir laughed harshly. +</p> +<p> +“How works tuh old Scot jackass to-day?” he +called. +</p> +<p> +The man across the creek shook his head. +</p> +<p> +“He’s never tuh horse he was when we first put +him in harness,” he chuckled. “Fell twice in his +tracks to-day, he did, and lay there till Joey gave him +an inch of tuh prod. Has been a good beastie, the +Scot has, Shanty, but ’tis in my mind tuh climate does +not ‘gree with him. Scarce able to pull his load. In +tuh mines at home we knocked such worn beasties in +the head and sent them up o’ tuh pit.” +</p> +<p> +Moir laughed again. +</p> +<p> +“Hast a quaint way o’ putting things, Tammy,” he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279'></a>279</span> +said. “But I mind when ponies were scarce we used +them till they crawled their knees raw. ’Tis plenty +o’ time to knock old horse-flesh in tuh head when tuh +job’s done.” +</p> +<p> +They laughed together. Evidently this was a well-liked +camp joke. +</p> +<p> +“’Tis a well-coupled animal ’ee have there, Shanty,” +said the humourist across the water, with a jerk of +the head at Reivers. “Big in tuh bone and solid +around tuh withers. Yon squaw is a solid piece, too. +Happen they’re broke to pull double?” +</p> +<p> +“Unbroke stock, Tammy,” drawled Moir leisurely. +“Gentleman, squaw-man, waster. But breaking stock’s +our specialty, eh, Tammy?” +</p> +<p> +A muffled shout floated up from the mouth of the +smoking pit before Tammy could reply. Instantly +there followed a dull moan of pain: Moir and Tommy +laughed knowingly. +</p> +<p> +“Here comes sample of our work,” said Tammy, +nodding toward the tunnel. “Poor Joey! Has to +use tuh prod to start him with each load now.” +</p> +<p> +A grating, shuffling sound now came from the mouth +of the tunnel. Following it appeared the head of a +man. And Reivers needed only one glance at the +emaciated countenance to know that he was looking +upon the father of Hattie MacGregor. +</p> +<p> +“Giddap, Scotch jackass!” roared Moir in great +good humour. “Pull it out o’ there. That’s tuh +horse. Pull!” +</p> +<p> +The man came painfully, an inch at a time, out +of the pit, and looked across the creek at Shanty Moir. +Behind him there dragged a rough wooden sledge +loaded with lumps of earth. The man was hitched +to this load by a harness of straps that held his arms +helpless against his sides. No strait-jacket ever held +its victim more utterly helpless than the contrivance +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280'></a>280</span> +which now held James MacGregor in toils as a beast +of burden. A contrivance of straps about the ankles +held his legs close together. +</p> +<p> +So short were the traces by which the sledge was +drawn that MacGregor could not have stood upright +without having lifted the heavy load a foot or more +from the ground. He made no attempt to stand so, +but hung half-bowed against the harness, his eyes +gleaming through the matted red hair over his brows +straight at Shanty Moir. +</p> +<p> +It was the eyes that drew and held Reivers’ attention +to the face, rather than to the man’s terrible +situation. James MacGregor, helpless beast of burden +to his tormentors that he was, was not beaten. +The same clean-cut nose, mouth and chin that Reivers +remembered so well in the daughter were apparent +in the father’s pain-marked face. The eyes gleamed +defiance. And they were wide and grey, Reivers saw, +the same as the eyes that haunted him in memory’s +pictures of the girl who had not feared his glance. +</p> +<p> +“Shanty Moir,” spoke MacGregor in a voice weak +but firm, “when the devil made you he cursed his own +work. He cursed you as a misbegotten thing not fit +for hell. The gut-eating wolverine is a brave beast +compared to you. Skunks would run from your company. +You think you have done big work. You fool! +You cannot rob me of what belongs to me and mine; +you cannot kill me. As sure as there is a God in +Heaven, He will let me or mine kill you with bare +hands.” +</p> +<p> +Moir and his man laughed in weary fashion, as if +this speech were old to them, and Reivers was amazed +at an impulse within him to throw himself at Shanty +Moir’s throat. He joined foolishly in the laughter +to hide his confusion. What had he to do with such +impulses? What business had he having any +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281'></a>281</span> +feeling for the poor enslaved man before him? He had +come to Moir’s camp for one purpose: to get the gold +mined there, to get a new start in life. Was it possible +that he was growing weak enough to experience +the feeling of pity, the impulse to help the helpless? +Nonsense! He laughed loudly. His plan was one in +which silly impulses of this nature had no part, and +he would go through with it to the end. +</p> +<p> +“Well brayed, Scots jackass,” said the man at the +thawing-pan casually. “Now pull tuh load over here. +Giddap-pull!” +</p> +<p> +MacGregor leaned weakly against the harness, but +the sledge had lodged and his depleted strength was +insufficient to budge it. +</p> +<p> +“Oh ho! Getting lazy, eh?” came from the tunnel, +and a thin-faced man came out, a short stick with a +sharp brad in his hands. “Want help, eh? Well, +here ’tis,” he chuckled, and drove the brad into MacGregor’s +leg. +</p> +<p> +Again the strange impulse to leap to the tortured +man’s rescue, to kill his tormentor without reckoning +the price or what might come after, stirred itself in +Reivers’ breast, and again he joined in the laughter +to pass it off. +</p> +<p> +MacGregor started as the iron entered his flesh +and the movement loosened the sledge. With weak, +faltering steps he drew the load alongside the fire, +where Tammy proceeded to transfer the frozen chunks +of earth to the thawing-pan. +</p> +<p> +“Eh, hah! New cattle?” said the man with the +prod when he espied Reivers and Tillie. “Cow and +bull.” +</p> +<p> +“Cow—and an old ox, Joey,” laughed Moir. “Has +even burnt his horns off with hooch, and wilt go +well in the harness when he’s broke.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282'></a>282</span> +</p> +<p> +“’Tis time,” said Joey. “Tuh Scots jackass’ll soon +drop in his tracks.” +</p> +<p> +“Not until I’ve paid you out in full, you devils,” +said MacGregor quietly. “I’ll give you an hour of +living hell for every prod you’ve given me, you poor +cur.” +</p> +<p> +Joey approached him and unhooked the traces from +his harness with an air that told how well he was +accustomed to such threats. +</p> +<p> +“Must call it a day, Shanty,” he said, loosening +the straps that bound MacGregor’s hands so the forearms +were free while the upper arms remained bound +tightly to his sides. “Old pit’s full o’ smoke.” In +bored sort of fashion he kicked MacGregor into the +creek. “To your stable, jackass. Day’s done.” +</p> +<p> +MacGregor, tripped by the traps about his ankles, +fell full length in the water, floundered across, and +crawled miserably out of sight behind the skin front +of the smaller dugout. Moir and his two henchmen +watched him, jeering and laughing. At a sign the +two on the other side of the creek came across and +drew close to their chief. +</p> +<p> +“And now, old son,” snarled Moir, swinging around +on Reivers like a flash, “now, you slick waster—now +we’ll attend to ’ee.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283'></a>283</span><a name='chXXXIX' id='chXXXIX'></a>CHAPTER XXXIX—JAMES MACGREGOR’S STORY</h2> +<p> +The three men moved forward until they were +within arm’s reach of Reivers, and stood regarding +him with open grins on their hairy faces. Reivers, +reading the import of their grins, knew that they +were bent upon enjoying themselves at his expense, +and tried swiftly to guess what form their amusement +might take. If it were only horse-play he would +be able to continue in the helpless character he had +assumed. If it were to be rougher than that, if they +set out to break him in real earnest, he feared that his +acting was at an end. +</p> +<p> +Even for the sake of the gold that he was after +he would hardly be able to submit, humbly and helplessly +as became a drunken squaw-man, to their efforts +to make a wreck of him. He calculated his chances +of coming through alive if the situation developed to +this extreme, and decided that the odds were a trifle +too heavy against him. +</p> +<p> +The element of surprise would be on his side, but +his right shoulder still was weak from the old bullet-wound. +With his terrible ability to use his feet he +calculated that he could drop Moir and Tammy with +broken bones as they rushed him. To do that he +would have to drop to his back, and Joey, the third +man, wore a long skinning-knife on his hip. No, if +he began to fight he would never get what he had come +after. He wiped his mouth furtively and swayed +from the knees up. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284'></a>284</span> +</p> +<p> +“I want some hooch, mister, that’s what I want,” +he whined shakily. “You promised you’d give me +a drink when we got here, you know you did. Haven’t +had a drop since morning. I wouldn’t ‘a’ come if +I’d known you were going to treat me like this.” +</p> +<p> +Then he did the best acting of his life. He jumped +sideways and shuddered; he frantically plucked imaginary +bugs off his coat sleeve; he stepped high as if +stepping over something on the ground; his eyes and +face muscles worked spasmodically. +</p> +<p> +“O-ooh! Gimme a drink,” he begged. “Please +gimme a drink. I gotta have it.” +</p> +<p> +The grins faded from the faces before him. They +knew full well the signs of incipient delirium tremens. +Tammy laughed dryly. +</p> +<p> +“Hast brought home more than an old ox and a +cow, Shanty,” he said. “Hast brought a whole menagerie. +Yon stick’ll have tuh Wullies in a minute if +he’s not liquored.” +</p> +<p> +Reivers dropped to his knees, shuddering, his arms +shielding his eyes from imaginary beasts of the bottle. +</p> +<p> +“Take ’em away, boys,” he pleaded. “Kill the +big ones, let the little ones go.” +</p> +<p> +With a snarl Moir leaped to his sledge and knocked +the neck off a bottle of hooch. +</p> +<p> +“Drink, you scut!” he growled. “I’ll have dealings +with you when you’re sobered up.” +</p> +<p> +Reivers drank and began to doze. Moir kicked +him upright. +</p> +<p> +“Get into the shed with t’other jackass,” he commanded, +propelling him toward the dugout into which +MacGregor had crawled. “And in tuh morning you +go to work, e’en though snakes be crawling all o’er +’ee.” +</p> +<p> +A faintly muttered curse greeted Reivers as he +crawled into the dugout. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285'></a>285</span> +</p> +<p> +“You poor curs! What do you want with me now?” +came MacGregor’s voice from a corner of the tiny +room. “You skunk——” +</p> +<p> +“Easy, MacGregor Roy,” whispered Reivers quietly. +“It’s not one of the ‘skunks.’” +</p> +<p> +“MacGregor Roy!” By the light that entered by a +slit in the skin-flap Reivers could see the Scotchman +painfully lifting his head from his miserable bunk, as +he hoarsely repeated his own name. “MacGregor +Roy! Who are you, stranger, to call James MacGregor +by his family name?” +</p> +<p> +“I’m the man that Shanty Moir brought in this +afternoon,” whispered Reivers. +</p> +<p> +“I know, I know,” gasped MacGregor weakly. “But +men do not call me MacGregor Roy. James MacGregor +they call me, unless—unless——” +</p> +<p> +“Unless they have the ‘Roy’ straight from the lips +of your daughter, Hattie.” +</p> +<p> +For a full minute MacGregor sat stricken speechless. +</p> +<p> +“Man, man! Speak!” The unfortunate man came +wriggling over and laid his hands pleadingly on Reivers. +“Don’t play with me. Is my daughter Hattie +alive and well?” +</p> +<p> +“Very much alive,” replied Reivers, “and as well as +can be expected of a girl who is worrying her heart +out over why her father doesn’t return or send her +word.” +</p> +<p> +“Have they no’ guessed—has no’ my brother Duncan +guessed by this time?” gasped MacGregor. “Can +not they understand that I must be dead or held captive +since I do not return? Speak, man, tell me how +’tis with them!” +</p> +<p> +Reivers waited until the poor man had become +more quiet before replying to him. +</p> +<p> +“You’d better quiet down a little MacGregor,” he +whispered then. “You can’t tell when your friends +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286'></a>286</span> +might be listening, and it wouldn’t do either of us +any good if they heard what we’re saying.” +</p> +<p> +“True,” said the old man more quietly. “I’m acting +like an old woman. But for three months I’ve been +trapped like this, and my head fairly swims when I +hear you speak of Hattie. How come you to know +of her?” +</p> +<p> +Reivers related briefly that he had been ill and had +been cared for at the MacGregor cabin. +</p> +<p> +“And my little Hattie is well? No harm came to +her from the black devil they sent to steal her? You +must know, man, they taunted me by sending——” +</p> +<p> +“I know,” interrupted Reivers; and he told how +he had disposed of the kidnapper. +</p> +<p> +“You—you did that?” MacGregor clutched Reivers’s +hand. “You saved my little Hattie?” +</p> +<p> +“None of that,” snapped Reivers, snatching away +his hand. “I did nothing for your little Hattie. Why +should I? What is your Hattie to me? I simply +put that black-beard out of business because I needed +food and he had it on the sledge.” +</p> +<p> +“Yet you’re not one of the gang here—now? You +are no’ anything but a friend of me and mine?” +</p> +<p> +“A friend?” sneered Reivers. “I’ll tell you, Mac: +I’m here as my own friend, absolutely nothing else.” +</p> +<p> +“But Hattie—and my brother Duncan—they understand +about me now.” +</p> +<p> +“They know you’re either dead or worse,” was the +reply. “And they’re at Dumont’s Camp now, waiting +for Moir to come there on a spree, when they expect +to trail him back to this camp.” +</p> +<p> +MacGregor nodded his head weakly. +</p> +<p> +“Aye. Taken the trail for revenge. No less could +be expected. Please Heaven, they’ll soon win here. +And James MacGregor will not forget what he owes +you, stranger, for the help you gave his daughter, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287'></a>287</span> +when the time of reckoning comes with Moir and his +poor curs.” +</p> +<p> +Reivers laughed coldly under his breath. +</p> +<p> +“You speak pretty confidently, old-times, for a man +who’s trussed up the way you are.” +</p> +<p> +“God willna let this dog of a Moir have his will +with me much longer,” said the Scot firmly. “It isna +posseeble.” +</p> +<p> +“‘This dog of a Moir’ must be a better man than +you are,” taunted Reivers. “He fooled you and +trapped you as soon as you’d found this mine.” +</p> +<p> +“Did he?” MacGregor flared up. “Shanty Moir a +better man than me? Hoot, no! He fooled me, yes, +for I didna know that he’d got word to these three +hellions of his that the mine was here. I trusted him; +he was my pardner. And when we returned with +proveesions for the Winter the three devils were waiting +for us, just inside the wall, where the creek +comes through. Shanty Moir alone never could ha’ +done it. The three of them jumped on me from +above. I had no chance. Then they strapped me. +</p> +<p> +“They’ve kept me strapped ever since. I’m draft +beast for them. Twice a day they feed me. And +between whiles Shanty Moir taunts me by playing +before my eyes with the dust and nuggets that are half +mine.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, well, it doesn’t look to me as if there’d be +enough gold here to bother about,” said Reivers casually. +“It’s nothing but a little freak pocket by the +looks of it.” +</p> +<p> +“So it is. A freak pocket. It could be nothing else +in this district. ’Twas only by chance we found it, +exploring the creek in here out of curiosity. ’Twas in +the bowels of the warm spring up yon, where the +creek starts, that the pocket was originally. The +spring boiled it out into the creek, and the creek washed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288'></a>288</span> +it down here in its bed of sand. The sand lodged here, +against these rock walls. There’s about a hundred +feet of the sand, running down under the cliffs, and it’s +all pocket. Not a rich pocket, as you say, but Shanty +Moir is filthy with nuggets and dust now, and there’ll +be some more in the sand that’s left to work over. +</p> +<p> +“Not a bonanza, man, but a good-sized fortune. +‘Twould be enough to send my Hattie to school. +’Twould give her all the comforts of the world. +’Twould make folk look up to her. And Shanty +Moir, the devil’s spawn, has it in his keeping.” +</p> +<p> +“And he’ll probably see that it continues in his keeping, +too,” yawned Reivers. +</p> +<p> +“Never!” swore MacGregor, rising to the bait. +“Shanty Moir did me dirt too foul to prosper by it, +and I’m a better man than he is, besides. The stuff +will come into my hands, where it belongs, some way. +I dinna see just how for the present. But the stuff, +and my revenge I will have. E’en shackled as I am I’ll +have my revenge, though it’s only to bite the windpipe +out of Shanty Moir’s throat like a mad dog.” +</p> +<p> +“Huh!” Reivers was lying face down on some +blankets, apparently but little interested. “And suppose +you do get Shanty Moir? What good will that +do you? I’ll bet Shanty’s got the gold hid where +nobody could find it without getting directions from +him. Suppose you get him. Suppose you get all +three of ’em. Shanty Moir being dead, the nuggets +and dust probably’d be as completely lost as they were +before you two boys found the pocket in the first +place.” +</p> +<p> +For a long time MacGregor sat in his corner of the +dugout without replying. Reivers could see that at +times he raised his head, even opened his mouth as if +to speak, then sank back undecided. At last he hunched +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_289'></a>289</span> +himself forward inch by inch to the front of the dugout +and lifted the flap. +</p> +<p> +The light of day had gone from the cavern. On +the sand before the larger dugout blazed a brisk cooking-fire. +In the confined space the light from its +flames was magnified, reflecting from rock-wall and +running water, and illuminating brightly the miserable +hole in which Reivers and MacGregor lay. +</p> +<p> +MacGregor held up the flap for several minutes, +studying Reivers, and though Reivers looked back +with the look in his eyes that made most men quail, +the old man’s sharp grey eyes studied him unruffled, +even as the eyes of his daughter had done before. +</p> +<p> +“By the Big Nail, ’tis a man’s man!” muttered MacGregor, +dropping the flap at last. “How in the name +of self-respect did the likes of you fall prey to the cur, +Shanty Moir?” +</p> +<p> +“Self-respect?” sniggered Reivers. “Did you notice +me out there when you were laying your curse on +Moir?” +</p> +<p> +“Aye. You were far gone in liquor then—by the +looks of you. You’ll mind I say ‘by the looks of +you.’ You are not in liquor now. That’s what +puzzled. A man does not throw off a load of hooch +so quickly. You were playing at being drunk. Now, +why might that be?” +</p> +<p> +“To enable me to get into his hole and leave Moir +thinking I’m a drunken squaw-man without brains or +nerve enough to do anything but sponge for hooch.” +</p> +<p> +“Aye? And your reason for that?” +</p> +<p> +“My reason for that?” Reivers laughed under his +breath. “Why, did you ever hear of a more popular +reason for a man risking his throat than gold? I +heard the story of this deal from your brother Duncan +and your daughter. I need—or rather, I want +money. Shanty Moir had won over you and had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290'></a>290</span> +gold. I came to win over Moir and get the gold away +from him. Isn’t that simple?” +</p> +<p> +“Simple and spoken well,” said MacGregor calmly. +“Will you answer me one question: Did you serve +notice on my brother Duncan that you were out on +this hunt?” +</p> +<p> +“I did.” +</p> +<p> +“Fair enough again. A man has a right to take trail +and do what he can if he speaks out fair. I take it +you hardly calculated to find me here alive?” +</p> +<p> +“No, I didn’t think Moir was such an amateur as +to take any chances.” +</p> +<p> +“Ah, he needed a draft beast, lad; that’s why I’m +alive, and no other reason. And finding me here alive, +does it alter your plans any?” +</p> +<p> +“Only a trifle. You see, I’d made up my mind to +bring Moir and your daughter Hattie face to face to +see if she could make good on her big talk of taking +revenge for putting you out of business. Now that I +see you’re still alive—well, I won’t let any little foolishness +like that interfere with the business I’ve come +on.” +</p> +<p> +“I mean about the gold, man?” +</p> +<p> +Reivers looked at his questioner in surprise. +</p> +<p> +“About the gold?” he repeated. +</p> +<p> +“Yes. Finding me, the rightful owner of half of the +gold, here, alive and hoping to win back with my share +to my daughter Hattie—does it make any change in +your plans?” +</p> +<p> +Reivers chuckled softly. +</p> +<p> +“Not in the slightest,” he replied. “I came to get +the stuff that’s come out of this mine. Take a look +at me. Do I look like a soft fool who’d let anything +interfere with my plans?” +</p> +<p> +MacGregor looked and shook his head, puzzled. +</p> +<p> +“I dinna understand ye, mon,” he said. “I canna +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291'></a>291</span> +make you out. By the look of you I’d be wishful to +strike hands with you as one good man to another; but +your talk, man, is all wrong, all wrong. Half of the +stuff that’s been taken out of this mine—Shanty +Moir’s half—I have made up my mind shall be yours +for the strong blow you dealt to save my Hattie from +black shame. Will you na’ strike hands on a partnership +like that between us?” +</p> +<p> +Reivers yawned. +</p> +<p> +“Why should I? You’re ‘all in.’ You can’t help +me any. I’ll have to do the job of getting the gold +away from Moir. I came here to get it all. I don’t +want any help, and I certainly won’t make any unnecessary +split.” +</p> +<p> +“Man,” whispered MacGregor in horror, “is there +naught but a piece of ice where your heart should +be? Do you not understand it’s for a poor, unprovided +girl I’m talking? A man you might rob; but have you +the coldness in your heart to rob my little, unfortunate +Hattie?” +</p> +<p> +“‘Little, unfortunate Hattie!’” mocked Reivers. +“Consider her robbed already. What then?” +</p> +<p> +“A word to Shanty Moir and you’re as good as +dead,” retorted MacGregor hotly. +</p> +<p> +Reivers’ long right arm shot out and terrible fingers +clutched MacGregor’s throat. The old man wriggled +and gasped and tried to cry out, but Reivers held him +voiceless and helpless and smiled. +</p> +<p> +“One word to Shanty Moir, and—you see?” he said, +releasing his hold. “Then your little, unfortunate +Hattie would be robbed for sure.” +</p> +<p> +“Man—man—what are you, man or devil?” gasped +MacGregor. +</p> +<p> +“Devil, if it suits you,” said Reivers. “But, remember, +I’ll manage to be within reach of you when +Shanty Moir’s about, and I rather fancy Moir would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_292'></a>292</span> +be glad to have me put you out of business. Now +listen to me. I’ve no objection to your getting out of +here alive—if you can. I’ve no objection to your getting +your revenge on Moir, if you can, provided that +none of this interferes with my getting what I came +after. You know now what I can and will do if necessary. +Your life lies right there.” He opened and +closed his right hand significantly. “Well, I’ll trade +you your life for a little information. Where does +Shanty keep his gold?” +</p> +<p> +MacGregor ceased gasping. He began to laugh. +He leaned over and laughed. He rocked from side to +side. +</p> +<p> +“Man, man! Do you not know that? That proves +you’re only human!” he chuckled. “You came out +here, like a lamb led to slaughter, to find where Shanty +Moir keeps his gold. You were on the trail with +Shanty. You had him where it was only one man +to one. Well—well, the joke is too good to keep: +Shanty Moir, day and night, wears a big buckskin +belt about the middle of him, and the gold—the gold +is in the belt!