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diff --git a/75921-0.txt b/75921-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e4f1b8b --- /dev/null +++ b/75921-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8465 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75921 *** + + + + + +BONANZA + + + + + BONANZA + + A STORY OF THE OUTSIDE. + By ERNEST G. HENHAM, + Author of “Menotah,” + etc. + + [Illustration] + + London + Hutchinson & Co. + Paternoster Row 1901 + + + + + PRINTED BY + COWAN & CO., LTD. + PERTH + + + + +SUMMARY OF CONTENTS + + + PAGE + + I. YELLOW SANDS. + + WHERE EARTH AND SKY MET 9 + THE ADVENTURERS 23 + A LAND OF HIDDEN TREASURE 35 + + II. THE LUMBER CAMP OF GULL ISLAND. + + LIFE! 49 + SOME HUMAN NATURE 61 + AN AFFAIR WITH JAKE PETERSSEN 75 + THE OLD STONE RUIN OF THE BUSH 89 + CLERICAL ERRORS 101 + + III. ON A FRESHWATER SEA. + + MORNING 115 + AFTERNOON 122 + EVENING 131 + SEEKWAH, WHO BLOWS GOOD TO NO ONE 141 + CAPTAIN CORN WHISKY 150 + A MAN FOND OF LIFE 158 + + IV. AN UNKNOWN LAND. + + WEIRD HOLLOW 175 + MATERIAL GHOSTS 190 + AN OLD CAMPAIGNER 202 + THE SOONERS OF ELDORADO 214 + HOW JUSTICE WORKS 225 + + V. HANAFIN CITY. + + BONANZA 237 + DISQUALIFIED 253 + THAT PRIEST AGAIN 262 + + VI. THE NIGHT. + + CAN A LEOPARD CHANGE HIS SPOTS? 279 + THE HUNTERS AND THE HUNTED 290 + WHEN SENTENCE IS GIVEN LET HIM BE CONDEMNED 299 + + VII. BONANZA. + + WHERE THE SUN SHINES UPON THE SAND 315 + + + + +I + +YELLOW SANDS + + + + +BONANZA + + + + +WHERE EARTH AND SKY MET + + +The time was an evening in the spring when the atmosphere was all red +and gold; the place the flowering grass mounds between the white poplar +and birch beside little Yellow Sands River. I had walked out to haul +up my sturgeon lines, and had reached the thicket of pines on the sand +side of our snake fence, where I could begin to hear the splash of the +waters, when my well-trained ears caught a new and different sound +proceeding from the bush-bound trail. Curiosity led me to intrude, and +I soon came upon a group of Indian maidens at play, pelting each other +with soft green cones, and using their shawls as shields to protect +their faces. + +Directly they saw me a mischievous cry went up, and they united forces, +their black eyes dancing with fun as they flung their dainty missiles +in my direction with a pitiless accuracy. Presently I dashed forward +and captured one of the girls, the most audacious, and, incidentally, +the most handsome. She struggled with me, her great beautiful eyes +two imps of laughter, but I held on, and, as a punishment, tried to +force one of the cones into her laughing mouth. The soft scented thing +crumbled upon her teeth; she twisted round, slapped me sharply across +the cheek, and, with another deft twist, freed herself, her black hair +dashing into my face as she escaped. + +The other girls stood at a distance, and chaffed at my defeat. + +“When did you come?” I called, in the Cree which I knew better than +English, because the girls were strangers to me. + +It was Akshelah, my chief tormentor, who replied from the summit of an +ant-mound. The tribe had just come to Yellow Sands from Thunder Lake, +where fish and fur-bearers had become scarce. + +“Come with me,” commanded the girl, holding out her brown shapely arms. +“I will take you down to the tepee, and the chief, my father, will give +you some moose.” + +“We have lots of moose,” I said. “Come with me, and I will give you a +sturgeon for your father.” + +“But the sturgeon is in the river,” said the bright girl, her head to +one side. + +“I hope he is pulling at my line,” I said. + +Then the girl jumped from the ant-mound, and swung round, catching at +my hand, and so drew me away from her companions. + +“I will not walk over those stones,” said she, and I noticed then that +her left foot was tied up. Yet she walked lightly enough beside me, +through the thicket of pines, where some purple butterflies idled, and +down to the yellow sands, where the surface was as soft and yielding as +white moss. + +This bright girl was full of talk, and as we walked she told me of the +many things she had done, and all she had seen, the silver fox, the +white bear, and Wepechenite, the walrus, himself. + +“One day,” said she very sternly, “I shot a moose myself.” + +“I will track a musk-ox for you, and you shall kill that,” I said. + +“Perhaps I should be afraid,” said Akshelah, with a quick glance. + +“You would not be afraid if I were with you.” + +Said she more slowly: + +“Perhaps you shall come down and dance with me at the lodge. But where +is your sturgeon for my father?” + +Line after line I gathered in out of the amber water, but there was no +sturgeon that evening. When we had visited the last, Akshelah laughed +delightedly. + +“A fisherman!” she cried. “Such a fisherman! I am sure you could not +catch the gold-eyes.” + +These are stupid little fish, which will suffer themselves to be pulled +out of the water with the hand. + +“I will catch one, and put it down your back,” I threatened, but +Akshelah went on laughing. + +“The gold-eyes will have all sunk to the bottom because the sun is +going,” said she. “You will have to go home empty-handed. We laugh at +the young men when they come home empty-handed.” + +“You are laughing at me now!” + +“I laugh at everyone.” She tried to hush her merry voice. “In the +morning sometimes I laugh into the face of the sun himself.” + +Our homestead was encircled by rolling park-like country, which +stretched away endlessly upon three sides; but on the fourth, the +western, there was merely a strip of bush separating us from the Yellow +Sands River, which made a winding course round Big Stone Point, and +entered Lake Whispering some twenty-six miles lower down. Our log-house +stood upon a clearing, with a little cow-byre adjoining which sheltered +our few beasts in winter; both buildings were thatched with swamp +grass. We had reclaimed from the bush about five acres of garden, +where father grew what grain and vegetables we needed, and the flowers +grew themselves. The willow scrub and the wood-ants were our principal +difficulties; and Antoine, our Indian servant, whose duty it was to +keep the ground clear, devoted more anathemas than labour upon his +work. To this day I do not know who owns that land, whether the Crown +or the Hudson Bay Company, but the matter is of no importance. + +One night when I reached home father was smoking, sitting upon a log +beside the door, silent as usual. Father had always been taciturn; had +I not been provided with Indian companions, I might have altogether +lost the use of my tongue. He eyed me more narrowly than usual, I +thought, but he said nothing as I passed. We had our supper, and I was +about to roam outside to watch the insects of the night at play, when +my father surprised me by calling in a hoarse voice: + +“Sit down, Rupert!” + +I had always stood in awe of the unhappy-looking man who called himself +my father. All my life I had lived with him at Yellow Sands, knowing +no other relation, no other friend, except my Indians and morose +MacCaskill, factor of the dying Hudson Bay Station. Why my father +spent himself there I did not know, and the thought never troubled +me, because I did not then know that there was any world outside +that narrow circle of the horizon where earth and sky met. I had no +learning; I could neither read nor write. I had often been to the lake +shores, and I knew that boats sometimes came to the yellow beach; but +where these boats came from I had no idea. + +“Rupert,” began my father, “have I taught you anything? Do you know +what London is?” + +He spoke in the deliberate manner of a man little accustomed to speech, +and he had his hand to his brow as though his brain were tired. I +replied, not wishing to be ignorant: + +“Is it anything like a moose?” + +“It is not an animal,” said my father. I wonder now that he did not +smile. “London is the name of a city, and you were born there.” + +He stopped, and I could hear the throbbing murmurs of the night. There +was no lamp in our shanty, but we could see by the northern lights, +and by the fire which smouldered outside the open door to keep away +the mosquitos. My father struck a match, rekindled his pipe, and, with +the match still burning between his fingers, walked across to the far +corner of the room, and opened a box; presently he came near, and I saw +that he held a buckskin bag. He poured out the contents upon the table, +but when I bent forward to look, as the light flickered up momentarily, +I was disappointed. Only a few ounces of coarse dirt, and some small +honey-combed stones. + +“Is that stuff of any use, father?” I said. He looked across slowly, +and I went on: “I picked some yellow stones like those out of the white +rocks up Split Leaf Creek. I gave them to Factor MacCaskill.” + +Turning upon me abruptly, my father went on: + +“I have been for the best part of my life a gold-hunter. I, too, was +born in London, and I was once what they call a gentleman. You may +understand the meaning of the word some day. I have made more than +one fortune in my time, but fortunes so made melt as quickly. During +an exceptional period of prosperity I returned to my native city, +there married, and you were born.” He started suddenly. “Come with me, +Rupert.” + +He had re-collected the gold, and now snatched at the bag and left the +shanty. I followed, along the dark-blue trail, where I had lingered +with Akshelah that afternoon, and out over the river falling in bars +of alternate black and silver to its own soft music. Father held the +buckskin bag swinging by one hand. It was large and heavy, but he +launched it forth with one strong movement, and it went under the water +with a sullen splash. + +“When I am gone, you shall never say that I did not teach you one +lesson, boy.” He went back, and I followed, wondering what this +teaching meant. When we had passed the smoke of the smudge, and had +regained our home, father seized my hand. “Gold has ruined me, Rupert.” + +Then he went away, and I suppose to sleep, but I wandered outside, +trying hard to think; and when the lights grew brighter, and the sounds +of the bush more distinct, my untrained mind awoke, and I had dreams +that night. + +Father had always looked ill. One day I thought his face was whiter +than usual. I ventured to ask after his health, and succeeded in again +drawing him into conversation. + +“I have only a little more time to be miserable,” he said, in his slow +fashion. Then his manner became harsh. “Shall you stay here when I’m +away, or will you go to find the world?” + +I stared at him, and said the only thing I could: “Where is the world?” + +“You will learn.” He looked up at me, his face twitching, and said more +quickly, “I have seen you with that native girl. If you want to be +wise, marry her when I am dead, and live your life away here. She is a +natural woman. If you must be a fool, like your father, go back to the +world. You will find the false thing there.” + +I had picked up my muzzle-loader, thinking he had done, and was going +out to the bush, but he stopped me, and his voice became nervous. + +“If you ever meet with a man, a tall man, with loose white face--he +would be elderly now,”--father hesitated, then laughed wretchedly, and +almost shouted at me--“his name is Redpath. He has kept me here in +hiding all these years.” + +I did not shoot any partridges that morning. By chance I met Akshelah, +and after we had been together a little while, I found that the morning +had somehow slipped away. She showed me how to sew with grass upon +buckskin, and all the time laughed at my clumsiness. The grass would +keep breaking; she declared that I strained too heavily upon it. Her +little brown fingers were so light that they might have sewn with +gossamers, but when I told her so she only pricked me saucily with her +needle. + +Nearly every day Akshelah and I were together fishing or hunting. How +stern her face would become, and how resolute, as she struggled with +a wolf-like jack-fish, knee-deep in the yellow sands, and being drawn +deeper every minute! She came with me to shoot tree partridges, and +so sure was her eye, and so agile her every movement, that she would +catch the great stupid birds as they tumbled headlong out of the black +poplars. I was often at the tepee, and one midnight when the moon was +large I danced at the lodge with Akshelah that exhilarating dance of +friendship, which makes a man beside himself for the time with mad +strength and passion. The tribe became as my own by the rights of the +dance, and I was the son of the chief and the brother of each brave. + +And yet nearer to me the cloud of sorrow gathered and darkened. In +spite of the skilled attention of our native Antoine, father weakened +fast, more quickly, perhaps, because he would not take to his bed, but +insisted upon working as he was able. + +Factor MacCaskill came over one day, and when he left I met him along +the trail. He was a big, morose man, but his heart was sound. + +“Rupe,” he said, “old man’s call is on the way. We’ll miss him +hereabouts.” + +That same evening I was cutting rye-grass along the snake fence, +Akshelah near me hindering, when Antoine came running out of the +shadows to startle me with the message that my father had fallen down +unconscious. I ran back with him, and Akshelah sped to her own people +to summon them to the passing of the white man. + +Father was stretched along his bed, his eyes shut, his face grey-white, +and I heard his hard breathing before I had entered the house. + +The lamp was lighted. I sat by my father’s side, fanning the flies from +his weird face. + +“No good, boy,” muttered Antoine. “The Spirit call him, an’ he not say, +‘I cannot.’ He go.” + +I had no religion, beyond the native belief in the two great spirits, +Good and Evil, therefore I was relieved when there came against the +window the deep red glow of the death fires, and I heard the solemn +chant of my Indian friends beating upward. Round the house went the +Cree doctors in their official mummery, marching in a solemn circle, +making their incantations to keep the devils at bay, their voices +rising to a dreadful yell, then sinking abruptly into a mere shivering +whisper. + +MacCaskill entered, and seated himself largely upon the chest in the +corner. He smoked all the time, but never spoke. + +“Maidens!” called a deep voice, and straightway the clear sweet voices +of the maids ascended, singing the prayer of commendation to the +Spirit. I heard only one voice, the clearest and best, the voice of +Akshelah, and as I listened I forgot the presence, and began to dream +again. + +A heavy hand came upon my shoulder. + +“Stir yourself, Rupe; old man’s away.” + +Antoine moved about slowly, setting the house in order. The death fires +were burning out, and the Indians departed in solemn file. Although +I had never been what is known as friendly with my father, I felt +unmistakably alone. + +“Maybe ye don’t want to stop wi’ that,” went on the factor. “Come along +over to the Fort, Rupe Petrie.” + +I started at hearing that name. “Petrie?” I muttered. + +“Ay, that’s your name. Old man went sudden, or maybe he’d have told ye.” + +Rousing myself, I went out with the factor, and we walked over to the +Fort through the silver night. + +We buried my father the next day under a big pine a stone’s throw from +the door, and Antoine heaped a mound to mark the spot. Akshelah stood +with me beside the grave, her black hair wrapped in a red shawl as +bright as her cheeks. We were alone. + +“You will be lonely?” said she softly, her head to one side. + +“I have you, and the factor, with your father and the tribe.” + +“Oh, yes,” said the girl, and I saw that she was happy because I had +named her first. + +The evening found me turning out my father’s chest. There were letters +and papers, which he would probably have destroyed, had not death +tripped him up so suddenly. As I could not read, these were of slight +interest, if I except one ragged sheet, half covered with writing, and +the other half containing a rough diagram, where I thought I made out +sea and coast, with rocks and hills behind. Always anxious to learn, +I smoked over this torn sheet for a long time, and even after I had +lighted the lamp I turned to it again. The letters I had put into a +box and hidden. + +It was a silent night. Antoine slept in the kitchen, and an electric +storm might have passed leaving his slumbers unbroken. The door was +open, and the smoke of the smudge hung between me and the night. I was +about to go towards my bedroom, when my highly trained ears caught a +sound, which was not made by any bird, or beast, or insect in the bush. +I looked up, not afraid, but startled. I stepped forward, and put the +lamp above my head. Through the flickering smoke I made out the figure +of a man. + +I took him to be an Indian, and called out in Cree. No answer came, but +the man stood out from the smoke, and I then spoke to him in English, +because I was sure he had mistaken my home for the Fort. + +“An elderly gentleman of the name of Petrie lives here, I believe?” +asked the stranger. + +He was tall, loosely made, and his clothes hung on him badly. +Unaccustomed to strange white people, I became confused. + +“My father is outside now,” I said, not for the moment realising that +my words contained a meaning I never intended. + +“Ah, yes. And where, may I ask?” The stranger’s voice was smooth, and +his manner deferential. + +“Under the big pine.” + +I indicated the shadowy outline of the tree, and immediately, to my +great surprise, found myself alone. I had forgotten the sheet of paper, +still spread out upon the table, and before I had collected my wits the +man was back. He smiled at me with his large mouth, and looked over me +with his cold eyes, making me more uncomfortable than I had ever felt +before. + +“I imagine it must be very easy to fool me,” he observed gently. “I +have been deceived by so many people, your good father among them, +and you have fooled me with your first word.” He smiled, still more +guilelessly. “When did he die?” + +“Yesterday,” I answered, but while I said the word his eyes started +like those of a starving man. + +I was too quick for him. I was nearer the table, and I snatched away +the sheet of paper, as his long hands pounced at it. + +“I really believe that is my property,” he said eagerly, yet backing +indifferently. “My good fellow, I am positively convinced that is mine.” + +“No,” I said simply. + +The man felt in his pocket, and I suddenly picked up my unloaded gun. + +“What are you about?” cried the stranger, with assumed horror. “Ah, you +are Petrie’s son, I can see, hot, headstrong, and impulsive, mistaking +a friend for an enemy, just as he always did. You must know that I’ve +been searching for your good father close upon twenty years, and +wasting my life doing it. He stole that plan from me. It is terrible +to have to say so, but you require me to make good my claim. You know +what it is, of course?” + +I was quick-witted enough not to play into his hands. + +“I know all about it,” I lied firmly. + +The man changed completely. He made a quick move, leaned forward, his +hands upon the table, his eyes freezing at me. + +“Partners?” he suggested. + +I could hardly guess his meaning, but I went on playing my own game. + +“All right,” I answered. + +He put out his long arm. + +“We will make our arrangements in due time. For the present I must beg +to retain my own property.” + +I hesitated, and in a moment my father’s warning came. I looked at the +flabby face, clean-shaven, with loose skin hanging in pouches. + +“Tell me your name!” I called, but while my attention was distracted +the long hungry fingers snatched the paper out of my hand. + +“Redpath,” said the man, as he left me. + + + + +THE ADVENTURERS + + +For the first time in my healthy life I knew what it was to want sleep. +After my father’s enemy had left me, taking that paper upon which he +set so much store, I lay awake for hours. Despite my ignorance, I +felt that the old idle life was done, that the new and stranger had +already commenced, and the way ahead looked dark. At sunrise I went to +the river and bathed, and after early breakfast set out for the Fort. +MacCaskill was splitting logs in front of the store, and did not cease +from his occupation while I was telling him of the coming of Redpath. + +When I had done he sat down and refilled his pipe; after some +storm-like puffs he asked me what I had made out of it, and when I +helplessly shook my head, he spoke. + +“What I know of your father ain’t scarce worth talkin’ about. He +stopped here fifteen years, but kept himself buttoned up all the time. +I knew his name. I knew he’d been a miner. I knew he was an Englishman. +The rest is loose in me fancy. Like to hear?” + +I was eager to hear anything, whether fact or fancy, and he went on: + +“Ole Petrie never settled here, I guess, because he wanted solitude, +nor yet because he liked it, but just because he was scared to live in +the world. Lots like that, Rupe. He’d done something--or was suspected, +and maybe wanted, and fancied he couldn’t clear himself. This Redpath +knows all about it. Likely he’d run your father into doing it.” + +“He was hiding from Redpath,” I said. + +The factor nodded. + +“There’s that bit o’ paper,” he muttered. “Why in Jerusalem didn’t I +have a sight of that! Then his firing that bag o’ dirt into the river! +Don’t you see, Rupe? No, course you don’t. He told me one time he +wanted you kep’ ignorant, or I’d have opened up your eyes long enough +ago. Old man struck a rich pay-streak one time, and all he knew is +set right down on that paper. Golden gates! Why wasn’t I with ye last +night? This Redpath has been hunting years for that secret.” + +“What is the use of the gold?” I said. + +The factor swore. + +“Sit down,” he said hoarsely. “I’ll tell ye what you ought to have +known soon as you was able to balance upright.” + +Then he began to tell me something of the world--not the little outside +world I had always lived in, but the great inside world which knew +nothing of Yellow Sands, my home. He defined for me the two terms, +poverty and wealth, and he told me incredible stories of lifelong +struggle for that gold, which I had despised as gaudy trinkets for an +Indian maid. He went on to describe to me the meaning of many things +this gold will procure. + +The abstract of this new learning showed me that I was a savage, +a heathen, a man of no account, because I was outside. Much that +MacCaskill told me remained then beyond my mental grasp, but I was +naturally shrewd, and certain stupendous facts became uncovered, and +stared at me nakedly. The dose of understanding was so powerful that my +head ached with it, and my throat went dry. + +The factor stopped and wiped his mouth. I found the voice to mutter: + +“What can I do?” + +The big man looked me up and down. + +“Follow Redpath,” he said strongly. + +The mere suggestion made me cold. My eyes rested upon the trees, +the river and rocks, the Indian tepees, barely visible--all the +surroundings that I had loved, and which had given me content, because +I had thought the world had nothing better to offer. + +“Leave Yellow Sands!” I exclaimed. + +“Follow fortune,” muttered the factor. “Look at Redpath,” he went on +warmly. “Fifty years old, I reckon, and maybe a villain in the first +class. He’s after fortune yet. You’re twenty-one, though I allow you +look five years older. You’ve got your chance. I know what you don’t, +that you’re a grand specimen of a man. You can thank ole Petrie for +that. Ye must stay by Redpath, and keep a strong arm over him, ’cause +he’ll get ahead of you if he can; and if the gold pans out, and there’s +a claim to spare, maybe you’ll mind ole Mac, who’s put you up to a +thing or two to-day. Then you can go to London, where you were born, +finish your education, and, if you’ve got the stuff, do any durned +thing you want.” + +“How did the man come?” I asked absently. + +“Hudson Bay boat makin’ to Pine Island, I guess. They dropped him at +the mouth of our river, and he worked up. He can’t get away till that +boat comes back, which won’t be for three weeks. Where is he, anyhow?” + +I did not know myself. Redpath had disappeared as he came. + +“He’s got a camp in the bush. Look-a-here, Rupe. He don’t want to see +ye again. He’s got what he came for--” + +“He promised to be my partner,” I interrupted. + +MacCaskill frowned. + +“I guess I’ll be telling you now what sort of an insect a humbug is.” + +I listened, as the sun rose up in the sky, until there came to me a +desire for liberty, and a longing to see those things of which the +factor spoke. If I were a strong man, if I were qualified to take a +place among others, why, surely I was wasted in Yellow Sands, and lost +in the bush, among the animals and the Indians. It would be better +to go, even though the parting might make me unhappy for a time. +MacCaskill went on: + +“Antoine will go on livin’ on the homestead. I’ll be over once in a +while, and if you do want to come back and waste like old man, why, you +can. But you won’t.” + +Then I went away to hunt for Redpath. I was as skilled in tracking as +any Indian, so I quickly picked up the tracks at the entrance to the +bush, and had commenced to follow them, when Akshelah walked sadly from +among the trees. She had been tracking me. + +“You are going away,” she said at once, and there was no trace of a +smile upon her face. + +“Who told you?” I answered, feeling uncomfortable about her sorrow. + +“When a white man goes away, he does not come back. Never! never! He +goes to his own people, and they hold him, and he does not want to come +back.” + +“Akshelah,” I said, “my father is dead, and I must avenge him.” + +At once the girl’s face changed, even as water will change when the sun +falls across it. Vengeance was a religious duty in her creed, and she +would regard the man who should allow a dead father to sleep unavenged +as something lower than a coward. She smiled again, though the smile +was still sad. + +“When you have done your duty, you will come back?” she said very +softly, and I gave her the promise which her heart desired. “Those are +bad men who came to you in the night,” said she. “He who is tall, with +the great face, is a man of lies. The little man, who has a white face +like the belly of a fish, will be moved like sand when it is dry.” + +I looked from her expressive face down upon the well-beaten bush path. +Now that she had spoken, I discovered the tracks of two men, and I also +learnt that friends, as well as foes, had watched for me during the +night. + +“Listen,” said the girl. “One of the young men saw your enemies coming +over the sand where the river touches the great water, and he came to +tell me. So I told the young man to follow, and he saw the tall man +come to your tepee, but the little man watched where the bush begins. +The tall man came back, and the two went away together.” + +I had moved on while Akshelah was speaking, but the girl’s eyes were +keener than mine that day. She picked up a half-burnt match, and +called, “This way the men went.” I joined her, and we passed on through +the bush, seldom stopping, for Akshelah was never in doubt, and scarce +an hour had gone before she whispered to me, “Smoke.” Presently I, +too, caught the acrid odour above the sweetness of the pines. We went +on cautiously, until we heard the cracking of sticks in the fire, and +soon we were beside the camp, and saw a tent set among the pines, and a +small man crouching beside the fire. We walked out, and I called: + +“Where is Redpath?” + +The little man started round, and his uneasy eyes passed from me to the +girl, and then on blankly to the bush. + +“I am Rupe Petrie, his partner,” I went on. “Has he gone to the Fort?” + +“Gone shootin’,” said the little man shortly. “Might a-gone to the +Fort. Ain’t my racket.” + +“Why are you camping in the bush?” I said. “You can come to my shanty.” + +“You may be eaten by flies here,” added Akshelah, somewhat as though +she hoped the thing might come to pass. + +The little man made a shuffling reply, and Akshelah availed herself of +his discomfort. + +“You are his servant,” she said, with much scorn. “I would not be that +man’s servant if I were a man.” + +The listener flushed faintly, and poked at his fire, but he would not +give any answer, so I made to go. + +“I have lots of food at the homestead,” I said. “If Redpath wants any +he can come for it. I will share with him as I said I would.” And with +these words we came away. + +That evening I went to clean out the cow-byre, and while thus occupied +I saw the tall figure of Redpath come clear of the bush, and after a +certain hesitation, proceed towards my home. I was about to go out and +meet him, when the lessons I had received from MacCaskill that day +advised me to alter my mind. Obviously the man had come to discuss his +plans, and it would only require a few questions for him to discover +that I was in complete ignorance of what was written on the paper he +had taken from my hand the previous night. I slipped at once round +the building, and passed down to the river, and on to the native +encampment. On my return Antoine informed me that Redpath had asked +for some fresh meat, and had taken away with him the greater part of a +quarter of moose. + +At the dead of night another visitor came to me. I was aroused from +sleep by a voice whispering hoarsely about the house, and when I had +struck a light a small figure came towards me from the door, and I saw +the white shifting face of Olaffson, the Icelander, for that was the +name of the little man we had found by the camp fire in the bush. He +made a warning motion, and then sat down beside me. + +“Say, have you spoke wi’ Redpath?” he muttered. I was still so +surprised at the strangeness of this visit that I did not answer him at +once, and he went on: “He’s no pard of mine, see. I’m with him for what +I make. If I came over to you I should make more, eh?” + +“This is a trick of Redpath’s,” I said angrily, forcing myself up. +“He’s waiting outside now?” + +“He’s sleepin’ like a dead man,” said the Icelander. “See now. He got +that paper from you, and he knows what’s on it. You know. I don’t. He +carries it on him by day, an’ hides it nights. What d’yer say, eh?” + +He little thought that I was as ignorant as himself. + +“So you want to give your friend away?” I said. + +“Redpath ain’t no friend of mine,” said the little scoundrel. “You +ain’t either; but I surmise you’d pay me better’n he has. I’m square +when I get good pay.” + +His white face gleamed unpleasantly by my bedside. + +“You want me to show you the place where the gold is?” I suggested, +making a double hazard. + +“That’s right. We’d go together an’ fight off Redpath, see! You’re +strong. We’d work the place, share and share, or each for hisself. +Redpath don’t mean you or me neither to have any.” + +“There’s enough for all of us,” I said, again at a venture. + +“That don’t do for Redpath. He never could share. Gimme a ear, pard. No +listeners.” + +The little wretch put his horrid face close to mine, and whispered the +shocking proposal that, as a consideration for my letting him into the +secret, he should murder Redpath in his sleep. + +I rose in horror, but when I threatened to throw him out of the house, +the Icelander grinned at me. + +“Killin’ a man in the bush ain’t much of a job,” he muttered. + +“Get out!” I said. “Get out!” + +Olaffson backed slowly. + +“If I ain’t wi’ you, I’m wi’ Redpath,” he threatened. + +“If you were with me, you would sell me to someone else.” + +“Not if you paid me well.” + +“Take yourself out of the place!” I cried angrily; and the little +scoundrel went. + +By this I made myself the enemy of Olaffson, the Icelander. + +Midway between my homestead and the native encampment lay an open +space, where grass and flowers grew strongly, and butterflies played +throughout the day. This had always been a favourite spot of mine. On +the river side an untenanted ant-mound had become covered by natural +green, and this afforded a very comfortable resting-place for one, +and a possible one for two, as Akshelah and I had proved. It was our +favourite meeting-place, and in order that it might not become invaded +by the bush, I had lately given a day to lopping back the encroaching +branches and tendrils, and cutting off the shoots of young trees which +here and there had tried to take possession in the grass. + +Upon the following afternoon, or it might have been the early evening, +for I seem to remember that the sun was coming low, I was running to +this open space--running, because I had promised to meet Akshelah, and +I was well after the appointed time. I had been delayed at the Fort. +Truth to tell, MacCaskill was teaching me my letters, and my eagerness +to learn was so great that I had temporarily forgotten my beautiful +country maid. I was nearing our patch of natural garden, when I heard +the sudden sound of a human struggle. + +The trained ear does not mistake such sounds, nor can it confuse +them with the stir made by animals fighting or at play. For one +moment I stopped, that I might be sure of my bearings, but while thus +motionless, a cry rang startlingly forth, not of fear, but in defiance, +and it was the cry of Akshelah; but it was cut short, as though a hand +had closed upon her throat. + +I had never known what it was to lose control over my strength, but +I had learnt much since my father’s death, so that it became merely +fitting for the animal side of my nature to receive its lesson. The +trees seemed to rise and float away from me; a hot hand inside my body +jumped up to my throat; a mist closed before my eyes, and the sunlight +appeared to glint with a red glow. I felt my feet flying under me, and +the bushes giving or breaking as they went by. + +I sprang panting over the ant-mound, and two figures resolved +themselves out of the mist--Akshelah fighting upon her knees, a thin +line of blood joining her nostril and lip, and over her the tall, +leaning figure of Redpath, his great hands holding her throat, his eyes +hideous, and his flabby face white and slimy. I was mad. I was a wild +beast, with no control, and with no human knowledge. + +I crossed the interval of grass at one bound--another; and while I +descended, I struck out with my left arm, and my wiry fingers met +the dull, loose flesh of the adventurer with the hard shock of a +great bullet smashing into a tree. I threw myself after the blow, and +when that terrible heat of rage and brute strength had cooled, I was +sprawling across the body of Redpath, and he was stretched as he fell, +making a strange shape along the grass. + +Akshelah wiped the blood from her face, and as I rose, she came upon +me; and when I clasped her pretty body in my arms, she kissed me +passionately. And while she kissed me, I wondered how it was that men +set so much store upon gold. + +I lifted Redpath’s head. He was breathing heavily; his skin was cold, +and to touch it was like handling a fish. + +“Run to the encampment, little squirrel,” I said, calling Akshelah +affectionately after her totem. “Send a boy to bring the Icelander +here.” + +The girl came up to me, deliberately wreathed her warm arms about my +neck, lightly caressed my forehead with hers, and went quickly to do my +bidding, without a word. + +Then I removed from Redpath’s breast-pocket a case, which contained the +well-preserved piece of paper that had belonged to my father. Sitting +upon the ant-mound, my body still quivering from its late passion, I +awaited the coming of the Icelander. + +So I made myself the enemy of Redpath, the Englishman. + + + + +A LAND OF HIDDEN TREASURE + + +The voices of the bush sang a changed song during my night walk. The +moon came out over the ridges and lit up the flagstaff, and faintly +illumined the thread of smoke ascending from the single stove-pipe +chimney of the Fort. + +I walked across the furrowed fire-break, where a few pink briars +lingered, and opened the door of the low, whitewashed building, with +the lack of ceremony to which I had always been accustomed. + +MacCaskill sat at his table, making entries in a big ledger. He looked +up morosely, nodded, and his big head went again over his writing. + +“Three gallons fish-oil,” he muttered, speaking each word as he set it +down, “at one blanket, value four, seventy-five. Profits ain’t what +they was when furs were plentiful. Well, what’s the latest racket?” + +I came over to his side and opened the sheet of paper upon the table, +smoothing the ragged edges with my flat hand. + +The factor’s face changed, and he stopped drawing in his smoke, but +looked up from the table and scanned me narrowly. + +“Which goes to say,” he said in a deep voice, “that you and Redpath +have been havin’ a match, and you’ve come in Number One.” + +“Not a word has passed between us,” I said. + +“Give me deeds every time,” muttered MacCaskill. + +He brought his head nearer the table, and I waited for his next word. +“Bonanza” was that word; and then a silence came between us, until the +factor left his seat, and stood upright against the stove. + +“What does it mean?” I exclaimed. + +MacCaskill drew a sulphur match along the top of the stove, and let it +splutter and burn until the flame touched his fingers. Then he dropped +it unused. + +“You’re twenty-one, and I’m sixty-five. You’re fresh, and I’m spoilt. +You’ve got everything before you, and all mine’s ’way behind. There’s +that difference between us.” Then he burst out: “I don’t know that a +man can get too old for this one thing. I’ve had a bad, lonely, useless +life.” He struck another match violently, flung it away, as though he +tried to throw off his weight of years. “Darn me if I don’t begin all +over again!” He came to me, his great face agitated. “Redpath asked you +to be his pard, did he? You’ve broke with him to-night; and if you want +another pard, he’s right here before you. Is it a go?” + +He gave me his strong hand, and I knew that I had won a friend. + +Then he spoke to me regarding Bonanza, the place of gold, my father’s +secret, while I told him of my meeting with Redpath, and of the +punishment I had given him. + +“For a woman!” the factor said grimly. “Wait till you know the world, +and you’ll find that the woman comes in everywhere. Watch out when +you’re walkin’ lone in the bush, and fasten your door nights. Redpath +won’t forget that knock-down; and mind, you’re standin’ in his way all +the time.” + +I asked him what he thought of Olaffson, and he answered with scorn: + +“Just a crooked tool. He’d stick a knife into his brother if there was +anything comin’ to him for the job.” + +The factor reached for his straw bonnet, and announced his intention of +going down to the encampment. + +“I must get one of the boys to start first thing in the morning, to +take a message along to Fort Determination. I want someone to take my +place here right away,” he explained. “Redpath’ll have to wait for the +_Lac Seul_. We’ll go by canoe, and get ahead of him at the start.” + +We had not left the sparkling river, after visiting the native +encampment, when MacCaskill asked abruptly: + +“Anything else in that chest of your ole father’s, Rupe? Always been +thinkin’ of it when you weren’t handy?” + +What a fool I had been! I had completely forgotten that packet of +letters, after I had taken and hidden them in a box under the floor. +My companion proposed that he should come at once and examine them, +so we turned off into the bush, where the dew showed like points of +light, and on to my homestead, which was dark and silent, for Antoine +was already asleep. Entering, I closed the door, and after lighting the +lamp I dug out the box, and handed its contents over to MacCaskill. + +One by one he glanced them through, and pronounced them for the most +part unimportant. + +“No use worryin’ out old man’s back life,” he said. “Most o’ these are +from his gal, your mother, addressed to him at Seymour Place, Hyde +Park, London, England. A copy of his marriage certificate. Another +of your baptism. Better keep that. You don’t know what it means, but +you will one time, maybe, if you strike a missionary. Now, here’s +something a bit different: ‘Your sincere friend, Francis Redpath’; +headed, ‘Forsyth Mansions, Victoria Street.’ P’r’aps that is London +again. Golden Jerusalem! He’s promising to be your father’s best man; +postscript, ‘Anything from J. F.?’” + +MacCaskill’s busy fingers pulled out another letter, and, as he read, +he fell into indistinctness. At last his hands dropped. + +“Shall I tell you, lad, or shall I just say it’s bad and burn it, and +leave you to guess?” + +“Tell me,” I said, as anyone else would have done. + +The factor picked up the letter, and read: + + “‘It is common knowledge that you killed Joe Fagge that night, and + there will be as little mercy for you as you showed to that poor + old devil, when you are taken. You have deceived and ruined me, and + though you are at present out of my reach, you must know, my good + Petrie, that I shall find you, if I hunt long enough. I have set my + mind upon having the old man’s secret, and I shall have it. If you + try to withhold it from me, I am afraid I shall have to kill you. + Remember me. I don’t give up a search, if I fail twenty times.’” + +The factor folded up the sheet. + +“That’s enough,” he said. “No address. I guess it was brought to ole +Petrie by someone who wouldn’t give his hiding-place away. Now we know +why he wasted his life away here. I thought maybe ’twas something like +it, and Redpath’s got here, as he said he would, though he didn’t get +in until old man had his notice to quit.” + +His words came booming at my ears. + +“Father was never a murderer,” I said. + +“I knew old man, and now I know Redpath. If I was asked to pick out the +murderer, I wouldn’t stop to choose. Now here’s something else. Golden +gates! Listen, Rupe. Listen to this.” + +He read out slowly: + + “‘The true statement of James Petrie.’ That’s your father, lad. + That’s old man. And this is gospel, for he never wanted it to be + read while he was alive. Listen to this, I tell ye.” + +I was listening with both my ears, while the night quivered and +murmured around my home. MacCaskill began to read: + + “‘It was late in the fall of 1874 when Joe Fagge made his accidental + discovery of Bonanza. He was accompanied only by the half-breed + Leblanc, who was in camp when the old man made the great find of + the hole, and who was kept in ignorance, I imagine, of the whole + thing. As it was too late to do anything until the next season, Fagge + returned south, and settled to winter in Portage la Prairie, where + he came against Redpath, who at the time was speculating in land, + and, as usual, doing no good. Both he and I knew Fagge well enough, + and we had often received from him useful hints regarding promising + localities for gold-finding. + + “‘The old man was the cleverest, and most eccentric, miner in the + whole north-west; but in that winter of 1874 his brain began to fail, + and when given a little liquor he could be brought to talk about his + one great discovery. Redpath knew his weakness, and kept close to + the old man to hinder him from giving away the secret to others; but + Joe had a violent dislike for Redpath, and refused to give him any + details as to the bearings of Bonanza. + + “‘I had just returned to the west, as my young wife had died shortly + after Rupert’s birth. I had spent all my money again, and came + out to find another good digging along the gold line. Redpath sent + for me from Portage la Prairie, but when I got up, Joe Fagge was + little better than a madman. I kept with him, and chained him up, + metaphorically speaking; but it was tough work looking after him and + my little Rupert, babies both, for the old man was always crying for + liquor. Redpath and I had quarrelled pretty badly just before--not + for the first time. His cynicism was intolerable. I had not been + what one would call a particularly straight man myself, and I knew + he wasn’t much better than a scoundrel; but on the “honour among + thieves” principle we hung together, and I trusted him part of the + way.’” + +MacCaskill turned over the leaf, and read on, his face hidden. My eyes +looked over him, and rested upon the window. + + “‘Joe improved a lot as the winter went out, and finally he consented + to take me to Bonanza, although he would not hear of Redpath + accompanying us. The break-up came early that year, and we were + able to start in April. We hired a boat, but it pinched to find the + money--miners are poor in the spring--and set out from Selkirk, + getting safely out of the river, and away, though we found a lot + of loose ice floating about the lake. Our crew consisted of Joe, + Leblanc, a couple of nitchies, and myself. A boat which followed ours + held Redpath and his man Olaffson. I had arranged with him to wait + off the coast, until the old man had told me all he knew. I marked + the course carefully as we came along, and set it down in writing; + but it was plain sailing until we came under the coast, where Joe had + forgotten a good deal, and we had to try a lot of places before he + could recognise the shape of the beach. Leblanc, a half-breed of the + worst class, was of no use. On the previous occasion they had come + overland to the shore, and then worked back. The key of the discovery + lay in the finding of a tunnel out of a canyon, which we called the + Canyon of the North Wind, taking us through cliffs of a perfectly + inaccessible nature. This pass the old man had named Mosquito Hole, + and this is the name I have given it upon my map....’” + +MacCaskill pushed himself back. My attention had been led astray, and +the closing sentences of my father’s narrative had been lost upon me. + +“The other half of the sheet’s torn away,” said the factor morosely. +“Just as we were comin’ to the excitement. Old man must have thought +better of it. Maybe he tore it by accident. There’s no more yarn, +anyhow.” + +“Don’t move,” I said softly. “There’s trouble. I have seen a face +against the window.” + +MacCaskill suddenly pulled a quick breath, then, throwing his body +forward, burst into a hearty shout of laughter. + +“Seen anything?” he muttered, after a pause. + +“A shadow passed. The moon’s bright.” + +“And Redpath’s worryin’ over the knock-down you gave him.” + +The factor gave another loud laugh, then, getting up, pulled the +blanket, which did duty for a blind, across the window. When we were +concealed he turned and snatched up my late father’s old gun, while I +caught at and loaded mine. + +“We can step out by the window at the back,” I said. + +“Leave the lamp burnin’. That’ll fool ’em.” + +Passing into the kitchen, we shook up Antoine, who slept in his +clothes. I carefully pushed aside the mosquito netting, and climbed +through the window, which lay in darkness, for the shadow of the house +fell that way, and a bluff of small pines grew right back to the wall. +My companions followed, and we glided among the trees, climbed the +snake fence, and entered the scrub, with the idea of working round, to +watch from the bush what might be taking place in front of the house. +I led the way, because I knew every inch of the ground, and MacCaskill +followed, breathing like an ox, and Antoine came sleepily third. I had +just reckoned that another twenty paces would bring us clear of the +scrub, when I smelt smoke, and through the trees came a quick flash +without noise, and the unmistakable odour of gunpowder. The factor gave +a hard snort of rage, and Antoine muttered heavily, “Burn! Burn!” + +“That’s powder out of their cartridges,” said MacCaskill. “Bet you +they’re watchin’ that door, and think we’re trapped.” + +Some rocks were scattered outside the bush, and behind one of these we +took up our stand; a volume of smoke rolled over the ground, and when +it had passed I saw a series of flames darting up and out suddenly. My +home, the little log shanty that my father had made for a refuge, was +burning, and it was useless to think of trying to save it. The loss of +the shanty was in itself a small matter, because another equally good +could be run up in a day, with the aid of my Indian friends; my few +possessions were of very trivial value; but associations cling about a +building, be it only a bush hut, when it has always been one’s home. +I felt, for the second time that day, the hot, unreasoning strength +coming over me from head to foot, and I rested my gun upon the shoulder +of the rock when I saw a tall figure standing beside the door, leaning +forward, and waiting, hoping for revenge. + +“Don’t do it, Rupe,” said the deep voice behind me. “That sort of thing +leaves a bad taste all a man’s life. Meet a rascal to his face, and +knock hell into him, but don’t skunk behind a rock and pump lead his +way, like he was a jack-rabbit.” + +“Are we going to stand here?” I said, in a voice unlike my own. + +“We’ll watch ’em away. You can’t save the shanty, boy, and if we go out +you’ll make at Redpath. I’ll have to take on Olaffson for sympathy, +and there’ll be a lot of trouble. You’ve got well out of this, and you +don’t want to spoil the game now.” + +The logs of my late home were cracking and splitting under the fire. +Antoine was more philosophic than I, and accepted the inevitable with +his customary indifference. The flames wrapped round the shanty, and +the dry thatch roared, putting out the light of the moon. Then the roof +smashed down, with an upburst of fireworks, and the two dark figures, +the tall and the short, came together, and sneaked away, with backward +glances. + +My arms twitched again, and I must have made a threatening movement, +because a great hairy hand seized the barrel of my gun. The figures +became swallowed up, and we three were alone again. + +“Say, Rupe”--MacCaskill moved back a pace, and put out his two thick +arms--“I’m sixty-five, and I guess Redpath’s the wrong side o’ fifty. +How should we go? If we stood together, wi’ our sleeves up, and wi’ +tight waists, how would we go, eh?” + +“It would be bad for Redpath,” I growled, and Antoine grunted his +assent. + +We three went back to the Fort. In the morning came Akshelah to tell me +that a canoe belonging to the chief had been stolen during the night. +Aided by a fresh north wind, which sprang up with the dawn, Redpath and +Olaffson had made good their escape. At the time my maid spoke, the +incendiaries would have been well away upon Lake Whispering. + + + + +II + +THE LUMBER CAMP OF GULL ISLAND + + + + +LIFE! + + +The men of all nations occupied the station of Gull, a summer camp upon +an island bearing the same name, but the majority were Norwegians and +half-breeds, with a sprinkling of natives, the latter a degraded and +treacherous set, resembling my own Indians about as nearly as a red +lily resembles a choke-weed. + +Some hotels stood upon the island, making their profits by the saloon, +where some four hundred men weekly liquidated their pay. The “shelters” +were all upon the island, which a shingle beach half a mile wide +connected with the mainland, and along this beach curved a railway, +which conveyed the prepared lumber down to the wharf of Gull Harbour, +where it was shipped into scows. The saw-mills were stationed along +the main beach, and here the chimneys sent out their smoke, and the +buzz-saws whirled seven days to the week, because the season was short. + +The _Lac Seul_ of the Hudson Bay Company had carried MacCaskill and +myself as far as Waterhen, and we had made the portage of fifty-seven +miles from that point to the shores of Lake Peace on foot. I was +frightened at the sight of so many faces, and bewildered by the noise +and devilry of the camp; but my companion fortunately knew where to go, +and I followed him closely, as though I had been his dog. + +We put up at the Tecumseh House, and the factor took me about to +accustom me to the novelty of my environment. In winter this settlement +would be heaped up with snow and icebergs, and the only inhabitants +would be a few Norwegians, left to look after the machinery, with +sufficient supplies to last them until the following May. There were no +women in the lumber camp, only men, and a bad crowd of them, according +to the factor. + +I could not sleep in the Tecumseh House because of the all-night +noise of the card-players, and the shouts and threats of drunkards, +and at last I gave up the attempt. It was quite dark, although near +morning, when I rose and dressed, and was about to leave the room when +MacCaskill came to comprehend what I was doing. I explained that I +could not sleep, and had made up my mind to go out and walk into the +forest, that I might feel myself at home again. + +“Watch yourself,” he grunted sleepily. “It’s a bad crowd hereabouts. +If any feller speaks to ye awkward, ask him what he wants after you’ve +knocked him down.” + +The hotel door stood wide open night or day, the entrance only guarded +by a wire mosquito frame. All about the hall were men, either lying in +chairs or sprawling upon the floor, in various stages of sleep, and all +fully dressed. + +It was an unusually cold morning considering the season. A heavy vapour +hung upon the east to proclaim the nearness of the dawn. The air was +wringing with moisture; but when I reached the track my ears became +gladdened by the pleasant booming of the water along the shore. Before +me a few shadowy trees dripped and shivered. I shivered myself at the +miserable prospect, and, for very loneliness, stopped to light my pipe, +longing all the time for my little home above Yellow Sands. + +It was only natural that I should desire to reach the solitude which +life and custom had made me love, and I felt relieved when the last +shelter had been left behind, and I felt myself alone on the neck of +shingle between wind and water. Suddenly my foot went from under me, +and I discovered that I had slipped upon an iron rail. I had forgotten +the railway track which carried the lumber from the main beach, until I +saw a red eye peering through the mist, and in the interval the metals +gleaming in the cold half-light, with beyond some low black cars, all +dripping with moisture, like silent monsters that had crawled there +from the lake to sleep. + +I walked on, and had reached the side of these open cars, when I +became startled by a shadow which rose overhead, and I made out a +brown-bearded face, crowned by a ragged, wet straw bonnet, the chin +resting upon two filthy hands clutching the top of the car. + +“Mornin’, stranger!” called this apparition. + +The man was well out of my reach. So far as I could judge, from the +lack of light and the little I saw of him, he was dressed in the +discoloured canvas which I had already learnt was the costume of the +sailors upon the inland sea of Lake Peace. I replied very shortly to +his salutation, and was for passing on, when the tenant of the car +shifted, and said: + +“Gimme a match!” + +An unmistakable rustling reached my ears, and I said as boldly as I +could: + +“That’s straw you’re lying on.” + +“Jest a bunch, an’ leetle enough for sich a night,” grumbled the man, +beating his cold hands together. “I’m ’most fruze. If I was to make a +move, sudden-like, I’d have some of me bones snap. You’re around early, +stranger, or late, maybe. Ben playin’ poker?” + +I made a step away. + +“Gimme a match, jest to start me bit o’ plug. It’s lonesome fixed here +without a pard. Here’s half a pipe-load, an’ it’ll smoke good. Don’t ye +be scared of a blaze this wet mornin’.” + +Somehow I did not intend to yield to his pleading, and went on my way, +whereupon the sailor changed his tactics, and shouted: + +“You’re the mean pard of the white-face Icelander skunk what went by +jest now. He swore at me when I spoke him perlite, ‘Gimme a match, +pard,’ and I swore at him back. You’re a pair of loose cat-fish!” + +I did not know at the time that the phrase, “a loose cat-fish,” +signified upon Lake Peace a man’s supreme contempt for an adversary; +I only observed the phrase, “a white-face Icelander,” and that was +enough to stop me. We had heard nothing of Redpath or his accomplice, +although MacCaskill was confident that they must have proceeded to Gull +Island, which was the nearest point in communication with our common +destination. + +“Which way did he go?” I said, turning back. + +The sailor rubbed the moisture from his heavy eyebrows. + +“We’re startin’ to shout!” he said, with a husky laugh. “Gimme a match.” + +I took a few sulphur matches from my pocket, and passed them into the +grimy hand. + +“Me mem’ry’s sorter wakin’,” went on the sailor cheerfully, “but a +dollar bill would live it along surprisin’.” + +I saw that I was being made a fool of, so I said sharply: + +“Are you going to tell me which way the Icelander went?” + +“Not unless you show silver,” said the sailor, pulling a match along +his leg. “We can’t work for nothin’ in hard times.” + +“I haven’t got a cent on me,” I said, and it was the truth. I might +also have added, with equal truth, that I had never owned a cent of +cash in my life. + +“He’s only jest got by,” the man said temptingly. “When I heard ye, +I thought ’twas him a-comin’ back to apologise, an’ a-beggin’ me +acceptance of a paper o’ matches.” + +I had played enough poker at home with my father and MacCaskill to have +acquired the first principles of bluff. Had I not already succeeded +with Redpath? + +“I guess he went this way,” I said, moving off in the direction of the +mainland. + +“You’ll get left,” said the sailor, puffing contentedly. “See here, +stranger! Yer pard’s gone along inter the town. That’s truth, for +givin’ me the matches.” + +I swung round, and went on the way I had intended, leaving the sailor +cursing in the car. + +Light began to prevail over the shadows as I approached the mainland +beach, where great piles of prepared lumber for the markets of the +world awaited shipment. Above and around, thousands of those white +birds which had named the neighbourhood filled the air with the noise +of their wings and their screams. It was difficult to make rapid +progress, because the shingle was littered with logs, and the light was +shifting and uncertain. The saw-mills took shape before me, and the +half-wrecked forest gaped behind. Then a short figure began to dodge +about a sheltered angle made by the wall of the nearest machine-shed, +and I felt sure I had recognised my man. Coming up as quickly as I +could, I thought for the moment that the rascal was trying to set fire +to the shed, but when I was almost up, I encountered the stiff breeze +from the lake, and understood that he was getting a light for his pipe. +He was bending his back towards me; a tiny red flame shot up, and a +cloud of smoke followed. The next instant I was behind him, cutting off +the only way of retreat, and, while his head was still down, I called +“Olaffson!” + +The pipe was dashed against the corner of the shed, and fell to the +shingle. An exclamation of dismay followed, not from his lips, but from +mine. Before me was not the white face of Olaffson, but the dark, heavy +countenance of a half-breed whom I had never seen before. I hurriedly +concluded that this stranger knew Olaffson, had possibly just parted +from him, the Icelander returning to the settlement, as the sailor had +said, and this man coming on to the mills. + +“I made sure you were Olaffson,” I said coolly, as the half-breed bent +to reclaim his pipe. “Has he gone back to the camp?” + +The man looked at me stupidly. + +“What d’yer want wi’ Olaffson?” he muttered at last. + +“I just want to know how far you are in with him and Redpath.” + +The half-breed shifted, and avoided my gaze. + +“Redpath ain’t here,” he growled. + +I began to be delighted with myself, and went on with increased +confidence: + +“I know where he is.” This shot had no effect, but I remembered the +Icelander’s character, and suggested meaningly: “You’re in with +Olaffson against Redpath.” + +The half-breed again moved awkwardly, and growled: + +“That ain’t so.” + +“I know Olaffson,” I said. + +Possibly these simple words contained a meaning beyond my +understanding. The man glanced towards me wildly, then dropped his +eyes, and kicked sullenly at the wooden scantling, his face wearing +that grey pallor which betokens fear in a half-black. + +“And I guess you know me,” I went on. “My name is Petrie.” + +That beat him. He turned shivering, and edged away, his face ghastly. + +“Lemme go,” he whined. “I never done it. You can’t bring it up agin me. +I tell ye I didn’t have a hand in it. Lemme go, _sir_.” + +Mentally blindfolded, I fumbled for the truth. + +“Don’t you tell me you haven’t seen Olaffson this morning,” I said. + +“He’s on the island,” admitted the breed. “I saw him las’ night.” + +“And Redpath, too.” + +But the man gave a strong denial. He declared he had not set eyes upon +the English adventurer for years, and I was constrained to believe him, +because I could see that he was terribly afraid of Redpath. + +“What’s your name?” I said sharply. + +Success had made me too bold. The question displayed the weakness of +my hand, and dull as the man might be, he was quick enough to see the +blunder. He stared at me in his owlish fashion, and muttered hopefully: + +“You ain’t Petrie.” + +“I guess so,” I said, feeling myself weaken. + +“Let me out er this,” said the half-breed roughly. + +He pushed by me with contempt, and I was too crestfallen to oppose +him. In any case I could not have used force, because the day had +broken, and men were already coming along the neck connecting Gull +with the mainland. The breed slouched away towards the saw-mills, and +I walked back to Tecumseh House, where I found MacCaskill starting his +breakfast. When I had reported, he said: + +“A half-breed, eh? I’ll go one better, and put a name to him. Don’t +ye mind old man’s statement? That feller’s name will be Leblanc, the +‘half-breed of the worst class.’” + +Directly the factor spoke I remembered, but the chance had passed. + +All day we kept to ourselves, considering our plans; but after dark +the factor impressed upon me the necessity of mixing with the crowd, +as otherwise the inhabitants of Gull might conceive the idea that we +imagined ourselves superior to them, and that is the way which leads to +unpopularity. + +To me this summer camp, with its stores and saloons, was a great, +bustling centre of life, and I thought myself quite one of the world’s +citizens; but when I asked my partner if Gull at all resembled the +town of London, where I had first seen the light, he doubled up with +laughter. + +“Why, Rupe, this is only a bit of a lumber camp. You should see London, +Ontario, me boy, where things do keep on the buzz. And they say that +London, Ontario, ain’t in the same gang of flies wi’ London, England.” + +Suddenly the lamp-lighted night-dens began to disgorge their occupants; +and when everyone set their faces towards Gull Harbour, the factor +stopped a flaxen-haired Swede, and asked him the reason of the +excitement. He returned to me with the information that the steamship +_Carillon_ was just drawing into harbour, while the residents were +turning out to put themselves into communication, so far as they might, +with the outer world. + +“She’s the boat we’re going by,” said my partner. + +We joined the rough-voiced crowd of all nations, and came to the round, +slippery logs that made the landing-stage. + +To me the scene resembled a vivid dream rather than any picture of +human activity. The big ship moved in slowly, her lights flickering, +and presently the ropes, like lithe brown snakes, sped uncoiling +through the air. Everything was silvered with wet, because clouds of +spray swept continually over the wharf, and the wind freshened even +while we waited. Hanging to the rough poles, above the waves that were +breaking and creaming over the stones, a few greasy lanterns swayed; +and in the conflict of lights hundreds of gulls circled, screamed +wildly, and dropped upon the water like huge snowflakes, or wheeled +away into the outer darkness. Behind the settlement tiers of black rock +went up, backed by ascending terraces of sweeping trees of soft wood, +right away to the dark-blue sky-line; and between, where the waves +were flung upon the crags, I saw innumerable points of light lit by +the fireflies, darting, going out, and starting again into light. The +gangways ran out, and the canvas-clad sailors were quickly at work, +rolling provision barrels over the greasy logs to an accompaniment of +shouts and dialect chatter. A few bundles of newspapers were dispersed, +and here and there an eager group had formed to discuss the news of the +world by aid of one of the lanterns. + +Presently a voice shouted close beside us: + +“Watch yerselves, boys, here’s the mission-airy!” + +“What’s that?” MacCaskill called, pushing forward, while I followed, +unwilling to be left. + +“Father Lacombe, of Three Points,” said one of the sailors, flinging a +barrel up on end, and spitting on his hands before clutching another. + +While he spoke I caught sight of the large, black figure of the first +priest I had ever seen, stepping carefully over the logs. He was +wearing a hard felt hat, and his cassock was fastened up behind by +means of a safety-pin; I caught the glint of this tiny article as the +priest walked away towards the settlement of Gull. + +“Three Points Mission. That’s across Peace,” said MacCaskill, turning +to me. “P’r’aps he’ll cross wi’ us.” + +Father Lacombe walked away leisurely, his valise tucked under his arm, +his cape flapping in the strong breeze, and when darkness had closed +after him the crowd began to jeer. + + + + +SOME HUMAN NATURE + + +On the following morning (Sunday), MacCaskill took me into the Star +saloon, the foregathering place-in-chief of the lumbermen, in order to +introduce me to some human character. The bar was filled with men who +had religious scruples against working on Sunday, all in peaceful mood, +reading the newspapers that had come with the _Carillon_, or commenting +upon the doings of many a country and many a personage whose names I +now heard for the first time. It was not etiquette to gamble before +noon. A regular gale was blowing at the time, and heavy rain lashed the +tin roofing. + +Overhead, a lighted lamp swayed, its yellow glass fogged in smoke, +which wreathed everything; the odour of this smoke, combined with +that of the liquors, and the chewing of black tobacco, was sufficient +to almost intoxicate a saloon tyro; but, fortunately, my manner of +life had been so healthy that I experienced no inconvenience beyond +a certain unpleasantness in getting my breath. The factor paid our +footing, and we were established and introduced as good citizens of the +town of Gull by the simple process of drinking with the crowd. + +Presently my companion nudged me. + +“Do ye mind yon feller?” he said, nodding towards the end of the bar, +where two men, one tall and elderly, the other fat and middle-aged, +stood smoking very black cigars. “The feller wi’ black and white hair? +That’s Bob Lennie, captain of the _Carillon_. Come across.” + +We joined the two men, and the factor introduced me. + +“What’ll ye have?” said the captain at once. + +A bottle was pushed across the sloppy bar, and we helped ourselves, +although I did little more than flavour the water with the hot corn +whisky, which I thought the most nauseous compound I had ever tasted. +By this time I began to understand why men would run mad at the +suggestion of gold; but that they should care to wreck their bodies for +the sake of such horrible stuff as that biting liquor, as the factor +assured me they did, was to me incredible. + +“This is my mate,” Lennie was saying. “Sandy, boy, here’s Andy +MacCaskill and Rupe Petrie from Yellow Sands. You’re comin’ across, eh? +Well, we’re going north quite a piece, an’ comin’ back wi’ a cargo of +fish. We’ll be gettin’ away for the Little Peace in maybe five days’ +time, if this dirty weather don’t hold.” + +I had seen few men, but I could not have imagined any stranger-looking +than Bob Lennie. His cadaverous face was cross-hatched with innumerable +lines, his eyes were dark and wild, his hair partly coal-black, and +partly silver-grey. He stooped a good deal, but he was well over sixty. +He was the father of north-west navigators, and nearly every part of +the treacherous inland sea of Lake Peace, its hidden reefs and shoals +and silt-bars, were to him an open book. + +“Not many passengers these days, I guess?” hinted MacCaskill, when we +had found a corner to ourselves. + +Sandy, the mate, smuggled beside me, and launched himself into a +discussion of something which he called the silver question in the +United States; but I could do nothing except listen, throwing in a +monosyllable of sheer ignorance occasionally. He was quite content to +monopolise the conversation, while I listened to the captain and my +partner. The former was saying, in answer to the latter’s question: + +“A few new hands comin’ out to the fisheries, and a preacher once in +a while. Say, we picked up Father Lacombe yesterday morning, and he’s +paid on to the Little Peace.” + +“Where did ye strike him, anyhow?” asked MacCaskill. + +“We was passin’ White River, an’ he signalled. Said he’d packed down +to the coast after a mission-airy journey upland, wi’ a couple of +nitchies, who took themselves off in the night wi’ all his supplies. +I said to him, ‘Don’t ye want to find them thieves, father?’ ‘Course +not,’ he said. ‘It’s a punishment to me for havin’ taught ’em badly.’ +Lord, Mac! don’t these preachers talk soft!” + +The two men laughed together. + +“He’s quite a priest down east, they tell me,” went on Lennie. + +“Saw him come ashore,” said MacCaskill. “He don’t look strong on +fasting Fridays.” + +“They do say the less some men do eat the fatter they do get. It’s one +of those things they call a parridox. But what’s the father wantin’ +around Gull at all?” + +“No, siree!” shouted the little mate at my ear. “What’s the silver +standard? Explain to me the value of free silver. In what way, sir, is +the silver dollar better than the paper? Tell me that.” + +It was impossible for me to enlighten him, and I said so. + +“I guess you’re right,” the captain said. “The father’s come to look +around, wi’ the idea of startin’ a mission. There ain’t enough of his +religion hereabouts to make it a going concern.” + +“Lots of half-breeds,” suggested the factor. + +“Well, but they ain’t got religion. Maybe the father’ll be preaching +some place to-night. I ain’t religious meself, but I like an opera, and +I wonderful well like to hear a sermon, if there’s lots o’ blood and +fire about it.” + +“Say, Mister Petrie, are ye a Republican or a Democrat?” demanded the +rasping voice I had almost come to ignore. + +I turned to the mate, and assured him that I was neither. + +“You’re a neutral, eh? Well, I don’t hold wi’ neutrality, which jest +means scrappin’ wi’ everyone. I like to scrap for me own party.” + +“Do I mind Joey Fagge? Why, course I do. There ain’t any old-timer who +can’t tell you something ’bout him. He was the cutest ole Sam-Peter +west, and they tell how he could smell out gold, same as these miracle +chaps down south fetch water outer the ground, or shoot it outer the +sky, or some such durned trick. No one knows where he finished, though +I’ve heard tell how he got caught in a storm on this very lake and was +drownded.” + +“Did he die rich?” + +“Ever heard of a miner who did?” said the captain, laughing hoarsely. +“Last time I saw Joey he was flyin’ off the handle in Main Street, +Fort Garry. Seems some American chap had bested him upon a real-estate +bargain, an’ the old man took that sort of thing bad. He was a +good-natured ole chap too. I know that, ’cause I was in Garry time of +the boom, and I know a yarn if you want to listen.” + +The mate was besieging my ear, but my attention was not for him. I +edged towards Bob Lennie, that I might hear all I could concerning the +man my father had been accused of murdering. + +“A young Englishman came inter Garry ’bout the middle of the fun,” went +on the captain. “Ye see, he fancied he was goin’ to look out for a job, +but when he saw the cash an’ champagne-water a-flowin’ around, an’ +found lots o’ folks happy to stand him drinks and leave him the change +if he wanted it, he started to quit his thoughts of work, an’ surmised +he’d struck an almightily soft way of living. Time came, of course, +when he found himself gettin’ left dry on the rocks, an’ as he hadn’t +near enough at the week-end to fix up his hotel bill, he nat’rally +walked into the bar at mornin’ wi’ the idea of runnin’ outer what he +_had_ got. After takin’ a doctor’s prescription, he moved ’way up the +street, spoilin’ for excitement, an’ presently he pulled up at Central +Hall, where a big real-estate sale was going on. The boy’s brain must +have ben a bit in wool, ’cause he started biddin’ for a parcel of land, +and sudden-like the lot was knocked down to him. D’rectly he found the +other fellers had quit, you can believe me he made back to the hotel, +to find out a cool place to set down in; but call me what you like, +Mac, if a chap didn’t come round, jest as fast as his legs would bring +him, to offer to take the property off the boy’s hands at the price +it had ben knocked down. And he hadn’t time to call this chap his +brother before up came another, wi’ two or three more ’most tumblin’ +after him, an’ every one cappin’ the offer of the man before him. A +boom had struck that bit of property sudden, an’ it had ben knocked +down before the bis’ness fellers could get around to Central Hall. +Course the young chap was ready to scream, but he had the sense to +pretend hatin’ to part wi’ the property, an’ he hung on until he got a +wonderful big price, they say. Nobody worried over a few extra hundreds +those days. Well, I saw him later on, an’ old man Fagge was drinking +champagne-water wi’ him, an’ talkin’ to him like a father, an’ advisin’ +him to stuff his valise, an’ make east outer the racket, before he +flung away that pile he’d jest made by the biggest and almightiest hunk +of luck outside creation.” + +“Did he go?” I broke in. + +“I guess so,” said Bob Lennie. “Anyhow, I never saw him around no more. +Now, I call that real good of ole Joey to advise that young fool to get +home, when he’d the brain to get all that pile inter his own pocket. +Put that down on the credit side when anyone starts slingin’ things +’gainst old man’s character, I say.” + +At the Tecumseh House, where Father Lacombe was also staying, we learnt +at dinner that the priest was unwell. + +“Got what he calls a chill,” announced the proprietor, adding, “He can +keep it while he stops here. He won’t spend nothing for the good of the +house.” + +After the mid-day meal we went up to the room which we shared between +us, closed the door, and sat on our respective shake-downs, there being +no chairs, to discuss business. We had brought over from the Yellow +Sands store the greater part of our supplies and tools, but there were +still necessary articles to be added to our packs, and these were all +obtainable at Gull. MacCaskill was paying my expenses as well as +his own, and now that I began to understand the meaning of the thin +slips of paper which he smoothed and fingered so deliberately, I felt +uncomfortable at being dependent upon his savings, the more so when he +said, “We’ll want to be careful, Rupe. The bank ain’t any too muscular.” + +I suggested that we should camp out upon the mainland for the remainder +of our time; but my partner demurred, because he thought it advisable +to watch and wait in Gull. + +“You’ve got brains, boy,” the factor went on. + +“Where do you say Redpath is?” + +I thought awhile before replying shortly, “Here.” + +“That’s what I’m sayin’ all the time. Olaffson and he are hidin’ some +place, and I guess they’re spyin’ upon us. How are they going to cross +Lake Peace? They won’t have the gall to face us on the _Carillon_.” + +I suggested that, as they had stolen a canoe from Yellow Sands, they +might make away with one of the steam-tugs used at Gull to take out the +lumber scows. + +“Takin’ a tug outer Gull ain’t the same trick as stealin’ a canoe from +a nitchi camp. There’s too many folks around, and they might be hanged +for stealin’ hereabouts.” + +“I should know that canoe again,” I said, and well I might, for I had +paddled Akshelah in it many a time. “It’s not around here.” + +“Pshaw! They’d have broke it up, and used it on the camp fire. +Professional rascals don’t take risks. Look-a-here! We’ve got the +nickels to stand this racket, but after we’ve bought our cornmeal, an’ +bacon, an’ dried fruit, an’ a few little tools, an’ paid our passage +across, we won’t have a lot to gamble with. The best we can do is to +move along easy, watchin’ and not worryin’, and if Redpath’s on the +ground when we strike it, there’ll be a fight if he’s awkward. If we +can fix up things so as to work our claims apart, without scrappin’, +that’s our line. If Redpath won’t have that, it’s throw up hands, and +the best partners scoop the pool.” + +Then the factor produced a pack of cards, and we played poker, and +after that went to sleep upon our shake-downs. + +It was almost dark when we awoke, and took to smoking to pass the +time. Rain was still beating, but the wind had lessened, and a wet +mist hung over the lake. It was cold, and I felt miserable; MacCaskill +looked depressed, and we were both silent. Thus an hour of unutterable +dreariness dragged away. + +MacCaskill coughed suddenly, opened the box-stove, spat into it, and +flung away the stub of his cigar. + +“Swallowed a bit of leaf,” he growled. “Sets a man ’gainst smokin’ for +a while.” He laughed grimly, and rubbed his hands. “Cheer up, Rupe; +it’s Sunday, lad.” + +“What about it?” I asked, for I had never been brought to look upon one +day as different from another, apart from good or foul weather. + +“Why, on Sunday evenings I gen’rally get as dolesome as a gibcat. +Mem’ries, I guess, but you ain’t got enough past to make any of them. +When I was away in the bush I kep’ track of the days easy. Whenever a +fit of the megrims came on ’bout lights down, I’d know ’twas Sunday. It +gen’rally worked out right. I come out clean and fresh Monday morning, +but Sunday night I get hipped reg’lar. Say! What’ll you do, if old +man’s notion pans out?” + +“Follow your lead,” I said. + +I expected the old fellow to laugh, but the dolesome fit was on him, +and he became more surly than ever. + +“I went home ’bout eight winters ago,” he said morosely. + +I saw that he was in the mood to talk, so I settled myself to listen. + +“I went home,” he repeated. “Away east to St. Catherine’s. That’s in +Ontario, and ’twas a daisy of a place when I was your number. I went +home. D’rectly ye shift outer any place ye get forgotten. See? Rainin’ +yet, I guess?” + +“Yes, it’s still raining,” I said. + +“Well, it’ll do no harm, maybe. You see, when you come back to an old +home ye expect to find a place kep’ for ye. Understand?” He gave me no +time to reply. “Well now, I left St. Catherine’s when I was a younker, +and got a post north in the Company. ’Twas a far better thing then than +’tis to-day, and I reckoned I’d stop a few years, make a leetle pile, +come home when I was thirty, and marry Maimie Flett, who was waitin’ +for me. Pretty little gal, Maimie. Had a way of lookin’ at me sideways. +She was goin’ to wait for me. Wind’s comin’ up again, I guess?” + +“Maybe,” I said, though I had not noticed any change. + +“You see, those years got slippin’ away as though they’d ben oiled +for it. I worked steady, an’ I saved a bit, but that pile seemed to +be awful slow in mountin’ up. Life was in front of me, anyhow, and I +said, ‘No matter, there’s a fine time a-comin’.’ I wasn’t going east, +not till I was able to marry Maimie. The years got tumblin’ along one +over the other so quick, Rupe, and Maimie she writ slower, and then she +quit. Must have ben tiresome for the gal, and she hadn’t leisure like +me, maybe.” The factor stopped, bent, and rubbed his leg. + +“You went home?” I suggested. + +He repeated the words after me slowly. + +“Came upon me one day sudden,” he went on. “Me muscles had always ben +good and worked easy, and I was comfortable in the wind, and right on +me food and sleep. One evening, I mind it was wet and cold, I made to +pick up a log to carry in to bucksaw. I just gave it a good heave on +to me shoulder, and hot snakes jumped right through me, and run all +along me back, and I let that log drop. I couldn’t have carried that +log, Rupe, not if it had ben a bar of gold. You see, I was comin’ on +fifty, an’ that pain was rheumatics. Old man had ’em bad, and you +mind how Antoine used to rub him wi’ some of his medicine truck. That +night I got smokin’, same as usual, in the Fort, and I stopped over +it longer, ’cause I’d taken a new pipe from the store, and a new pipe +smokes longer than the old ’un, and I got seein’ the smoke a-twistin’ +around, and presently I seemed to see Maimie, and she was lookin’ at me +sideways, and she was sayin’, ‘Why! ’tis never you, Andy! They’ll be +callin’ you “old man” when you come down to St. Catherine’s.’ You see, +Rupe, I’d got an old chap sudden, an’ I found it out sudden-like.” + +I had nothing to say to this, because I was young and strong. + +“You miss life by waitin’ for it, Rupe. You’ve got to take, an’ never +wait. I took me leave anyhow, and went east to see the old place again. +I was a sort of fool, ’cause I reckoned to find things same as I minded +’em, and Maimie a little bit of a gal, wi’ a way of lookin’ at me +sideways. I came in on the Grand Trunk, and I got out at the depôt, and +stood lonesome, and peeked around, jest as awkward as a fly in a glass +of beer. You see, I’d known everyone in St. Catherine’s my time. I said +to a feller, ‘What’s the name of this place, anyhow?’ and he said, +‘St. Catherine’s, stranger,’ and that took the wind outer me. ’Twas an +almighty big town, an’ I’d left a village; an’ the valley was choked +wi’ buildings, like summer fallow wi’ Russian thistle, an’ there wasn’t +any folks to mind Andy MacCaskill. There wasn’t a face to gimme a +smile, Rupe. Not an ole pard to call out, ‘Seems like ole times havin’ +you around again.’ That’s what my goin’ home was.” + +“And what about the girl?” I said. + +“Never heard tell of her,” answered the factor morosely. + +His mood changed in a moment, and we sprang together from our +shake-downs. Above the beating of the rain and the wind, above the +shouts of the drinkers below, came the noise of a nearer scuffle, +with the brutal laugh of coarse men, the tread of heavy boots, and a +feminine voice, half pleading, half in anger. There were no women in +Gull! + +The passage was gloomy, because evening was closing, and there was +only one window to give light, but I had no need to look twice to see +a girl, her head and fine hair half-wrapped in a dripping shawl, and +this girl struggling in the hands of a half-drunk crowd of lumbermen, +shouting their rough jests and brutal suggestions. A beautiful girl in +the camp of Gull! + +I knew her before I could see her face, and when I did see her +rain-marked features, they were more beautiful than ever. She was my +faithful maid, my Akshelah! + +She put out an arm, the other was held, and called to me: + +“I have followed; I have followed, and it has been hard!” + +The factor’s story of his life was hot upon my ears, and I heard him +saying, “You’ve got to take, and never wait.” + +I acted upon this precept. I scattered that rough gang, and sent the +men reeling back each way. I rescued Akshelah, swung her lithe figure +into our room, where MacCaskill stood bewildered, and stood in the +doorway, my arms out, holding at defiance the lumber station of Gull. + + + + +AN AFFAIR WITH JAKE PETERSSEN + + +It had often been my lot to fight the animals and the elements, but now +for the first time I faced my fellow-creatures, every one my superior +in experience of the world, and every one apparently my inferior in +muscle. As I glanced them over I knew that I was strong enough to +break most of them up like so many corn-stalks. I could have shouted +as depression left me, and glorious life throbbed along every muscle +of each limb. There was not a weak spot in my body. My eye was so true +that a man might have indicated a spot twenty feet distant and I could +have jumped cleanly upon that mark. I was exhilarated as I stood in the +doorway, with the whole camp against me. I was soon to learn how fickle +a crowd can be. + +Behind me stood Akshelah, so that her breath caressed my neck. I put +out my hand and pushed her back. The factor stood against the side +wall, peering into the passage, fetching breath suddenly. + +“I guess you’ll quit, an’ give over the gal, stranger,” a big-bodied +man confronted and advised me. + +“She’s mine,” I said, and I was glad to find my voice steady and clear. + +“She’s come around here,” went on the representative of public +opinion. “An’ now she’s a-comin’ down to the saloon to dance to us.” + +“I’ll see you all darned,” I said quietly. + +A babel of tongues hummed round my head. A mighty shadow appeared to +fall, and for one moment I cooled and weakened. A huge negro pushed +aside the big-bodied man, and stood within hand-grip of me. He was +a hideous creature, his face scarred, his front teeth gone, one ear +frozen off, and when he moved I saw that his mighty body was supple and +packed with muscle. He wore a loose cotton shirt and white pants, which +exaggerated his great size. This apparition glowed upon me with small +malevolent eyes, and said: + +“’Pears like, stranger, you forgot hittin’ dis chile. Hit him on de +nose an’ eye. You take what you give, eh?” + +I understood that I was being challenged, and replied: “I guess.” + +“You gimme de gal, an’ stop de trubble?” suggested the fearful creature. + +I merely replied: “She’s mine.” + +“That’s so, boys,” bellowed the revived factor. “The gal’s his, and she +followed down here to find him. Where I come from, a feller’s got a +right to his own gal.” + +“He knocked us around,” said a voice. + +“Hit me on de nose an’ eye,” repeated the negro. “No man hit dis chile, +an’ not git it back. I’m ready fo’ you.” He slapped his arm. “No +knives, no shootin’. Jest strip an’ scrap, and de best scrapper take +de gal.” + +“I’m ready,” I said. + +Old MacCaskill was at my elbow, and Akshelah between us. My partner was +cold with excitement. + +“The boys’ll be just, Rupe, if you show devil,” he whispered. “It’s +Jake Peterssen you’ve got to fight, and they say he’s never ben bested. +Keep quiet, and don’t waste yourself. Get at his neck, if you can, and +if you can’t, get at the side of his jaw. Mind that--mind, the side of +the jaw hard.” + +The saw-mills were stopping, because the gloom of the night hung around +Gull. The news flew about like thistle seed in a windy fall. The mob +surged and shouted round us, as we passed from Tecumseh House into +the cold rain, and down to a long shed used for meetings and dances, +on the brink of the high rocks that made an eyebrow to the lake. The +wind howled round this exposed spot, and I could hear the beat of the +waves, the lash of clouds of spray, and the sullen song of the shifting +shingle, while the crowd poured in to take up their stand on tables +and barrels, and a score of greasy lanterns were being lighted and +hoisted to the roof. The floor was of well-trodden soil, and while we +were being made ready a procession of men appeared with sacks of lake +sand, which they poured and levelled upon the space reserved for the +fight. I was shivering from head to foot, but it was with excitement +and muscular strength, not fear. Akshelah was as white as the sand, +and MacCaskill looked eighty when he began to strip me. + +“This ain’t like knockin’ down Redpath,” he muttered hoarsely. “Keep +his fist outer your neck and jaw, an’ mind your stomach. Love o’ +Heaven, mind your stomach! If he touches your wind you’ve got to go +down.” + +A couple of coarse-faced men came up, chewing tobacco. + +“Out er the way, old man,” said one. + +They took me in hand, stripped me to the waist; and one of them took +off his belt and strapped me, saying, as he pulled it in: + +“Shout when it starts to pinch.” + +When I was stripped I found myself the centre of a great deal of +attention. My skin was fair and hairless, my arms so slight, that I +could have felt ashamed of my appearance; indeed, at first I thought +my examiners were bent upon ridicule, as first one horny hand and then +another patted my chest and pinched my forearm or the back of my leg. +But it was not so. + +One man, with a sharp, pinched face, turned from me, expectorated, and +remarked to the negro: + +“If he gits a fair holt on yer, Jake, mercy on yer soul! He ain’t got +one ounce of fat under all his skin.” + +My opponent’s arms were like trunks of trees, and his neck resembled a +polished iron cylinder. When I looked at him I thought that if I should +get at his neck I should do nothing but tear the skin off my knuckles. + +We were oiled from chin to waist with fresh fish-oil, and then the +Master of Ceremonies came out and told me the rules. Anything above +the waist was fair fight, either catching or hitting, except kicking +and biting, and the use of the nails. The catch might be made with the +hand or the arm, but the hit only with the clenched fist. There would +be no intervals, and the fight would continue until one of us should be +disabled for twenty-five seconds. + +The hubbub was indescribable; but once it dropped, when a startling +black figure, well wrapped up, pushed in quietly. It was Father +Lacombe; and a great shout uprose when it became published that the +priest had come with no idea of interference, but to see fair play. + +The voices went up again, shouting out bets or making jests, until I +took my stand opposite my gigantic opponent, and then they dropped +to deep murmurs and whisperings which, when the word had been given, +became merely deep and long breathings. The familiar beat of the wind +and waves cheered me from outside. + +Akshelah stood unmolested beside MacCaskill, and I knew no one would +take any notice of her until the fight was done. There was a certain +morality in the camp of Gull. If I won, the girl would be resigned to +me, and not a man would insult her; if I lost, the camp at Yellow +Sands would mourn for her as one who had passed away from them. + +The negro and I stood watching one another, each starting in response +to any movement on the other’s part. His great body shone in the +lamplight, and the oil glistened on his outstretched arms. There was a +knife scar where his neck came to the shoulder above the collar-bone, +and I determined to hit that if I had the chance. It makes a man wince +to feel an old wound struck. I was magnificently cool; my excitement +had passed, and my brain was as clear as my own little river of Yellow +Sands. + +With a surprisingly rapid motion the negro dashed upon me, and I bent, +when he made feint with his right arm, and met the crashing blow of his +left fist with my forearm. + +A cold, numbing sensation raced through me, but I swung my arm sharply, +and the pain was gone in an instant; and springing up, I caught the +great body and cannoned against it, swinging him round. + +He fell on his knee; but this was a trick, for when I pressed on he +came up and opened himself by hitting me full in the shoulder, and I +staggered back, but steadied myself in time. + +Again we stood facing each other as at first, only breathing a little +faster. + +It was my turn to make the advance, and I did so, making sure of every +foothold in the sand. The negro worked round as I came on, and I +hovered in front of him, until I became fascinated by a grotesque face +which had been tattooed upon his chest. It seemed to me that I had two +adversaries to contend with, the negro and his mascott. After dodging +I slipped round sharply, sprang into the air, hitting away his arm, +and had him gripped by the waist, his right arm fastened to his side. +Silence was broken for the first time as we swung together, I trying +to capture his free arm, and he endeavouring to stun me with it. While +this arm was upraised I hit him upon the scar as well as I could at +close quarters, then dashed my head to one side, striking his flat face +with my cheek, and avoiding at the same time the blow which just grazed +my shoulder. Hanging on, I dashed my knee into his stomach, but in +doing so lost my hold. He got in a blow upon my forehead that knocked +me to the sand. I was up, literally at a rebound, and just in time to +avoid another blow, which, if successful, would have ended the contest. +We stood again as at first, and I heard a far-away voice mutter, “Waste +him, yer young fool!” + +I was grateful for the hint. Unless I came to receive a knock-down +blow, I could last for ever. I had no waste flesh to carry. I was hard +and sound, while my adversary was heavy, and comparatively short of +wind. He had drunk plenty of corn whisky in his time, while my system +was entirely free from alcohol. I could see his great neck palpitating +already, and his mouth was open. Obviously I was wasting myself by +trying to throw his massive bulk. I determined to make him move, and +to wait for the opportunity of reaching his windpipe. So I came to +close quarters and kept at my opponent, worrying him like a dog, and +he watched me with his small, half-closed eyes, and hit at me with his +superior science while I skirmished, doubtless with the hope that one +of these mighty blows might reach the fatal spot and lay me out. But I +was too careful of the vital parts, and though the heavy hammering on +my shoulders jarred and weakened me, I retained my presence of mind and +kept my system, and stayed by him, always feigning an attack, but never +wearing myself by striking. His dark hands were stained with my blood, +which I could feel trickling over my face. I had to wipe it away from +my eyes, knowing what nobody else did, that I was as strong as at the +beginning, and the letting of a little blood would do me good after the +forced inaction of the past few days. + +“Jake’s winnin’!” shouted a triumphant voice, though I had lost sight +of all spectators. “Drinks to the crowd on Jake.” + +“Take yer,” called another. “Listen at the breathin’. The young ’un +ain’t in trouble, an’, be Heaven, he could throw a locomotive.” + +I backed, and the negro followed, lurching and lunging at me every +step. Round the ring we went three times, until I did not know whether +the noise in my ears came from the spectators or from the lake outside. +The negro’s eyes were two shining slits, and his hideous face wore +an expression of stolid satisfaction, as he kept coming upon me, +his fists beating and sounding on my bruised arms. He thought he was +winning as he liked; I could not stand before him; he had only to +break down my hard arms, and then he could smash his fist into my jaw +and end the fight. He grinned exultantly when I began to gasp, but I +was fooling him. I could breathe as well that way, and I gasped to +let him think that I was distressed. I was as fresh as ever, and went +back dancing lightly on my toes, every muscle true and elastic. But my +opponent was too seasoned a fighter to grow careless. He kept smiting +at me, without giving me a chance to smite back. He was exhausting +himself, but he imagined, I believe, that I was at least as much spent +as himself. + +His opportunity came. I trod on the side of my foot, and was almost +off my balance. The negro came upon me like a cyclone, and the yells +in my ears resembled a February blizzard. There was no avoiding that +black thunderbolt, and it seemed to me on an instant that my head might +be wrenched from its trunk. A sick feeling stabbed me; my brain spun +round like a wheel; every tooth ached violently, and a horrible hand +seemed to clutch at and twist my spine. He had reached my jaw. Another +half-inch, and I should have gone down, unconscious, perhaps a cripple +for life. + +The revelry around took voice, and went up with a shout, “The boy’s +bested!” + +I recovered in time to ward off the following blow and the negro +gripped me, but I drew in my breath and escaped, his hands gliding off +my well-oiled flesh, and again I ran back, my adversary following to +finish me, and we were both breathing furiously. + +Then a clear silver voice rang out and came upon my ears, like the note +of the wavy telling its promise of spring. + +“_Naspich milwashiu! Sakehanou!_” + +It was the cry of the Dance of Friendship. + +Again I heard the drone and whirr of the drums, the soft wind sighing +in the trees. Again I saw the pale moon over the clearing, and the +stars looking down, as we excitedly paced the measure round and round +the fires of the lodge, our hands aloft, our hearts throbbing, our +eyes flashing as they met, exchanging the vow of eternal fellowship. I +snorted like a horse when he smells the coming bush fire. I sprang out, +feeling a giant’s strength idealised in my body, and closing with the +negro, I threw him, while the ground seemed to shake and reel about me. +The madness of that strength given by the dance! As he started up I was +on him, and beating down his ponderous arms smote him upon the neck, +and he fell again with a rattle and a gurgle in his throat. But I could +do no more, for when a man comes to his end he must stop. + +We were three paces apart, each of us bent, and the negro spat blood +into the sand. I could not see Akshelah, but I could guess the look +of triumph on her pale, beautiful face, and I could also imagine +MacCaskill biting his moustache, his arms twitching, his eyes wet with +excitement. + +“Get on!” the voices yelled madly, and instinctively I felt that the +majority were addressing themselves to me, because I had won their +sympathy. My blood trickling into my mouth revived me. I wiped my hands +in the sand, and came forward towards the black, palpitating mass of +flesh, while the lumbermen shouted, and sweated, and swore, letting +loose their passions in the delirium of watching ours. + +The negro gathered himself to meet me, and again his huge arms came +out. The oily sweat rolled off his body, and his legs staggered under +his bulk. I resumed my former tactics of drawing him on, but he saw my +design and baulked me. He refused to act any longer upon the offensive. +Unless I would have him recover himself, I should have to attack. +I came at him, struck, and stepped back; my arms were longer than +his. When he hit back, I jumped round to his side, bent when his arm +swung round, and hit him on the remnant of his frozen ear. He growled +fiercely, the first exclamation he had made, and snatched at me, but +I was away, and came with the persistency of a mosquito to his other +side, and so continued, until he was unsteady, and his dry tongue +sought moisture from his lips. + +Suddenly he gave a great groan, and bore down upon me, his arms working +like hammers. Round and round he beat me by sheer weight, like a +dog-wolf wearing down a jack-rabbit, and the blows came so fast that I +could not distinguish one arm from another. + +I defended as best I could, knowing this could not last, and once he +had almost done me, because my eyes were blinded with blood. Every +breath seemed to be giving him pain, and I was gasping in sheer +earnest, and my arms were so heavy that I appeared to be holding great +weights in my hands. + +We were both men who had never known defeat; but this was my first +serious encounter, while my opponent had won many a hard fight. There +was little advantage either way. I was stronger in wind and steadier, +but I was having my weak moments, and I knew that if my enemy should +get in one of his smashing blows the fight would be over, and he would +have added another to a long list of victories. I could not hit with +the power he was able to command, because I had not the weight to throw +behind a blow. If his arms resembled the trunks of hard-wood trees, +mine might have been compared to wire ropes. He could smash me, but I +could not smash him. + +When he staggered towards me again, a new thought took possession of +my brain. If I could not smash I might break. So I went on dodging his +blows, and watched my chance to seize him; but he guessed my plan, and +evaded my hands with all the cleverness of his science. + +I was failing. I had it in me to make one more effort, but I knew it +would have to be the last. My opponent could do little beyond holding +me out, and I guessed that he, too, was reserving himself for an +opening to expend his last gasp of strength. He could not be sure of +placing his feet accurately, and more than once I feared he might fall, +holding me, and bearing me to the ground by his sheer weight. I could +have dropped gladly and gone to sleep, but the thought of Akshelah +steadied me. I was fighting for her. Were I to be defeated, I could +never appear in Yellow Sands again. + +I closed again with Jake Peterssen, though I was sobbing for breath, +and a hot pain pricked each side of my body. He met me, and for a few +seconds we fought as strongly as though we had come together for the +first time. It was the expiring effort of both of us. We had both +everything to lose. He braced himself with another groan, and smashed +at me straight and strong. I was just able to get back, and then as he +came towards me, following his blow with his weight, he overbalanced, +and I caught him at last. I caught his arm, and bending, swung him +round, though I seemed to be tearing out my heart, and in the midst of +the darkness and pain following that awful effort I heard the sharp +sound like the cracking of a pistol shot, and the building shook about +me again. I had broken his thick right arm! + +He was fight to the death. As the darkness lifted I tottered across +the sand, while the universe seemed to be roaring in my ears, and he +dragged himself up and staggered upright, and lurched towards me, his +left arm half-raised, his eyes shut, his jaw dropping. He could do +nothing. He could only stand like an ox before its slayer, and though I +was stabbed and racked by every effort to find breath, I was able, by +virtue of the strength I now began to realise, to come out and hit him +for the last time. Full on his exposed neck came my feeble blow, and he +went down again, a great heap of black flesh, and lay nearly doubled, +motionless, insensible, while the twenty-five seconds were counted out +by yells and oaths. + +By a final effort I got the mastery over my legs, and stood upright, +swaying to and fro, and groping, until the arms of MacCaskill closed in +exhilaration about me, and the sweetness of the knowledge of victory +breathed into my body the breath of new life. + +Out of the revelry about me it dawned upon my understanding that I had +won the freedom of the Camp of Gull. + + + + +THE OLD STONE RUIN OF THE BUSH + + +The saloon of the Tecumseh House was doing a heavy business that night, +after the noisy supper-hour. I was taken in there, almost by force, to +drink with the crowd, and presently the loose shape of Father Lacombe +loomed large and black, and went by without stopping, but his eyes cast +upon me a glance I could not analyse. One of the lumberers addressed +him, and a laugh went up. + +“Says he don’t want to git hit be ye!” called the big man, loosening +his belt. “Might spoil his priestin’ quite a while.” + +After the rest and some food I was myself again. Akshelah kept near me +quietly, having done sufficient mischief for one day; but when we three +were alone I tried to scold her for having followed us, only to give +way when she began to cry. MacCaskill was more hard-hearted. + +“Allowin’ you’ve had a hard time, you’ve done a silly trick, anyhow. +You’ve done your worst to have young Rupe spoilt and our plans busted.” + +“I was lonely,” said the girl defiantly. “And I was unhappy.” + +“We all get dolesome,” said the old philosopher, “but we don’t want to +kick against it. The trouble is you got it inter your head to come +along to Gull, where you mighter known the boy would be called on to +fight for ye--” + +“I did not know,” began the poor girl, her eyes shining with tears. + +“You’ve got your learning now. I guess you’d best set quiet and chew +it. Who came along with you?” + +“I came by myself,” said Akshelah proudly. “I left my canoe where +Kinokumisse touches the white sand.” + +“You did the portage from Waterhen on foot?” + +“Yes,” said Akshelah, as though it were nothing for a young girl to +half-run fifty-seven miles. + +“To-morrow you’ve got to get right back again.” + +“No,” cried Akshelah, “I will not go, unless you come back to the camp +with me!” + +“Him, you mean. You don’t give a darn about me.” + +Akshelah was honesty itself. + +“Yes, I mean him. I came to find him, because we promised to help one +another; and if he will not have me I shall go home. But I shall not +go to my people. I shall give myself to Muchumeneto at the end of +Kinokumisse.” + +I knew that this threat of drowning herself was no idle one, so I +endeavoured to conciliate the wilful maiden. + +“You will go back if I tell you.” I intended my voice to be stern. “We +cannot take you with us.” + +“I will not. I shall be lonely, and grow old, and you will never come +again. I am coming to mend for you, and I will cook your meat, and +nurse you if you are sick, and sometimes I shall sing to you; and +when you are unhappy I will tell you the story of the little one who +conquered the great beast that the Creator was afraid of, and then you +will be glad again. I will be like the wind, and you cannot stop the +wind from following.” + +“Gals are all the same,” said the factor morosely. “I mind Maimie. Tell +her to do a thing she didn’t want, and she’d look up and start to cry, +and I’d weaken and climb down. You bested Jake Peterssen, Rupe, but you +won’t best her.” + +“Come here, little squirrel,” was all I said, and Akshelah came like a +sunbeam and sat beside me, while the factor grunted and chopped tobacco. + +The owner of the house put his head in suddenly. + +“Say! there’s a feller wants to see you, Petrie. Got a message for you, +and he don’t want er stop. He’s standin’ outside.” + +I got up and whispered with MacCaskill. + +“Don’t leave the crowd, and you’re safe ’gainst all tricks,” he said. + +I went down at once, came to the doorway, and, awaiting me there in the +dim light, I found that wicked, white-faced little man, Olaffson, the +Icelander. + +Naturally, I began to accuse him, but he stopped me by pushing a note +into my hand. + +“I’ve broke with Redpath,” he said. “That’ll show ye where he is. He’s +away from here, an’ left me without a cent.” + +I was in a dilemma. I could only read well enough to make out a few +words of print, and this scrawl was something beyond me. I handed it +back, declaring that it was too dark to see, and at the same time +expressing my disbelief in its genuineness. + +“All right,” said the Icelander, “I ain’t your friend. I told you that +before. Now Redpath’s quit me. See here!” + +It was a plan which he held up in the dim light--a plan of water, +rocks, and hills. He lowered it quickly, with a grin upon his white +face. + +“Going to let me join you?” he suggested. “If you don’t move this time, +I’ve got a few pards around Gull, and they’ll jump fast enough, and +pool their savings.” + +I kept my wits about me. + +“You won’t catch me with bluff,” I said, for the plan was a different +one from that hidden even then in my pocket. + +“Mine ain’t a bad copy,” said the Icelander. “I was mindin’ your +clothes, you see, when you was scrappin’ wi’ Jake Peterssen; but I +ain’t a big man, an’ your pard never saw me at work. You won’t make an +offer, eh? I’ve treated you fair. Solong!” + +He stepped back from the door, while I tried to think coolly over what +he had told me. + +“Come up and see MacCaskill!” I called in conciliatory fashion; but the +little man replied: + +“Two to one in a room ain’t healthy. I’ve got what I want. See you +later, maybe.” + +He moved back into the rain and the darkness, and I had never a doubt +but that he was taking with him the knowledge of my father’s secret. I +had only to follow and bring him back, and accuse him of burning down +my home. My recently acquired popularity would ensure his conviction; +and the little scoundrel deserved hanging. + +I ran out, and when Olaffson saw that he was being pursued he took to +his heels like a coward, and made for the neck of shingle leading to +the mainland. In spite of my recent struggle, I soon began to gain on +him. We had drawn away from the shelters, and there was not a soul in +sight, while the rain lashed continually. + +Coming to a great rock, the Icelander stopped short and dodged round +it. I followed, sure of having him; but as I was about to make the +turn, a shock came upon me out of the darkness, and before I could +recover I was caught from behind, a sack went over my head, and I +was borne to the shingle, with the bitter knowledge that I had been +tricked, and that Olaffson had been used as a bait to draw me away from +the settlement. + +I had to abandon the struggle, for there were certainly three men +against me. My arms and legs were strapped; a hand sought for and found +the plan, and I heard the splutterings of a match, and knew that the +paper was being burnt. After a terrible interval I heard the tramp +of a heavy beast, followed by the deep snorting of a pack-ox. I was +dragged up, and seated upon this beast, one ankle was joined to the +other underneath its body, and the ox was started, and tramped on, as +it seemed, for hours, until I knew we were well away in the forest, +because the ground was hard, and there was no more rain. The ox was +prodded constantly, but my captors only spoke in deep whispers, which +did not reveal their identity. Olaffson I knew, and Redpath I knew; but +who was the third? + +I was cold, racked, and half-dead when the beast stopped. I was taken +down, too helpless to stand, and carried through scrub and long grass. +I was dragged up a wall, and let down upon soft, dry ground. Finally +my legs were released, the sack round my body unfastened, and I was +abandoned, but so utterly exhausted that I fell at once into a dead +sleep, indifferent as to what ill-use might be in store for me. + +When I awoke, the first thing that startled me was the utter silence +which told me of my isolation. I worked my head and shoulders clear +of the sack, and got upon my feet with many a twinge of pain and +stiffness. My back was one huge bruise, and my bandaged head throbbed +fearfully. + +Between a few lengths of lumber, placed above a small aperture in the +corner, came the sunlight to laugh at me. This hole was quite three +feet above my head. The walls were great blocks of solid masonry, and +I wondered at them, because I had never before seen any building which +had not been built of wood. I did all I knew to free my wrists, drawing +in my breath, dragging, pulling, wearing the straps upon the rough +wall; but my pinioners had made no mistake, and I was not the strong +man I had been yesterday. Anyhow, a man is a poor creature when his +arms are tied behind him. + +After a time--how long an interval I do not know, because I think I +must have slept again--the silence became broken, the lumber was pulled +away, and strong light emptied itself into my prison, making me start +and wince, and my eyes run. This new light was again obscured as a +big figure let itself through the hole, and descended by means of a +rope-ladder, which did not quite reach the ground. My eyes cleared, and +I saw under the light the great body and flabby face of the adventurer +Redpath. + +With one hand clutching the rope, he nodded at me in an altogether +friendly fashion, and began at once: + +“Good morning, Petrie. Pardon me for intruding upon your privacy; but +you may possibly remember that you were not--er--over-courteous to me +upon the occasion of our last meeting.” He put out his hand quickly. “I +do not wish to recall an unpleasant incident. I have always been a man +of forgiving nature, but I will, nevertheless, ask you to place your +own small discourtesy against any apparent indiscretion I may now be +guilty of.” + +He spoke in the easy, well-trained voice of the educated gentleman. He +waited, but when I did not speak, he went on: + +“I trust you slept well. You must really have been exhausted after that +fight. Allow me to congratulate you upon your well-earned victory. Your +exhibition of science and strength was an education. The little affairs +at a certain London Club which I once attended were quite fifth-rate +performances in comparison.” + +My tongue was loosened at that, and surprise conquered everything. + +“You were watching?” + +“And most profoundly interested,” said the adventurer, with soft +emphasis. “I was so fortunate as to secure an extremely favourable +position from which to view the spectacle. Your blows were perfect +models for any--er--prize-fighter to imitate. Concerning their power +and their accuracy, this unfortunate mark upon my own forehead +furnishes ample testimony. You do not see it? Ah, the light down here +is somewhat bewildering. By the way, you must have been wondering how +these stone buildings ever came to be here. Perhaps you are interested +in archæology? These stone remains take us, I assume, very far back +into the past, and I fancy you and I are the first men of culture to +light upon them. I should say, from a distinctly elementary knowledge +of paleontology, that they were originally erected by fire-worshippers; +but as your local knowledge is possibly extensive, I am quite prepared +to defer to your opinion.” + +He pulled out a cigar, standing before me, and went on smoothly: + +“You reserve your judgment? Well, I believe you are wise. These ruins +happen to be here, and they serve the sufficiently useful purpose of +affording you with shelter, and there can be no conceivable advantage +to either of us from determining what people or age saw them spring up. +I hope the rain did not come through last night. The roof seems solid +enough. Will you smoke? Ah, excuse me! I had not noticed that your arms +are temporarily unavailable.” + +His manner stunned me. I wanted to shout at him, to curse him, and +threaten him, but I was frozen and unmanned by his cynicism, and all I +did say was merely, “What do you want with me?” + +He seemed surprised. + +“I am, like you, my dear Petrie, most desperately dull, and it +occurred to me that it would be pleasant to drop in for a chat. There +are absolutely no gentlemen in this God-forsaken country. Besides, +your father and I were very intimate friends, before he went wrong. +I remember your birth well; indeed it was only a slight difference +with your father which prevented me from becoming your godparent. You +were a fine child, yes, a distinctly fine child, but I remember you +would never let me nurse you. In fact, you always showed a remarkable +aversion for me.” + +His flabby face shook with laughter as he fumbled for a match. + +That woke me up, and I said deliberately: + +“I guess you’ve got me, Mr. Redpath. You took me foul last night, and +you brought me here for your own ends. What’s going to happen to me +now, only you and Olaffson know; but unless you covered your tracks +well through the forest you’ve done a bad piece of work--” + +“My dear fellow,” interrupted the adventurer, “really you must not +suggest such things. It is not my fault if I happen to be entirely +dominated by that vile little brute Olaffson. It is a disgusting +confession for an Englishman to make, but it is none the less a fact. +That Icelander does what he likes with me. He twists me round and round +his little finger. He insisted on bringing you here, and for my life +I dared not cross him. Of course, you find it tedious here,” he went +on, relapsing into his former mood; “and it must be decidedly annoying +having your arms tied--tightly, if I mistake not? Should you be leaving +this place I must, as a friend, warn you against Olaffson. He is a +dangerous man, and what is worse, an utterly unscrupulous man.” + +“Are you two going to starve me?” I said. + +“My dear Petrie, you are indeed in a morbid mood!” was the answer I +received. + +In my sheer impotence I could have thrown myself against the stone +wall. My anger ran away with my prudence at last, and I swore at the +man, and cursed him, daring him to approach me, pinioned though I was. +He looked really disturbed, and when I had done, for lack of strength, +continued softly: + +“Too bad, Petrie! That excitement yesterday was too much for you. I +fear you suffer from fighting on the brain. But why speak of fighting +with me? My dear man, if you and I met in a little friendly bout I am +sure I should be unrecognisable to my friends in less than two minutes. +But since you have introduced the subject, what is your opinion of this +compact little protector?” He pulled a little plated revolver from +his hip pocket, and extended it towards me smilingly. “I bought it in +Winnipeg as I came through. It is said to be the best, as well as the +latest, thing in quick-firing. I carry it loaded, of course, though I +understand I am breaking the law of the country by doing so; but I am +sure you would be the last to condemn my action, because you know what +rascals there are about this land--it contains the scum of the earth, +Petrie, I do assure you. Then, you see, I am elderly and weak, and +almost as nervous as any old woman.” + +He finished this speech with a deprecatory smile, and returned the +weapon to its accustomed place in a dexterous fashion, as though well +accustomed to the use of it. + +“I guess you’re going?” I said, keeping down my madness by a great +effort. + +“Well, I suppose so. These partings are included among the petty +troubles of living. Ah, Petrie, if I were you! Lucky man! young and +strong, with all your life ahead. Look at me, old and poor, though, +by Gad! it seems only a year ago that I was sent down from Oxford +for defying the dons, as they termed it, in their injustice. Well, +good-bye, my boy. Take care always to steer clear of Olaffson. By the +way, I’m thinking of crossing the lake to hunt for gold.” + +He stood in the light, looking down at me slowly. + +I could not answer him--I could not! I had no learning and no wit to +make reply to this calm, cynical gentleman, who had come merely to +enjoy the sight of my degradation. He stepped upon the rope-ladder, +pushed himself out, the smoke of his cigar lingering; but before +replacing the lumber, his loose face appeared again, and he said: + +“If I don’t call again, Petrie, and I fully intend to give myself that +pleasure, you will understand that I have been prevented by pressing +business. This is such an out-of-the-way place, and of course, it is +very difficult to get at. Good-bye, and good luck!” Once more he looked +back to shout “The weather’s grand!” + +Darkness came after the sunshine, and the night followed, but Redpath +did not come back. The hours went by, taking with them another day, +and silence and loneliness were my meat and drink. When the night came +again I understood more clearly as vitality ebbed out of me. I was +abandoned to starvation in this old stone ruin of the bush. + + + + +CLERICAL ERRORS + + +I had shouted for hours, as it seemed to me, in the frail hope of +guiding some wandering Indian to my prison, until my throat went +dry, and my swollen tongue filled my mouth. The loneliness remained +unbroken. My wild voice broke against the stone roof, to fall back upon +me in fragments of wasted echoes. All this effort was unprofitable; I +was doomed. I was a missing man; my little course was to run out in +that mysterious ruin, and my bones were to be added to its antiquities. + +That which tormented me more than the desire for vengeance, more even +than the fear of death, was my utter helplessness--liberty was so near +to me. In my normal state I could so easily have jumped to catch the +square hole, and so dragged myself out to the roof; but I was pinioned, +and my arms, with all their muscle that I had learnt to be proud of, +were the first part of me to die. + +I sank slowly into a sleep which was not sleep, until a time came when +the pale moon lit and stabbed one shivering ray into my prison. I +writhed along the ground like some poor beast which has been shot in +the hinder part, and bathed my fevered face in that light. Anything for +the world again! My eyes were sore, my half-bandaged wounds stabbed +me, red spots spun confusedly wherever I looked. I was afraid of the +great loneliness, which suggested the more fearful silence I was about +to enter. As I sank towards oblivion I prayed for the sound of a voice, +even the growl of a beast or a bird-call, even a sad voice from the +grave. + +I shook off the stupor, and called aloud once more. It was not a shout +for help, but a shout of fear. The horror of the great shadow was over +me. + +The echoes had hardly settled down into the dust before my nerves, +strung to a terrible tension, thrilled and started with the shock of a +voice, and my ears caught the answering sound of a feeble cry out of +the night. + +“Rupe! Boy Rupe!” + +“MacCaskill,” I muttered in a delirium. + +Animal-like scrapings came against the outer wall; a beating upon +the stones, a great groan, and then a mad burst of laughter. Soon an +unearthly voice began to sing the song of joy, called the National +Anthem of the English. The wild sounds made the night tumultuous: + + “_Kitche milweletuk Kinwaish + Pimetesit. O Pimache!