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_293'></a>293</span><a name='chXL' id='chXL'></a>CHAPTER XL—THE WHITE MAN’S SENTIMENT</h2> +<p> +It was very still in the dugout. Suddenly Reivers +leaned forward to see if MacGregor were telling +the truth. Satisfied with his scrutiny he sat back and +laughed softly. +</p> +<p> +“In a belt, around his middle, eh?” he said. “Good +work. Mr. Moir is cautious enough to be interesting.” +</p> +<p> +“Cautious!” MacGregor threw up the flap of the +dugout. “Look out there, man.” +</p> +<p> +Reivers looked. On the sand directly before the +door lay chained a huge, husky dog, an ugly, starved +brute with mad eyes. +</p> +<p> +“Try but to crawl outside the shack,” suggested +MacGregor. +</p> +<p> +Reivers tried. His head had no more than appeared +outside when the dog sprang. The chain jerked him +back as his teeth clashed where Reivers’ head had been. +He leaped thrice more, striving to hurl himself into the +dugout, then returned to his place and lay down, growling. +</p> +<p> +“Very cautious,” agreed Reivers. +</p> +<p> +He peered carefully out toward the cooking-fire. +The fire had died down now and was deserted. By +the sounds coming from the larger dugout Reivers +knew that Moir and his men were occupied with their +supper, supplemented by occasional drafts of liquor, +and once more he crawled out upon the sand. +</p> +<p> +With a snarl the great dog leaped again, his bared +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_294'></a>294</span> +fangs flashing in the night. The snarl died in a choke. +Reivers’ long arms flashed out and his fingers caught +the dog by the throat so swiftly and surely that not +another sound came from between its teeth. It was +a big, strong dog and it died hard, but out there on +the sand Reivers sat, silently keeping his hold till the +last sign of life had gone from the brute’s body. Not +a sound rose to attract attention from the larger dugout. +</p> +<p> +When the animal was quite dead Reivers crawled +forward and untied the chain that held it to a rock. +Noiselessly he crawled farther on and noiselessly +slipped the carcass into the brook. The brisk current +caught it and dragged it down. Reivers waited until +he saw the thing disappear into the dark tunnel at +the lower end of the cavern, then returned to the dugout +and quietly lay down on his blankets. +</p> +<p> +“God’s blood!” gasped MacGregor and sat silent. +</p> +<p> +“Well,” yawned Reivers, “our friend Moir is short +one dog.” +</p> +<p> +“You crazy fool!” MacGregor was grinding his +teeth. “Ha’ you no’ thought of what Shanty Moir +will do when he finds what you’ve done to his watch-dog?” +</p> +<p> +“What I have done?” Reivers laughed his idiotic +squaw-man’s laugh. “D’you suppose a poor old bum +like me could throttle a man-eater like that beast? +You’ll be the one to be blamed for it. Why should I +touch Moir’s dog? Moir and I came here together, +chummy as a couple of thieves.” +</p> +<p> +“You would not—you could not do that? You +could not put it on me? Man, they’d drop me in +the river after the beast, if you got them to believe it.” +</p> +<p> +“Well?” said Reivers gently. +</p> +<p> +The Scot bit his lip and grew crafty. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_295'></a>295</span> +</p> +<p> +“Well,” he said, “there’d be only you left then to +do the dirt-hauling for Shanty Moir.” +</p> +<p> +Reivers nodded appreciatively. +</p> +<p> +“You deserve something for that, Mac,” said he. +</p> +<p> +He lay silent for a few minutes. Then he chuckled +suddenly as if he had thought of a good joke. +</p> +<p> +“Watch me closely now, Mac,” he ordered, “and if +you ever feel like speaking that word to Moir, I’ll +holler at you worse than this.” +</p> +<p> +He rolled himself to the front of the dugout, and +suddenly there rang out in the cavern such a shriek of +terror as stopped the blood in the veins of all who +heard. Twice Reivers uttered his horrible cry. Then +he began to shout drunkenly: +</p> +<p> +“Take him off, take him away! Oh, oh, oh! Big +dog coming out of the river. Take him away. Big +dog swimming in the river. Take him away. Help, +help!” +</p> +<p> +Shanty Moir got to the front of the little dugout +in advance of the others. He came with a six-shooter +in his hand, and the gun covered Reivers, +huddled up on the sand, as steadily as if held in a +vise. But Reivers observed that Moir stopped well +out of reach. +</p> +<p> +“What tuh ——!” roared Muir, as he noted the +absence of the watch-dog. “What devil’s work——” +</p> +<p> +“The dog!” chattered Reivers. “Big dog; big as a +house. Came out of the river. Tried to jump on me. +Jumped back into the river. Swimming—swimming +out there.” +</p> +<p> +Shanty Moir swung the muzzle of his six-shooter till +it pointed straight at Reivers’s forehead. He did +not step forward, but remained well out of reach. +</p> +<p> +“Steady, old son,” he said quietly, “steady, or this’ll +go off.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_296'></a>296</span> +</p> +<p> +Under the influence of the threat Reivers pretended +to come back to his senses. +</p> +<p> +“Gimme a drink, mister,” he pleaded. “I’m seeing +things. I was sure there was a big dog out there. +I’d ‘a’ sworn I saw him jump into the river. Now +I see there isn’t, but gimme a drink—quick!” +</p> +<p> +“Bring tuh old sow a cup of hooch, Joey,” snapped +Moir over his shoulder. “Wilt see about this.” He +turned the weapon on the cowering MacGregor. +“Speak quick, Scotch jackass, or I pull trigger. What’s +been done here; where’s Tige?” +</p> +<p> +“Was it a real dog?” cried Reivers before MacGregor +could reply. “I saw something—he went +into the river.” +</p> +<p> +“Speak, you!” said Moir to the Scotchman. “Speak +quick.” +</p> +<p> +“He’s telling you straight,” replied MacGregor, +with a nod toward Reivers. “The dog went into the +river. I saw him go down, out of sight.” +</p> +<p> +“Out of sight,” muttered Reivers, swallowing the +drink which Joey had brought him. “So it was a real +dog, was it? He jumped at me, and then he jumped +back, and I guess he broke his chain, because he +went into the river and never came out.” +</p> +<p> +Moir stepped over and examined the rock from +which Reivers had slipped the dog’s chain. +</p> +<p> +“Tammy,” he said quietly. Tammy came obediently, +stopping a good two paces away from Moir. +</p> +<p> +“See that?” said Moir, pointing at the rock. Tammy +nodded. +</p> +<p> +“You tied Tige out for tuh night, Tammy?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, but——” +</p> +<p> +“And you tied so well tuh beast got loose, and +into tuh river and is lost.” +</p> +<p> +“Shanty, I swear——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_297'></a>297</span> +</p> +<p> +“Swear all you want to, lad,” said Moir and dropped +him cold with a light tap on the jaw. +</p> +<p> +“Pick him up.” Moir’s moving revolver had seemed +to cover every one present, but now the muzzle hesitated +on Joey. “Carry him into tuh shack.” +</p> +<p> +As Joey obeyed Moir stepped back toward the little +dugout, but stopped well out of reach of a possible +rush. +</p> +<p> +“Old son,” he said slowly, and the gun barrel pointed +at Reivers’ right eye, “old son, if you yell again tonight +let it be your prayers, because you’ll need ’em. +Dost hear? I suspect ’twas thy yelling scared Tige +into the river. Wouldst send thee down after him, +only I’ve use for you in tuh pits. Crawl in and lie +still if wouldst live till daylight, —— you. Wilt pay +for the loss of Tige, I warn you that.” +</p> +<p> +He turned away and Reivers fell back on his blankets +chuckling boyishly. He was in fine fettle. The +Snow-Burner was coming back to his old form, and in +the delight of the moment’s difficulties he had temporarily +lost the softening memories that had disturbed +him of late. +</p> +<p> +“How was it, old-timer?” he laughed. “Could you +pick any flaw in it?” +</p> +<p> +MacGregor shook his head in wonder. +</p> +<p> +“I had a man go fey on me once, up on the Slave +Lake trail,” he said slowly. “He let go just such +yells as came from your mouth now. I’m thinking +no man could yell so lest he’s fey himself, or has +travelled wi’ auld Nickie and stole some of his music.” +</p> +<p> +“Quite so. Exactly the impression I wished to +create,” said Reivers. “I thank you for your compliment, +but your analysis is all wrong. Complete +control of your vocal organs, that’s all. You see I +wished to let out just such a yell. It was rather hard, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_298'></a>298</span> +because my vocal organs never had made such a sound +before, and they protested. I forced them to do it. +</p> +<p> +“The man with the superior mind can force his body +to do anything. Understand, Mac? It’s the superior +mind that counts. If you’d had a mind superior to +Moir’s you’d be top dog here, with Moir fetching +bones for you. As it is, you’re doing the fetching, +and Moir’s growing fat. And here I come along, +with a mind superior to Moir’s, and I’m going to be +top dog now and gobble the whole proceeds of your +squabbling. The mind, Mac, the grey stuff in the little +bone-box at the top of your neck, that’s all that counts. +Nothing else. And I’ve got the best grey matter in +this camp, and I’m going to be top dog as a matter of +course.” +</p> +<p> +MacGregor flared up hotly. +</p> +<p> +“You say, that’s all that counts?” he said. “D’you +mean to tell me to my face that after I’d struck hands +with a man to be my partner, as I did with Shanty +Moir, that I’d turn on him and play him the scurvy +trick he played me, just because I could? Well, if +you say that, mon, you lie, and I throw the word +smack in your teeth. Go back on my hand-shake, +just to be top dog and get the bones! God’s blood! +There’s other things better than bones, and there’s +other things that count besides a superior mind. How +many times do you suppose I could have shot Shanty +Moir after we’d found this mine?” +</p> +<p> +“Not once. You didn’t have it in you. You couldn’t +do it. If you could you’d have been the superior +man, and you’re not.” +</p> +<p> +MacGregor thought it over. +</p> +<p> +“You’re right, mon, I couldn’t do it. I thank God +I couldn’t. I’d rather be the slave I am at present +than be able to do things like that.” +</p> +<p> +“Sentiment, Mac; foolish, unreasonable sentiment.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_299'></a>299</span> +</p> +<p> +“Sentiment!” MacGregor spoke hotly, then suddenly +subsided. “Yes, you’re right, lad,” he admitted +after awhile. “It’s naught but sentiment. I see now. +It’s the kind of sentiment that white men die for, and +that makes them the boss men of the world. Well, lad, +I am sorry to hear you talk as if ’twas only your +skin was white. But I do not see you top dog of +this camp yet. I’ll warrant Shanty Moir didn’t allow +you to slip a gun or knife into camp. And did you +notice the little tool he had in his hand?” +</p> +<p> +“A six-shooter,” said Reivers. “A crude weapon +compared to a good mind, MacGregor.” +</p> +<p> +“Aye? I’m glad to hear you say so, lad, for I’ve +only a mind, such as it is, left me for a weapon, and +I’m quite sure I must overcome the six-gun in Shanty’s +hand ere I ever win back to lay eyes on my daughter +Hattie.” +</p> +<p> +“Your daughter Hattie!” Reivers sat up, jarred out +of his composure. “You forget your daughter Hattie; +you hear, MacGregor? And now shut up. There’s +been enough yawping to-night; I want to sleep.” +</p> +<p> +He rolled himself tightly in his blankets. MacGregor +crawled miserably to his corner and huddled +down to sleep as best he could in his cruel shackles. +The dugout grew as still as a tomb. Faint sounds +came from the place where Moir and his men were +living, but as the night grew older these ceased, and +a silence as complete and primitive as it knew before +man bent his steps thither fell over the isolated cavern. +</p> +<p> +Reivers did not sleep. MacGregor’s last words +had done the work. “My daughter Hattie.” Hattie +with the clean, pure face of her. Hattie with the +wide grey eyes; with the look of pain upon her. +Curse MacGregor! What business had he mentioning +that name? Reivers had forgotten, or thought he +had. He was himself again. And then this old fool—curse +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_300'></a>300</span> +him! Curse the whole MacGregor tribe. And +especially did he curse himself for being weak and +foolish enough to permit such trifles to interfere with +his sleep. +</p> +<p> +He dozed away toward daylight and dreamed that +Hattie MacGregor was looking at him. The hard +look on her face had softened a little, and she said she +was glad he had sent Neopa back to her lover, Nawa. +</p> +<p> +“—— you, get out of there!” +</p> +<p> +In his half-waking Reivers fancied it was his own +voice driving the picture from his mind. +</p> +<p> +“Get out, beasts, and get out quick!” +</p> +<p> +It was Shanty Moir’s voice and he was calling to +MacGregor and Reivers to get up. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_301'></a>301</span><a name='chXLI' id='chXLI'></a>CHAPTER XLI—SHANTY MOIR—TEMPERANCE ADVOCATE</h2> +<p> +Reivers came forth from the dugout, stooped +and shaking, the drunken squaw-man’s morning +condition to perfection, but in reality alert and watchful +for the opportunity he was seeking. He had had a +bad night, and he was anxious to have the job over +with and get away with his loot to some place where +he could forget. +</p> +<p> +A surprise awaited him outside. Two tin plates +loaded with meat and a tin cup half full of liquor +were placed on the sand before the dugout. Ten feet +away stood Shanty Moir, his six-shooter covering the +two men as they emerged. With the instinct of the +wild animal that he was, Moir knew the value of +clamping his hold firmly on his victims in the cold +grey of morning. +</p> +<p> +“Drink and eat,” he said, satisfied with the humility +with which the two went to their food. “Eat fast, or +you’ll go into tuh pit with tuh belly empty.” +</p> +<p> +“I thought you hired me for a cook, mister,” whined +Reivers, as he raised the tin cup to his lips. “I want +to cook.” +</p> +<p> +“Cook, ——!” sneered Moir. “Tuh squaw’ll do all +tuh cooking done here. Draft beast with tuh Scotch +jackass, that’s what ’ee be, old ox. Hurry up. Wilt +have a little of tuh prod?” +</p> +<p> +Out of the corner of his eye Reivers saw that MacGregor +was eying the cup of liquor wistfully. Moved +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_302'></a>302</span> +by an impulse that was strange to him he took a small +drink and held out the cup to his companion. As MacGregor +eagerly reached for it Moir’s gun crashed out +and the cup flew from Reivers’s hand. +</p> +<p> +“Tuh motto of this camp is, ‘No treating,’” chuckled +Moir. “Hooch is good on tuh trail. We’re on tuh +job now. You get liquor, old son, because ’tis medicine +to you, and any hooch drinked here, I must prescribe.” +</p> +<p> +Across the creek, Tammy, at work building a fire +under the thawing-pan, heard his chief’s words and +growled faintly. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, and ’ee prescribe terrible small doses, too, +Shanty,” he muttered. “A good thing can be over-played. +Hast no reason for refusing Joey and me a +nip before starting work this morning.” +</p> +<p> +Moir, moving like a soft-footed lynx, was across +the creek and behind Tammy before the latter realised +what was coming. From his position Moir now +dominated the whole camp, and a sickly smile appeared +on Tammy’s mouth. +</p> +<p> +“Aw, Shanty!” he whined. “Didst only mean it for +a joke. Can take a joke from an old chum, can’t ’ee, +Shanty?” +</p> +<p> +“Get into tuh pit, Tammy,” said Moir quietly, +pointing with his gun to the tunnel where sounds indicated +that Joey already was at work. +</p> +<p> +“Aw, Shanty——” +</p> +<p> +“Get in!” +</p> +<p> +Slack-jawed with terror Tammy crawled into the +dark tunnel. +</p> +<p> +“Eh, Joey, ma son!” called Moir down the pit-mouth. +</p> +<p> +“Aye?” came back the answer. +</p> +<p> +“Dost ’ee, too, think ’ee should have a drink this +morn’?” +</p> +<p> +“Aye, Shanty,” replied the unsuspecting Joey. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_303'></a>303</span> +</p> +<p> +“Have a hot one, then!” roared Shanty and kicked a +blazing log from Tammy’s fire into the pit. +</p> +<p> +A mingling of shrieks and protests greeted its arrival. +</p> +<p> +“Aw, Shanty! Blood of tuh devil, chief! Canst not +take a joke?” +</p> +<p> +“Am taking it now, ma sons,” laughed Moir, and +kicked more brands down the tunnel. +</p> +<p> +Gasping and choking from the smoke that filled the +tiny pit, Joey and Tammy essayed to crawl out. <i>Bang!</i> +went Moir’s six-shooter and they hastily retreated. +The tunnel was filled with smoke by this time. Down +at the bottom, choking coughs and cries told that the +two unfortunate men were being suffocated. Moir +waited until the faintness of the sounds told how far +gone the men were. Then he motioned to Reivers +with his revolver. The smoke was leaving the pit +by this time. +</p> +<p> +“Step down and drag ’em out, old son,” he said. +“Come now, no hanging back. Tuh trigger on this +gun is filed down so she pulls very light.” +</p> +<p> +Reivers obeyed, climbing into the pit as if trembling +with fear, and toiling furiously as he dragged the unconscious +men out, though he could have walked away +with one under each arm. +</p> +<p> +“Throw water on ’em. Splash ’em good.” +</p> +<p> +Ten minutes later Joey and Tammy were sitting +up, coughing and sneezing, and trying their best to +make Moir believe they had only been joking. +</p> +<p> +“Good enough, ma sons; so was I,” chuckled Moir. +“Now back to tuh job, and if ever you doubt who’s top +man here you’ll stay in tuh pit till you’re browned +well enough to eat. Dost hear me?” +</p> +<p> +“Aye, Shanty,” said the two men humbly, and +hurried back to their tasks. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_304'></a>304</span> +</p> +<p> +“And now, jackass and old ox, step over here and +get into tuh harness,” commanded Moir. +</p> +<p> +He continued to hold the gun in his hand and +motioned to the sledge near the thawing-pan. High +side-boards had been placed on the sledge, making it +capable of holding twice its former load, and a looped +rope supplemented the traces to which MacGregor was +so ignominiously hitched. +</p> +<p> +“Take hold of the rope, old son,” directed Moir. +</p> +<p> +He did not approach as MacGregor resignedly led +the way to the sledge. Tammy turned from his +thawing-pan to hitch the Scotchman to his traces +and to strap down his hands. Moir stood back, the +gun in his hand, dominating all three. +</p> +<p> +“Now into tuh pit; Joey’s got a load waiting,” he +commanded. “And one whine out of you, old ox, and +you get the prod. Hi-jah! Giddap!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_305'></a>305</span><a name='chXLII' id='chXLII'></a>CHAPTER XLII—THE SNOW-BURNER WORKS FOR TWO</h2> +<p> +With MacGregor leading the way, Reivers humbly +picked up his rope and helped drag the +sledge into the mine. The tunnel, high and broad +enough only for two men to crawl abreast, ran at a +steep slant into the sand for probably twenty-five +feet. At its end it spread into a small room in which +Joey was at work, chopping loose chunks of frozen +earth. +</p> +<p> +One glance around and Reivers knew from experience +that this room had been the home of the pocket, +and that, unless the signs lied, the pocket soon would +be worked out. Judging by the extent of the excavation +the pocket had been a good-sized one, and the +amount of dust and nuggets taken from it undoubtedly +would foot up to a neat sum. Yes, it would be a tidy +fortune. It would be plenty to give him a new start in +life, plenty to pay him for the trouble he had gone to, +plenty even to pay him for the baseness of his present +position. +</p> +<p> +He obeyed Joey meekly when ordered, with curses +and insults, to load the sledge. He could have throttled +Joey down there in the mine without a sound coming +up to warn those above of what was happening, +but Moir’s conduct of the morning had made an impression +upon Reivers. A man who kept himself +out of reach, who kept his six-shooter pointed at you +all the time, and who could shoot tin cups out of your +moving hand, was not a man to be despised. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_306'></a>306</span> +</p> +<p> +The first hour of work that day convinced Moir +and his henchmen that their original unflattering estimate +of Reivers was correct. Even a close observer, +regarding him during that period of probation, would +have seen nothing to indicate that he was anything +but what Shanty Moir had judged him to be. A miserable, +broken-down squaw-man, without a will of his +own, and only one ambition—to clamour for as much +liquor as possible—that was the character that Reivers +played perfectly for the benefit of Moir and his two +men. +</p> +<p> +At first, they kept an eye on him, watching to see +if by any chance the old fool might be dangerous. +They discovered that he would be dangerous if turned +loose—to their supply of liquor. Beyond that he had, +apparently, not a single aim in the world. His physical +weakness, they soon discovered, was exactly what was +to be expected of a whisky bloat. He was able to help +haul the sledge-loads of frozen earth up the incline of +the shaft, and that was all. Even that left him puffing +and trembling. +</p> +<p> +“Is an old ox, as ’ee said, Shanty, with even tuh +horns burnt off him by tuh hooch,” said Joey, after +the first few loads. “Keep a little o’ tuh liquor running +down his throat each day and he’ll be a good +draft beast to us. Nothing to fear o’ him. Didst +well when ’ee picked him out, chief.” +</p> +<p> +They stopped watching him. He was harmless. +Which was exactly the frame of mind which Reivers +had worked to create. +</p> +<p> +MacGregor alone knew how cleverly Reivers was +playing his part, and he regarded his new companion +in misery with greater awe and swore beneath his +breath in unholy admiration. He had excellent opportunity +to appreciate Reivers’s ability to play the +part of a weakling, for the Snow-Burner, when not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_307'></a>307</span> +observed, caught his free hand in MacGregor’s traces +and pulled the full weight of the heavy sledge as if it +had been a boy’s plaything. +</p> +<p> +“Eh, mon!” gasped the weakened Scotchman in relief. +“I begin to comprehend now. ’Tis a surprise +you’re planning for Shanty Moir. Oh, aye! ’Tis +a braw joke. But you maun l’ave me finish him, man; +’tis my right. And I thank you and will repay you +well for the favour you are doing me in my present +bunged-up condition.” +</p> +<p> +“Favour your eye!” snapped Reivers. “It’s easier +to pull the whole thing than to have you dragging on +it. Don’t think I’m doing it for your sake. You’ll +have a rude awakening, my friend, if you’re building +any hopes on me.” +</p> +<p> +“I dinna understand you,” said MacGregor with a +shake of his head. “You’re different from any man I +ever met. But at all events, you’ve made the loads +lighter, and I think I must have perished soon had you +not done so.” +</p> +<p> +“Shut up!” hissed Reivers irritably. “I tell you +I’m doing it because it’s easier for me.” +</p> +<p> +His attitude toward the old man was brutally domineering +when they were alone and openly abusive when +they were in the presence of Moir or the others. He +showered foul epithets upon him, pretended to shoulder +the greater part of the work on him, and abused +him in a fashion that won the approval of the three +brutes over them. +</p> +<p> +“Make him do his share, old sonny,” roared Moir. +“Wilt have tuh prod? Joey, give him tuh prod so he +can poke up tuh jackass when he lags back.” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t need no prod,” boasted Reivers. “I can +handle him without any prod. Come on, pull up there, +you loafer. Think I’m going to do it all?” +</p> +<p> +MacGregor on such occasions would hold his head +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_308'></a>308</span> +low to hide the gleam in his eyes and the grin that +strove for room on his tightly pressed lips. His harness +was hanging slack; Reivers took more of the load +upon himself with every curse that he uttered. +</p> +<p> +All through the day it was Reivers’ strength that +pulled the heavy sledge up the dirt incline of the tunnel, +and at night, when the day’s work was done, and +MacGregor, tottering feebly toward his bunk, fell +helpless through the dugout’s flap, Reivers picked him +up, laid him down gently and placed his own blanket +beneath his head. +</p> +<p> +“God bless you, lad!” whispered MacGregor. +</p> +<p> +“Shut up!” hissed Reivers. “I don’t want any talk +like that.” +</p> +<p> +He looked down at the prostrate man for a moment. +Then with a muttered curse he unloosened the straps +that bound MacGregor’s arms to his sides and hurled +himself over to his own side of the shack. He was +very angry with himself. Pity and succour for the +helpless had never before been a part of his creed. +Why should he trouble about MacGregor? +</p> +<p> +“I’ll have to strap you up again in the morning,” he +flung out suddenly, “but it won’t hurt to have your +hands free for the night. Shut up—lay still! I hear +somebody coming.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_309'></a>309</span><a name='chXLIII' id='chXLIII'></a>CHAPTER XLIII—“THE PENALTY OF A WHITE MAN’S MIND”</h2> +<p> +“Oh, Snow-Burner!” It was Tillie who came, +bearing the evening food, and Reivers crept +out on the sand to meet her. “Oh, Snow-Burner,” +she whispered quietly, “I am weary of this camp. The +air is bad, and the country is not open. It is in my +heart to poison Iron Hair as soon as the Snow-Burner +says we are ready to go from this place.” +</p> +<p> +Reivers stared at her. A short while ago he would +not have been shocked in the slightest degree to have +heard this—to her, natural speech—fall from Tillie’s +lips. But of late another woman, another kind of +woman, had been in his thoughts, and Tillie’s words +left him speechless for the moment. +</p> +<p> +The squaw continued placidly— +</p> +<p> +“The Snow-Burner comes here after gold?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> +<p> +“And when he has the gold we go away?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> +<p> +“Good. The pig, Iron Hair, wears a great belt of +buckskin about his middle. The gold is in there, much +of it. I will poison him to-night, and we will take +the belt and go away from here in the morning.” +</p> +<p> +Reivers made no reply. Here was success offered +him without so much as a move of his hand. He need +have no part in it, none at all. Tillie would bring him +the gold belt. That was what he had come for; and +hitherto he had never let anything in the world stand +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_310'></a>310</span> +between him and the gratification of his desires. Yet +he hesitated. +</p> +<p> +“Is there more gold here than Iron Hair wears in +his belt?” asked Tillie. +</p> +<p> +Reivers shook his head. +</p> +<p> +“Then why wait?” Her whisper was full of amazement. +“It is not like the Snow-Burner. Was there +ever a man who could make him do his will? And +yet now the Snow-Burner labours for Iron Hair like +a woman.” +</p> +<p> +“Like a woman?” He repeated her bold words in +surprise, while she sat humbly awaiting the careless, +back-hand blow which knocked her rolling on the sand. +“And was that hand like the hand of a woman?” he +asked. +</p> +<p> +Tillie picked herself up with a gleam of hope in +her eyes. It was long since the Snow-Burner had +struck her strongly. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Snow-Burner!” she whispered proudly as she +crawled back to his side. “Why do we wait? It is +all ready. The Snow-Burner knows where the gold +is that he came for. Tillie will do her share. The +sleep-medicine is sewed in the corner of my blanket. +There is enough to kill this big pig, Iron Hair, and his +men three times over. Will not the Snow-Burner give +the sign for Tillie to put the sleep-medicine in their +food? Then they will sleep and not awaken, and the +Snow-Burner and Tillie can go away with the gold. +Was it not so that the Snow-Burner wished to do?” +</p> +<p> +Reivers nodded. That was what he wished. +</p> +<p> +It was very simple. Only a nod. After that—the +sleep-medicine, the tasteless Indian poison, the +secret of which Tillie possessed, and which she would +have used on a hundred men had Reivers given the +word. +</p> +<p> +Yes, it was very simple—except that he could not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_311'></a>311</span> +forget Hattie MacGregor. The memory of her each +hour had grown clearer, more torturing. Because of +it he had taken the killing load of work from her +father’s shoulders; because of it he was growing weak. +He swore mutteringly as he thought of it. He had permitted +her memory to soften him, to make a boy of +him. But now he was himself again. Tillie’s words +had done their work. He turned toward the squaw, +and she saw by the look in his eyes that the Snow-Burner +at last was going to give the fatal sign. +</p> +<p> +“To-night,” she pleaded. “Let it be to-night. It is +a bad camp here. The air is not good. Iron Hair is a +pig. Let me give the sleep-medicine to-night; then +we go from here in the morning—together.” +</p> +<p> +She crept closer to him, slyly smiling up at him; and +suddenly Reivers flung her away with a movement +of loathing and sprang up, tall and straight. +</p> +<p> +“No,” he said quietly, “not to-night.” And Tillie +crouched at his feet. +</p> +<p> +“Snow-Burner,” she whispered, “I hear Iron Hair +and his men talk. They go away soon. They take +the gold with them. Does not the Snow-Burner +want the gold?” +</p> +<p> +Reivers looked down upon her. He was standing +up, stiff and proud, as he should stand, but as he had +not stood since he had begun to play at being a drunken +squaw-man. +</p> +<p> +“I do not want you to help me get the gold,” he +said slowly. “I do not want you to give Iron Hair the +sleep-medicine, to-night, or any night. I will take the +gold from Iron Hair without your help. I have +spoken.” +</p> +<p> +He stood looking down at her, and Tillie, looking up +at him, once more was reminded that he was a white +man and that the vast gulf between them never might +be bridged. Wearily, hopelessly, she rose to her feet. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_312'></a>312</span> +</p> +<p> +“The Snow-Burner has spoken; I have heard,” she +whispered, and went humbly back into the large dugout. +</p> +<p> +Reivers laughed a small laugh of bitterness as he +heard the flap drop behind her. He threw his head +far back and gazed up at the slit of starlit sky that +showed above the mouth of the cavern, and for once in +his life he felt the common insignificance of human-kind +alone in the vast scheme of Nature. He was +weak; he had thrown away the easy way to success; +he had let the memory of Hattie MacGregor’s face, +flaring before his eyes in the instant that Tillie thrust +her lips up to his, beat him. +</p> +<p> +He threw up his great arms and held them out, +tense and hard as bars of living steel. He felt of +his shoulders, his biceps, his chest, his legs, and he +laughed sardonically. +</p> +<p> +“Body, you’re just as superior to other men’s bodies +as you ever were,” he mused. “Yes, Body, you’re +just as fit to rend and prey on others as ever. But +you’re handicapped now. You’re not permitted to do +things as you used to do them. Body, you’re paying +the penalty of being burdened with a white man’s +mind.” +</p> +<p> +MacGregor looked up as Reivers re-entered the dugout +bearing the evening food. A tiny fire in one corner +lighted up the room and by its flickering flames +he saw Reivers’ face. +</p> +<p> +“Blood o’ God!” whispered the old man in awe. +“What’s come over you, man?” +</p> +<p> +He rose on his elbow and peered more closely. +</p> +<p> +“Man—man—you ha’ not overcome Shanty Moir? +You have not finished him without letting me——” +</p> +<p> +Reivers laughed. +</p> +<p> +“What are you talking about? Do I look as if +I’d been fighting?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_313'></a>313</span> +</p> +<p> +MacGregor studied him seriously. +</p> +<p> +“I donno,” said he slowly. “I donno that you look +as if you had been fighting. But you come in with +your head high up, and the look in your eyes of a +man who has conquered. That I do know. Tell me, +lad, what’s taken place wi’ you outside?” +</p> +<p> +“None of your business,” snapped Reivers. “Here’s +your supper.” And he returned to his side of the +dugout to sit down to think. +</p> +<p> +He was on his mettle now. He had put to one side +the easy, certain way to success that Tillie had offered. +Success was not to be so easy as he had thought. +Thus far it had been easy. He had met Moir, he had +won his way into the mine, he had learned where the +gold was hidden, all as he had planned. Remained +to get the gold and get safely away. The time to +do it in was short. +</p> +<p> +Reivers’ experienced miner’s eyes had told him that +the pocket was perilously near to being mined out. +Any day, any hour now, and the pay-streak which they +were following might end in barren dirt. That would +be the end of his opportunity. Moir and his men +would waste no time in the Dead Lands after making +their cleanup. They would pack and travel at once, +southward, to the railroad. They would not permit +even so harmless an individual as a sodden squaw-man +to trail them. Hence, Reivers knew that he must +find or make his opportunity without waste of time +and strike the instant it was found or made. +</p> +<p> +He had been unable to find an opportunity that first +day. Moir in his camp was a different man from Moir +on the trail. He was the boss man here, and Reivers +granted him ungrudged admiration for it. Liquor +was his master on the trail; here he was master of it. +His treatment of Joey and Tammy in the morning +had explained his attitude on that question too clearly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_314'></a>314</span> +to make it worth while to attempt to entice him into a +bout at drinking. Moir was boss here, boss of himself +and others, and he always had his six-shooter +handy to prove it. +</p> +<p> +Tammy and Joey wore knives at their hips, but no +guns. Moir’s 30.40 rifle hung carelessly on a nail +near the door of his dugout. This had puzzled Reivers +at first. Would a bad man like Moir be so simple as +to leave his rifle where any one might lay hands on +it, and carry a six-shooter in a manner to provoke +a gun-fight? When he was ordered to carry a pail of +water to the dugout Reivers managed to take a careful +look at the rifle, and the puzzle was explained. +The breech-block had been taken out and the fine +weapon was no more deadly than any club eight +pounds in weight. +</p> +<p> +His respect for Moir had increased with this discovery. +Evidently Moir was not so thick-headed +after all. He took no chances. The only effective +shooting-iron in camp was his six-shooter and, with +this he was thoroughly master of the situation. +</p> +<p> +In the first hour Reivers had noticed that Moir had +a system of guarding himself. It was the system of +the primitive fighting man and it consisted solely of: +let no man get at your back. At no time, whether in +the mine, at the washing-pans, in the open, or in the +dugout did Moir permit any one to get behind him. +He made no distinction. In the pit he stood with +Joey before him. At the pans he worked behind +Tammy. When the others grouped together he whirled +as smoothly as a lynx if any one made to pass in his +rear. Even when he sat at ease in the dugout with +Tillie he placed his back against the bare stone wall +at the rear of the room. So much Reivers had seen +during his first day in the camp. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_315'></a>315</span> +</p> +<p> +“Does he sleep soundly at night?” he asked suddenly. +</p> +<p> +“Who?” asked MacGregor. +</p> +<p> +“Moir, of course.” +</p> +<p> +“Soundly?” The Scotchman gritted his teeth. “Aye +as soundly as a lynx lying down by its kill in a wolf +country.” +</p> +<p> +Reivers smiled a grim smile. There was no chance, +then, of rushing Shanty Moir in his sleep. It would +be harder to get the gold and get away than he had +expected. In fact, the difficulties of it presented quite +a problem. He liked problems, did the Snow-Burner, +and his smile grew more grim as he rolled himself +in his blankets and lay down to wait, dream-tortured +by pictures of Hattie MacGregor, for the coming of +daylight of the day in which he had resolved to force +the problem to solution. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_316'></a>316</span><a name='chXLIV' id='chXLIV'></a>CHAPTER XLIV—THE MADNESS OF “HELL-CAMP” REIVERS</h2> +<p> +The day opened as the day before had opened. A +bellow from Shanty Moir, and Reivers strapped +MacGregor into his harness again and they tumbled +out to their rude morning meal. Again Moir stood +a distance away, the big six-shooter balanced easily +in his hand. But this morning Joey and Tammy, over +by the pit-mouth, also were awaiting the appearance +of their two beasts of burden, and Reivers instantly +sensed something new and sinister afoot. At the +sight of MacGregor’s decrepitude, as, stiff and tottering, +he made his way to his meal, Joey and Tammy +strove vainly to conceal the wolfish grins that appeared +on their ugly faces. +</p> +<p> +“Aye, Shanty, art quite right. Is worth his keep +no longer,” said Tammy. “Hast been a fair animal +for a Scotch jackass, but does not thrive on his oats +no more.” +</p> +<p> +“One fair day’s work left in him,” said Joey, appraising +MacGregor shrewdly. “Will knock off a little +early, eh, Shanty, so’s to have tuh light to see him +swim.” +</p> +<p> +“Would not miss tuh sight of that for a pound of +dust,” replied Shanty, and the three roared fiendishly +together. +</p> +<p> +“You poor, misbegotten spawn,” said MacGregor, +quietly beginning to eat, eyeing them one after the +other. “I’ll live to spit on the shamed corpses of the +lot of you.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_317'></a>317</span> +</p> +<p> +As the day’s work began, Reivers started to calculate +each move that he and Moir made with a view to discovering +the opportunity he was looking for. All +that he wished was a chance to rush Shanty without +giving the latter an opportunity to use his gun. +</p> +<p> +The odds of three to one against him, and Joey and +Tammy armed with knives, he accepted as a matter of +course. But a six-shooter in the hands of a man who +could use one as Shanty Moir could was a shade +too much even for him to venture against. The manner +in which Moir had shot up the tin cup the morning +before proved how alert and sure was his trigger-finger. +To make the suspicion of a move toward him, +with the gun in his hand, would have spelled instant +ruin. +</p> +<p> +As he watched now, Reivers saw that Moir was +more vigilant than ever. He kept far away from the +pit-mouth. The gun either was in his hand or hanging +ready in the holster. And when Reivers saw the first +load of sand he understood why. +</p> +<p> +The pay-streak had paid out. They were winnowing +the drippings of dust washed down from the +pocket now, and this job soon would be done. Moir +was not taking any chances of losing at this stage of +affairs. The fortune was in his grasp; he would +break camp and be off in the same hour that the sand +began to run low-grade. +</p> +<p> +He took no part in the work to-day. He merely +stood and watched. And Reivers watched back, and +the hours passed, and the short day began to draw to a +close, and still not the slightest chance to rush Shanty +Moir and live had presented itself. +</p> +<p> +As the early twilight began to creep down into the +cavern, the ugly grins with which Joey and Tammy +regarded MacGregor began to increase. Suddenly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_318'></a>318</span> +Tammy, washing a pan of sand in the brook, threw +up both hands. +</p> +<p> +“Not a trace in the last load, Shanty!” he shouted. +</p> +<p> +“All out!” came Moir’s bellow, as if he had been +waiting for the signal. +</p> +<p> +Joey and Tammy threw down their tools and came +over and stood behind Reivers and MacGregor who +came up dragging a loaded sledge behind them. +</p> +<p> +“Take that load down yonder!” ordered Moir, +pointing to the black tunnel into which the creek disappeared +in leaving the cavern. +</p> +<p> +Tammy and Joey followed, grinning, two paces +behind the sledge. Moir, gun in hand, walked ten +feet behind them. +</p> +<p> +“Whoa!” he laughed when Reivers and MacGregor +had drawn up against the cliff beside the stream’s +exit. “You can unhitch tuh old jackass now, ma sons. +Then over with it quick.” +</p> +<p> +With a yelp Tammy and Joey tore loose MacGregor’s +traces. They held him between them, and in his +bound and weakened condition he was unable to +struggle or turn around. +</p> +<p> +Before Reivers could move they had hurled MacGregor +into the deep water in the tunnel. He sank like +a stone and the current sucked him in. +</p> +<p> +“Good-by, MacGregor of the big boasts!” laughed +Moir, but he laughed a trifle too soon. +</p> +<p> +In the instant that the current bore MacGregor into +the darkness of the tunnel his face bobbed up above +the waters. He looked up, and looked straight into +Reivers’s eyes. It was not a look of appeal; it was +the same look that had been in the eyes of Hattie MacGregor +the day when Reivers had left her cabin. +</p> +<p> +Then Hell-Camp Reivers felt himself going mad. +He hit Tammy so hard and true that he flew through +the air and struck against Moir. The next instant +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_319'></a>319</span> +Reivers was diving like a flash into the black water, +groping for MacGregor, while the current swept him +into the total darkness. +</p> +<p> +He heard the bullet from Moir’s revolver strike the +water behind him in the instant that his hands found +MacGregor; heard mocking laughter as he pulled the +old man’s head above water; then the current whirled +him and his burden away. It whisked him downstream +with a power irresistible. It threw him from +side to side against the ragged rock walls. It sucked +him and the load he bore down in deep whirlpools +and spewed them up again. +</p> +<p> +He bumped his head against the stone roof of the +tunnel and swore. The roof was a scant foot above +the water. He put his hand up. The roof was getting +closer to the water with every yard. Soon there was +only room for their upturned faces above the water. +</p> +<p> +Reivers laughed heartily. So this was to be the +end! The joke was on him. After all he had gone +through, he was to drown like a silly fool through a +fool’s impulse. +</p> +<p> +Presently roof and water came together. For a +moment Reivers fought with his vast strength, holding +his own for an instant against the current, hanging +on to the last few seconds of life with a fury of effort. +The current proved too strong. It sucked them under; +the water closed above them. They were whirled and +buffeted to the last breath of life in them, and then +suddenly their heads slipped above water and they +were looking straight up at the gray Winter sky. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_320'></a>320</span><a name='chXLV' id='chXLV'></a>CHAPTER XLV—A SURPRISE FOR SHANTY MOIR</h2> +<p> +Reivers caught hold of a spear of rock the instant +his head came out of water, and held on. He +did not try to think or understand at first. Sufficient +to know that he was alive and to pump his lungs full of +the air they were crying for. He held MacGregor +under his left arm, and he rather wondered that he +hadn’t let him go in that moment when he went under. +MacGregor was beginning to revive, too. Reivers +looked around. +</p> +<p> +There was not much to see. They were in a tiny +opening in the rocks, a yard or two in length. It was +a duplicate of Moir’s cavern on a miniature scale, except +that here the rock walls were not high or impossible +to climb. For this space the brook showed itself +once more to the sun, then vanished again under +the cliffs. +</p> +<p> +“Is it Heaven?” gasped MacGregor, only half conscious. +</p> +<p> +“Nearer hell,” laughed Reivers. +</p> +<p> +He lifted himself and his burden out of the water to +a resting-place on a shelf of rock. For a minute or +two he sat looking up at the rock walls and the grey +sky above them. He looked down at the water, at +the spot where they had been spewed from death back +into life. And then he leaped upright and laughed, +laughed so that the rocks rang with it, laughed so +that MacGregor’s senses cleared and he looked at his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_321'></a>321</span> +saviour in consternation. His laughter was the uncontrollable, +heart-free laughter of the man who suddenly +sees a great joke upon his enemy. +</p> +<p> +He smote MacGregor between the shoulder-blades so +he gasped and coughed. He tore the straps and harness +from his arms, body and legs, tossed him up in +the air, shook him and set him down on the rock. +</p> +<p> +“I’ve got him!” he said at last. “Oh, Shanty Moir, +what a surprise you have coming to your own black +self!” +</p> +<p> +MacGregor, with his senses cleared enough to realise +that he was alive, and to remember how the miracle +had come about, said quietly— +</p> +<p> +“Man, that was the bravest thing I ever saw a man +do.” +</p> +<p> +“What?” +</p> +<p> +“Diving into that hole after me.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, to —— with that! That’s past. The past +doesn’t count—not when the very immediate future +is so full of juice and interest as happens to be the +case just now. I’ve got Shanty Moir, old-timer. Do +you understand? He’s mine and all that he’s got is +mine, and he’s going to be surprised. Oh, how surprised +he’s going to be!” +</p> +<p> +MacGregor looked down at the two yards of rushing +water, up at the rock walls and then at the jubilant +Reivers. +</p> +<p> +“I dinna see it,” he said dryly. +</p> +<p> +“Really?” Reivers suddenly became interested in +him as if he presented a rare mental problem. “Can’t +you make that simple mind of yours work out the +simple solution of this problem?” +</p> +<p> +MacGregor shook his head. +</p> +<p> +“What I see is this: we’re alive, and that only for +the present. We’re in a little hole in the Dead Lands. +Happen we climb out of the hole, we have no dogs, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_322'></a>322</span> +food, or weapons. The nearest camp is two good +days’ mushing, with good fresh dogs. Too far. If +I could manage to stagger five miles I’d surprise myself. +There is not so much as a dry match on us. +No, I maun say, lad, my simple mind does not see the +solution of the problem.” +</p> +<p> +“Try again, Mac,” urged Reivers. “Make your +mind work. What do we need to make our condition +blessed among men; what do men need to be well-fitted +on the Winter trail? You can make your mind +do that sum, can’t you?” +</p> +<p> +“We need,” replied MacGregor doggedly, “dogs, +and food, and fire, and weapons.” +</p> +<p> +“Correct. And now what’s the next thought that +your grey matter produces after that masterpiece?” +</p> +<p> +“That the nearest place where we may obtain these +things is too far away for us to make, unless happen +we meet some one on the trail, which is not likely.” +</p> +<p> +“Pessimism!” laughed Reivers. “Too much caution +stunts the possibility of the mind. Interesting demonstration +of the fact, with your mind as an example.” +He turned and smote with the flat of his hand the stone +wall from under which they had just emerged. “What’s +the other side of those rocks, Mac?” +</p> +<p> +“Shanty Moir and his six-shooter.” +</p> +<p> +“And dogs, and food, and matches, and cartridges, +and gold, everything, everything to make us kings +of the country, Mac! And they’re ours—ours as +surely as if we had ’em in our hands now.” +</p> +<p> +“I dinna see it,” said MacGregor. +</p> +<p> +“Pessimism again. How can Moir and his gang +get out of their camp?” +</p> +<p> +“Up-stream, by the creek, of course.” +</p> +<p> +“Any other way?” +</p> +<p> +“There’s the way we came—but they do not know +that.