_” + +How had this native singer found me? How did he know my name? + +It was a bright night, and the wind was in the south. On such a night +the spirits of the dead are abroad, singing their songs of gladness. I +was about to die. I was able to hear, as I came near to join them. + +“God save the Queen!” wailed the voice, but now in English. Whether +this Queen were a living personage or a tutelary spirit, I did not +know. A scream made the air start, and then the sounds made words--“Me +son Rupe! Me son!” + +Now it dawned upon my failing brain that my father had come back, and +because I was not yet dead, I feared to meet him. Cry after cry pierced +the moonlight, with some weird laughter, and the sounds of an old man’s +trouble. The tumult seemed to me so great that I turned and weakly +muttered, “There must be a multitude, and they are all dead.” I tried +to turn my voice upward in the call, “Father!” + +The wandering voice spoke and answered clearly: + +“Comin’, Rupe. Have patience wi’ me, boy. I’ve ben a-lookin’ ev’ry +night. Ay, ay, ev’ry night a-lookin’, an’ a-watchin’, an’ a-callin’. +Ole father’s found ye.” + +I could make nothing of this. My father had only been dead a short +time. There was a scuffling upon the roof, and the old spirit went on +yelling the National Hymn, and danced to his own mad music. I then +heard the angry scratching of his nails upon the roof of my prison. + +“They hid the boy away here!” screamed the voice, shrill and cunning. +“I tried to stop ’em, but they wouldn’t have it. They said, ‘Git, ole +man!’ He was jest tired wi’ fightin’, was the boy. I could tell he’d +wake after a while. Rupe!” + +I shouted back, alive and conscious at last. + +A great stone crashed down, and the lumber bounded and splintered. +Piece by piece the prison bars disappeared, and the cool moonlight +dropped upon me. In vain I tried to move. I could not see my rescuer, +but I realised that he was happily seated at what he thought was the +entrance to my grave. His voice was hoarser, when he bent down to call, +“Rupe! They’re a-comin’ up all round!” + +He went on: + +“Bide low, while they clear away a bit. They’re screechin’ awful along +the creek, an’ the blue lights are jumpin’ crazy. I knew the dead were +around to-night. Bones were rattlin’ dreadful when I come out. There +was crowds of stiff ’uns a-whisperin’, an’ a-laughin’, an’ a-tumblin’ +around in the air, as crazy as sand-bugs. I looked for ye among ’em. +An’ I come out a-calling after ye. Bide a while, boy; I’m restin’ a +piece, afore pullin’ the earth off ye.” + +Slowly it came to my tired brain that I was being saved by a madman who +had lost a son bearing my name. + +The cunning voice above went on: + +“I told ’em I’d find ye, an’ ’twas no use talkin’. I said, ‘Boys all! +Rupe’ll come back one midnight. Ole moon’ll be good and full a-comin’ +over yon ledges, an’ ole south wind’ll blow soft, an’ the tree +heads’ll start to jump. I’ll come along the Creek o’ Corpses a-callin’ +Rupe, an’ I’ll find me boy. Sure, I’ll find him, an’ we’ll go home +together to the ole home on the lake.’” + +The voice had been pathetic, but it altered sharply and became angry. + +“She’s ben a-followin’ me ev’ry night, Rupe. She seemed lost to-night, +an’ she looked only a girl. She was a-comin’ this way--a-comin’ after +me, Rupe, a-comin’ to keep you down in the ground. You mind the squaw, +who fit worse’n a man, Rupe. You mind she wounded ye in the leg. You +didn’t see it out. Listen, boy! Listen to ole father!” + +His voice became a scream. + +“I’ll tell ye, Rupe. There was a man who fit wi’ a bush-axe, an’ doin’ +good, I tell ye, a-knockin’ ’em around fine, an’ the squaw made at him. +Eh! like a beast, boy, like a wil’ beast. She’d fixed her few, but +this ’un was too slick. He jumped ’way back, an’ when she come on with +her big cutter he dropped his axe, an’ she dropped--ay, dropped, an’ +doubled, an’ kicked once, an’ never used her knife again. I was that +man, Rupe.” + +His shrill laughter rang out triumphantly. + +“I set down, Rupe, ’cause we was beatin’ ’em fast, an’ I was winded, +being oldish. I got lookin’ around, an’ come to see a stiff’un a-lyin’ +close up. He was only a boy, you might say. Wounded ter’ble he was, an’ +lettin’ the blood run outer him like smoke outer a stove-pipe. You was +that man, Rupe.” + +He cut short his mad laughter, and I heard him move. + +Two crooked hands came weirdly through the aperture, and the voice +shouted at me. + +For a moment I forgot the madman in the horror of the thought that +Redpath might be near. My feeble heart seemed to be stopping, and a +succession of dreadful screams beat into my ears and realised my dread. + +“She’s found us, Rupe! The squaw’s a-comin’!” + +I was so fearfully weak that I even laughed at his grotesque fear. +Probably the woman he feared so greatly was some crooked shadow cast by +the moon. + +Then another voice came out of the night to tell me that the madman’s +eyes were true--a soft voice, not of the dead, nor of the insane, but +of the loving and living. + +“I am hungry, and very tired. I have searched for three days, and this +is the third night. I heard your voice in the bush, and so I have come.” + +The world was mine again! + +The old man sobbed, and panted, and screamed, and would not allow the +girl to come near. I could hear him running and howling, as she tried +to out-manœuvre him; but I was beyond aiding myself. I could not have +stood or walked had the walls fallen away from me. + +“Let me go to him!” pleaded Akshelah; but the maniac, with his +superstitious fears, would not hear of it. “Then I must fight you,” +said my maid. + +As I had lately fought Jake Peterssen for her good fame, so now +Akshelah fought the madman for my life. + +How long they actually contended I do not know, because Akshelah would +never tell me, but presently a light footstep ran overhead, a lithe +figure dropped through the hole, and Akshelah knelt beside me. She did +not speak, she had not the breath; but she freed my dead arms, and, +supporting my head upon her shoulder, gave me water of life out of a +little bottle. It seemed nothing but a taste, but more might have done +me harm. + +She took from her bosom a little meat and bread, which she had brought +from Gull, and though starving herself, had never touched, and fed me +sparingly. She wiped my face, and chafed my arms with her soothing +little hands, and while she worked to restore me I felt something +dripping upon my face from hers. The maniac’s long nails had scored +deep marks upon her cheeks and forehead. + +When I awoke from the long sleep into which she had soothed me it was +day. I felt weak and miserably ill, but this illness was due to life +returning, and not lessening; from finger-tips to shoulders my arms +were two separate tortures. Close beside me Akshelah lay curled up in +the sleep of exhaustion, her poor little brown face dreadfully stained +and pinched, and my heart cut me. Had this girl been wise she would +have remained in the shaded encampment among her own people, instead of +following my fortunes, to risk dangers by land and water, privations, +insults, death itself; and for what? Because she fancied I wanted +her? Because she had promised to be always my friend? Because she was +happier with me in danger than in comfort when I was away? Despite +all my ignorance, I thought that this last might prove to be the true +reason. + +Directly she woke, worn and wan, the girl began to laugh, and +mirthfully assured me that life was very enjoyable, even when one was +next door to starvation. My maid went on laughing when I expressed +a fear that Redpath might return, and she went on to tell me of the +notices posted about Gull Island, offering a reward for information +concerning me, and of MacCaskill, whom she had left running wild, but +“no good.” + +Then she swung herself from the prison, and I passed an anxious hour, +which I employed in trying to use my limbs. I had quite forgotten the +half-breed madman until Akshelah came back. + +“He is asleep in the grass, and bitten all over with flies,” she said. +“He is just where I sent him. I hit him like you hit the black man.” + +Soon I heard scrapings and whinings, and the feeble voice demanding +where I might be found. + +“We are close to the great water,” said Akshelah. “Look at the berries +I have brought you.” + +We ate the rich red berries, and drank the sweet water, while the +madman muttered and crawled overhead. When we had done, I declared that +I could move. Akshelah divided her red shawl in the middle, and having +secured the ends, tied one part about me under my arms. Climbing out, +she instructed the guardian of the “grave” to lay hold and pull. Now +that it was daylight, he had lost his great fear of her, and obeyed, +pulling wildly, until I was brought back to liberty. + +The stone building stood upon a clear circular space, some four hundred +yards in diameter, the circumference being the dense lumber forest. +Round my late prison a broken circle of huge monoliths occupied the +turf, some erect, some leaning, others recumbent; in later years I +saw in a book an illustration representing a similar circle of such +stones, which this book informed me were to be found at a place called +Stonehenge, somewhere in England. On the south side I could see the +beginning of the dip, which the old man called the Creek of Corpses. +Formerly, I presume, a fight had taken place in the neighbourhood +between the natives and the Hudson Bay Company, and the dead had been +buried along this creek. Redpath had discovered this spot, which formed +the centre of a veritable natural labyrinth, as he had a faculty for +finding out most things, and had conjectured that it would make a safe +and suitable place to entomb me in return for the blow I had given him. + +It became a problem how to rid myself of the ragged, hairy old creature +who clung to my arm, babbling unceasingly. At length I decided to +go with him, because he had a log hut near the beach, and I was too +weak to walk any distance. We made our way by easy stages through +the forest, until a strong sheet of light flashed before us, and I +felt that I was indeed alive. I shared all the native love, and in +part their superstition, for the water; and here it was--bright and +beautiful Lake Peace! My exclamation found its echo from the mad hermit +who claimed me for his son: + +“You mind it, Rupe? Course you mind it! Round the point, jest roun’ +yon tamarac bluff, there’s the ole shanty same as ever. You mind our +fishin’ nights, when the moon was good, an’ how we pulled out the +white-fish? Mind ole Bill Alloway, wi’ his face like a cat-fish? Mind +one time, when we was fishin’, an’ Bill Alloway pulls off his shirt +an’ pants, an’ swims an’ dives around? Sudden, yer line gits a holt +on something big, an’ you pulls an ole cat-fish half outer the water +in the moonlight. ‘Father,’ ye lets out, ‘father! Darned if I haven’t +caught ole Bill Alloway!’” + +The old man tumbled upon the grass, laughing, and picked the white moss. + +His shanty stood on the edge of the cliff, where the tamaracs overhung +the rocks, and a wonderful white beach, a hundred yards in width, and +fantastically marked with the pattern of webbed feet, ran down to the +lake. The hut was so dirty that we made a camp outside. I quickly +caught some white-fish, thus proving my skill as a fisherman, despite +my failure on the evening when I first met Akshelah. When night had +fallen, the girl left me to find her way to Gull. The old man’s madness +came on again with the moon, and he implored me to escape with him, +so that I had little sleep; but I could not be hard upon the poor +creature, because, had it not been for him, Akshelah would probably +never have found me, or have only done so when Redpath would have been +satisfied with my state. + +In the morning, when the lake was a cold grey, and the white mist hung +in ghost-wreaths, Akshelah returned, and brought MacCaskill, weary and +short of breath, with her. + +Between the saw-mills and the shingle beach which brought out to Gull +Island was a long building of rough lumber, roofed with shingles. +Over the entrance appeared a long board, bearing in large, irregular +capitals the information, “Tommy’s Restaurant-Hotel.” Underneath hung a +square board, upon which was inscribed the tariff of the house, which +read, according to MacCaskill, exactly as follows:-- + + Square Meal 25c. + One-Day-Filler 50c. + Gorge 75c. + Straight Drink 20c. + Mixed Drink 25c. + Bed 1dol. + + No Bugs, unless you bring ’em. + +We reached this rough but isolated hostelry about midnight, the four of +us, because the madman followed me persistently, and we went inside to +rest. MacCaskill explored the silent house, and when he returned, his +face looked as though he had received a fright. + +“Come wi’ me,” he whispered. “Take hold of me arm, and walk careful. +Don’t let ’em see you.” + +Along the passage were several compartments reserved for gambling, and +we could look into any of these without well being seen, because the +passage was unlighted, and the tobacco smoke inside hung in clouds. +In the compartment indicated by the factor I saw a poker four deep in +their game, and I was able to name each man. + +The gamblers were--Jim Morrison, the sailor who had accosted me from +the car my first morning in Gull; Gedeon Leblanc, the half-breed; +Olaffson, the unmitigated scoundrel; and the man who had called himself +Father Lacombe, the well-known missionary of Three Points. + + + + +III + +ON A FRESHWATER SEA + + + + +MORNING + + +At last the rumbling motion overhead had ceased. The hum of the screw +and the beat of the engine, with the back-wash of the water as the keel +slipped through, told me that the _Carillon_ had cast off from Gull +Harbour, and was away on her north-eastern trip for the Little Peace +River. + +I rose from my recumbent position behind the fish barrels in the hold, +but I went down again, and as promptly as though a pistol had been +levelled at my forehead. A couple of sailors stood together in the +half-light, and I had recognised them at once as the half-breed Leblanc +and the ill-favoured Morrison, who had presumably slipped away together +from deck, so soon as their labours were over, that they might discuss +certain plans of their own out of earshot. + +“Gimme a bite of eatin’ tobaccer,” growled Morrison at the outset, and +set me reflecting that the man was always asking for something. I heard +the shuffling of cowhide shoes, followed by sundry unhealthy sounds +of expectoration, then the same voice said, “There’s a-goin’ to be +scrappin’?” + +“You min’ yer talk. See, Bill? If you’d ben made wi’ no tongue you’d be +better fixed right now.” + +I reflected that Leblanc was master here. + +“When I talk, I watch who listens. Gimme a drop o’ liquor.” + +“Ain’t got none.” + +The men shuffled closer to my hiding-place. + +“Do we scrap, or don’t us?” demanded Jim Morrison. + +“We don’t have to,” said Leblanc. “It’s skin eyes and shut mouth. When +they done the findin’, than up we come. See?” + +“Say, but what about this Redpath? Teaser, ain’t he?” + +“Do what he tells ye, Jim,” said the half-breed, and I could tell by +his voice that he was ill at ease. “Redpath don’t have no monkeyin’. If +we ain’t clean to him, he’ll start to work an’ snuff us out, same as +he’s done to Rupe Petrie. If he says ‘Lick me boots,’ we goter lick. +See?” + +“Will I talk to Olaffson?” suggested Jim Morrison. “Maybe he’d come +useful.” + +Leblanc grunted. + +“He’ll chalk his own track. There’s only one man, ’sides Redpath, what +could spile us, an’ he’s ben spilt hisself. He could have bruke the lot +of us, same as he bruke Jake Peterssen.” + +“Ole Mac, he ain’t no sort er good?” muttered Morrison. + +“No sort, now his pard’s gone.” + +“Gimme a match.” + +A high-pitched voice came sounding into the hold, and I recognised the +cry of Sandy, the mate. + +The men separated at once, climbing out of the hold at opposite ends; +while I jumped over the barrels, and stretched myself in the open, +feeling strong and fit again. + +MacCaskill and I had foreseen that the ship would be full of plotting, +but I had now learnt that the cross-plots were likely to prove of a +more serious nature than we had anticipated. + +Leblanc knew something of old Fagge’s secret, and he had taken Morrison +into his confidence; while assuming to be in abject submission to +Redpath, they were planning how to best him. I was sorry for them. + +In determining the position, I made it out to be that Leblanc and +Morrison were against everyone; MacCaskill and myself against Redpath +and the Icelander, with, incidentally, the two thick-skulled sailors; +Redpath always for himself; Olaffson nominally for the adventurer, +actually for himself. MacCaskill and myself formed the only genuine +alliance, with Akshelah to aid us, and I felt we were good enough to +carry the position. + +After recognising Redpath under the disguise of Father Lacombe, the +factor made the plan to keep me hidden. He had brought me on board the +_Carillon_, and stowed me away below the night before sailing; while +he had come aboard in the ordinary way with Akshelah, who, of course, +could not be induced to return to Yellow Sands. + +It was while waiting for the vessel to get well out to sea from Gull +that I had overheard the conversation between the two sailors. + +Swinging myself up out of the hold, I made along the lower deck, +enjoying the prospect of the consternation my presence must cause. + +Suddenly a very different voice came to me. + +One more step over the greasy boards, and I caught a side glance of the +entrance to the engine-room, and my heart went a little faster, because +I had seen the abrupt flicker of a black skirt. + +Scarcely five yards away, blocking the entry, stood my hereditary +enemy, his back towards me, still preserving the disguise of the +black-bearded priest. + +Without a sound, I seated myself upon one of the numerous barrels, +full in the open, the gloom of the ship falling behind me. I knew that +Redpath must turn and see me sitting there, silent and motionless, with +my eyes fixed upon him. I thought it possible that the sight might +scare him pretty badly. + +Thus situated, I could hear the adventurer speak, and at the same time +I imagined that the engineer could not be very happy at being examined +by this particular passenger. + +It was impossible to hear Pete’s replies, but Redpath’s questions were +sufficiently audible. + +“You must often find the heat down here intolerable?” he suggested, +in his kindly tones. “Ah, yes, it would reduce a fat man considerably. +While the weather remains as at present you must find your duty a +pleasure. What? No, I did not observe the sound. My ears are not +trained like yours.” + +He stepped back until he was quite outside the engine-room, and I made +certain that he would turn and discover me. But after listening, he +returned to his former position, and went on: + +“I suppose we must expect a fresher wind, now that we are approaching +the open sea. Ah, I heard it then. What effect does the moving of that +lever have?” + +He waited for the reply, which was inaudible to me, and continued with +increased interest: + +“For reducing the pressure. I see. If you desired to lower the speed so +as to stop the vessel? Yes. And for starting? Ah, I quite understand. +What? Shift the lever gently and gradually, as she gains way. Ah, yes, +it is all very interesting, and equally instructive. To a man of my +calling, a very full, general knowledge becomes indispensable. It will +be obvious to you that at some future date a contingency might possibly +befal, which would make it imperative upon me to understand how to +control such a vessel as this. The knowledge you are now giving me in +an idle moment might well lead to the saving of many precious human +lives. Thank you, my son!” + +How could the man do it? + +A great wave flung itself against the side; and when it had beaten +back, Redpath was saying: + +“Quite so. I can easily believe that in the hour of danger the +engineer’s position becomes especially full of peril. Now, if this fair +weather continues, when may I expect to be landed at the mouth of the +Little Peace?” + +I suppose the engineer referred to the chance of delay, because the +adventurer said presently: + +“You need not remind me. I know this dangerous lake, with its +mysterious storms, which, as you say, spring up suddenly under a clear +sky, and vanish with the speed of their coming. I have heard so many +sad tales from my own flock, so many poor Indian fishermen lost, so +many lumber scows wrecked. It is very pitiful!” + +The rascal coughed sanctimoniously. His back was still towards me; I +wondered that he had not felt my presence so very near to him. + +A big shaft of light fell through the hatchway ahead, and suddenly a +couple of burly legs appeared on the ladder in that light. Then Factor +MacCaskill trod heavily down, and saw me when he had made a few paces; +and he saw also the mock priest between us, and was quick-witted enough +to grasp the situation, and clever enough to use it to the full. He +checked himself abruptly when a couple of short paces divided him from +Redpath, and his glance went heedlessly past the masquerader, to settle +upon me with a well-simulated expression of fear and amazement. + +“Golden gates of Jerusalem!” called the old fellow, making his voice +thick and unsteady, and allowing his pipe to drop upon the deck. + +The adventurer swung round between us, and in one moment his face +became like the underpart of a fish. The flesh seemed to shrink up +under its covering of false hair, and his eyes were like two little +pits of oil. He had confessed that his body was weak--he had almost +boasted of it--but his will was like steel. For the moment only it +bent, and the next was strong again. His eyes left me and settled upon +MacCaskill, and the factor looked him back like an honest man, without +yielding an inch or ceding a wink. I left my barrel, and stepped +forward with all the indifference I could muster. + +“Where in the name of everything upon earth have ye sprung from, Rupe?” +exclaimed MacCaskill. + +“I only stowed myself among the cargo,” I said, for the benefit of +listeners. Then I turned towards Redpath and Pete, who put his startled +face out of the hot oil-smelling recess, “How are you, father?” I said, +with all the confidence of having the stronger hand. + +The adventurer stuck to the rules of his game. + +“My dear young man!” he exclaimed, with splendid affection, emphasising +each syllable with ease and unction. “This is, indeed, a joyful +surprise. Why, we have all been in mourning for you!” + + + + +AFTERNOON + + +Lennie’s mask-like face became animated when I was introduced at +dinner-time into the deck-cabin where meals were served. Questions +began to buzz about my ears like mosquitoes on a damp evening. I told +the story of my kidnapping, although I professed to be ignorant of my +captors’ names, and when I had said all I intended to, the captain +began to talk. + +“Jake Peterssen never done it,” he stated. “You beat Jake, an’ he took +his beatin’. There wasn’t one madder than him when ’twas told you’d ben +misplaced. No, sir, Jake was fair spoilin’ to fix the man what took you +foul. He said right through you’d ben took foul. Ain’t that so, Pete?” + +Pete acquiesced, and Lennie disregarded his dinner and talked on. + +“Well, now, there’s ben strange doings at Gull this trip.” He lowered +his voice, peered about, and whispered, “Where’s the father?” + +“Outside,” said the steward. “Said he wasn’t wantin’ his grub till some +of ye was through.” + +Lennie became mysterious. + +“Some of ye must have heard tell of Father Lacombe of Three Points. +They say he’s a priest what always wants to stretch the days out at +work, and don’t have no use for settin’ around. They do say he’s +a-goin’ to be next archbishop, ’cause he went to a place called +Rome two year ago, a-payin’ calls on ole Father Holiness. Well, +now, we don’t give a darn whether he’s goin’ to be archbishop or +church-scraper; but here’s the trouble: What’s the father’s racket +a-bummin’ around Gull these days on the idle, watchin’ the boys at +scrap, and going inter Tommy’s Restaurant wi’ a bad crowd? Tommy +wouldn’t get to give him away, ’cause that sort of thing ain’t +bis’ness; but some of the boys saw him go in along wi’ toughs. Well, +there’s that, an’ there’s the boy bein’ took foul, an’ there’s that +steamer.” + +It became my turn to ask a question. + +“We’d got away from Gull this mornin’, when Sandy sights a steamer +runnin’ at the island from the south,” went on Lennie sadly. “She was +comin’ full rip, an’ not flyin’ any flag far as we could see. Sandy +made out she was the _Firefly_ of the Force, but I’ll take me oath she +was the _Sault Ste. Marie_ of the Hudson Bay. Don’t matter which she +was. What does she want around Gull, anyhow? This is the only boat that +goes to Gull, ’cept the lumber scows.” + +Lennie looked round the table sourly, and went on: + +“We’re goin’ to have a bad trip. That’s a dead sure thing. When I set +down to breakfast before startin’ I found a flap-bug in me porridge. +Takes a black dog wi’ a wall-eye to beat that for luck.” + +After dinner MacCaskill and I talked upon deck, while Akshelah sat +herself in the sun, her deft fingers engaged in repairing certain +ravages in my coat. The factor thought that the opposition threatened +by Leblanc and Morrison would be more likely to benefit than to injure +us. “Sort of divides the aces,” was his comment. He went on to impress +upon me the necessity for deceiving Redpath by making him believe that +he was deceiving us, and here I had a question to ask, because I wanted +to learn how the adventurer had come by his disguise. + +“It’s as clear as sky, Rupe, that he brought the fixings along to +Yellow Sands,” the factor said. “He’s ben playin’ some lively game down +east, or down south, and havin’ to get out at a small hole he fixed +himself up as a priest and came north for his health. Likely he didn’t +change that rig until he got to Yellow Sands River, and heard tell of +ole Petrie. By that time he reckoned he’d show up as his own ugly self.” + +I was for telling Lennie the truth, but MacCaskill, who knew the world, +pointed out danger. Redpath would never allow himself to be taken +without bloodshed. Even if placed under confinement, he would possibly +win over the crew by promising to share his secret with them. By this +time I began to understand what men will do for “the dirt.” A mutiny +might follow, and we should certainly be worsted. + +“We’ll have a chance to get ahead of him,” went on the factor. “The +_Carillon_ drops us at the Little Peace, and from there we work our way +north along the coast.” + +He called to Akshelah. + +“Know what sort of folk live at the mouth of the river, my gal?” + +Akshelah looked up, her eyes full of thought, and said presently: + +“If the people of Mekawask are there, they are our friends.” + +“They will let us have a big canoe?” + +“I will get you a canoe,” said the girl proudly. + +“And Redpath will steal one,” added the factor morosely. + +“I will tell the tribe,” went on the girl. “They will watch their +canoes, and if the man comes to steal, they will shoot at him.” + +MacCaskill chuckled, “I guess we’ve got his reverence.” + +Hardly had he spoken when the man himself came out of the cabin, and +began to pace the deck on the opposite side to us. His cassock was held +up behind by a safety-pin, and he wore the hard felt hat in which he +had landed at Gull. He carried his disguise well. + +That he was promenading with a motive beyond mere exercise was soon +made evident; he gave a side movement with his head. I could not be +sure that he was signalling me, but when I made no response, he boldly +beckoned me with his hand. + +“See what his game is, but don’t let him fool you, or take you from +deck,” said MacCaskill. + +“If you go to him I shall come with you,” said Akshelah, flinging down +my coat, her eyes lighting. “He will overcome you with his eye, and +throw you into the water.” + +“Stop where you are,” I ordered, quite sharply, but apparently young +women delight in disobedience. + +Akshelah immediately rose up and accompanied me. + +I felt a sense of shrinking as I came up to the big, strong-willed man. +His keen eyes passed over me, before he spoke in his courteous manner. + +“Can we not dispense with the--er--young lady, Petrie?” + +He was not going to play the priest with me, because he understood that +I had seen through his disguise. + +Akshelah faced him at once. + +“I am going to stay here,” she said angrily. + +The adventurer nodded and smiled at me. + +“A positive young Xantippe, my dear fellow. Do you speak French?” + +I did not know what he meant, but rightly replied in the negative, and +motioned Akshelah to stand a little aside. She took her stand to the +right of me, watching Redpath unflinchingly. Farther along I could see +the factor’s straw bonnet bobbing up and down excitedly. + +“Have you anything to say to me?” I said, feeling how much rather I +would openly fight with this man, because when it came to a contest of +tongues I had no chance. + +“In the first place, I have to congratulate you upon your escape from +Olaffson and his gang of rascals,” said Redpath heartily. “I did what +I could for you. Little, I confess, but I was powerless to do more. By +the way, did this disguise deceive you at all?” + +“Yes, at first.” + +I tried not to be staggered at his coolness. + +“I never intended to deceive you. I was compelled to assume +these--er--priestly habiliments in order that I might be able to +conceal my identity from our mutual enemies. The plan succeeded well +enough with these unobservant creatures, though I never flattered +myself that I had misled an intellectual and social equal.” He was +playing with his false beard while he spoke. “I had more than one +narrow escape myself, which I will tell you of later--these wretched +men are so suspicious.” He came a little closer, his glance falling +upon MacCaskill in the distance. “You think your servant is to be +trusted?” + +I knew that he was playing with me, yet I could not retaliate upon this +calm, cynical gentleman. He managed to exert a marvellous power over +me. I answered him as meekly as possible. + +“He is my friend, and I know I can trust him.” + +Redpath looked surprised, and a little concerned. + +“My dear fellow,” he said, in a deeper voice, “are you quite prudent? +Pardon me. I do not question the sincerity of your motives, but do you +think you are wise? The man is palpably not of our station in life. He +looks simple and good-hearted, but it really never pays to take a man +of so humble an origin into full confidence. I feel sure you have acted +for the best, but, as your partner in this enterprise, I feel called +upon to offer a word of advice, if not warning. You must remember I +am older than you, and I have been deceived so often.” He sighed, and +shook his head mournfully. “It is pitiful to think how often I have +been deceived. Even your own father, Petrie--better man never breathed, +and yet he wronged me bitterly, dear fellow! How often I have sighed +the reproachful utterance of the old poet, ‘It was even thou, my +companion!’” + +He turned from me, and fixed his false eyes upon the flickering lights +and colours of the water. + +All that I could say was: + +“Are you going to keep up your disguise all the trip?” + +“I have no choice,” came the answer. “Only you and your--I should say +our--servant, with this young lady, will know that I am not Father +Lacombe, of the upland mission. My dear fellow, I am exercising all my +ingenuity to conceal my identity from Olaffson and Leblanc, the latter +a loose-tongued scoundrel who knows far more than he ought, and who +goes about the ship dropping hints among his miserable associates. Any +one of them would murder either of us cheerfully if they were to gain +by doing so.” + +I pulled myself together. + +“You were with them in Tommy’s Restaurant. You were playing poker with +them.” + +If I had thought to abash him, I had made a mistake. + +“Yes,” he said, with his quiet, kindly smile. “It was all I could do +for you, my boy. I kept the three scoundrels engaged, hoping you might +escape in the meantime, and as events transpired, you succeeded in +doing so. I understand that some of the priests do mix with the men +upon their stations, and play cards with them, in order that they may +get into closer touch. I chose that place because it happened to be +well away from Gull, and I was the less likely to be noticed. It was +somewhat of a strain to sustain my character before men who know me +as myself, but as you managed to escape, I am amply rewarded for the +endeavour.” + +My reasoning powers fell to pieces. Both MacCaskill and I had +recognised Redpath in the gambling compartment, because he was sitting +in the light, with his hat off, and we could see the upper part of +his face. The mere fact of his being shut up with Olaffson and the +two sailors was sufficient proof for us. The man could hardly want to +deceive his own confederates. My disgust at the impudence of the lie +gave me courage to say: + +“You tell me that you were playing poker with the men, while they never +knew who you were?” + +“My dear fellow!”--he had a superior, yet pleasant, way of saying +this--“of course they knew. They still believe, all three of them, that +I am the Reverend Gabriel Lacombe, head of the upland mission of Three +Points, a very worthy priest, although sufficiently worldly to take a +well-earned holiday--shall we say gold-hunting?” + + + + +EVENING + + +Akshelah looked very handsome as she sat on a clean brown coil of rope, +with all the colours of the evening playing round her head. I had been +silent for so long that my maid at last sought to learn the cause. I +told her that I had been thinking of home, and I was sure that Antoine +would allow the thistles to take possession of my clearing. Then +Akshelah told me a secret. + +“After you had gone away my father called the people together,” she +said, with startling gravity. “The new factor lent axes, and the men +were cutting the logs along Split Leaf Creek when I came away in my +canoe.” + +The girl looked at me and laughed, and I had to ask what she meant. + +“The chief promised that your new home should be ready before the +ending of Nepin; and when my father says a thing, it is done. But +Antoine said you would never come back.” + +These were the people who had sworn to give me their friendship! +Akshelah went on regarding me with her fawn-like eyes. + +“Ah, I know,” she said quickly, delighted at having caught the +impression. “You see no owls.” + +She meant I was suffering from home-sickness. When a camp moves to new +ground there are no owl visitors at first, and the people think of +their late home where the birds came each night. + +“I am glad,” said the girl; but when I asked why, she only said again, +“I am glad,” and laughed and sang until MacCaskill came up, large and +hot. + +Now Akshelah was not overwhelmed with affection for MacCaskill, whom +she considered too serious a being for her world; so she went on +singing, by way of protest at his having added himself to our company, +and called down upon herself the rebuff, “Quit your noise, gal!” Then +she said petulantly: + +“It is the song of the god of the green mantles.” + +“Well, quit it,” said the factor. “I’ve no use for it. Gals are always +a-worryin’ ye,” he muttered morosely. “They’ll worry on the Day of +Judgment, an’ after that if they ain’t stopped. Don’t matter where ye +go, there they are, a-waitin’ to worry ye, first chance, or no chance +at all.” + +The old fellow was upset. He had been scouting below, and had +encountered Olaffson, resting after a spell of stoking. The Icelander +had answered every question with astonishing readiness. He had owned +that he was following the fortunes of Father Lacombe, but having no +money, was working his passage. Men were not plentiful, and the great +majority preferred the well-paid labour of the lumber and fishing +stations to the poor pay and hard life upon the dangerous sea. The +unprincipled Olaffson had reiterated his willingness to devote himself, +body and soul, to our service, and finally had sworn entire ignorance +as to the whereabouts of Redpath. + +“I thought the little skunk was a fool,” MacCaskill burst forth, +“guessin’ Redpath supplied the brains of the business. It ain’t so, +Rupe. Olaffson swore how Redpath had left him before they got to Gull, +promising to meet him there, but never came to time. Swore he hadn’t +set eyes on him since.” + +“He’s lying,” I said. + +“Course he’s lyin’. It’s the way he does it that worries me.” + +A party came to join us, Lennie, the mate, Dave second engineer, and +the steward, old and greasy, with fish scales clinging to his bare +arms. Before the convivial plug of tobacco had finished its first +round, the mock priest himself appeared, holding the skirt of his +cassock in a long white hand. The officers of the ship obsequiously +made space. + +“What a magnificent evening!” murmured the adventurer, as he took his +place among us. + +What was his plan? + +I was too well accustomed to the radiant atmosphere of my country to +give particular notice to the sunset. The warmth was perfect; the +ship slipped freely through the tinted water; there were scarcely any +insects; over the west blazed the red, the gold, and the blue. + +Lennie extended awkwardly the ragged plug torn by many teeth, with the +invitation: + +“Will ye chew, father?” + +“I never chew,” came the answer. “But I am not prohibited from smoking.” + +MacCaskill peered across, and grunted audibly. + +Beside the starboard beam behind me some sailors were coiling ropes, +and I heard a hoarse voice exclaim, “Gimme a match!” so I knew that Jim +Morrison was near. + +The presence of the supposed priest stopped conversation. Having +lighted his pipe, Redpath looked over the silent group in his gracious +manner, then, clasping his fingers together, leaning forward, looking +at the sunset, he said: + +“Let me hear the experiences of some of you. The mind is necessarily +active at evening time. Having lived much in the solitude, each one +of you must have felt, at some time or another, the power exerted by +solitude upon the imagination.” + +The men looked unhappy, because this kind of talk was far beyond them. +Dave slewed his head round, and whispered to me: + +“If the father would curse a bit, I’d make him out, maybe.” + +Then Lennie stirred, and spoke for the credit of his position and his +ship. + +“I ain’t used to company wi’ priests, father,” he said apologetically, +“but I did run agin a reg’lar boss one time, and I guess it’s the sort +of experience you’re after. ’Twas away down Grande Marais, time they +struck that find of copper. One evening I walked around to take a look +at the place, an’ struck an oldish chap, a-settin’ on a heap of wash, +an’ a-rubbin’ his leg. He was in long leggings, an’ a soft hat, an’ +a flannel shirt, an’ a strap ’bout his middle, an’ I made out he was +a miner, though I allow he didn’t talk like one. We give each other +the nod and the good weather, an’ I said to him, ‘What’s your line, +stranger?’ an’ he said, sort o’ bashful, ‘Well, I’m a bishop come +to visit the miners.’ I got a-laughin’ at that, an’ course I wasn’t +a-goin’ to be beat, so I spoke up. ‘Ye don’t want to talk about it, +ole boy, but I’m jest a crowned head come around to patronise the +circuses.’ Then he set a-laughin’ fit to choke. But I tell ye, anyone +could have folded me up small, an’ stuffed me away inter a hand-grip, +when the boys come to tell me that same night how the ole chap was a +bishop.” + +A short laugh went up, but evidently the men belonging to the ship had +heard the story before. + +“You have not altogether grasped my meaning,” went on the soft voice, +in mild reproof. “It was my idea to learn how solitude affects your +minds individually. Let me give you a personal illustration.” + +He kept his eyes upon the ever-changing colours on the water, and the +men looked at one another in distress. + +“Experience in a lonely mission, even with much to occupy my thoughts, +has shown me that solitude makes a man dream. They are strange things +these dreams, and harmful if allowed to dominate the mind, but the +unhappy part of it is that they pass rapidly, leaving merely a sense of +melancholy, which, I am ashamed to say, will sometimes interfere with +duty.” + +The adventurer bent his head, coughed, then proceeded: + +“One cannot hold and retain these fancies, any more than one can detain +and fasten down a shadow. The entire charm of a dream is for the +dreamer. He can think over it and enjoy it, but if he be rash enough +to undertake a description he will find he can neither begin, nor +continue, nor end. He has, in short, nothing to talk about. We have +this dream-like picture of Nature around us now.” He threw his two +hands away from him. “Let us suppose that the most graphic writer the +world knows should pen a description of this scene, and that the same +should be given us to read. We should find it wanting, and although we +may be comparatively illiterate, our imagination, quickened by living +long in the solitude, would be able to supply all the deficiencies in +this description, so long as we kept to our thoughts.” + +“Say!” exclaimed Dave miserably; “what language is it, anyhow?” + +Was there anything going on in another part of the ship? + +The pleasant voice made me sleepy, despite my suspicions. + +“I may say that my own temperament is artistically affected by, +firstly, such a coloured evening as this; secondly, by moonlight upon +the water; and thirdly, by music. How often have we watched the burning +pathway of the moon! How often have we longed to take our boat along +that road, which we have thought may lead to some unknown land of +happiness! You follow my meaning?” + +MacCaskill was laughing behind his hand. + +“Quite a priest!” muttered Dave admiringly. + +“I kin understand a young feller a-settin’ out in the moon,” said the +steward ponderously. “Did it meself one time, when I was worryin’ ’bout +me little gal, though it only come to her marryin’ a feller wi’ a +tidier face than mine.” + +The adventurer resumed his high-flown talk. What he said might be +nonsense, but it succeeded in producing the impression he desired, and +in bringing the majority of his listeners under his influence. Had +I not known the real identity of the speaker, his musical voice and +delightful manner would have captured me with the spell that held the +others. + +I closed my ears and used my eyes. The first thing I noticed was that +Akshelah had gone fast asleep. My second discovery showed me that +the mate was standing behind me, his face perfectly vacant. Redpath +still talked, and his sentences became more elaborate. MacCaskill was +smoking heavily, his hat tilted over his eyes. + +Suddenly an extraordinary impulse caused me to exclaim loudly: + +“Who’s at the wheel?” + +An ominous silence followed, during which I became conscious that my +voice had not been untouched with suspicion. Redpath stopped in the +middle of a parenthesis, and his head came round. I felt small and weak +when his eyes met mine. + +Sandy woke up, and Lennie opened his mouth in indignation: + +“You’re runnin’ this ship since when? What you want rattlin’ the father +when he’s preachin’? Ship’s all right, ain’t it?” + +“The young man is excitable,” said Father Lacombe magnificently. + +“The Icelander we took on at Gull’s at the wheel,” said Sandy, +addressing the captain. “I gave it up to him for a spell. He steers +good enough.” + +MacCaskill shifted himself sharply, and I was sure the idea of +treachery entered his mind also. + +I had not lived with Nature all my life without learning how to +interpret her moods. The silence had become unnatural; the throb of the +screw was intensely loud; the atmosphere was as motionless as a sheet +of glass; the water had become stagnant; a single mosquito hovered +overhead, and gave out a noise like a trumpet. My glance went to the +south, where trouble arises. A livid cloud, shaped like a snake, +ascended slowly from the water-line, its “tail” wriggling madly. It was +the time of my triumph, and I pointed with a warning cry. + +The colours of the sunset settled into a uniform haze of a deep red so +intense as to be almost black. + +Lennie was up in an instant. + +“Dave!” he shouted, his voice pealing fearfully into the hollow +silence, “slow her down.” He turned to Sandy. “I’ll take the wheel.” + +Only a minute back we had been in daylight, but already gloom had begun +to settle, and the air was full of insects. + +“A bad night to follow,” said Redpath resignedly. It was the night he +had looked for. “There will be neither moon nor stars to cheer us on +our way.” + +A crash sounded from the wheel-house, the smash of shivered glass, +the thud of a weighty body upon deck, an awful commotion in the +overwhelming silence, and the ship swerved off her course like a tired +horse. + +Lennie ran forward, and almost collided with Olaffson, whose white +face looked horrid in the gloom. He carried a big stone, shapeless and +water-marked. + +“Fell from heaven!” he gasped, “outer the clouds, an’ near fixed me. +Fell right inter the compass and smashed it up.” + +The adventurer put out his long hands and took the stone. + +“A meteorite,” he said slowly. “Such accidents have occurred before.” + +He turned, and heaved the fragment overboard. I had seen plenty like it +upon the beach at Gull. + +Lennie was shivering with superstition as he spun the wheel round. + +“Stone from heaven above beats all,” he muttered. Then he called: +“Sandy, bring the spare compass outer my cabin! Get a move on.” + +The mate went, and was soon back. The compass was not to be found. + +Lennie swore desperately, resigned his charge of the wheel, and +searched himself, but with the same result. + +“You must have mislaid it, captain,” suggested Sandy, while the great +silence before the wind was heavy upon us. + +Then Father Lacombe stepped forward, and extended a small, toy-like +thing with his unfailing courtesy. + +“I have here, captain, a little compass, which I carry to guide me in +my journeys through the forest,” he said, anxious for the safety of the +ship. “If it will be of any service to you in determining your course, +consider it entirely at your service.” + + + + +SEEKWAH, WHO BLOWS GOOD TO NO ONE + + +A murmur passed through the air, and the last tinge of red light +succumbed to the hot haze, while the dry storm raced up, and the cloud +came well away from the water, whirling more slowly because its bulk +had increased. + +I was superstitious enough to feel afraid when Akshelah, her face pale +and small with fear, assured me that a priest was one who controlled +the occult sciences, and that Redpath had undoubtedly obtained the +power by the mere assuming of the character. All evil comes from the +south, according to native belief. It is the south wind, Seekwah, who +blows good to no one. + +“Rupe, I’m going around the ship,” said MacCaskill hastily. + +He went one way, and I the other. + +Approaching the stern hatchway, the figure I feared rose suddenly, and +there was no avoiding the black-clad man, who greeted me affectionately. + +“My dear fellow, we are doing excellently. You were admiring my scheme +and my scholarship, were you not? Very neat, eh? Altogether beyond +those fools, whom we could have held there half the night. You timed +your interruption capitally. By Gad! we are working well together.” + +My courage came up in arms. + +“You’re not going to keep me here now,” I said defiantly. + +He moved from the hatchway, all smiles and good humour. + +“Good man, you set me a splendid example of keenness! Ah, you have +youth and energy to back you! I shan’t ask your plan, because I feel +convinced we can best attain our end by acting independently. We +understand each other. Keep a sharp look-out below, old man. They are +a rascally lot, and accidents easily happen during a storm. See you +presently.” + +What was the use of me thinking I could fight this man! + +I watched him move away, and was about to descend when a cold pressure +came across my face. The water, which had spread away like oil, broke +at the same moment into a shiver; the surface ruffled, as though rain +were falling. This disturbance was quickly gone, and the stagnation and +heat continued, but I knew, by this premonitory breath, that the wind +was very near to us. + +The lanterns had not yet been lighted below, but a dull gleam suffused +from the engine-room, where I could hear the cord-wood dragged up to +feed the furnace. The blue light of a sulphur match flickered, and +when I came to a standstill a gaunt head popped over the barrels, and a +coarse voice called guardedly: + +“Is it O. K., Bill?” + +“Yaw,” replied the voice behind the blue light still spluttering. “The +priest’s gone. Gimme some smoke tobaccer.” + +Just as I reached the two men the big shape of MacCaskill loomed upon +us. Leblanc shifted, but not in my direction. Morrison smoked on +imperturbably. + +“Got a picnic here?” snorted the factor. “Say!” he called to the +half-breed, who turned unwillingly, “I’ve ben wantin’ to chew the rag +with you. You mind being this part wi’ old man Fagge one time?” + +It was dark, but when Jim Morrison drew at his pipe I could see, by +the glow shed from the bowl, the white terror upon the face of the +half-breed. He had shown that fear before. + +“Never was jest this part,” he said hoarsely. + +“You come along the coast, I guess? Now, see here. Jim Petrie never +fixed old man Fagge?” + +Leblanc gave a faint growl, and I could make out he was shaking his +great head. + +“We know old man never died natural,” went on the cunning factor. + +“Talk to ’em, pard!” exclaimed the gruff voice of Morrison. “They +ain’t a-gettin’ no rope around your neck.” + +“Jim Petrie was around,” growled Leblanc. “An’ Redpath an’ Olaffson, +they were around.” + +“Maybe Redpath could tell?” suggested MacCaskill. + +“If he was here, which he ain’t.” + +A hissing filled my ears, and for one moment I thought steam was being +released from the engine. + +“He’s not so far off, I guess?” said MacCaskill. + +Leblanc looked excited, and Morrison interested. They had the look of +men who expected to obtain some long-desired information. Both were +about to ask a question, when I staggered, fell against my partner, +cannoned him over, and the two sailors fell over us, while my ears were +filled with noise; the ship creaked dismally, lurched irresolutely, and +finally righting herself, settled into the wind and rushed with it. +The south wind had broken loose. In that hollow space the noise was so +terrific that shouting was ineffectual. + +We disentangled ourselves, and crawled away. + +The _Carillon_ gave me the idea that she was flying up and down a +succession of hills. On regaining the deck it was difficult to stand; +the wind streamed down, not in heavy blasts, but with one unvarying +torrent. The surrounding haze was as dry as a blanket. The current +brought strangely to me the voices of invisible men. + +“Look at yon cloud in the south! Watch it!” This was Sandy’s voice. + +Through the overhanging screen I could just see the purple bank +threatening from the black line of the horizon. Occasional ghastly +patches of foam swept along; lake, sky, and atmosphere were mixed, and +whirled together; the _Carillon_ plunged and panted through the gloom +to the infernal music of the mighty whistling. + +Sandy’s voice reached me again: “No electricity yet.” + +I could imagine Lennie struggling with the wheel, and the mate holding +Redpath’s tiny compass up to his eyes. The haze pressed upon us, like +the roof of a cave. To the side I could watch the livid water heaving +and roaring against an almost black wall of its rival element. Akshelah +found me out, and clung to me, the terror of her racial superstitions +upon her. + +“We shall go down into the water, and it will choke us!” she screamed. + +I had only known my own little river of Yellow Sands, always gentle +and pleasant. I had seen Lake Whispering under a storm, but I had +never known what it was to fight the violence of its waves. Water now +appeared to me for the first time as a power, as a tyrant capable of +destroying life with one stunning blow of its wave. It was the same +as the sand upon the beach. Lying idly, I could gather a handful, and +let it trickle through my fingers in its fascinating way, and it +would leave my hand as lightly as so much water. But when the gales of +Tukwaukin came, that fine yellow dust would leap into the wind in a +rage, and then I could not face it, because it would choke, and sting, +and blind. The Indian belief in a mighty beast, whom the Creator cannot +destroy, which spreads along the bottom of the lake, all eyes and +jaw, waiting to snatch and devour the men whom the water overwhelms, +recurred to my memory. + +A deeper sound broke crashing behind the screaming of the dry tempest, +and a sheet of fire sprang suddenly into the south. + +“We are safe,” said Akshelah gravely. “See! The Great Spirit is there. +They say he is everywhere, and though he has no power upon the water, +he sits upon the rock lighting his pipe, to show us he is there.” + +The first torrent of wind had passed, and the stream became far less +violent. When the _Carillon_ came up from an abyss, as though she had +been hurled by a mighty hand, I saw a low island, chiefly of basalt, +where a few pines grew and some sparse vegetation. Akshelah pointed at +the land when we came up the second time. The lightning played about +the pines, making the scene as distinct as an evil dream. + +Akshelah had her lips against my ear. + +“Tell me what they do with the thing which was broken by the flying +stone?” + +“They find which way the ship must go.” + +“Which way do we go to reach the river?” + +“North-east.” + +“Then we have lost our way.” + +I pulled her more closely to me, to make sure of her words, and called +on her to explain. + +“We are going where the ghost-lights are born.” + +Due north! + +I asked how she knew. + +“By the tree-moss on the island,” said she, and I was silenced. + +This peculiar moss is an unfailing guide to the traveller, because it +will only grow upon the north side of trees. Akshelah’s wonderful eyes +had caught the information as we swept past the ghostly island. + +Redpath had destroyed the compasses, and Lennie was steering the ship +by the inaccurate instrument the adventurer had provided. We were off +our course, and Redpath was having us borne to his own destination. + +I told Akshelah to stay while I went in search of MacCaskill, but +she disobeyed me as usual. We fought our way along, bending before +the wind, but the deck was clear. I came to the wheel-house, and +clung to it to keep myself perpendicular. Within I saw two frightened +faces--Lennie clinging to the wheel, his coat off, his muscles +swelling, his black eyes staring from a perfectly pallid countenance; +Sandy struggling with one hand to control a smoked lantern, with the +other to hold the lying compass, so that the captain might see it. Both +men were more terrified than suspicious. + +I was so injudicious as to yell a suggestion that the storm had carried +us out of our course. + +Lennie never put his eyes on me. I swung myself round to the mate’s +side, and the little man shouted: + +“See the island?” + +I answered in the affirmative, and horror came into his eyes. + +“It weren’t real. We’re right on our course, an’ there’s never an +island there.” + +I saw Lennie’s lips moving, and I knew he was still cursing. + +“Where’s the priest?” shouted Sandy. + +I was as anxious to know as he was. + +Sandy yelled on: + +“I don’t believe in ’em, but I’d like him handy now. If we’re a-goin’ +to drown, I’d like to be drownded close beside him.” + +Lennie threw himself upon the wheel, and when it was steady, tugged at +the cord communicating with the engineer. By his doing so it occurred +to me that our speed was excessive, despite the wind. The engines did +not respond to the order. + +A great shout came from Sandy, and the glass of his lantern shivered +against the wheel. He put out his hand, and the captain’s face went +ghastly, and his eyes half closed with a shudder. + +To the left of us, bathed in floods of electric light, I saw a ragged +outline of rocks, with black trees battling above, and a great bed of +snow-white surf raging beneath. + +“Petrie,” wailed the mate, out of that tumult, “we’ll meet maybe in +another world, though I hold to me doubts. Get below anyhow, an’ chain +up Dave and Pete afore they get any crazier.” + +I went for the hatchway, and dived down, Akshelah always following. +Where was MacCaskill? + +The darkness swallowed me. The lanterns had never been lighted. As I +set foot below, there came to me out of the darkness, and the blended +noises of storm and machinery, furious laughter as of men revelling. + +“Muchumeneto is here to-night,” said Akshelah, and the girl was right. +The Evil Spirit was indeed aboard. + +The gong in the engine-room pealed incessantly, but the engineer took +no heed. A dark figure controlled the life of the ship, and a long +white hand held the lever at full pressure. Pete was not there, Dave +was not there. Redpath was engineer, and Olaffson was his fireman! + + + + +CAPTAIN CORN WHISKY + + +Olaffson looked up and grinned contentedly; Redpath glanced at me +sideways. Before him the furnace whirled in white vapour, and the +tamarac logs heaved and melted like fat. At the first inward step I saw +a human shape pushed away in the corner, and this unconscious figure +suggested the chief engineer, his arms and legs secured by wide straps. + +Redpath was peering at the indicator as I came in, and reducing the +pressure. Then he walked out of the blast of heat, unfastened and +pulled off his cassock, removed the hard hat and false hair, and stood +up before us by the gleam of the furnace as the English gentleman he +professed to be. I thought the Icelander would have fallen in sheer +amazement. The adventurer’s gentle voice became audible, but its tone +no longer suggested friendliness when he addressed me. + +“I have told you the truth. He thought I was the priest, and as such +has been serving me. I have played the game by myself--always the +safest way. You see I have done very well.” + +“Where is MacCaskill?” I shouted. + +Redpath stroked his flabby chin very gently, his eyes upon me all the +time. I was ashamed to show fear, but I hesitated, even when Akshelah +pushed me slightly forward. Without raising his voice, the masterful +man made his words perfectly distinct. + +“We shall reach shore before morning, I hope. For our mutual +convenience, I shall then recommend a parting, as I find we have not +so many sympathies in common as I had supposed. I shall proceed to +discover Bonanza. You will travel back to your aboriginal home. My +advice is sometimes worth following.” + +His large face never moved; the cold words seemed as though spoken out +of a mask. I could merely repeat my question: + +“Where’s MacCaskill?” + +Again he ignored the question, but he smiled when he said: + +“The men, I understand, are enjoying themselves. They appear to have +organised a small conversazione, or something of a very similar nature.” + +A shiver ran along the ship, as a slight resistance met her speed, and +she raced on again. + +“Sand or gravel?” called Redpath coldly, and Olaffson sulkily called +back, “Sand!” + +The wind had been dropping all the time, and now singing and hoarse +laughter sounded above all the noises of the ship, warning me that I +was neglecting my duty and my partner. Redpath went back to the engine. + +“I cannot imagine that you propose to resist my plans,” he said, in the +superior cynical style; and, as I left, he called after me, “Excuse me +for troubling you, but if you should meet the second engineer, will you +be good enough to ask him where he keeps the oil-can?” + +The smoke-room of the men was placed well up in the stem. The bounding +and plunging became shorter as we worked along, dodging the rolling +barrels, until a lantern swung from a rafter overhead, and I pulled +Akshelah back so that I might command a view of the cabin, where the +oaths and jests became continually louder. The ship might have been +freighted with wild beasts. + +I saw MacCaskill sitting between a couple of inebriated human parrots; +he was diplomatically taking his share in the conversation, and +although practically a prisoner, inasmuch as he was detained against +his wish, no harm would be likely to befal him so long as he made +no attempt to escape. The men were in the mood to be aggressively +friendly with anyone who would agree with them, and would be just as +ill-disposed should their inclinations be crossed. My hopes began to +run very low. The command had been taken out of Lennie’s hands. The +master of the _Carillon_ that night was Captain Corn Whisky. + +Who but Redpath would have worked such a beastly plan into effect? He +had methodically smuggled the forbidden stuff on board, had kept it +hidden, and had distributed it among these hopeless lake drunkards at +what was for him the favourable hour of the electric storm. + +Some scud raced across the sky, and between the rack and the lightning +came the smoky gleam of the aurora; the wind was so dry as to be +stifling when I met it upon deck; the haze was rolling up, and the +light increasing. + +Lennie stood over the wheel, tired and silent. Sandy advanced +cautiously, and said when we met: + +“I was jest a-comin’ down meself. They’ve got her a-goin’ pretty good +now, but while ago she was racin’ full rip. Captain’s mad enough to +kill. You felt that sand bar, eh?” + +“Come over here,” I said, wishing to take him from the dark-looking +captain; and the mate looked at me quickly, and came. + +We stood over the hatchway, and I told him to bend and listen. He +inclined his ear, his face towards me, and soon I saw a change working +in his features. I expected him to act instantly, but he had been +frightened before that night, and he was badly frightened now. He went +on staring at me, his face stupid. + +“There’s only one thing what starts men inter that sort o’ noise.” + +“Sandy,” I said--“captain, you, and I are sober, and Mac, who’s kept +below, and Redpath and Olaffson, who’re running this ship, and Pete, +whom they’ve knocked stupid.” + +The little mate was grey under the quivering lights. + +“Redpath! What? Who’s Redpath?” + +“Father Lacombe, he called himself, and he’ll shoot as soon as look.” + +Sandy moistened his lips. + +“Lucky the storm’s passin’,” he half whispered. “I must tell captain, +though he won’t do good while he’s mad. I tell ye I don’t like it.” + +There was no need to go for the captain. A hoarse shout came to us, and +that same moment the ship swerved mightily. There was no one at the +wheel; Lennie lurched over the deck, his hands feeling as though he +were blind, mastered by his fear and his superstition. + +“We’re off our course--ben off hours!” he shouted, swaying about the +deck, and once I thought he meant to throw himself over. “How many +times have ye ben in these waters?” he yelled, swinging upon me as +though I had contradicted him. “What do ye know of this part, you liar? +Look at yonder, would you?” + +“Let him work it off,” muttered Sandy. + +Where the smoky mist was blown a little aside, I made out the grim +outline of the shore, with its trees, directly ahead. + +“There’s no passage here!” raved the captain, hitting at me. “We shan’t +ever reach that land. This is shallow water--sand an’ rocks all the +way. I’ve seen ’em peepin’ outer the waves as black as Satan, an’ I’ve +pulled her off jest in time every half minute. We’ll strike a reef next +thing, an’ be playin’ of harps an’ wearin’ of crowns by morning--” + +He was interrupted by a shrill cry from keen-eyed Akshelah. The haze +had broken behind, where she pointed wildly with both hands. + +“Muchumeneto!” she screamed. “See him! He has been with us, and now he +follows. His dominion is upon the water. He watches us. Look! His eye! +his eye following us!” + +Lennie staggered forward towards the stern, gazing blankly, both hands +above his eyes, and panting like a broken horse. I stared into the +lessening wind, between the ghost-lights and the gloom, where the +tossing dark-blue water came up, and simultaneously we saw the bright +eye--red, as if bloodshot--flash, and go out, and flash again as a +great wave surged up from the south. + +The wind rushed, carrying along far north a weird sound, the voice of +that creature, while points of light, like fireflies, darted suddenly +into the distant veil of mist, and went out immediately, the creature +panting forth its fiery breath as it sweated in pursuit. + +Sandy divested the monster of all supernatural attributes--another +steamer, undoubtedly the vessel which had come into Gull, too late, as +the mate now understood, to catch the _Carillon_. She was flying after +us along the line of the storm, knowing that wherever we passed it +would be safe for her to follow. The red eye went on flashing, and the +whistle chirped, as the mate expressed it; but we had no lights to show +that night, and our whistle would not chirp back. + +“They’re crazy!” shouted Lennie, swinging back. “Same as us! Where’s +Pete?” + +As he seemed more in a mood to take the information, Sandy gave it +carefully. + +It seemed to daze the captain, but it had at least the effect of +bringing him to his senses. + +“Where’s Dave?” + +“Raddled!” + +Lennie nodded, as though it were the answer he had expected, but his +face was full of vengeance. + +“Pigs don’t feed alone,” he grimly suggested, stopped, and the mate +nodded. + +The captain swore very quietly. + +“What’s the man who works the racket?” he said; and now it was my turn +to answer. + +He quickly cut me short. + +“Get to the wheel, Sandy. Keep her off the rocks if ye can. I’m a-goin’ +to stop her, or blow her up. Boy, fetch me up that bar!” + +I lifted the iron bar used for stretching the ropes, and gave it to the +captain. + +He made a hurried movement towards the hatchway, but before he could +begin to descend the hull crashed upon a reef, and we all went down +rolling. The ship lifted, groaned with the effort dragged herself +free, and leapt forward into deep water, game to the end, her pace +diminishing because of the shock and the ragged rent which the rocks +must have made along her. + +Lennie picked himself up, took the bar, and again made for the +hatchway, but now with murder on his face. + +“Best have a plan, captain!” I called, to conciliate him; and he looked +back, stopped, and joined me, possibly because he thought I was more of +a fighter than himself. + + + + +A MAN FOND OF LIFE + + +The stricken ship staggered on through unknown waters, doomed to become +a derelict. + +Lennie’s madness had left him, now that the worst was known; indeed, it +was in quite a subdued manner that he said: + +“They’re fightin’ below.” + +An uproar that might have meant mutiny or the simple devilry of +drunkenness broke suddenly at the stem, and we reached the hatch in +time to drag MacCaskill upon deck out of the invisible hands of the men. + +The language arising from the darkness was terrific and inhuman, and I +heard also the drunkards scrambling and struggling to make their feet +secure upon the steps. + +“Keep ’em down!” shouted MacCaskill, as he began to mop his bleeding +head. + +“How does she go, Mac?” + +“Sinkin’, I guess.” + +A head loomed up, and two huge brown hands felt for the opening. + +I lifted my foot, and drove it down upon this head, and the sailor +went falling among his companions, who, unable to distinguish ally from +enemy, received him with resounding blows. + +Sandy ran up with the covering of the hatch, a grin of triumph on his +face, and we clamped it down, while the men battered hopelessly. + +“The stern passage is open yet,” panted the little man. + +“Fasten it,” growled Lennie, in the same subdued manner. “We’ll keep +’em below, be Jerusalem! an’ drown the crowd.” + +“There’s Pete!” + +“He shouldn’t let hisself be took,” snarled Lennie. + +The men were tumbling about, making through the darkness for the stern +hatchway. + +Sandy and I raced them, but as we passed the hot funnel, where the +smoke came beating down, a large figure sauntered quietly along to meet +us, and the soft voice which I had grown to hate and fear observed: + +“So the wind has altogether blown itself out. It was a short storm, and +a cheerful one.” + +The mate stopped and stared, struck dumb. + +I shouted at him to come on, lest the men should escape and complicate +matters, and he did so, breathing quickly; while the badly-built figure +strolled towards the bows, gently stroking his chin, as was his custom. + +We jammed down the hatch in time, secured it by padlocks, and raced +back, sweating in the dry air. + +Redpath was standing in the centre of the deck, his legs apart to +maintain his balance, one hand behind him, the other wandering over his +flabby face. He greeted our coming with his amiable smile. + +“Capital idea,” he said. “I was just remarking to Captain Lennie--a +capital idea! Your little plan, Petrie, I’ll wager. It is quite +necessary for our safety that the men should be fastened between decks. +In fact, I came up to suggest it.” + +I awaited the outburst from Lennie, but only silence followed. There +was plenty of sound from the wind and the sea, from the poor ship +shivering under us, and from the drunkards fighting together like +trapped forest-cats, but not a word from the captain. Lennie’s face +looked small, and his figure dried up. He tried to stare Redpath in +the eyes, but failed. MacCaskill sat upon a skylight, a little spent +after his exertions, and from the manner in which his mouth twitched I +gathered he was trying to say something. Had Redpath been a man of our +own stamp, a man of our own “outside” land, we might have understood +him, and we should have certainly beaten him by mere numbers. His +superior manner and his calm cynicism frightened us; his powerful will +crushed ours; his well-turned sentences, with never an oath in them, +spoken so faultlessly, and his magnificent air, made it difficult for +any of us to oppose him either by word or deed. Had it been Olaffson, +Lennie would probably have gone mad, and given him what he deserved +with his iron bar. But Lennie stood mildly before Redpath like a +servant before a hard master. + +I cannot imagine that Redpath would ever have shown that he was either +disconcerted or encouraged. When he tired of the silence which his +presence had imposed, he went on: + +“It is my duty to report to you, Captain Lennie, that one of your +sailors, the half-breed, Leblanc, taken on by you at Gull, there +conceived the dastardly plan of capturing this ship, his fellows +aiding and abetting, and of sailing her, after the present company, +myself included, had been put ashore--marooned is the expression used +upon the salt seas, I believe--of sailing the _Carillon_, I repeat, +to a certain locality, where he believes gold is to be found. Before +putting away from Gull, he smuggled on board a quantity of liquor, +with which he intended to stimulate the courage of his men at the +critical moment. As you are aware, captain, these men cannot move far, +or indulge in the simplest mental process, without having recourse +to spirits. It was fortunate that I discovered Leblanc’s plot some +time back. I assumed the disguise of a priest, as I was determined to +frustrate this mutinous and piratical plan, and deceived not only the +sailors, but your far more acute selves. To my sorrow I found myself +outwitted, though I overcame the chief engineer when he was mad with +liquor, and have since done my best to run the ship into safety, until +the happening of the deplorable catastrophe which now threatens to sink +us. It was impossible to stop the ship, because the mechanism became +unworkable owing to an accident arising from my own ignorance.” + +Redpath turned and fronted the factor. + +“I have an apology to make to you, sir,” he went on. “By an unfortunate +and inexcusable error, I imagined that you were in league with the +mutineers.” + +Redpath stopped as abruptly as he had commenced. He had spoken his +carefully-prepared sentences with the air of a man who has done much +good in his time, but who would scorn to seek after praise. + +Akshelah pushed me aside impatiently, and stood out before us, small +and determined. A bright colour animated her face, and her eyes were +scornful. + +“You stand and listen to him, and call yourselves men,” she said +angrily. “That man is a liar. He is laughing at you, because he knows +he is stronger than you all. You are cowards, but he is the greatest, +because he only dares to fight with his tongue.” + +Then I saw Redpath’s face change, and a faint flush rose under his +loose skin. He gave one short laugh, and set his glance full upon the +girl; but his power did not help him there. + +Akshelah stepped out firmly, and stopped when within reach, until I +went cold with dread lest he should put out his hand and suddenly shoot +her. But Akshelah had no such fear, because she understood the man. + +“I will show them,” she said fiercely, showing her little teeth, this +strong young cat--“I will show them that you are not a man at all.” + +She lifted her shapely brown hand, this Indian maid of mine, leant +gracefully forward, and punished the English gentleman in the manner I +have since seen described as boxing the ears. It was no light touch, +because she struck only once, and I have no doubt but that the man’s +cheek stung him. + +Redpath made no motion of retaliation, but he laughed easily, took off +his hat to the girl, raised his big shoulders, and muttering something +about “mixing in savage company,” walked away, with an eye behind, and +leaned carelessly against the side to await the next turn of events. +Akshelah had beaten him before us all, had made a fool of him, as the +saying goes, and our nerve improved in consequence. + +It was only when we set ourselves to think of action that we discovered +our helplessness. There was nothing to be done, except to wait and +drift until the land should stop us. Evidently the water was gaining +slowly. The pursuing steamer had slackened speed, perhaps because she +was sure of us, or perhaps, as Sandy suggested, she, too, had been +crippled. + +Lennie, with all his spirit gone, mourned the loss of his ship and his +reputation. He was almost in tears, and I overheard him muttering to my +partner: + +“Ben on the water all me time, an’ never made more’n a livin’. Never +lost any other boat, ’cept a steam-tug ten year ago, an’ she was +cranky. Now I’m gettin’ old, wi’ nothin’ saved. Never get ’nother job. +May as well go down wi’ the ole ship, an’ be bit by fishes.” + +“Shake ’em off, Bob,” advised the factor. “Things ain’t so messed, if +ye come to watch. We ain’t a-going to sink. We’re a-going to