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_323'></a>323</span> +</p> +<p> +“Correct, and when we’ve plugged up that single +exit they can’t get away from us, Mac, and then we’ve +got ’em!” +</p> +<p> +MacGregor’s eyes lighted up, then he grew dour +again. +</p> +<p> +“We have got ’em, if we plug up the river, I see,” +he admitted, “but when we have got them, what good +does it do us? What are you going to do, then?” +</p> +<p> +“That’s the surprise, Mac; I won’t tell even you.” +He looked swiftly for a way up the rock walls and +found one. “The first question is: Do you think you +can climb after me up that crevice there?” +</p> +<p> +“I could climb through hell and back again if it +would help in getting Shanty Moir.” +</p> +<p> +“All right. I can’t quite give you hell, but I’ll +give Shanty Moir an imitation of it before he’s much +older. Come on. We’ve got some work to do before +it gets dark.” +</p> +<p> +He led the way into the crevice he had marked +for the climb up from the hole and boosted MacGregor +up before him. It was slow, hard work, but MacGregor’s +weak hold slipped often, and he came slipping +down upon Reivers’ shoulders. In the end Reivers impatiently +pulled him down, took him on his back and +crawled up, and with a laugh rolled himself and his +burden in the snow on top of the cliffs. A few rods +away smoke was rising through the opening above +Moir’s camp, and at the sight of it MacGregor’s +numbed faculties came to life. +</p> +<p> +“Lemme go, man!” he pleaded as Reivers caught +him as he staggered toward the opening. “It’s my +chance, man. I can kill the cur with a rock from up +here.” +</p> +<p> +“Save your strength; I’ve got use for it,” said Reivers. +“Can you walk? All right. Come on, then, and +don’t try to get near that gap.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_324'></a>324</span> +</p> +<p> +Taking MacGregor by the hand he led the way +carefully around the big opening till they came to the +opposite side of the mass of rocks, where the creek +entered the tunnel by which Moir reached his camp. +Crawling and slipping, they made their way down +until they stood beside the bed of the stream. +</p> +<p> +“Now to work, Mac,” said Reivers, and seizing +a rock bore it to the tunnel’s mouth and dropped it +into the water. +</p> +<p> +“Aye, aye!” chuckled MacGregor, as he understood +the significance of this move. “We’ll wall the curs in.” +</p> +<p> +For half an hour they laboured. Reivers carried +and rolled the heaviest rocks he could move into position +across the tunnel, and MacGregor staggered beneath +smaller pieces to fill up the chinks. When their +work was finished there was a rock wall across the +mouth of the tunnel which it would have been almost +impossible to tear down, especially from the inside. +</p> +<p> +It was growing dark when the task was completed, +and Reivers nodded in great satisfaction. +</p> +<p> +“That’ll hold ’em long enough for my purpose, and +we just made it in time,” he said. “Now come on +up the mountain again, and then for the surprise.” +</p> +<p> +“The surprise, man?” panted MacGregor as he toiled +up the rocks. “What are you going to do? Tell +me what’s in your head?” +</p> +<p> +“Hush, hush!” laughed Reivers, pulling him up to +the top. “Your position is that of the onlooker. It +would spoil it for you if you knew what was going to +happen.” +</p> +<p> +“An onlooker—me—when it’s a case of getting +Shanty Moir? Don’t say that, lad. Don’t leave +me out. He’s mine. You know that by all the rights +of men and gods it’s my right to get him. Give me +my just share of revenge.” +</p> +<p> +“Shut up!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_325'></a>325</span> +</p> +<p> +They were nearing the brink of the opening. Reivers’ +hand covered MacGregor’s mouth as they leaned +over and looked down upon the unsuspecting men in +the cavern below. +</p> +<p> +In the shut-in spot night had fallen. On the sand +before the dugout Tillie was cooking over a brisk +fire, going about her work as calmly as if nothing of +moment had happened during the afternoon. Near by, +Moir and Joey were packing the dog-sledge and repairing +harness, evidently preparing to take the trail after +the evening meal. Tammy sat by the fire, holding +together with both hands the pieces of his nose which +Reivers’ blow had smashed flat on his face. +</p> +<p> +Reivers scarcely looked at the men, but began to +scan the walls for a way to get down. The walls +slanted inwardly from the top, and at first it seemed +impossible that a man could get safely into the cavern +without the aid of a rope. But presently Reivers saw +that for thirty feet directly above the large dugout +the rocks were ragged enough to afford plenty of holds +for hands and feet. +</p> +<p> +The walls were nearly fifty feet high. If he could +reach to the bottom of this rough space he would be +hanging with his feet, ten or twelve feet above the +cavern floor. +</p> +<p> +“Good enough,” he said aloud. “It’s a cinch.” +</p> +<p> +“A cinch it is,” breathed MacGregor softly. “We’ll +roll up a pile of rocks and kill ’em like rats in a pit. +But you maun leave Shanty to me, lad, I——” +</p> +<p> +“Shut up!” Reivers thrust the Scotchman back from +the brink. “Do you want me to go after the harness +for you? I told you that your job was to be the onlooker. +I settle this thing with Shanty Moir myself.” +</p> +<p> +“But man——” +</p> +<p> +“Moir kicked me. Do you understand? He placed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_326'></a>326</span> +his dirty foot on me. Do you see why I’m going to +do it by myself?” +</p> +<p> +“Placed his foot on you? God’s blood! What has +he done to me—robbed me, made an animal of me, +stabbed me with a prod! Who has the better right +to his foul life?” +</p> +<p> +“It isn’t a case of right, but of might, Mac,” +chuckled Reivers. “I’ve got the better might. Therefore, +will you give me your word that you’ll refrain +from interfering with my actions until I’ve paid my +debt to Mr. Moir, or must I go back after the harness +and strap you up?” +</p> +<p> +“Cruel——” +</p> +<p> +“Promise!” +</p> +<p> +“I promise,” said MacGregor. “But it’s wrong, +sore wrong. I protest.” +</p> +<p> +“All right. Protest all you want to, but do it +silently. Not another word or sound out of you now +until the job’s done.” +</p> +<p> +Together they crawled back to the brink above +the large dugout and peered down into the darkening +cavern. In a flash Reivers had his mackinaw +and boots off. The cooking-fire was deserted. No +one was in sight. Moir and his men and Tillie were +at supper in the dugout, and Reivers’s chance had come. +He swung himself silently over the brink and hung +by a handhold on the rock. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t interfere, Mac,” he said warningly. “Not +till I’ve paid Shanty Moir for the touch of his foot.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_327'></a>327</span><a name='chXLVI' id='chXLVI'></a>CHAPTER XLVI—A FIGHT THAT WAS A FIGHT</h2> +<p> +With a twist of his body he threw his stockinged +feet forward and caught toe-holds on the +rough surface of the wall. Next he released his right +hand and fumbled downward till he found a solid +piece of protruding rock. Having tested it thoroughly +he let go his holds with both feet and left hand and +dropped his full weight into the grip of his right. +Above him, MacGregor, with his face glued to the +brink of the opening, gasped twice, once because he +was sure Reivers was dropping straight to the bottom, +and again when his right hand took the shock of his +full weight without loosening its grip. +</p> +<p> +Reivers heard and looked up and smiled. Then he +swung his feet inward again, secured another hold, +lowered his right hand to another sure grip, and so +made his startling way down the inwardly slanting +cliff. +</p> +<p> +At the third desperate drop MacGregor drew back, +unable to stand the strain of watching. Had Reivers +been able to see on top of the cliff he would have +laughed, for the Scotchman was down on his knees in +the snow, earnestly praying. +</p> +<p> +Finally MacGregor summoned up courage to peer +down once more. Then he knew his prayers had been +answered. Reivers was hanging easily by his hands, +directly above the front of the large dugout, and +his feet were less than ten feet above the bottom +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_328'></a>328</span> +of the cave. MacGregor gave a whoop of thanksgiving +and gathered to him an armful of stones. +</p> +<p> +For a moment Reivers hung there, looking down and +appraising the situation. He loosened his hold until +his whole weight hung on the ends of his fingers. +</p> +<p> +“Come out and fight, Shanty!” he bellowed suddenly. +“Come out, you cheap cur, and fight like a +man!” +</p> +<p> +Nothing loath Moir came, responding like a wild +animal on the instant of the weird challenge from +above. Like a wild man he came, six-shooter in hand, +tearing the front of the dugout away in his rush, and +Reivers dropped and struck him neatly the instant +he appeared. +</p> +<p> +It was a carefully aimed drop. Landing on Moir’s +neck, Reivers would have killed him. He had no +wish to kill him—yet. He landed on Moir’s shoulders +and the six-shooter went flying away as the two +bodies crashed together and dropped on the sand with a +thud. +</p> +<p> +Reivers was up first. It was well that he was. +Tammy and Joey were only a step behind Moir. Like +wildcats they clawed at Reivers and like wildcats they +rolled on the ground when his fists met them. Then +Moir was up on his feet. His senses were a little dull, +but he saw enough of the situation to satisfy him. Before +him was something to fight, to rush, to annihilate. +And he rushed. +</p> +<p> +Up on the cliff the maddened MacGregor yelped +joyously, a stone in each hand, as Reivers leaped forward +to meet the rush and struck. Shanty Moir had +expected a grapple, and Reivers’ fist caught him full in +the mouth and threw him back on his shoulders a +man’s length away. +</p> +<p> +When Moir arose then, the lower part of his face +had the appearance of crushed meat, but he growled +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_329'></a>329</span> +through the blood and rushed again. Reivers struck, +and Moir’s nose disappeared in a welter of blood and +gristle. He struck again, but Moir came on and +locked him in his huge arms. +</p> +<p> +Joey and Tammy were up now. Their knives were +out. They saw their chance and leaped forward to +strike at Reivers’ back. With his life depending upon +it, the Snow-Burner swung Moir’s great body around, +and Joey and Tammy stayed their hands barely in time +to save plunging their knives into the back of their +chief. +</p> +<p> +Growling a wild curse, MacGregor dropped two +stones the size of his head. One struck Joey on the +shoulder and sent him shrieking with pain into the +dugout; the other dropped at Reivers’ feet. With a +yell he hurled Moir from him and snatched up the +stone. Joey, reading his doom in the Snow-Burner’s +eyes, backed away into the brink of the brook. The +heavy stone caught him in the chest. Then