run on +sand yonder, and the ole ship’ll be better than ever when they’ve fixed +a patch across her.” + +A chill entered the wind, as the atmosphere shifted and the light +became stronger. Looking out, I beheld a fine sight. Across our bows +ran the land in a curving line, a bank of trees without a break, with +the water white below, and the aurora above. An island ran out to port; +here a narrow passage of smooth water led up to a broad silver beach. +Any idea of running the ship through this passage and beaching her upon +the sand was precluded by the sight of a shoal of rocks guarding the +entrance effectually against anything larger than a canoe. + +The keel dragged once upon sand in passing, but there was not enough +to stop us. We passed so close to the rocks that I could see the green +slime dripping off the black jaws, and some great pines, hanging +forward at an angle that looked impossible, brushed upon the mast, and +rained bunches of spines and small cones upon deck. + +The broken-down captain refused to make any effort; Sandy had taken the +wheel, and was doing his best to keep us off the visible dangers. When +I came up, he jerked his head back, with the question: + +“How’s she comin’?” + +Afar along the white haunt of shadows, I saw the ghostly object, riding +up and down, her single light twinkling, and a gust passed, bringing +the deep sound of her panting. + +“She’s not gaining,” I said. + +“I guess,” said the mate gravely--“I guess we’re the first steamer +what’s ever fooled over these waters, an’ she’s the second.” + +“Where are we?” I asked, but the mate did not know. He gave his opinion +that we were coming to territory never before visited by white men. + +When I looked upon the silent shape of Redpath, I doubted the +statement. Probably three men on board were visiting this mysterious +region not for the first time, and my dead father had probably been +here, with the old man, Joe Fagge, the gold-finder. + +“She’s slowin’ all the time,” said the mate, with dreary triumph. +“Maybe the fire’s gone out. Say! Listen below.” + +Shouting and blasphemy had turned into yells of terror, and the +battering upon the hatches became furious. + +“The water’s worryin’ ’em,” muttered Sandy. + +Then Redpath considered it his turn to play. A change had certainly +come over the strong-minded man; he was frightened, and he could not +altogether hide it; his hands worked uneasily, and he continually cast +side glances towards me, as I thought, but I came to realise that I was +standing on the line between his eye and the pursuing steamer. It was +astonishing that he had not noticed her before. + +“Captain Lennie,” he said loudly, “I appeal to you, in the cause of +humanity, to unfasten the hatches.” + +Lennie made no sign of hearing, but MacCaskill said gruffly: + +“You was wantin’ ’em closed down yourself not such a while ago.” + +“I considered the men might be dangerous,” said Redpath. “Now they are +too frightened to do us any harm.” + +“There’s Pete below,” muttered Lennie remorsefully. “Pete was allus a +good pard.” + +“And I guess you took him foul,” exclaimed MacCaskill boldly. “I guess +you knocked him down, and then came up to tell captain he’s drunk.” + +“As a gentleman, it is impossible for me to reply,” said Redpath. + +“You give the boys that liquor, you and Olaffson,” went on the factor. +“You set ’em around me, and started ’em to hustle me inter the cabin, +’cause you wanted me kept outer the racket.” + +“Perhaps you believe these romantic charges?” suggested Redpath. + +“I believe a pard,” muttered Lennie unhappily. + +“You are the captain of this ship. I put myself in your hands. Release +the men, and charge me before them.” + +“He’s got the men on his side,” I called, backing up my partner, yet +never daring to look towards my enemy. + +I heard a soft, reproachful voice: “Petrie, I am surprised at you.” + +Lennie stirred, and walked over to the stern hatch. Going upon his +knees, he shouted, and his voice stopped pandemonium at that end. + +“Captain,” whined one of the miserables, “open up, for mercy! The +water’s a-runnin’ around, an’ ter’ble cold, an’ we’ll be drownded.” + +“Where’s Dave?” shouted Lennie. “Tell him to back astern. Where’s Pete?” + +“Some feller’s locked the door of the engine-room, and Pete’s tied up +inside, they say, captain. Dave’s raddled. The water’s a-comin’ in +dreadful.” + +“Who gave ye the liquor?” + +“Olaffson,” whined the voice. + +“Revolting creature,” said Redpath. + +“Most of us ain’t very drunk, captain.” + +“Olaffson is, of course, Leblanc’s partner in this miserable +undertaking,” continued Redpath. + +A sharp gust came suddenly, and silt again jarred the keel. + +“Mind out!” yelled Sandy, and we looked ahead. + +A luxuriant screen of vegetation spread above and around, blotting out +the light. As we entered the arch of gloom, a cold sensation thrilled +me, and this outwardly beautiful, but treacherous, shore asserted +its malignancy. A horrible odour enclosed us, and when we drifted +nearer the silent trees, and could distinguish hundreds of naked poles +springing out of a beach of putrid mud, the loathsome atmosphere became +so dense that it was horrible to draw breath. + +In helplessness and silence we awaited the end. The _Carillon_ drove +fast into the mud, brought up among the trees, and there stayed, her +screw feebly beating up the half-liquid filth. A faint gleam of light, +just powerful enough to struggle through the dense roof of vegetation, +lit, after a ghastly manner, the straight unvarying tree-stems, none +greater in circumference than the _Carillon’s_ mast, the fearful +stagnant mud-flat, and the gigantic crab-spiders, like the nameless +things of a dreadful dream, scuttling on long bent legs noiselessly. + +“It is the place where the devils dance,” said Akshelah, in horror. + +The men between decks were being well punished for their intemperance. +Pitiful were the supplications that ascended. + +“Stinkin’ mud! Oh! come-a-help!” yelled one voice which sounded +familiar. + +“Lord-a-save! great awful bugs crawlin’ everlastingly.” + +Then the little steamer danced over the black and white water, and +touched the outer edge of the utterly black shadow. They must have +seen us by the matches we kept striking to light our pipes, though the +tobacco tasted of decayed matter, and the flames burnt blue. + +Redpath was well and completely beaten. Perfect and polished gentleman +to the end, he removed a clean white handkerchief from his mouth, and +said: + +“Captain Lennie. My dear sir,” with added warmth, “I will throw myself +on your clemency, as a man grievously attacked by unjust suspicion. As +a passenger upon your ship, and as a man who has done all the little +possible for our common safety, I appeal to you to return good for +good, and side with me now.” + +“Pshaw!” muttered MacCaskill, and Lennie nodded approval at the +factor’s exclamation. + +A powerful voice rolled solemnly over the mud and water, and reached us +through the poisoned atmosphere: + +“_Carillon!_” + +Sandy, whose lungs were strongest, returned the hail. + +“Have you a man name of Tankerville?” + +The shout went back in the negative. + +“Have you a man disguised as a priest?” + +“Persecution follows me,” Redpath remarked indifferently. “Petrie, your +father was the better man, though I regret to say he was a murderer! I +fear, gentlemen, I must bid you all good-bye!” + +“There’s a reward,” rolled the menacing voice out of the fetid air. + +“That,” said Redpath, more solemnly than I had ever heard him +speak--“that is distinctly ironic. After looking for money all my life, +I become a base article of commerce in my old age.” + +“He can’t escape anyhow,” muttered MacCaskill, with a grin of +satisfaction. + +“Good-bye to you!” called Redpath, turning to make a gesture with his +white hand. At the side of the ship he paused, and gravely adjusted the +handkerchief round his mouth and nose. + +A gasp of amazement and horror went up from the deck. The adventurer +had gone! + +We rushed across, sickening, and saw him below. He sank out of sight +into the unutterable putrescence, dragged himself up, congealed with +living filth, struggled on, half swimming, half dragging his body +through the accumulated vegetable rot of centuries, pulling himself on +by the smooth trunks of the trees, until he had lost all resemblance +to any living thing, human or animal, and the great spider-like +things, with the red stalk eyes and long crooked legs, darted at him +noiselessly. Out of his heaving, reeking track ascended a miasma +sufficient to poison a population. The ghost-light played once more +faintly upon the unnatural object writhing itself away to liberty. Then +it was gone, hidden in the outer stench and darkness. + +MacCaskill spat violently, and pressed a hand to his aching forehead. +Horror-struck, he muttered: + +“That’s a man who’s wonderful fond of his life!” + + + + +IV + +AN UNKNOWN LAND + + + + +WEIRD HOLLOW + + +The officers and crew of the _Carillon_, our three selves, with +Inspector Hanafin and men of the _Firefly_, made a landing into the +country of perpetual day. + +It was severely cold, and rain fell, each drop stinging like ice, when +we came upon a beach of vivid white sand, everywhere strangely marked +with black fragments of petrified wood, which at a distance closely +resembled rocks. Some ragged bush spread away to the north, and to the +south dreary shallows, where large-leaved plants floated. Before us a +razor-back succession of sand-hills, overhung by a clammy mist, hid all +that was beyond. + +“We must push along,” said Inspector Hanafin, gathering his fur-lined +cloak about his uniform. “This is a malarial fever coast. Keep the +mosquitos off as much as you can.” + +The _Firefly_ was anchored in the natural harbour made by a long reef. + +Upon landing from our boats, most of the men went down on their +stomachs, and sucked up the unwholesome water. They were surly after +their dissipation, and awed by the presence of the inspector and his +two troopers, who had pursued Redpath across so many leagues of land +and lake. + +We had released the sailors directly the police had come aboard; and +when we had taken some provisions, MacCaskill and I loading ourselves +with our tools and our packs, we made haste to desert the poisonous +mud-flats. + +While we were making our way towards the sand-hills I looked for +Olaffson, whom I had seen on the boat; but the Icelander had already +disappeared, and I guessed he would work his way along the shore to +satisfy himself that Redpath was dead. I made no comment, because I was +glad to be rid of him. + +We were on our way to find a camping-place outside the miasma of the +shore. MacCaskill, who had been tramping beside Lennie, joined me, and +whispered: + +“Rupe, this is the beach Redpath was makin’ for.” + +I ought to have been surprised, but somehow I wasn’t. I was tired and +indifferent. + +“All right,” I said wearily. + +As we toiled up the loose sand, I saw the red tops of the willow +bush peeping out of the “smoke.” We came over, descended through the +curiously thick fog, and suddenly walked right out of it into a pure +and clear atmosphere and a much warmer temperature. Beyond the sun was +shining; below spread a large hollow, its carpet a startling green, +its slopes covered with a luxuriant vine, which crossed and tangled +confusedly. The shifting sand changed to firm ground, which produced +a tall, stiff grass, the stems of darkest green, the points hard and +sharp, and black as ebony. The slope we were on resembled the back of +an immense porcupine. + +We had not gone far before the men began to curse. + +“Poison-grass,” said the inspector carelessly, as well he might, +because his own legs were protected by riding-boots. “We shall soon be +away from it. Walk straight, men, and tread it down firmly.” + +“The devil of a country!” muttered MacCaskill. + +“I don’t hold wi’ the bugs,” complained Pete, who was fairly capable, +but still nervous after his knock-down. “I don’t worry over grass-bite, +I don’t; but I hate to watch these yer black bugs.” + +Long narrow insects writhed everywhere between the grass stems; they +were so numerous that we could not walk without treading across one or +more, and they were pulpy and unpleasant to crush. + +“Never mind the bugs,” said Hanafin, who, I learnt, was a genuine +specimen of an English gentleman. “See that speckled plant, hemlock? +Everything seems more or less poisonous upon this bit of British +territory. By Jove, look here!” + +The ground fell away suddenly, and we arrived above a succession of +pools, joined one to another by belts of swamp, the latter decorated +by luxuriant white moss. The black water was absolutely stagnant and +unreflecting; large bubbles rose continually, to burst, upon reaching +the surface, with a perfectly audible report. Stranger than these +bubbles were numerous solid-looking globes--a few opal-white, the +majority a very dark blue, others a dirty grey, all curiously marked +with shifting designs of every imaginable colour, though the blue +tint always predominated. These globes bounded over the pools without +marking the surface with the smallest ripple, just like rubber balls +bounding over the ground. Immediately a jumping globe touched the moss +it vanished; if it safely negotiated the morass, it bounded hilariously +over the next pool; if it fell short in its next jump, it invariably +paid the penalty of failure by becoming extinct. + +“The hell of a country!” muttered MacCaskill. + +“Not at all,” said Hanafin, who knew everything. “Nature discovered in +her own laboratory. We are near the magnetic circle, and I suspect two +of the earth’s currents meet at this hollow. Dip your hand into that +pool,” he said, turning to me. + +“Do not,” said Akshelah. + +I did not like the look of the thick, unmoving water. The inspector +drew aside his cloak, passed down before me, and dipped in his own +hand. I saw his shoulders lift, and his arm jerked back, before he +drew up smilingly, letting loose a long breath. + +“This water ought to cure the sickest man on earth,” he said. + +Curiosity tempted me, so I slid down and cautiously inserted my +fingers. The water was glutinous and tepid, but nothing happened. The +inspector looked at me with a faint smile. + +“Keep your hand in, but come off the rock.” + +I stepped off, and, when my feet touched the wet moss a strong shock +thrilled through my system, forcing back my arm, and passed in and out +of my body and across my shoulders, making me tingle all over. + +“An electric pool,” said Hanafin, when I gave a gasp of relief to find +that the water showed no inclination to imprison my hand. “To-night the +little globes will resemble so many arc-lights, and the black pools +will be like mirrors with the sun upon them.” + +Coming down into the hollow, towards the fringe of bush where we +intended to make our camp, we became stopped by a ridge of blood-red +rock, which rose abruptly like a wall. We thought nothing of the +obstacle, until we made the discovery that the barrier was not rock, +but a kind of slimy clay, which melted in the warmth of the hand, and +left the fingers stained scarlet. MacCaskill muttered yet another +reference concerning the country, while Lennie, who was utterly played +out, suggested camping where we were. + +“When you can’t face your enemy, find a way round,” said the inspector. +“Norman, go and explore.” + +The trooper swung round, astounding me by his ready obedience. He was +soon back to report that he had found the way round. + +We reached the edge of the bush, made a clearing and a fire, and spread +open our packs. + +The inspector selected the best-sheltered spot, called, “Norman, wake +me when breakfast is ready,” rolled up his fur-lined cloak for a +pillow, spread a silk handkerchief over his face, and went to sleep. + +Lennie and the inspector intended to return to the pestilential shore +to drag the _Carillon_, if possible, off the poisonous mud-flat. The +ship was owned jointly by the Northern Fishing, the Outside Limit +Lumber, and the Hudson Bay Companies--all wealthy corporations. + +Later on, I ventured to ask Hanafin what Redpath had done to deserve +the vengeance of the law, but the inspector only looked at me smilingly +over his cigarette, and propounded a question of his own: + +“I suppose not even a young and agile man could hope to escape out of +that quagmire?” + +I expressed my doubts, and the soldier-policeman went on: + +“In that case, we won’t discuss the man or his doings. We have a theory +that it is ungenerous to speak evil of the dead, who can’t hear, and +who don’t care. If the same sentiment were extended to the living, who +can hear, and who generally do care, there would be less work for my +profession.” + +However, MacCaskill spoke differently. + +“He ain’t dead, Rupe. Folks like him never do die. Anyhow, when you +make dead sure such a one’s snuffed out, he always comes up again. If +Redpath had got to work, and run off into clean bush, maybe he’d have +fell some place, and bruke a leg, and starved, just ’cause no one would +have ever looked for it. It don’t look possible for him to escape outer +that mud before he chokes, and that’s just the reason why I look for +him to turn up again. Now, where’s that little skunk of an Olaffson?” + +“Gone to find Redpath,” I said; but MacCaskill laughed. + +“He don’t give a darn about Redpath. He’s gone inland, in the direction +we oughter be a-going now.” + +“He doesn’t know the way.” + +“Redpath told him, likely. If he ain’t, Olaffson will smell it out for +himself. Say! You and me must get a move to-night, and slip away quiet +when the boys are asleep.” + +We had supper at the usual hour of six, and afterwards gathered round +the fire, to smoke and talk before sleep. + +Inspector Hanafin warned us to prepare for a local thunderstorm, with +other electric manifestations in the hollow; but Sandy, who held +himself weather-wise, asserted that the “night” would be clear. Said +the inspector: + +“You forget that this hollow is apparently directly influenced by the +magnetic North Pole. The magnetic change occurs once every twenty-four +hours, as a result of the free electric currents in the atmosphere +above, and so, directly the aurora rises, we shall have some kind of an +electric display. Wait until the sun pretends to set.” + +The sun left us about one hour before midnight, and straightway the +trouble began. There was, of course, no darkness, yet the ghastly +effulgence down the hollow could not have been mistaken for honest +light; the atmosphere became frequently flooded by a curious radiance, +grading from the palest to the darkest shade of blue, sometimes +cross-hatched by shadows, which I could not help thinking had no +natural right to be present. The bush behind our camp was “naked,” that +is to say, the foliage was all overhead; there was no undergrowth; +the bare slim boles supporting the fungus-like masses made the bluff +resemble a cave filled with stalactites; a lambent light quivered and +played away into the distance, running softly about this nakedness, +changing its direction, intensity, and tint many times in a minute, +while a series of diminutive explosions cracked here and there above. +The vines spread along the open side, and the long runners now appeared +to be rising and falling, like the surface of the lake when ruffled by +wind. A vibration passed periodically through the ground. When I stood +up I could sometimes see the arc-globes, whenever they jumped higher +than usual, in their mad, irresponsible dance over the pools. + +The men were as frightened as they could be, and one of Hanafin’s +troopers expressed his opinion that the mouth of the pit lay in the +immediate neighbourhood. What he meant I could not tell; but Akshelah +assured us that the Evil Spirit always chose such a spot to disport +himself in with his associates. We should be safe, she said, so long +as we kept away from the water, and if we sought shelter upon rock, +directly we saw any unnatural shape. There were rocks hard by. + +These rocks were of pure silica, and as it had been observed that +the factor and myself carried mining implements, Lennie linked the +circumstances, and questioned my partner. MacCaskill confessed that +he had tired of an unremunerative employment, and decided to make a +prospecting trip, “the boy spoilin’ to get away after the ole man +hopped.” He would not own that we knew anything, but while he talked +I made the discovery that Leblanc and Morrison had broken themselves +from the circle, and were listening as closely as they dared. I caught +also the inspector’s keen eyes fixed upon me, and I had the sense to +know that the clever Englishman was forming his own deductions from my +partner’s speech and my manner. But he asked no question. + +“I always wonderful well wanted to look for the dirt,” admitted Lennie; +“but minin’ luck’s too queer, an’ a man gen’rally quits poorer than +he started. I used to read that Garden of Eden mines chapter outer me +Bible when I was a younker--read it hundreds of times, I guess I did. +Used to make me mouth run to read all about the gold and the diamonds +a-lying around Eden; an’ I guess Adam just loafed around sorter +careless, an’ let all the stuff lie.” + +“Bet you Eve didn’t,” said the factor, having his own ideas concerning +women. “She’d pick up a chunk o’ yaller, and set it against her arm, +and hello to Adam, ‘Say! how’s that?’--” + +He was knocked off by a mighty explosion. The air became dense and very +hot, and permeated by a sour odour, while an intense blue light glared +strongly out of the bluff, and made every face ghastly. Our camp fire +blazed up as though a blast of wind acted under it. For a minute all +was shouting and confusion. + +“I’d just as soon be on the _Carillon_,” said Lennie. “I’m out of this.” + +The cold-blooded inspector laughed. The light thrilled again, a darker +blue. Hardly had it gone when Pete, whom we considered stupid after his +late ill-treatment, wiped his mouth and exclaimed: + +“Captain, there’s a ter’ble nasty sorter black beast on yon tree +a-watchin’ of us.” + +We looked, in the spirit of unbelief, and I suppose we all saw a +dark object, something a little thicker and blacker than the shadows +surrounding it, slide noiselessly down the smooth tree. I know we +rushed at once for the rocks, and I confess that I was one of the first +to reach the shelter which Akshelah believed to be infallible. It says +a good deal for our credulity when I say that in less than a minute we +were all clambering over the quartz, the men who could not obtain a +first footing literally blubbering with fear, all except Hanafin, who +never shifted a muscle, and his troopers, who were forbidden by their +discipline to leave the officer. The shapeless black object lay at the +bottom of the tree like a heap of mud. + +“Say!” muttered one of the men; “think it’s _him_?” + +“Course it is, you fool,” answered the chorus. + +Hanafin got up, the lights flickering around him, and a warning cry +was issued by the choir upon the rocks. The figure stirred, and hopped +queerly over the ground, stopping by the fire, and there warmed itself. +Hanafin held out a biscuit; the creature grabbed furiously, and +finished it with gulps like a dog. + +The inspector spoke, but received no reply. + +“I saw it a-settin’ up above quite a time,” said Pete unhappily. “It +was a-settin’ lonesome, a-lickin’ its paws an’ watchin’. ’Tis one o’ +they pesky things what looks for men sleepin’ out, an’ sucks ’em dry.” + +It was not easy to tell the creature’s exact size, because it remained +bent, and its face and body were thickly covered with hair. When +Hanafin called again the creature yapped, and put out a hand for more +food. The inspector complied with the demand, then turned to us with +the grave assurance that the visitor had once been a fellow-man. + +“Lost, gone crazy, and become a beast,” he said. + +Nobody believed him, and Akshelah scoffed openly when asked if she knew +what he was. + +At that time, while surrounded by all the strange sights of that weird +hollow, I was convinced with the others that the supernatural was +enjoying full sway, and that what then occurred to us was entirely +due to the mysterious appearance of the hairy, speechless being. A +description may sound grotesque, but to me at the time it was more a +thing to shudder at than laugh over. + +A thunderstorm had been in operation for some time, the lightning +being apparently flung just over the trees out of the low clouds which +separated the hollow from the outer country. The thunder took the +form of constant explosions, entirely different from the customary +long-drawn-out rumbles and echoes. In addition to this intensely local +storm, erratic sheets of light constantly flooded the bush, and the +peculiar sour odour never failed to follow. + +An unusually brilliant blue current thrilled, just as Hanafin walked +round the fire to interview the monkey-like monster. Instantly the +inspector vanished, and with him the entire camp. The fire, the +bluff, the ground, everything was wiped out, even the rock we stood +on; we might have been suspended on the edge of a precipice, peering +hopelessly into a thick sea fog; the world seemed to have floated away +from us, leaving us standing erect in space. + +Whether the other men had any sensation beyond fright, I cannot say; +but for my own part I felt mightily exhilarated, and with the elation +of the sudden strength that thrilled into my body, as scores of minute +blue sparks broke from our persons, I had a mad desire to relieve my +energies by snatching up each one of my companions--Akshelah, who held +to me, excepted--and hurling them one by one into the apparent abyss. + +What would have happened had I attempted to do so is again impossible +to say, because the gulf which had been so remarkably fixed about us, +which entirely divided us from the planet our world, which blinded and +deafened us, and made us helpless castaways upon the invisible rock, +was purely magnetic. Backward we could move, but not an inch forward. +There did not appear to be any particular resistance; it was not +at all like trying to force a solid body; we were simply unable to +move. The magnetic barrier was non-conducting; sound would not travel +through it any more than eyesight. For all the assistance we could +have rendered Inspector Hanafin, and for all our knowledge of what was +happening on the other side of the current, we might have been placed +respectively at the opposite poles of the earth. + +The resisting fluid swept away with all the suddenness of its coming; +and at the withdrawal of the magnetic force, the men scurried away from +the rocks like so many jack-rabbits worried by a dog. + +MacCaskill whispered to me hurriedly, and as we both preferred to face +the chance of fever on the shore, rather than the unknown powers of +natural forces, we made straight for our tools and packs, caught them +up and ran, Akshelah leading our flight, away up the slope from the +lights and explosions of the hollow, through the vines that caught at +our legs and arms, and thrilled us like so many electric wires; past +the pools that were black no longer, but living and dazzling, and where +the gleaming balls were leaping excitedly; through the poison-grass, +quivering and stiff in the electric air, and emitting bright sparks +when touched by our hurrying legs; over the sand-dunes, and so out +under the aurora, where the wind moaned out of the lake, and brought +the foul odour of malaria through the “night.” + +We looked down from the summit of the sand-hills, and, as in the early +morning, the hollow was concealed by its roof of cloud, which spread +beneath our feet like a smoky floor. We could make a good guess as to +what was taking place in the depths by the manner in which the clouds +were continually bathed in blue light, by the distant, but faintly +audible, explosions, and the sour odour arising, until we turned to +face the far more noisome miasma ascending from the beach of the great +Lake Peace. + + + + +MATERIAL GHOSTS + + +On the day following our flight from the hollow, MacCaskill and I awoke +with dry mouths, tormenting heads, and irritated bodies, the result +of camping within the influence of the coast. Had Akshelah not been +with us, we should have done no travelling that day. She collected +some plants, squeezed their feeble juices into a tin mug, and made us +swallow the abominable mixture. We were both violently sick, but at the +end of an hour the fever left us. The exercise of walking restored us +completely, though it was very possible that the healthy air, which met +our faces as we ascended, had much to do with the cure. + +For five days we journeyed over the Bad Lands, and during the whole +of that time we did not sight a living thing, except insects in their +millions, some white-headed eagles and magpies, and a few loons over +the water, which was everywhere abundant. The country was heaped with +rocks, interspersed with bluffs of arctic pine, and spruce, scraggy and +stunted, the roots buried in thick tufts of the monotonous white moss. +Only a few plants, resembling bunches of yellow feather, sucked an +existence in sheltered niches; and a little bleached flowering grass, +as dry as the rock, wearied our eyes all that journey. + +At the end of the fifth day we came to the summit of an endless ridge, +and looked down upon a gully, the sight of which made our hearts beat +faster, because, by my father’s plan, we believed that we were then +standing outside the door of Bonanza. + +A narrow stream trickled among the rocks, and green banks of turf rose +on each side invitingly. Here the vegetation was far more luxuriant; +there were thickets of cranberry bush, hung with yellow and scarlet +fruit, with raspberries nearer the water. Akshelah caught some arctic +trout, strange-looking fish, having great fins like wings; we picked +berries by handfuls, and fared luxuriously. When we settled to rest +upon the cool, clean grass, I felt more content than at any time since +our landing at Gull. + +We noticed one curious thing while walking along the gulley to the +camping-ground we had selected. We passed into a belt of cold wind, +blowing strongly across the gulley, just as in swimming one enters an +icy cold current of water. We escaped this wind almost directly, but +we had time to observe that no vegetation flourished where it crossed. +This wind cut a clean dry track across the coulee, and where it struck +the rocks it was gradually wearing a cave by the power of its blast. + +It was chilly, and as we sat round our fire after supper this passage +of wind began to trouble me. I went on thinking, and presently +exclaimed involuntarily, because I never liked to show that I +cultivated an imagination: + +“Is there anything in dreams?” + +MacCaskill looked at me over his pipe, and I added: + +“Can anyone dream of a place he has never seen?” + +“Oh, no,” answered Akshelah. “When we sleep we see our people, who have +gone to the Great Spirit’s country. Our people do not speak to us; but +when they come they make signs, so that we may know that the season is +good for them, and that they are having plenty of hunting. The ghost of +the brave smokes the ghost of his pipe, but the man himself, and the +pipe itself, have been destroyed in the fire.” + +MacCaskill was no deep thinker. He merely discharged a cloud of smoke, +grunted, and expressed his opinion that dreams were “no use anyhow.” + +I saw before me two shining walls of rock, towering and shutting out +the light, and I shivered, because the wind, which was whistling past, +became very cold. I understood more than I could express, and when I +tried to think again, my mind stopped short at an improvised bed in +a cleft of the rock, a few bushes tossing just above, and the wind +always pouring, and rushing, and moaning. + +“I guess we’re almost there,” I said abruptly, and the factor started, +looked at me curiously, and removed his pipe. + +“I had a mind to say that.” He spoke more slowly than usual. “That +yonder should be the Canyon of the North Wind, and up there we should +strike Mosquito Pass. We’ll know to-morrow.” + +Akshelah interposed. Without looking at us, she held out her arms +against the faintly blue sky, and called: + +“You see the ridge where the sun-colours are resting? I saw a man stand +there, but while I looked he was gone. He is coming this way.” + +We stood up and looked, straining our eyes along the defile, but could +see nothing, and MacCaskill was disposed to think the girl mistaken. + +“It’s no use shifting,” he said. “He will have seen our fire.” + +“He is coming slowly,” said Akshelah. + +Again she pointed, and now we saw the dark object crawling down the +slope. + +“See!” exclaimed the girl. “He is very weak.” + +Directly the man entered the line of wind, the current swept him +off his legs. We did not go out to help him, because we could not +anticipate meeting a friend. Presently, the figure blundered up, and +we recognised the ugly face of Jim Morrison. As usual, his own demands +were uppermost. + +“Gimme some grub; do ye now,” he whined, sinking upon the grass. “I’m +’most starved.” + +“You have come through plenty of berries,” said Akshelah scornfully. + +“And you can pick ’em for yourself,” added MacCaskill. “We ain’t +runnin’ a gen’ral store to fellers that start trackin’ us. Your pard +Leblanc with ye, I guess?” + +The sailor blasphemously asserted that they had not followed, but had +escaped from the hollow after us, and had not dared to return, because +they feared punishment for their share of the work on the _Carillon_. + +“All the boys have run,” declared Morrison, but we knew this was a lie. +“We did track ye jest a piece,” he confessed at last. + +“Ye don’t track another piece,” said the factor. “Ye get back to your +pard, and sling yourselves out er this country before morning. We don’t +call for a couple of dogs sniffin’ after us.” + +At first, when a hoarse cry came along the defile, a distant human +shout of undeniable fear, I suspected another plot; but Morrison, who +had been stripping a bush with both hands, and gulping down the fruit +in a beast-like manner, stopped and turned his head, blenching with +unmistakable terror. + +“’Twas Gedeon!” he gasped. + +He went on to explain that he had left the half-breed, who had broken +down with hunger and fever, upon the rocks on the far side of the +ridge. Akshelah busily dispersed and stamped out our fire, and +MacCaskill began to aid her, while I looked on stupidly, remembering +that I was seeing how men live. + +“Maybe he saw something to fright him,” muttered the factor, but not +as though he believed in what he said; while Morrison forgot his own +demands, and began to whimper. + +We determined to go to Leblanc’s assistance, more, I fancy, because we +were curious to discover what other force might be in the field, than +from any desire to save the half-breed, whom we knew had been in this +place twice before together with his master. We made a cache of our +tools and supplies beneath a bush, scattered the dying embers of our +fire, and began the ascent, passing on this occasion above the spot +where the wind struck. The night was perfectly calm, the light soft +and clear, although, it being well after midnight, a few shadows were +faintly marked under the rocks. That the half-breed was alive soon +became evident, because his shoutings and frightened appeals scarcely +ceased for a moment. Presently Morrison sang out, and Leblanc’s note +altered. + +“Jim! Jim! I’ve ben hit wi’ a knife!” + +Morrison was inclined to consider his own well-being, but we pushed him +ahead of us. Hard by a patch of strong-smelling bush we found Leblanc, +half in the light, half in the dim shadow, and writhing like a worm. +An examination showed us that the man had been stabbed in the fleshy +part of the shoulder; it was a very slight wound, the would-be murderer +having evidently aimed at the back of the neck, and been frustrated by +a sudden move. + +“Who did it, pard?” Morrison called huskily, and backing away +uselessly. “Who come to hit yer?” + +“The country’s chocked wi’ ghosts!” wailed Leblanc, his face ghastly. +“Old ghosts, an’ young ghosts, mostly old. One hit me dirty wi’ a knife +as I set right here. I never see him. He hit quick, an’ was away. He’d +have come to hit again if ye hadn’t scared him. Jim, I be bleedin’ +dreadful!” + +“Dirty coward!” muttered MacCaskill. “Ain’t nothing much worse’n a +mosquito prick. Do ye good, ole woman. Let the fever outer ye.” + +“I be dyin’,” went on Leblanc, blubbering. “I ain’t got religion. Jim, +tell us if there’s a God.” + +“There’s a God for decent folk. None for the like of you,” said the +factor. “Shake yourself up, and tell who hit ye.” + +“I didn’t see nobody. I heard a move, an’ made to turn, when it come +right inter me shoulder all hot. A ghost it was, sure. They tell how +awful some of ’em do bite. I don’t know where I be a-goin’, not havin’ +religion, an’ don’t know whater say. Oh, Jim, tell us whater say!” + +I stepped out. + +“Tell what happened to old Fagge the last time you were here,” I said. + +This was the first occasion I had actually spoken to the half-breed +since the early morning at Gull, when I had mistaken him for the +Icelander. The wounded man went on writhing, and tried to drag himself +under cover by means of the long tufts of white grass. + +“Is it a dyin’ confession, say?” he whined. “The last talk o’ me, +Gedeon Leblanc, what never had no luck?” + +“I guess you ain’t long for this world,” said the factor grimly. + +“Talk at ’em, pard,” piped Jim Morrison. “Tell ’em what ye know.” + +“We know you come here twice with ole man Fagge,” continued MacCaskill, +smoothing the way for him. “We know you’ve been followin’ us. Well, I +guess there’s lots of gold for the crowd, and if you talk straight, and +don’t die quick, we won’t stop ye from stakin’ out your claim, after +we’ve done first choosin’.” + +Morrison was staggered by such generosity, which removed the necessity +for much base plotting. + +“Pard,” he exclaimed, “didn’t I talk to ye? Mister Petrie an’ Mister +Factor MacCaskill ain’t Redpath, what can’t a-bear to share. Didn’t I +talk to ye? Didn’t I? Gimme some eatin’ tobaccer,” he demanded, turning +to me, considering himself admitted into our society by my partner’s +concession. + +Instead of the desired chew, he received a command to “quit his noise.” + +Evidently the cowardly half-breed was in great fear of death. + +“Mister Petrie,” he gasped, “your father never done it! No, sir. Ole +man Fagge is planted not so far off. He was knifed, mister, an’ I’m +the only man who knows who done it, ’cause I saw wi’ me own eyes. Yer +father was a-standin’ close up when ’twas done, but he never done it.” + +“Who killed Joe Fagge?” + +The name of Redpath was shivering on my tongue. + +“Olaffson,” blurted out the half-breed. + +The Icelander again! Always Olaffson! I could have believed that +Redpath had told me the truth, and that Olaffson was the originator of +all the plots I had attributed to him. + +By still playing upon the half-breed’s fear of death, we obtained +the whole story. My father, Leblanc, and Fagge had passed into this +defile, and had reached the Canyon of the North Wind, whose existence +was at that time only known to us by the rushing breath below. The