he struck +the water with a splash and was gone. +</p> +<p> +But Moir was up in the same instant and his arms +licked around from behind and raised Reivers off his +feet. The hold was broken as suddenly as it was +clamped on. They were face to face again, and face +to face they fought, trampling the sand and the fire +indiscriminately. Each blow from Reivers now +splashed blood from Moir’s face as from a soaked +sponge, and at each blow MacGregor shouted wildly: +</p> +<p> +“That for the kick you gave him, Shanty! That +for the dirt you did me!” +</p> +<p> +The dogs, mad with terror, fled up the brook, met +the stone wall and came whining back. They cowered, +jammering in fright at the terrible combat which raged, +minute after minute, before them. +</p> +<p> +Out of the dugout softly came stealing Tillie. A +knife, dropped by Joey or Tammy, gleamed in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_330'></a>330</span> +light of the fire. She picked it up. With a smile of +great contentment on her face she crept noiselessly +toward the struggling men. They were locked in a +clinch now, and with the smile widening she moved +around behind Moir’s broad back. The knife flashed +above her head. Reivers saw it. With an effort he +wrenched an arm free and knocked the knife away. +</p> +<p> +“Keep away!” he roared, springing out of the clinch. +“This is between Iron Hair and me.” +</p> +<p> +Up on the cliff MacGregor groaned. In freeing +himself Reivers had hurled Moir to one side, and +Moir had dropped with his outstretched hands nearly +touching his six-shooter, where it had fallen when +Reivers had dropped upon him. Like the stab of a +snake his hand reached out and snapped it up. +</p> +<p> +“Your soul to the devil, Shanty Moir!” shrieked +MacGregor and hurled another stone. +</p> +<p> +His aim was true this time. The stone struck Moir +squarely on his big head and drove his face into the +sand. He never moved after it. +</p> +<p> +Reivers looked up. On the brink of the cliff MacGregor +on his knees was chanting his war-cry, his +thanks that vengeance had not been denied him. +Reivers smiled. +</p> +<p> +“That’s a good song, Mac, whatever it is!” he +laughed, when the maddened Scotchman had grown +quieter. “But the fact remains that you disobeyed +my orders and interfered.” +</p> +<p> +“Aye! I interfered. I hurled a stone and sent the +black soul of Shanty Moir back to his brother the +devil!” chanted MacGregor. “But, lad, I did not interfere +until you’d paid him in full—until you’d paid +double—for the kick he gave you. Three of them +there were, and they were armed and you with bare +fists! God’s blood! Never since men stood up with +fist to fist has there been such fighting. One disabled, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_331'></a>331</span> +and two men dead! Dead you are, you poor pups! +And I can tell by the way you lived where you’re +roasting now. +</p> +<p> +“Ah, ah! I ha’ seen a man fight; I ha’ seen what +I shall never forget, and, poor stick that I am compared +to him, I ha’ e’en had a hand in it myself. Man, +man! Would you grudge me a little bite after your +belly’s full of battle?” +</p> +<p> +Reivers spoke quietly and coldly. +</p> +<p> +“Go down and tear out as much of the stone wall +as you can. I’ll take the heavy stones from this side.” +He turned to Tillie. “Take the big belt from Iron +Hair and give it to me. Then make all ready for the +trail. We march to-night.” +</p> +<p> +And Tillie, as she harnessed the dogs, spat upon Iron +Hair, the beaten. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_332'></a>332</span><a name='chXLVII' id='chXLVII'></a>CHAPTER XLVII—THE SNOW-BURNER PAYS</h2> +<p> +“And now the Snow-Burner has his gold. He +has robbed the great Iron Hair in his own +camp. Great is the Snow-Burner! Now he has the +gold which he longed for. Now he is rich. The +white men will bow down to him. Great is the Snow-Burner!” +</p> +<p> +Tillie crouched beside Reivers as, an hour later, he +stood on the edge of the Dead Lands, and triumphantly +crooned the saga of his success. The gold belt of +Shanty Moir hung heavily over his shoulder, its great +weight constantly reminding him of the fortune that it +contained. The dogs were held in leash, eager to be +quit of the harsh rock-chasms through which they had +just travelled, and to strike their lope on a trail over +the open country beyond. +</p> +<p> +MacGregor sat wearily on one side of the sledge. +The exertions and excitement of the afternoon had exhausted +him in his weakened condition. He sat +slumped together, only half conscious of what was +going on. In a moment he would be sound asleep. +</p> +<p> +And Reivers had the gold. He had succeeded. He +had the gold, and he had a supply of food and a +strong, fresh team of dogs eager for the trail. All +that was necessary was to turn the dogs toward the +south. Two, three, four days’ travelling and he would +strike the railroad. And the railroad ran to tide-water, +and on the water steamboats would carry him +away to the world he had planned to return to. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_333'></a>333</span> +</p> +<p> +It was very simple, as simple as had been Tillie’s +scheme for getting rid of Moir. But he couldn’t do +it. He didn’t want to do it. He wanted to do just +one thing now, above all others, and that was what he +set out to do. +</p> +<p> +He stood down and strapped the belt of gold around +MacGregor’s middle. MacGregor was sound asleep +now, so he placed him on the sledge and bound him +carefully in place. Tillie’s chant died down in astonishment. +</p> +<p> +“We take the old one with us?” she asked. +</p> +<p> +“We do,” said Reivers. “Hi-yah! Together there! +Mush, mush up!” +</p> +<p> +To Tillie’s joy he turned the dogs to the northwest, +in the direction of the camp of her people. The Snow-Burner +was lost to her; she knew that, when he had +refused her help with Shanty Moir; but it was something +to have him come back to the camp. +</p> +<p> +Reivers, driving hard and straight all night, brought +his team up the river-bed to Tillie’s camp in the morning. +MacGregor was out of his head by then, and for +the day they stopped to rest and feed. Reivers sat +in the big tepee alone with MacGregor and fed him +soft food which the old squaws had prepared. In the +evening he again tied the old man and the belt of +gold to the sledge and hitched up the dogs. Tillie +had read her doom in his eyes, but nevertheless she +came out to the sledge prepared to follow. +</p> +<p> +“You do not come any farther,” said Reivers as +he picked up the dog-whip. +</p> +<p> +Tillie nodded. +</p> +<p> +“I know. With gold the Snow-Burner can be a +great man among the white women. Will the Snow-Burner +come back—some time?” +</p> +<p> +“I will never come back.” +</p> +<p> +“Ah-hh-hh!” Tillie’s breath came fiercely. “So +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_334'></a>334</span> +there is one white woman, then. If I had known——” +</p> +<p> +But Reivers was whipping and cursing the dogs and +hurrying out of hearing. +</p> +<p> +MacGregor, clear-headed from the rest and food, +but still weak, lifted his head and looked around as +the sledge sped over the frozen snow. +</p> +<p> +“A new trail to me, lad,” he said. “Where to, +now?” +</p> +<p> +“On a fool’s trail,” laughed Reivers bitterly, and +drove on. +</p> +<p> +Next morning MacGregor recognised the land +ahead. +</p> +<p> +“Straight for Dumont’s Camp we’re heading, lad,” +he said. “Is it there we go?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> +<p> +They came to Dumont’s Camp as night fell. Reivers +halted and made sundry enquiries. +</p> +<p> +“In a shack half ways between here and Fifty Mile,” +was the substance of the replies. +</p> +<p> +“Hi-yah! Mush, mush up!” and they were on the +trail again. +</p> +<p> +At daylight the next day, from a rise in the land, +he saw the shack that had been designated. Smoke +was rising from the chimney, and a small figure that +he knew even at that distance came out, filled a pail +with snow and went in again. +</p> +<p> +Reivers stopped his dogs some distance from the +shack. He threw MacGregor, gold belt and all, over +his shoulder and went up to the door and knocked. +For a second or two he smiled triumphantly as Hattie +MacGregor opened the door and stood speechless at +what she saw. Then he bowed low, laid his burden +on the floor and went out without a word. +</p> +<p> +The dogs shuddered as they heard him laugh coming +back to them. +</p> +<p> +“Hi-yah, mush!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_335'></a>335</span> +</p> +<p> +He drove them furiously into a gully that shut out +the sight of the shack and sat down on the sledge. +The dogs whined. It was the time for the morning +meal and the master was making no preparations to +eat. +</p> +<p> +“Still, you curs!” The whip fell mercilessly among +them and they crouched in terror. +</p> +<p> +The time went by. The sun began to climb upward +in the sky. Still the man sat on the sledge, making no +preparations for the morning meal. The memory of +the whip-cuts died in the dogs’ minds under the growing +clamour of hunger. They began to whine again. +</p> +<p> +“Still!” The master was on his feet, but the whip +had fallen from his hand. +</p> +<p> +Down at the end of the gully a small figure was +coming over the snow. She was running, and her +red hair flowed back over her shoulders, and she +laughed aloud as she came up to him. The pain was +gone from Hattie MacGregor’s lips, and her whole +face beamed with a complete, unreasoning happiness, +but the pride of her breed shone in her eyes even +unto the end. +</p> +<p> +“Well, well!” sneered Reivers. “Aren’t you afraid +to come so near anything that pollutes the air?” +</p> +<p> +She laughed again. She did not speak. She only +looked at him and smiled, and by the Eve-wisdom in +the smile he knew that his secret was hers. He felt +himself weakening, but the Snow-Burner died hard. +He tried to laugh his old, cold laugh, but the ice had +been thawed in it. +</p> +<p> +“What do you want?” he sneered. “I’m not a good +enough man for you. Why did you come out here?” +</p> +<p> +“Because I knew you would not go away again,” +she said, “and because now I know you are a good +enough man for me.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_336'></a>336</span> +</p> +<p> +“You red-haired trull!” He raised his hand to +strike her. +</p> +<p> +She did not flinch; she merely smiled up at him +confidently, contentedly. Suddenly she caught his +clenched fist in her hands and kissed it. With a curse +Reivers swung around on his dogs. +</p> +<p> +“Hi-yah! Mush, mush out of here!” +</p> +<p> +Out of the gully into the open he kicked and drove +them. He did not look back. He knew that she was +following. +</p> +<p> +She followed patiently. She knew that there was +nothing else for her to do. She had known it the +first day she had looked into his eyes. He was her +man, and she must follow him. +</p> +<p> +So she trudged on behind her man as he forced the +tired dogs to move. She smiled as she walked, and +the wisdom of Eve was in her smile. She had reason +to smile, for the Snow-Burner was driving straight +toward the little shack. +</p> +<p> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p>THE END</p> +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Snow-Burner, by Henry Oyen + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SNOW-BURNER *** + +***** This file should be named 36121-h.htm or 36121-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/1/2/36121/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> diff --git a/36121-h/images/illus-emb.jpg b/36121-h/images/illus-emb.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..cf67f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/36121-h/images/illus-emb.jpg diff --git a/36121-h/images/illus-fpc.jpg b/36121-h/images/illus-fpc.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..29a0262 --- /dev/null +++ b/36121-h/images/illus-fpc.jpg |