old +man prowled about by himself, permitting no one to accompany him, as +he would not give his secret away lightly, and in the course of his +ramblings came across Redpath, whom he hated, and who had incautiously +encamped just outside the canyon. Returning in a rage, the half-mad +miner swore that he would abandon the expedition, and refused to give +the key to the situation, which was the secret of the entrance into +Mosquito Pass, the only way leading out from the canyon to the unknown +land of Bonanza beyond. My father had seen the old man preparing a plan +to aid his already failing memory, and he had acquainted Redpath with +this fact. + +One night--it was late in the season, and already some snow had +fallen--Olaffson came up to the camp fire, where Fagge was sitting +alone. My father was spreading his blanket under the shelter of the +rocks; Leblanc, still farther away, was cutting logs for the fire. +The Icelander flung himself suddenly upon the old man, stabbed him +when he resisted; but before he could escape with the secret my father +was upon him, and had knocked him down. Joe Fagge was dead. My father +took the plan, which he kept with him the rest of his life; Olaffson +picked himself up and went to report to Redpath, who came presently, +and accused my father of having murdered the old miner for his own +ends. They came to blows; my father had the best of matters there, and, +after beating his late friend, went away, taking the secret with him, +and Leblanc never saw him again. Redpath was left helpless, and when +he failed to find the pass had to follow my father south. He only just +escaped; had he remained another twenty-four hours, he would certainly +have been frozen in and killed by the arctic winter. + +Such was the story Leblanc told us, and when he had done, it must be +owned that I spared a pitying thought for Redpath, who, according +to the statement we had just heard, had cause to believe my father +guilty. But had Olaffson attacked the old miner upon his own +initiative, or had Redpath instructed him to obtain that plan at +whatever cost? + +Leblanc quickly reverted to his own condition. + +“Be I a-goin’ to die soon, do ye think?” he went on whining. “I feel +ter’ble queer-like.” + +“Speakin’ the truth might make ye feel that, I guess,” said the factor, +and with that we left the men, and made our way back to what had been +our camp. + +The invisible hand, which had tried to settle Leblanc, had passed there +also, making a thorough sweep of our tools and our packs, even down to +our one little tin mug, which I remembered having thoughtlessly left in +the open. + +I had never before seen MacCaskill in a thorough rage. His great body +quivered with passion, and he put out his hammer-like fist, which anger +caused him to move as though it had been a hammer. + +“There’s no bit of mercy if we strike him. Golden gates o’ Jerusalem! +If I get him into me hands, I’ll smash him up like a rotten melon.” + +Akshelah was not one to waste time in threats; indeed, I have noticed +that women always reserve their energies to meet a crisis. She was +already upon her knees, patting the ground, as though it had been a +rich fabric pleasant to the touch. Presently she stood up, and soon was +walking, picking up a track which to me was invisible. + +“You are wrong,” she said, as we followed. “The Iceland-man has a small +foot. This is large.” + +She tracked the footprints to the stream. We crossed by means of the +rocks; and when on the opposite side, Akshelah was puzzled. + +“I know,” she said presently; “he took off his moccasins. See! Here he +put down the tools, and rested.” + +We took her word for this, because not even my trained eyes could +pick out the signs she tried to indicate. She took us along, and soon +a deep, melodious sound came upon our ears, and the lights ahead +shimmered before the shadows stopped them, as the haze shimmers on a +hot day. We were near the mouth of the canyon, and soon we saw the +narrow black entry, the straight cleft where the rocks lifted up to the +clouds, with the torrent of wind booming forth. The air became moist, +colder, and there was the smell of vegetation rotting in water. + +Just outside, Akshelah stopped to announce that the tracks of the man +who had robbed us went “up into the wind.” + +It was the time of the shadow--the two hours after midnight when the +light is perplexing. The canyon was very dark, because the summits +almost touched far away overhead, horrifying, and very cold. We lost +nerve; we were tired after a long day’s journey; we resolved to defer +our entry into the north wind until the coming of the perfect day. + + + + +AN OLD CAMPAIGNER + + +I must have been dreaming, because I awoke with a cry upon my lips, and +I thought I had exclaimed “Father!” + +On one side MacCaskill breathed heavily, shifting often, as the ground +chafed his bones through the white moss we had collected to lie upon; +on the other Akshelah slept, her head upon her two hands, a pretty +picture, and yet severe, for she might have been dead, so still was +she, and so pale. Her little face was unhappy, and my heart reproached +me, because I knew that she was enduring hardships for my sake. She +understood more about my own people than I did myself. She thought +that when I had found enough gold I should go away and find my own new +place, perhaps in the world of that visionary London, where I had first +seen the light, and she would see me no more. The unhappiness she would +not betray by day Nature brought and left upon her face in sleep. She +was young womanhood, I young manhood. If there was any gulf between us, +she could not see it. Why should I try to find it? + +The voice in which I had called “Father!” was not my own. It was a thin +voice, peevish and frightened. “Take me away,” was my thought, before +I entirely awoke; “I don’t like the wind and the noise.” But I was a +grown man, abnormally strong, capable of protecting others. I could not +understand my dream. + +Certainly there was a noise which was not the work of imagination. I +started up, wide awake; a few frogs whistled at the stream below--that +was a natural sound. The wind brought a steady, metallic ring--that was +not natural. It was the quick stroke of a mining tool upon rock. I rose +quietly, and walked to the black mouth of the canyon; but a footstep +followed, a hand touched me, and a voice spoke. + +“Ah, you are going away!” + +Akshelah had awoke after me, and had followed jealously. + +“Don’t you hear that noise?” I whispered. + +But the girl had no ears for it. She drew me away. + +“See, he is sleeping, and will never know.” + +“What do you mean, little squirrel?” I said, in the old foolish manner +I had spoken to her at home, and she responded to my mood. + +“I will find the trail across the Bad Lands. I will bring you down to +the green country,” she whispered passionately. “We will go back to the +Yellow Sands before the winds of Tukwaukin come. Your tepee will be +ready. You can be happy there.” + +“We will go together soon,” I said, wanting to make her happy, but not +wishing to deceive. “I cannot leave him. It would be cowardly.” + +“He does not care for you. It is the yellow dirt out of the ground that +he loves. When he has plenty of that he will forget you, because when +men find the yellow dirt they want no other friend. They do not know +that the Bad Spirit makes the yellow dirt, and then hides it away in +the ground, and watches. You shall hear him laugh at nights when he +sees the men finding it.” + +The ringing of metal upon the hard rock went on. + +I could not conquer the impulse which bade me enter the dark canyon, +and Akshelah would never let me out of her sight. The struggle against +that wind put confidence into me, and I stepped out beside the cold, +dripping wall, as sure of my way as though I had been walking from +Yellow Sands up to my homestead. The ascent was very gradual. + +Presently the loose rocks turned to shingle, hard to walk upon, but any +noise we made in advancing was carried down by the wind. + +“Take care!” I cried warningly. “The wall juts out here.” + +I could see nothing, and yet I had spoken the truth. At the right +moment I put out my hand and met the wet wall, and we went round, never +making a mistake. + +“Presently there will be a break,” I went on. “Right ahead is a bluff +of spruce. It is always dark there, and damp, and full of mosquitos. +Above us we shall find a shelf of rock which is protected from the +wind. Once there was a camp here.” + +“Your father has been with you,” said Akshelah fearfully, through the +cold current. “He made signs to you to come. We must not disobey those +who live with the Great Spirit. Your father will be pleased with me for +coming with you.” + +“Here!” I exclaimed, bending and feeling, but this time I was wrong; +the clammy, inaccessible wall met my hands. The ringing of the mining +pick had stopped. + +We went on a few more paces, through gloom that brushed the face like +cobwebs, and again I felt. I was right. + +The straight wall broke, and there was a passage upward over the rocks. + +We went up, with the speed and silence of forest-cats, until we came +out of the wind, and a screen of bushes stopped us. No sound came from +the ledge, which I knew went back and into the cliff on the other side +of those bushes. + +“There is a way round higher up,” I said, remembering. + +But Akshelah caught and held me tightly. + +“Do not move,” she whispered. “A man is coming up.” + +Directly she had spoken I heard, and knew we could not get away. This +was the man who had been working upon the rocks, and he would be +carrying a pick, with which he could kill either of us at a blow. + +My blood rose excitedly, and I determined that I would use Olaffson as +he had wished to use me. + +Drawing Akshelah back, I crawled upon a higher rock, while the man +ascended slowly, as though short of breath, until I felt he was just +upon me. Then I leant down, threw my arms out, and sprang forward. I +had him fair; but he was a large man, and his clothes smelt abominably. +His pick rattled upon the rocks as we fell together, crashing among the +bushes. + +My captive spoke gaspingly, but not in fear, nor yet in anger; but +rather as a gambler who has played his one high card, and finds it no +good: + +“I’m afraid you have me, Hanafin.” + +So soon as he had spoken he was a free man again. The voice was the +voice of Redpath. + +He picked himself up at once, and struck a match--probably one of ours +he had lately stolen--and the spluttering light fell upon the loose, +sick-looking face and the black, straight rocks behind him, where slime +glistened, and water dropped like spots of tar. + +“Ah, it is you, Petrie!” he said, with unmistakable relief. “Come +inside.” + +My strength departed from me. + +“I thought you were dead,” I said feebly. + +“Well, I suppose I ought to be,” said the adventurer, rather wearily. +“I have been through terrestrial purgatories to retain life alight. I +hardly know why. Come in,” he continued quite heartily. “You remembered +the way. I wondered whether you would.” + +I hesitated, and he went on: + +“You know your strength, and you know my lack of it. I lost my pretty +little shooter in the quagmire. I’m sorry I haven’t much to offer you, +especially as it happens to be my birthday. I am sixty-seven to-day, my +boy. By Gad! how the years do run!” + +In spite of his friendly manner, I took care to keep myself between him +and Akshelah. + +“How do I know this place?” I asked my enemy. “I have come along +without making a mistake, and I seem to have seen it all before.” + +“You were here with your father. You were a very young child, and I +remember you were terribly in the way,” said Redpath. + +Strange that the truth had never occurred to me! So I had already seen +more than a fair share of life. From London to outside Canada; from +civilisation to the unknown lands; in scenes of fighting and madness; +in gold-hunting, and murder, and flight. Truly an adventurous childhood! + +When we had come upon the ledge and were out of the wind, Redpath lit a +small lantern, which a few hours before had been MacCaskill’s property, +and liberally offered us deer-pemmican, which he had stolen from our +camp. The light glinted upon our unused tools lying at the back of the +cave. Yet I could never have summoned the courage to accuse this calm +gentleman. + +“It is expedient for me to keep the light out of the canyon,” our host +said carelessly. “Did Hanafin express any intention, that you remember, +of tracking me?” + +“He thought you could not escape from the mud,” I replied. + +Redpath was sitting in darkness, and I could make out his outline, +without being able to see his face. He changed the subject at once, and +said, letting each syllable escape coldly: + +“You will understand that in my dealings with you I have played my game +according to my rules. I have generally found that where you cannot +trust the father, neither can you trust the son. It was not many yards +from this spot that your father chose to break the agreement between +us.” + +Then I spoke up and told him of the confession of Leblanc. + +“It is a lie,” he said casually. “Don’t believe me unless you wish to; +but Olaffson was with me while the deed was taking place. He never +saw the end of Fagge, neither did I. Your father never denied the +deed. Even now I do not say he struck with the intention of killing. +The madman may actually have attacked him in the first place. It was +Leblanc who called us, and I distinctly saw your father kneeling over +the body, his blood-stained knife by his hand.” + +“Why should Leblanc put it on to Olaffson?” + +“The two men have always hated each other. I believe that Olaffson has +quite recently made an attempt to silence the half-breed.” + +“Why didn’t you prevent him?” I said boldly. + +“I have no control over Olaffson.” The adventurer was smiling, I was +sure. “He is physically far stronger than I am, and probably would kill +me were he not such a coward, and were I not sometimes useful to him. +Besides, why should I interfere? I should like the man out of the way.” + +So far Akshelah had not spoken, though she was always looking towards +Redpath, but now she said calmly: + +“You want us far away.” + +“You are quite correct,” said Redpath, with condescension. + +“You have been to our tepee,” went on the girl. “You have taken our +food and our tools.” + +“Again correct,” said Redpath pleasantly. “My dear Petrie, the young +lady does not, of course, understand the first principles of civilised +warfare. I saw my opportunity for annexing your property, and I should +have been a decidedly bad tactician had I neglected to take it.” + +Akshelah had arisen. She collected together everything she could find +in the cave, not only our own property, but the few little things +belonging to Redpath, leaving only the small lamp smouldering in the +centre of the rock floor. She arranged these things between us into two +packs, the smaller for me to carry, the larger for herself. + +“A clever girl,” said Redpath reflectively. “She is right. You have the +upper hand, and you must take your advantage of the circumstance. Two +small things I will plead for--the handkerchief and the old cashmere +scarf. The possession of a handkerchief in these parts stamps one with +the mark of the gentleman. The scarf once belonged to my mother, and is +interesting as a reminiscence.” + +“Put everything back that does not belong to us,” I ordered. + +“No,” said Akshelah. + +I reiterated my command almost angrily, and the girl obeyed, Redpath +thanking me after his own manner. + +“It is a mistake to return more than I asked for.” + +I proposed going, lest MacCaskill should be hunting for us, but +Redpath, to my surprise, requested me to favour him with a complete +account of our doings since he had made his terrible plunge off the +_Carillon_. After I had done so, he said softly: + +“As usual, I failed to seize my opportunity. You wondered why I did not +shoot you all down while we were waiting on deck for the smash?” + +“The _Firefly_ was coming up,” I suggested. + +“I knew nothing of it until near the end, as my attention was given to +other things,” he said. “To shoot down unarmed men, in a state of cold +blood, requires an immense amount of nerve. I had not sufficient. That +is the reason I failed. Then, when I had strung myself almost up to the +desired pitch, I saw my pursuer, and knew I was too late. + +“I asked the inspector why he wanted you, but he would not say,” I +added, not without curiosity. + +“Hanafin is a clever fellow, far too good for police work. He failed +in the Indian Civil, I believe, and ultimately drifted out here, where +he had the sense to keep sober. As an excellent illustration of my +ill-luck, I may say that he is after me for unintentional homicide.” +His dark shadow leaned forward to touch up the dim light of the +lantern. “Everything had failed with me, and I turned to smuggling +liquor across the boundary into a prohibition country. I was bound to +fail again, as the police were very active; but I thought I might do +well for a time, and slip away quietly when affairs should reach a +crisis. One wet night, the load of hay which contained my barrels of +smuggled spirit was surrounded unexpectedly, and I was forced to shoot, +with no intention of injuring, but merely to make an opening for my +escape. At my age a long term in the penitentiary is equivalent to a +sentence of death. Bad fortune, not my aim, steered the lead into the +stomach of a trooper. I got away, assumed the disguise of a priest, +which I had successfully used before, and always carried to meet an +emergency, and escaped into the wilds. Chance led me to the end of a +search I had been making for years. I arrived just too late to find +your father alive.” + +There was a silent interval, awkward for me, but presently I said: + +“What are you going to do now?” + +“I do not propose showing you my hand,” said the adventurer curtly. +“I have too many enemies on the other side of the coulee, without +reckoning the two sailors, with Olaffson here after the gold, and +Hanafin and his hounds after me.” + +“I don’t wish to be your enemy,” I said, wondering whether I spoke the +truth. + +“Possibly, if you were alone, I might admit you to a small claim, +though I should not permit you to go from here until I was satisfied,” +went on Redpath. “Admit such men as MacCaskill, as Leblanc, and, before +the fall, all the scum of the world would be swarming and sweating up +this canyon, and I should have to rest content with a possibly dried-up +claim. Here I have been puzzling my brains how to preserve the secret +from Olaffson.” + +If this were truth, his selfishness was something beyond belief. + +“And all for nothing, after all,” he added coldly. + +I asked him what he meant, and he said: + +“Mosquito Pass has disappeared.” + +I stared through the gloom towards the big, indistinct shape, which +went on speaking: + +“I have gone by Fagge’s plan. I have found the exact spot he +there indicates, but the pass itself has vanished. I have worked +ineffectually at the place where the opening ought to appear. There is +no way round out of the canyon. Nothing short of a balloon could help +us over the straight wall of rock that runs up to the sky.” + +Again I did not believe him, but when I began to speak, his manner +changed. + +“You have been here long enough,” he said unpleasantly. “I have had no +rest for hours.” + +Akshelah was still undismayed. She picked up MacCaskill’s little +lantern, extinguished its light, and added it to her pack without a +word, but with a glance of contempt cast at the adventurer, sitting +silent and cold in the gloom. Then together we went down again into the +north wind. + + + + +THE SOONERS OF ELDORADO + + +While we ate our breakfast of bacon and biscuits a few ravens hovered, +as though surprised to see us, and their hoarse croaking mingled +dismally with the subdued roar of the wind from the great blow-pipe. +Some chick-adees hopped about the grass and examined us fearlessly. +The defile was filled with gossamers. A golden haze made it difficult +to see any distance along the coulee, and out of this haze two figures +loomed. Presently we discovered the rascally sailors. + +“Didn’t I tell ye to keep away?” shouted MacCaskill. + +“Captain,” called Jim Morrison, “them soldiers are a-comin’! I saw ’em +on the flats, an’ Gedeon seen ’em too.” + +“They’re a-comin’ for to take us,” began Leblanc, who was himself +again; but MacCaskill began to growl. + +“How many of ’em?” he demanded. + +“All three, major,” answered Morrison, trying to wheedle himself +towards our supplies. + +“You two durned fellers have give us away!” + +“We never did, colonel. Gospel! We never did. We wouldn’t want er--” + +“Shut your stoke-hole. Make your own tracks!” + +After which the factor addressed me. + +“Let’s get, Rupe. If that Hanafin finds us, we’ll have the whole world +buzzin’ around next week.” + +We made a cache of our supplies, and tracked for the canyon. I had +allowed MacCaskill to believe that Olaffson had been the thief of the +previous day, and had instructed Akshelah not to speak of our visit +to Redpath. Because I was myself young and strong, I pitied the old +adventurer who had made such a complete failure of his life. I wanted +the others to believe him dead. + +We tracked along the canyon, through the semi-darkness and the moist +wind, until we reached the spruce. The trees were skeletons, ragged +and uncouth, and the logs very small. The hot air shrieked and crept +with insects. I had never known mosquitos so large or so virulent, and +they choked and blinded us with their millions. Akshelah wrapped up +her head; MacCaskill cursed; my own tanned skin pricked in a thousand +places. Suddenly we stumbled over a pile of stones. + +Large water-worn pebbles, with pieces of rock as white as milk, had +been heaped into a long mound. At one end faintly appeared a design, +formed simply by a spruce divided some four feet above ground, with a +smaller and shorter piece of the same tree tied by some rotten rope +across. + +“A grave,” said the factor, his voice barely audible through the +mosquitos. + +There was no need to say more, because we knew what lay buried there. +We came out of the spruce, and over shingle, between the colossal +walls, rounded a spur of rock, which jutted out like a horn, and were +confronted by a wet precipice, honey-combed by small holes, each of +which whistled and hissed as it discharged a separate volume of wind. +Overhead we could just make out a fringe of spruce, like far-away +storm-clouds. + +“Wings for three,” said MacCaskill morosely. + +“Can’t we find any way round?” + +“Likely,” growled MacCaskill. “P’r’aps we’d best start right now, +around by Alaska, and down the Yukon to the Porcupine, and out to +M‘Pherson. Then come along the MacKenzie, till we strike the Slave and +the Athabasca. Do it in a year, if we have luck.” + +“Where’s Mosquito Pass?” I said, mindful of what Redpath had told me. + +“Where? Right here, I guess.” + +“Then where’s the hole?” + +“Ask a prophet.” + +I examined the face of the cliff, which was largely composed of +streaked granite; near the ground moss grew to a depth of more than +a foot, and a few small trees, very short and bushy, sprang out in +clumps. I forced myself into one of the narrow inlets, where there was +a strong odour of decayed matter, but I saw no signs of a way out, and +the mosquitos covered my face. When I forced myself out, one of the +small trees caught me. It must have been very lightly rooted, for when +I pulled it came away from its crevice. + +“We’ll be bit to the bone if we do strike the hole,” said MacCaskill, +who was in the mood to grumble. “See them wind-pipes! If ye got inter +one, ye might fancy yourself a durned shell inside a gun. Golden +Jerusalem!” His face altered wonderfully, and his eyes began to stare. +“Don’t drop it! You’re wastin’ it, ye fool! Look-a-here! Coarse, coarse +as yaller sugar!” + +When he gripped at the roots of the little tree I was still holding, I +began to understand. + +Golden grains gleamed about the brown dirt still adhering to the roots. +The factor shook this dirt away, but there was no water handy to wash +out the handful. + +“There’s two dollars here, I guess,” he chuckled, while before my eyes +was the vision of my father flinging the buckskin bag of stones and +dirt into the Yellow Sands, and in my ears came his sad voice giving me +my first and only lesson. + +MacCaskill put the dirt into his hat, and scrambled about the precipice +with the agility of a chipmunk. + +“We must find that hole, Rupe!” he shouted through the hot wind. “And +when we’re through, we’ll want to close the pass up, so as no one’ll +be able to follow. See? Golden gates! Come over here and help look, +you gal. You ain’t mope-eyed.” + +Akshelah’s wonderful eyes looked back, and she called to me quietly. +She directed my glance, and immediately I discovered Inspector Hanafin +leaning against the spur of rock, watching us, and smoking his pipe. + +He stirred when he caught my eye, and came towards us, his bright +colours rather dingy after his rapid crossing of the Bad Lands. + +“Hard at it, eh?” he said, in his delightful voice, while MacCaskill +started round violently. + +“I thought you had gone away on the _Firefly_,” I said, and MacCaskill +growled. + +“The _Firefly_ hasn’t gone away,” said Hanafin. “Do you know that +this is unexplored territory?” he went on, examining the contents of +MacCaskill’s hat, and stirring the dirt lightly with a long finger. + +My partner was sulky at having his plans spoilt, and admitted as much +in his most morose fashion. But Hanafin laughed. + +“You haven’t come here after Redpath,” complained MacCaskill. “You just +came followin’ us.” + +“I belong to the Force,” interrupted Hanafin, stroking the yellow +stripe down his leg. “If I think you have made a discovery of gold, it +is my duty to follow you. Now, you had better tell me what you know.” + +“You’ll report it, and we’ll have half the world here.” + +The inspector twirled a ring upon his third finger. + +“You ought to be old enough to know that you can’t keep a gold-find +private property. Let us suppose that you and Petrie strike something +rich to-day. This is unexplored territory, and you are alone. Next week +you would have seen fifty men here, the following week one hundred, +the next a thousand, and next month a city. We don’t need wires to +telegraph such news as a gold-find. As a matter of fact, it’s lucky for +you that I have come, because I can establish you as legal miners. Are +you going to tell me what you know?” + +“I hate to do it,” muttered MacCaskill. + +The inspector pulled out a note-book and made some entries. The bed of +shingle on which we were standing lay outside the channel of wind. The +heat, however, was terrible, and the mosquitos thick as dust. Hanafin +turned abruptly. + +“Heard anything of Redpath?” + +I felt his eyes upon me, while I tried to think out a reply in my +slow-witted fashion; but the next moment I heard his cheerful laugh. + +“So he has got here,” said the soldier. Again he bent his head, but as +he was writing, observed: “I’m ready to listen, MacCaskill.” + +My partner still demurred. + +“You three here; Redpath and his Icelander; the two sailors; my two +boys and myself. Add them up. Ten already for the new mining camp. +Lennie and company on their way. We shall soon be crowded.” + +MacCaskill gasped. + +“All that crowd comin’?” + +“Of course,” said the inspector. “When we were camping in the electric +hollow any half-blind fool could have seen that you knew of something. +It wasn’t hard to understand that those two sailors were on the good +thing, too, for they were hanging about you men like shadows. I didn’t +talk. Lennie and his lot didn’t talk, but anyone could have told that +they had made up their minds to desert the _Carillon_ and follow you +inside. By morning you had gone, following the tracks of Redpath and +his blackguard; the two sailors had gone, following your tracks; I +came, following their tracks; Lennie and Co. are following the tracks +of all of us. That’s how a mining camp grows, my friend.” + +“I pass,” said MacCaskill unhappily, and he told the inspector all the +story. + +“Good,” said the handsome Englishman, when he had done. He looked +about, stroking his brown moustache, and went on: “This might be made a +regular death-trap for us. Don’t you see?” He was addressing me. “One +man hidden in that spruce could pick us off as he liked. We can only +advance. Rock behind; the canyon upon either side. What a place to +drive an enemy into!” + +“Redpath has lost his shooter!” I exclaimed heedlessly. “It fell off +him in the mud.” + +“That is the information I wanted,” said Hanafin. “Don’t be alarmed,” +he added to MacCaskill. “Norman is posted upon the far side of the +spruce; Carey, my other boy, at the entrance into the canyon.” He gave +a last pull at his pipe. “Now to find the pass.” + +Akshelah had been standing beside me very quietly. Now she broke +silence for the first time. + +“Is it the Mosquito Hole?” she said composedly. + +We all turned to her. + +“There,” she said, pointing away to the far left side, where there was +no moss and no small trees, but merely rugged rock. + +“Well, you see more than I can, my girl,” said Hanafin. + +We came across the shingle and a bed of sand to where there was thick +wet moss. Under the cliff, streaked with its red and yellow rivulets of +slime, we looked up from ledge to ledge, and from point to point. There +was not the smallest indication of any hole. + +MacCaskill began to growl again, and Hanafin was puzzled, but Akshelah +looked at me and laughed. + +“You see?” she said, making the slightest upward movement of her head. + +I did not see, and I was about to confess as much, when the sound of +a million insect trumpets reached my ears. Then I perceived a great +boulder coming from the face of the cliff, like a misshapen nose, and +to that I pointed with the cry of discovery. The other two remained as +much in the dark as ever. + +“Watch the mosquitos!” I called. + +The insects were streaming steadily over the summit of the boulder, +like smoke out of a stove-pipe. + +“You’re a world-beater, girl!” exclaimed Inspector Hanafin. + +The others helped me to ascend the almost perpendicular cliff, where +it was very hard to find and secure a safe footing. However, I was +doing something that I understood, and I soon attained the big boulder, +which did not project as a part of the cliff, but merely reposed as a +separate fragment within a cavity. It might have been lowered there +to cover and conceal the entrance to the hole. I shouted down this +information to my companions. + +“See!” said the inspector, pointing over me. “That rock broke off, and +fell exactly upon the hole, which caught it as a cup would catch a +ball.” + +I put my head back, and saw that he had hit on the truth. The scar made +by the separation was obvious some way above. Behind the great fragment +opened an aperture into which I might have inserted my head. Here the +villainous mosquitos were pouring in and out. + +“Could we work a lever?” called Hanafin. + +It was impossible, because the force would have to be exerted against +the opposite side, and there was no foothold there. + +“Use your muscles, Rupe!” called MacCaskill. + +He spoke half in jest, but I took the remark in earnest. Having secured +safe foothold, I dug my hands into the crevices of the rock, and bent +back with all my might. A movement followed, a sullen, shifting motion, +and a wave of heat passed through me. Then the effort died out, the +rock settled back grimly, and the air became solid with mosquitos. + +“That boy could lift an ox!” I overheard Hanafin muttering. + +MacCaskill was excited again. + +“Stay with it, Rupe! Don’t be beat! He’s a bigger than Jake Peterssen, +but he won’t scrap back!” + +I was excited, too. I became far more anxious to shift that great rock +than to enter the land of Bonanza. By that time I had learnt sufficient +to be proud of my strength, because I understood that it was abnormal. +I pulled off my coat, strapped my waist tighter, worked my feet into +the ledge, dug my hands into the unyielding surface, and bent over the +black monster, which was quite as black as the negro I had conquered +at Gull, though far less terrible. I strained, until the surrounding +atmosphere became dark, and something screamed into my ears. + +There was again a motion, but whether the rock was coming to me or I +moving to the rock, I did not know. Though I saw nothing, I became in +some way aware that my muscles stood out themselves like projections +of rock, and I felt that the sight was unnatural. Then the monster +appeared to rise out of his bed and come upon me, with a rending and a +tearing, threatening to crush me. Something was giving and parting. Was +it from the roots of the boulder, or from my own vitals? I felt nothing +whatever, no pain, not even an ordinary strain. + +I understood the cause. Of course, it was because I had released my +grip, and the great rock had conquered me. It would be impossible to +try again, because my limbs were quivering, and there was no more +strength left in my body than in that of an infant. + +A ray of red light flashed out of the far-away darkness, and I +understood that I had fallen to one side, in order that I might escape +some terrible creature, which was crashing upon me to crush out my +life. An avalanche swept past with a cold breath, and I began to fall, +quite easily and contentedly, until something which I took to be a +cloud received and held me, and floated away lightly, still holding me, +and rocking gently up and down. + + + + +HOW JUSTICE WORKS + + +Varied were the sounds that reached my ears when I woke in the green +coulee, to find my limbs limp and my head dizzy. I heard, above the +hissing of the canyon, the stroke of a pick, the scrape of a spade, +the blow of axe and hammer, and the snarl of a saw. I was lying upon a +blanket, with Akshelah kneeling on the moss beside me, fanning away the +insects. She smiled delightedly when I looked round, and commanded me +not to move. + +The two troopers were cutting and shaping logs of spruce. MacCaskill +was digging foundations. On the other side, the idle Leblanc and the +incorrigible Morrison were playing poker. + +“Three queens is good, Jimmy,” I heard the former saying. “That’s +fourteen dollars you’ve lifted, durn ye! Ye can have it, soon as I wash +out me first pay-dirt.” + +“Gimme a voucher,” demanded Jim Morrison. + +Then Inspector Hanafin came down from the rocks, carrying a great load +of white grass for thatching, his fur-lined cloak, his gaudy coat and +sword put aside, the rings stripped from his fingers, his sleeves +rolled up, his handsome face marked with dirt. + +“Good man!” he exclaimed, when he saw me lift myself, and down he set +his bundle. “Over-strain, but nothing damaged,” he said cheerily. +“You’ll be all right to-morrow.” + +MacCaskill heard his voice, and came tramping across. + +“You’re the stuff, Rupe!” he called, in splendid spirits. “I’m makin’ +our shanty. See?” + +“Did I open the hole?” I asked eagerly, and both the men laughed. + +“You and that rock come down together,” said MacCaskill. + +“You pulled yourself round just in time, and I was able to catch you +as you fell,” went on Hanafin. “The hole’s open; but we didn’t venture +inside, because the place was solid with mosquitos, and the tunnel was +as black as tar. We started a smudge with dry grass and damp moss on +the inside, and the pass may be fairly clear by morning. Ever seen a +mining town start?” + +Before I could reply, he saw the two sailors, and his anger came out. + +“You idle hounds!” he exclaimed, and going up, deliberately kicked each +man. “Put up those cards, and set down to work, or I’ll pass you out of +this camp before morning.” + +The worthless creatures cringed, and swore, and rose reluctantly. + +“Norman!” called the inspector, “give these men some work, and if they +don’t stay with it report ’em, and I’ll prescribe something for their +health. We’re not going to have a bad crowd here our first week,” he +added threateningly, and then turned back to me to add: “A mining town +begins, continues, and ends in gambling.” + +MacCaskill was chuckling as he made mighty strokes with his spade. + +“Say, Rupe, you and me’ll be Bonanza kings in a year, maybe,” he said. +“We’ll be havin’ our pictures stuck inter papers.” + +He burst into laughter. + +“You old fool,” said Hanafin; but the infection reached him. “My +ambition is to get married, and there’s little chance of that on my +pay.” + +He passed on at once, with his load of dry grass, as though ashamed +of the confession, and I understood what it was that inspired the +Englishman. Somebody with bright eyes was waiting for him at home! +The chance of his life had come, and he was not the one to miss it. I +wondered if she would care for him as Akshelah liked to care for me. + +Working hours were long, because there was no darkness to trouble +us, and the soldiers made great progress with their building, while +Akshelah did the cooking, and the two sailors the growling. The latter +had come in with the idea of picking up gold, not of working for other +people; but as they had no supplies, they had to make their choice +between working or starving. + +Our camp fire burnt redly in the defile during the time of the shadow, +which began half an hour after midnight and lasted until sunrise, two +hours later. When we had done eating, the troopers sang us songs of the +plains and told us yarns of the prairie; and later on, Hanafin spoke +to me of great London, and listened sympathetically to my story, and +the tragedy connected with my father. By that time MacCaskill, Norman, +and the two sailors were asleep; but Akshelah sat opposite, her fine +eyes glowing in the firelight. Outside the light of the fire, Carey, +the tall trooper, did patrol duty. My heart went out to Hanafin, as he +talked to me as an equal, and treated me as such. Hanafin and Redpath +were the two English gentlemen of my acquaintance, and my father was +the only other I had known. + +“I have an idea that I can name the man who killed the discoverer of +this place,” said the inspector musingly, but he would say no more. +“What do I think of Redpath? An old and slimy villain, who has reached +bed-rock, and who will now stick at nothing, because he has no lower to +fall. Don’t pity him, my boy. His smooth tongue and his oily manner are +his two strongest weapons. I suppose he is sitting up in his cave now, +rehearsing the details of some new plot with that infernal Icelander.” +He paused, then added: “My duty is divided. I ought to arrest Redpath, +and deliver him at Regina, and I must administer the law here, if our +discovery is what we believe it to be.” + +A figure loomed large into the firelight, and Carey saluted. + +“A stranger coming up, sir. Maybe a native. Made no reply to my +challenge.” + +“Go out and bring him in.” + +The disciplined trooper wheeled round and was gone. + +Presently he accompanied a very old man, bent and wrapped in an aged +blanket, presenting a weird sight in the glow of the fire. His face +was like a piece of cracked leather, but his teeth, when he grinned in +greeting, were white and sound. + +“Ho!” he exclaimed, “white great boy!” + +“Ho!” replied Hanafin. “You speak English, do you?” + +It was difficult to extract any meaning out of the jargon of mangled +words and distorted sentences which the ancient proceeded to deliver. +He sought to tell us the history of himself, and of his fathers, of +their long struggles with the extinct Iroquois; but when Hanafin +questioned him concerning the adjacent country, the old man became +mysterious. He knew nothing of the land of Bonanza, nor had he ever +heard of Mosquito Pass. His innocence was wonderful; his lying +palpable! He demanded “tobak” as a solace for his old age; and when +this was given him he became bold, a wild longing crossed his aged +face, and he prayed for “the water that burns a man inside.” + +“Carey!” exclaimed Hanafin, fingering the fur on his cloak, “you are +sure this is unexplored territory?” + +“Yes, sir. It is so marked on all our maps.” + +The inspector coughed. + +“That civilising agent whisky has evidently preceded us.” + +“He may have been inside, sir,” suggested the trooper. + +Hanafin put the question in many different ways and dialects; but from +the answers given, he was satisfied that the old native had never been +inside--that is, to civilisation. + +“I could almost swear that he came out of the canyon, sir,” said Carey. + +I caught Hanafin’s arm, and said unguardedly: + +“He comes from Redpath!” + +The inspector never glanced at me, but said quietly: + +“Thank you for an idea, Petrie.” + +He leaned towards the ancient, and in his clear, strong voice +pronounced the following names: “Petrie! Redpath! Leblanc! Joe Fagge! +Olaffson!” + +“You hit him every time, sir!” exclaimed Carey, forgetting himself in +his admiration. + +“So it was Redpath who gave you whisky years ago! I might have guessed +it,” said Hanafin. + +MacCaskill was snoring behind me, and beyond Norman slept quietly in +his blanket. They had not been disturbed by the arrival of the native. +Two dark shapes heaved close to the rocks, themselves like rocks. +These shapes represented Leblanc and Morrison. I saw Hanafin’s eyes +fixed that way. + +He went on with his examination of the ancient. Did he know anything +concerning the death of the old half-mad miner? Did he know who killed +him? Had he been present at the time? What talk had he heard? The weird +creature poured forth a flood of negatives, without waiting to listen +to any particular question, and quite obviously without taking in any +part of its meaning. + +“I’ll use this old parrot as a test,” said Hanafin grimly. “Carey!” + +The trooper stiffened at once. + +“Take a light. Lead this old man up to the half-breed yonder. Make him +kneel down and look at the sleeper.” + +Hanafin, I fancy, shivered at his own plan, but the night was cold. + +“Hold the light just above the old man’s head. We will see if the +half-breed recognises him.” + +A thrill passed through me. Over the great cliffs a faint aurora burnt +blue. MacCaskill snored on; Norman never stirred; the two shapes +remained like the rocks behind them. During the silence I heard the +hoarse croak of the ravens I had seen that morning. They were returning +to the defile. + +The fire darted up hotly, and a red shower of sparks went aloft and +vanished. Carey’s face looked like bronze as he drew a flaming brand +from the fire. He gripped the ancient with his free hand, and pulled +him along. Hanafin in his long black cloak went on the other side. +Akshelah and I followed. It was like a funeral procession. + +We reached the side of the sleepers. A magnetic storm breaking overhead +would scarcely have aroused them. Carey forced the shivering Indian +upon his knees, close to the left shoulder of Leblanc; standing behind, +he held the flaring spruce so that the light fell full upon the pinched +and withered face, weird in age and horrid with fear, while the holder +of the light remained himself invisible. Hanafin passed round to the +half-breed’s right shoulder, and stood between the sleepers. + +The light moved this way and that, as the hand of him that held it +shook, and my own breath began to quicken. Hanafin seized Leblanc and +shook him violently. At the same time, his strong voice pealed out +among the cliffs: + +“Who was it killed Joe Fagge?” + +A scream of awful terror met the startled echoes of that question. + +Leblanc had opened his eyes to see a blaze of light, and below the +wizened face and bloodshot eyes of the silent witness--the ghost-like +witness of the deed done twenty years before. The thin lips before him +never stirred while that question rang into his awakened ears. Leblanc +was little better than a beast, and a beast goes mad easily. + +Jim Morrison awoke shouting, in time to see his associate leaping away +over the rocks like a huge monkey, making the country horrible with +yells. + +Carey dropped his hand, and the sparks again leapt aloft. + +The other two sleepers awoke, and called out. + +“Guilty,” said Hanafin, in answer to their question. + +We saw the poor wretch disappear into the canyon. + +Carey and Norman followed a little way, but they soon lost sight of +what had lately been Leblanc, the murderer of half-mad Joe Fagge, and +now, by the working of Justice, a madman himself. They did not go up to +the hot insect-filled cemetery among the spruce. + +The strong light began to break, making the cold patches of quartz like +snow, and under the heaving clouds the gossamers lifted and flickered. +The ravens were croaking in the direction of Eldorado. Mosquito Hole +lay that way. + +Hanafin turned the ancient Indian out of the camp, and Norman +accompanied the unhappy creature some distance along the defile. + +I thought the inspector severe upon that occasion; but he knew his +duty, and I knew nothing. Akshelah declared that the departed was a bad +man, and I expect she was right. + +Though I had very little sleep, I felt my strength again when the sun +became strong and hot. + +We were a silent party at breakfast--Hanafin grave, MacCaskill subdued, +and Morrison blenching. + +After eating, we took up our tools and prepared to start for the +unknown land of treasure. + +“Anything to report, Norman?” asked the inspector, as he rolled a +cigarette. + +“Nothing, sir.” + +But we found the half-breed at Mosquito Hole, or rather that which the +insects had done with and left for a husk. He must have scrambled up +to the hole, certain that his pursuers were upon him, and had slipped +while descending, and fallen, bruising his head. There the enemy would +have been upon him before he could recover--a relentless, poisonous +enemy, in numbers only to be estimated by millions, trumpeting, +stabbing, stifling. Its sightless eyes were filled; the host swarmed in +and out of its mouth, its nose and ears; yet an unimportant fraction +only of that mighty host of mosquitos which had overwhelmed this big, +strong man, and had smothered him to his death. + +My father was innocent. + +Old man Fagge, the crazy miner, the discoverer of Bonanza, had been +avenged at last by Justice and Inspector Hanafin. + +“Bury it among the spruce,” ordered the representative, and his men +averted their heads and carried it away. + + + + +V + +HANAFIN CITY + + + + +BONANZA + + +Before making our entry into Mosquito Pass, which was a passage through +the cliff, worn probably by water in prehistoric times, we tried to +fan a volume of smoke ahead of us, but the effort was useless, as +the strong wind poured it back into our faces. Lowering ourselves to +bed-rock, we began the advance, the glow from our lanterns falling upon +the saltpetre that coated the rocks, and lighting the mazy clouds of +insects that were always busy about our faces. The sides of the tunnel, +which was some forty feet in length, were smooth and very wet; a few +stalactites pointed from the unseen roof; bunches of moss and some pink +fungus spread over the stones; around our feet were numbers of big-eyed +frogs, bloated and too indifferent to move. The passage curved sharply +at the finish, and we were short of breath by the time we saw the light. + +The inspector, my partner, Akshelah, and myself stepped out into the +sunlight which poured over the seamed rocks. The troopers and Morrison +had been left behind to keep guard and to work. The blue sky ahead +floated in vapour, but the tunnel brought out among a wilderness of +huge rocks, so that we could see nothing of the unknown land. + +“Frightful hole!” said Hanafin, looking back. “Anyhow, a big smudge +this end will clean out the mosquitos, because the wind will carry the +smoke through from end to end.” + +“Where in Jerusalem does the wind come from?” said the factor. + +The precipice leaned over slightly, as it towered away some hundreds of +feet above us. + +“This wall is the wind-break of the country,” said the inspector. “All +the currents from the north concentrate here, and are forced through +the vent-holes, to make a single volume in the canyon.” + +We climbed upward for another hundred yards, and then entered a +channel, about three-eighths of a mile long, with a circular dip in the +centre. From the dip we descended, the channel curving every few yards. + +“Columnar basalt,” Hanafin observed, indicating the perpendicular +sides. “The dark grain is magnetic iron. Here we have hornblende. When +I have found mercury I shall be content.” + +“Platinum?” queried MacCaskill, whose knowledge of mining was equal to +mine. + +“Platinum and gold lie together,” said Hanafin. + +Then the channel made its last curve. Below us, unpromising and bare, +and pent in on all sides by chains of strong mountains, spread out-- + +Bonanza! + +I noticed a stronger flush upon Hanafin’s face. He was thinking of that +somebody at home! The muscles down my partner’s neck swelled out. Two +of our small party were excited; two were not. I thought I had never +looked upon a more desolate tract of country. + +Away to the south-west went a narrow lake of a dirty-grey colour. +A stream flowed into this lake, and had shoaled a large part of it +near its mouth. Before us a dreary succession of rounded hills rose +and fell, all of the same height, shape, and appearance, very thinly +covered with scraggy spruce and a little black poplar, with some white +birch and pitch-pine. In a very few spots we found a couple of inches +of loam under the moss, the sub-soil being invariably gravel, but the +surface was more usually composed of rock, with sand intervening. + +A wide river cut its curving channel between the dreary hills and its +own flats of beach. We could see that this river was very shallow, +because long bars of gravel or silt lifted along mid-stream, and the +“ripple” betrayed other spots where the wash had just sufficient depth +to pass. The stream was reddish in places, probably owing to a rock +bottom of granite, where the gravel had been washed away. + +“Bad for boats,” said MacCaskill. + +“Chiefly gravel,” said Hanafin. “Sand-bars shift, and gravel doesn’t. +What would you call the temperature of that water?” + +MacCaskill looked puzzled. It was a warm day, well over seventy in the +shade. He hazarded: + +“Sixty-four.” + +“I’ll say fifty-three,” said Hanafin; and when he came to take the +temperature with a little spirit thermometer, he found he was only one +degree out. + +Not a bird was to be sighted, not even a creeping thing upon the +ground. It was a land of silence, and desolation, and hidden treasure. + +Hanafin pointed out a clear-cut channel, which ran back from the river +between the hills, curving south-easterly, and meeting a similar +channel, which branched off sharply, and ran back, bending out of sight. + +“Will you name the creek to the left?” he said, looking at me; then, +seeing my puzzled expression, he added: “Will you give your name to it?” + +I suggested that he should have it, but Hanafin replied: + +“No. I am more ambitious.” + +“Petrie Creek!” exclaimed MacCaskill. “I’ll have the other creek and +valley. Golden gates! MacCaskill Gulch! What?” + +“Am I to have nothing?” said Akshelah. + +“You shall have the river, my girl,” said Hanafin kindly. + +The features of the landscape began to stand out as we crossed the +hills. + +“MacCaskill is a great creek,” said Hanafin, with a trace of +excitement; and the old man between us grinned foolishly in the delight +of having his name recorded geographically. + +“I don’t know the first thing ’bout minin’,” he admitted. “I guess +I can wash out dirt, but any galoot can do that. What’s that you’ve +picked up?” + +“Galena,” said the inspector. “Lead ore.” He began to punish it with +his little hammer, and indicated a tiny white seam with the word, +“Silver.” + +MacCaskill snatched at it. + +“Let’s feel. How much is it worth?” + +“Possibly two-thirds of one cent,” said Hanafin drily, and the factor +flung away the lump in disgust. + +While we were walking towards the Akshelah, Hanafin began to reply at +length to one of MacCaskill’s questions. + +“How to prospect, eh? Well, we have a theory that the deposits of gold +are stored in certain unknown places, and are distributed about the +main bed of a river by means of the creeks or gulches. When we have +selected a creek, we look for the spot where it bends or slants under +the side of the rock, because, if there is gold to be found in that +particular creek, we shall find it there, though it does not by any +means follow that the bend will prove to be the richest spot in the +valley. We prospect at the angle merely to ascertain whether there is +any gold in the creek or not. The next thing to do is to strike a hole +to bed-rock, and that’s where the work begins. It is best done in the +winter, when the water is frozen.” + +Hanafin broke off, and looked straight ahead with anger upon his face. + +We were close to the river, near a shallow part where a bar of gravel +made a bridge across three-fourths of the stream. Hanafin turned to +Akshelah. + +“Do you see those stakes, my girl? There!” + +“Yes,” said Akshelah, and when she spoke I saw them, too. + +“They mean that we are not the first here. Some miner has been before +us, and has staked out the claim below the forks.” + +“Then we’ll get to work, and pull up his posts,” suggested MacCaskill. + +“So there is at least one experienced miner already in Bonanza,” began +Hanafin. + +“And his name is Redpath,” I added. + +“What an indomitable man!” exclaimed Hanafin. “Directly Petrie had +opened the hole, he must have fought his passage through the mosquitos, +and here he is, washing out for all he’s worth.” + +“There are no men,” said Akshelah. + +“Not likely. Directly they saw us come out of the channel they would +have escaped into their holes,” said Hanafin. “Well, let’s make a raft.” + +We cut down the three largest spruce trees we could find, lopped them, +and dragged the logs thus made across the bar to the water. While I +cut the notches in these logs, the others went for the smaller trees, +and when we had sufficient, our raft was quickly afloat and across +the narrow channel, which was nowhere more than four feet in depth, +MacCaskill pushing with a white birch pole on one side and I upon the +other. We went up to the side of the hill and down to where the creeks +forked, until we reached the claim which had just been opened. + +“Two men!” cried Akshelah, pointing out the tracks. + +Hanafin measured the distance with his eye, saying: + +“A gulch claim is two hundred and fifty feet from post to post. Redpath +is no amateur. A legal post stands four feet above ground, and is flat +on both sides for at least one foot from the top. You see, these posts +are perfectly legal.” + +“Can’t we pull ’em up?” asked the factor, and when the inspector had +replied in the negative, he objected: + +“They ain’t legal miners.” + +“Can you give me proof that the men do not hold free miners’ +certificates?” said Hanafin sharply. “This claim cannot be touched +unless the miner who has staked assigns, or allows his ownership to +lapse.” + +“And by all the gold of Jerusalem, here he comes!” shouted MacCaskill. + +Down the hillside Olaffson proceeded unconcernedly, making a straight +line for us, and presently we could hear him whistling. + +“Mornin’!” he called insolently, when half-a-dozen yards away. + +“Well?” said Hanafin, fixing him with his keen glance. “What’s your +business?” + +“With you, mister. You’re mining recorder of the district, I guess?” + +“Yes; until the Department makes an appointment.” + +“I want to take out a miner’s certificate, an’ I want to record a +claim.” + +“You do, eh?” called MacCaskill, moving out menacingly. “And what +you’ll get is an everlastin’ poundin’ with a spruce stick--” + +“If there’s anything personal between you and this man, wait till I +have done with him,” interrupted Hanafin curtly. + +The factor turned to me, growling and fuming, and I was hot enough to +say: + +“We’ve got a lot against him. He burnt my house at Yellow Sands. He +tried to settle me at Gull--” + +“I’ve not fallen in love with the man,” interposed Hanafin. “Anyhow, +the charges you bring are rather outside my jurisdiction. This man is +merely an agent. He is repeating the lessons his principal has taught +him. Did Redpath ask you to take out a certificate for him as well?” he +asked ironically. + +The stunted figure held its ground. + +“Redpath’s gone.” + +“Who’s been working this claim with you?” + +“An old Indian.” + +“Lift up your foot,” ordered Hanafin. + +The Icelander looked startled, but thought it best to obey. + +Hanafin called Akshelah. + +“Look at that boot. Now will you find me one of his partner’s tracks?” + +Akshelah found it immediately upon the hard sand. Hanafin knelt by the +impression, took a little tape-measure from his pocket, and measured it +every way. When he had finished, he consulted his pocket-book. Then he +smiled. + +“When Redpath escaped me that night he shot the trooper, I took the +precaution of measuring a footprint he left in the mud before mounting. +Now I am able to prove that this man is a liar!” + +MacCaskill chuckled. The scoundrels had met more than their match. + +“You may carry a message from me to your master,” went on Hanafin, and +he scribbled upon a leaf of the ever-present pocket-book, and gave +the note into the Icelander’s short hand. Then he said: “Give me ten +dollars.” + +“Yes, mister,” said Olaffson, and his face became almost cheerful as he +handed over the money, which he had ready in bills crushed up in his +hand. Hanafin began to write again, and he spoke each word aloud as he +set it down: + +“Dominion of Canada. Free miner’s certificate. Non-transferable. Date. +Number One. Valid for one year only. This is to certify that--What’s +your first name?” + +“Don’t know.” + +“Olaffson,” wrote down the inspector. “Where do you come from?” + +“Anywhere.” + +“Of Hanafin City,” wrote the owner of the name, a smile about his +mouth, “has paid me this day the sum of ten dollars, and is entitled +to all the rights and privileges of a free miner for one year from the +date of this certificate.” He wrote his signature, tore out the leaf, +and gave it to the applicant. “Come to my office after noon to-morrow +to record your claim. A grant for placer-mining is too lengthy to make +out here. The fee will be fifteen dollars.” + +“Here it is, mister!” exclaimed the Icelander, holding out his other +hand. + +“You have learnt your lesson well. I cannot take the money now. Bring +it to-morrow to my office in Front Street. And remember,” he added +curtly, “this is your claim, and any other man who works upon it +without your consent renders himself liable to be arrested.” + +As we turned away, MacCaskill began to complain. + +“Why did you want to use him so good?” he demanded. + +Hanafin answered contentedly: “I think I have checkmated Redpath. +Wait until you see how Olaffson’s noble character develops under what +I have said to him.” His manner changed, and he went on briskly: +“Let’s prospect. If there is gold in the creek, we shall find surface +indications beneath yonder rocks. I’ll wash out the first pan for luck.” + +He stopped just under the bank, where the creek bent obliquely, +and taking MacCaskill’s shovel, rapidly cleared away the surface +accumulations, and turned up the coarse gravel and stones, throwing +this waste aside with quick, easy motions. + +“Now for pay-dirt!” + +He lifted a little of the finer gravel into the pan, which MacCaskill +held out with nervous hands. + +“First we strike our bar,” said Hanafin, as we went down to where the +water ran to the river, “then wash out a few panfuls of the gravel or +sand, and watch for the colours. By the number we find it becomes easy +after a little experience to calculate how much in cold cash the bar +will yield daily.” + +“This dirt’s awful rich!” gasped MacCaskill, shifting the pan from side +to side. “Look at the specks a-glitterin’!” + +“Wait until the water goes in. Give me the pan.” + +Hanafin took the shallow steel dish, and inserted it into the water +with a deft side motion, bringing it out again with the same movement. + +A cry of admiration broke from the mercurial factor when a host of +sparklets sprang towards the surface of the pan, and settled down +slowly through the water, turning over and over. + +“Look at that, Rupe!” he shouted, hitting me with his elbow. + +“No good,” said Hanafin grimly; and MacCaskill’s joy departed from him. + +“What! Ain’t that gold?” he asked angrily. + +“Flake gold. There’s less than one cent’s worth there. Those specks +are flatter than gold-leaf. If there is pay-dirt, it will be among the +black sand at the bottom.” + +The inspector continued to whirl the pan, and then he inclined it, +still shaking, with a more gentle and rotary movement, and we saw the +gravel washed out into the water of the creek, until nothing was left +except a deposit of black sand, which we learnt was pulverised magnetic +iron ore. + +“Fine or coarse, or none at all?” the inspector muttered, bending low. + +“I suppose fine dirt ain’t no pay?” suggested MacCaskill morosely. + +“Yes, but it involves slow and laborious methods,” replied the man who +shook the pan. “We should have to introduce a little mercury to form an +amalgam with the gold. This amalgam we should then heat on a shovel, +until the mercury had been given off in vapour, and the gold would +remain in a lump. Look there!” + +He had washed away nearly all the black sand, and now pointed to some +tiny specks nestling by themselves in a corner of the pan. + +“Coarse--ten cents at the least.” + +“Golden gates!” exclaimed MacCaskill. “You call this gold-minin’! I +wouldn’t a-troubled to have picked out that little bit of stuff.” + +“Ten cents to one pan is excellent pay. Far less than that gives a grub +stake,” said Hanafin. Then he looked up at MacCaskill’s dissatisfied +countenance. “Nobody who has not been a miner understands anything +about this business. Whenever the discovery cry gets heard, thousands +come racing out of the world full of the idea that they are just going +to stake, record, dig and pick out lumps of solid gold, which they +will exchange for cash, and return to the world with a fortune. This +is the reality. This is a rich country, boys, which is going to make +millionaires. Now I’ll show you where to stake.” + +We followed Hanafin to where the creeks joined, and below this +junction, going in the direction of the running water, between +Olaffson’s claim and the river, he stopped. + +“The gold from both creeks should be held here. Number One claim may be +the richest, as Redpath guessed. Cut your stakes, and I’ll measure out.” + +When we had staked out Number Three, which was the factor’s, I went +back to my own. On the flatted side of the post I saw that Hanafin had +fastened a piece of paper, and I found to my great delight that I was +able to read what he had written. The paper bore the name of my claim, +“Number Two MacCaskill,” its length, the date, and my name in full. + +But “Number Four MacCaskill” was being staked, and Hanafin smiled +mysteriously as he affixed its description on the flat side of the near +post. + +“Mr. John Smith!” exclaimed MacCaskill, after reading. “Who in +Jerusalem’s he?” + +Hanafin’s mysterious smile continued. + +“He’s something by necessity out of red-tape,” he said. “It’s not for +me to break the letter of the law, but a man must help himself when he +has nothing beyond his pay. I know, anyhow, that you won’t give ‘Mr. +Smith’ away.” + +“Good luck to ye!” exclaimed the factor heartily, and I endorsed his +cry. + +We ferried back across the Akshelah, climbed up the channel, and so +back towards Mosquito Hole. + +MacCaskill had one question to ask: + +“What might that message have been you sent to Redpath?” + +Hanafin replied: + +“The man has gone too far. I am after him for the shooting of one of +my own boys, and he stakes out a claim under my nose, and sends his +partner to me to record for him. The message I sent was that I had +given instructions for him to be shot on sight.” + +And MacCaskill chuckled delightedly. + +We reached the brow, where we could take our last look over Bonanza, +and here Akshelah called out. Two pigmy figures were to be seen toiling +and sweating upon “Number One MacCaskill.” + +Hanafin broke the silence. + +“One can’t help admiring sheer perseverance. We will leave him to his +treasure-hunting now, but to-morrow we shall all be down there, and +then--exit Redpath.” + +We descended the canyon, but by the time we regained the defile, old +friends were awaiting us--Lennie, Pete, Dave, and company, all with +great packs containing supplies they had taken from the _Carillon_. +They greeted us loudly, and not without a certain amount of chaff. + +“So you have got here, you crowd!” said MacCaskill, very morosely. + +“And we ain’t here for our health either,” piped Lennie joyously. +“The ole boat can lie on the mud while I stake out me claim. I ain’t +cheatin’ anyone. See? She belongs to rich companies, an’ ye can’t cheat +companies.” + +“Say! ain’t you ben hustlin’?” exclaimed Pete admiringly. “Run a big +buildin’ up in jest no time, ye have!” + +The soldiers had done their work quickly, and the log-house looked well +upon the long green slope. + +Suddenly Hanafin stepped out of the aperture left for the door, and +fastened a notice outside. + +We all gathered round to read:-- + + “Temporary Barracks and City Hall, Hanafin City. + + Inspector, HENRY P. HANAFIN, + (North-West Mounted Police), + Temporary Acting Gold Commissioner + and Mining Recorder.” + +The men took off their hats and gave three wild cheers for Hanafin City. + +We had guarded our secret well, MacCaskill and I; and yet, despite +our care, the population on the day of our arrival had numbered ten. +Already it was eighteen. + + + + +DISQUALIFIED + + +It was noon, and there was not a sound in the city. Front Street +consisted as yet of the log-built town hall, our own unfinished +residence, and a tent brought from the mud-held ship. The population +had gone through the tunnel into Bonanza, with the exception of +Hanafin, Akshelah, and myself. MacCaskill had gone early to his claim, +having the night before improvised, with Norman’s aid, a marvellous +rocker. Even the uncouth Morrison had gone after the dirt. He had +passed me earlier, and I had asked him whether he felt lonely now that +justice had overtaken his late associate, only to receive the reply, +which I might have looked for: + +“Sure! Ye see, he owed me fourteen dollars.” + +I had arranged with my partner to stay and complete our shanty, so that +we might have shelter in case of bad weather. I had worked all morning, +and had finished everything, except the thatching, when Hanafin came +up and handed me the first official documents I had ever received, one +being my free miner’s certificate, the other a grant for placer-mining +over “Number Two MacCaskill.” + +“How old is mademoiselle?” asked the handsome soldier, turning to the +girl with a smile, which, from some cause known only to herself, did +not appear to fascinate her. + +I happened to know, and replied for her that she would be eighteen at +the beginning of winter. + +“Ah, that’s a pity!” said Hanafin sincerely. “Eighteen is the +age-limit. Had you been a few months older I could have given you a +certificate also.” + +“I do not want the yellow dirt,” said Akshelah, quite angrily. + +The inspector laughed, and muttering “Happy girl!” walked back to what +he called his office. + +“Tell me what is written there,” said Akshelah, eyeing the sheet +suspiciously. + +I was not sure whether I could read it, but I tried, and made a +wonderful success. Slowly, and with not a little blundering over the +harder words, I made out the following:-- + + + “No. 2. Department of the Interior. + + “Agency, Hanafin City, North-west Athabasca (?), July, 1895. + + “In consideration of the payment of the prescribed fee by Rupert + Petrie, of Yellow Sands, the Minister of the Interior hereby grants + to the said Rupert Petrie, for the term of one year from the date + hereof, the exclusive right of entry upon the claim registered + as Number Two, MacCaskill Gulch, Akshelah River district, in the + country called Bonanza, for the miner-like working thereof, and the + construction of a residence thereon; and the exclusive right to all + the proceeds realised therefrom, upon which, however, the royalty + prescribed by the regulations (to be approved of by Order in Council) + shall be paid. + + “The said Rupert Petrie shall be entitled to the use of so much + of the water naturally flowing through or past his claim, and not + already lawfully appropriated, as shall be necessary for the due + working thereof, and to drain his claim free of charge. + + “This grant does not convey to the said Rupert Petrie any right of + ownership in the soil covered by the said claim; and the said grant + shall lapse and be forfeited unless the claim is continuously, and in + good faith, worked by the said Rupert Petrie or his associates. + + “HENRY P. HANAFIN, + “(Acting) Mining Recorder.” + +Akshelah sighed. + +“And you are going to look for the yellow dirt, too?” she said +lingeringly. + +“That’s what I came away for,” I answered her lightly. + +“He made you come.” She meant MacCaskill. “You did not want to come +away. You were happy beside the bright waters, and I was very happy. We +caught the fish, and we hunted.” Her eyes were full of tears. “You have +forgotten all that, and you never laugh with me now.” + +She was partly right. I was growing worldly-wise, but I did not +forget. I could not forget the walks with Akshelah over the rolling +grass-hills, among the tall sulphur-lilies, and those idle paddles on +my own little laughing water. I did not forget the hunting expeditions, +and those songs and stories we had sung and told to each other, and +those foolish kisses under the sunshine, and sometimes under the moon. +How could I forget those happiest days? All had been so peaceful in +that life which seemed so far away, until Redpath, the destroyer of +trust, had come to link my quiet world with his, and all since then had +been fighting and deceit. Had not this place and its gold ruined my +father? + +The voice of Akshelah was in my ears. + +“We shall stay here, and Pepooa will creep up around us, and Mispoor +will fall and hold us. The long night will come, and the ghost-lights +will whisper always in the sky.” She shuddered. “And there will be +beast-men! I see them coming, the men who will drink hot waters, and +fight one another through the long night, and they will take me away +from you, and I shall die--far from my own people and my own land. And +you will learn the ways of that world; you--you will drink hot waters, +and fight too.” + +Had my poor maid gone on in that strain, I think she would have +prevailed upon me to have taken her home; but the figure of Hanafin +stood out, and I heard his voice shouting to me. + +“Be brave, little squirrel,” I said, taking her two small hands. Then I +hurriedly kissed her wet eyes, and obeyed the inspector’s call. + +Olaffson was inside the office, sitting upon a log, his white face +malevolent and hungry-looking. + +Hanafin turned to me, and spoke at once. + +“You told me, Petrie, that the late Leblanc upon a certain occasion +accused this man of being the murderer of old Fagge. I want this matter +cleared up finally, both for your sake and for the sake of the old +man’s connections south. I understand you have accused the late Mr. +Petrie of being the murderer,” he went on, addressing the Icelander, +who broke in at once: + +“That was Redpath. He thought Petrie done it, I guess. I know now +Petrie didn’t, but I never thought ’twas Leblanc till t’other night. He +’cused me, ’cause he hated me bad. I took a knife to him one time, but +he druve me to it.” He paused, and wiped his mouth. “Now, Jim Morrison +mighter told ye quite a bit. They was pards, an’ Gedeon was man to +ole Fagge for quite a while. The ole chap was moony.” The Icelander’s +voice grew louder with confidence. “Ole man struck a wonderful rich +find right here. Right here! A reg’lar hole of dirt, coarse dirt, an’ +nothing but dirt.” + +Perspiration started out upon his slimy forehead, and he paused for +breath, blinking at us. + +“Get along,” said Hanafin quietly. + +“Leblanc knew of it, an’ no one ’cept him an’ ole man did know of it. +So Leblanc got to work, an’ fixed ole man late one night when he was +asleep, an’ when Petrie was asleep. Ye see, he reckoned to come back +one time, an’ open up that hole. P’r’aps he never split to Jim. P’r’aps +he was hidin’ it from Jim.” + +“Stay a bit,” said Hanafin. “How did you find out this?” + +The Icelander grinned. + +“The night he an’ Jim got here, I come around to try an’ level up +things wi’ Leblanc. Jim had lef’ him, an’ gone to Mister Petrie’s camp. +Gedeon was a-sittin’ by a rock, sorter stupid wi’ hunger, an’ a-talkin’ +to hisself, so pleased to have got here. I set beside that rock, an’ +listened to his talk. That’s how I found out. I might a-been his +priest, an’ him a-confessin’.” + +“You tried to kill him,” I interjected. + +“He shifted hisself by accident, an’ I scarce touched him. He was a +dirty murderer, anyhow,” said the little wretch, unabashed. + +“You told this to Redpath?” questioned Hanafin. + +“Had to,” admitted Olaffson, though he had only yesterday sworn +that Redpath was not in the district. “Ye see, Gedeon never let out +jest where the place was, an’ I don’t know the first thing ’bout +prospectin’. It was somewhere near where them two creeks jined, an’ +I told Redpath, an’ he staked out that claim at the forks.” He spat +a chew upon the ground, and got up, smacking his two stunted hands +together. “An’ now I’ve beat him. Gol’ darn it, but I’ve beat him every +way!” + +“Now we understand why Redpath stops here,” said Hanafin to me. “Now +we understand the reason for that haste of his.” He added still more +slowly: “Now you understand how I have checkmated Redpath.” + +“How?” I exclaimed. + +“Listen,” said Hanafin. + +The Icelander was raving in his triumph. + +“What’s his price, inspector? What’s the Government figure for Redpath? +I’ve got him for sale. Ye shall have him. I’ve got no more use for him. +I’ll sell him, body an’ blood an’ bones.” + +The little miscreant shivered with his excitement. + +“How about the claim?” suggested Hanafin. + +“It’s mine,” slobbered the Icelander. “Redpath paid the ten dollars +for the certificate an’ the fifteen for the grant. Redpath found the +claim, an’ measured it, an’ staked it out, an’ showed me what to do. +But I’m certified owner, an’ he ain’t allowed on that claim. The claim +is registered to me; Redpath can’t come upon it. He don’t dare look +upon it. He don’t dare come outer his dug-out, ’cause he’ll be shot +on sight, ’cause he’s wanted for murder. You’re right, mister; you’re +right all the way. You’ve beat him; an’ the claim’s mine, an’ all the +gold in it’s mine, an’ I’m a-goin’ to dig for it right now. Jest gimme +me claim, mister; jest gimme the grant what you promised me. Number +One MacCaskill. That’s the hole. Here’s the fifteen dollars--Redpath’s +fifteen--mister inspector. You’ve beat Redpath, an’ I’ll give him away +to ye, ’cause he’s no more bit of use. I’ll sell him to ye cheap, body +an’ clothes an’ big talk.” + +Breathless and panting, he pushed the money out towards the inspector, +but Hanafin did not take it. + +Hanafin had beaten Redpath. That was true; but was it true that +Olaffson had beaten the inspector? Was the Icelander even then playing +his part, and speaking the words taught him by Redpath? My eyes were +upon Hanafin, and it appeared to me that a sense of failure was set +upon his face. Presently he stirred. + +“Carey!” he called. + +After a pause of intense silence, broken by Olaffson’s excited +breathing, he called again: + +“Carey!” + +“Here, sir!” + +The soldier-policeman appeared at the door, struggling into his tight +jacket. + +“This man, Carey, this Icelander--his name is Olaffson--has, I find, an +exceedingly bad record, and I have just discovered that he is guilty, +upon his own confession, of attempting murder within the city limits. +Take him a mile along the defile, set him south, and instruct him to +continue in that direction. If you find him about the city or Bonanza +after to-day, arrest him at once, and bring him before me. If he +should, on any such occasion, attempt to escape, you may shoot.” + +“Yes, sir.” + +The next minute Hanafin was speaking to me in his usual pleasant manner. + +“You must abandon your present claim, Petrie, and take Number One +MacCaskill, which is at present vacant. I will alter the description in +your grant, if you will give it me. No! It is not allowed to argue with +a superior officer. There’s a miner’s motto, which you will do well to +remember, and it is this, ‘Never be satisfied with a grub stake.’” + + + + +THAT PRIEST AGAIN! + + +On a certain evening, about eleven o’clock, when the sun was setting +reluctantly over the western end of the defile, a lone stranger came +into the line of vision of MacCaskill and myself, an elderly man, +thin and grizzled, sweating under the weight of a heavy pack. Once he +stopped to shade his eyes and peer about, then, having probably caught +sight of the log buildings, he tramped on and approached us as we sat +outside our shanty. MacCaskill had been grumbling, because he had not +yet grown accustomed to ten-cent pans. + +“I want to pick it up in lumps,” he growled, pinching his little +buckskin bag, which was rapidly becoming fat. Then he, too, caught +sight of the stranger, who came up to us, as though to greet old +friends. “See there!” exclaimed the factor hoarsely, “here comes +another! Another damned sooner!” + +The elderly man let down his pack, and nodded very gravely. + +“How are ye?” he said, in a high nasal voice, proceeding to mop his +face with a dirty shirt-sleeve. “How do I come, eh? One of the first, +I guess. No big crowd ben before me, eh?” he said, mouthing each word +slowly. “What’s yer population, pard?” + +MacCaskill enlightened him. The grizzled man appeared to be incapable +of smiling, but he gave me the impression of being satisfied. + +“Well,” he said, “I’m always right on time. That’s me, pards! If I +don’t come in wi’ the first, I don’t come in at all. I’m Moccasin Bill, +pards. That’s me. What are ye callin’ the place?” + +“Hanafin City,” I replied, as MacCaskill was relighting his stone pipe. + +“Well, an’ a vurry nice city,” said Moccasin Bill, allowing his eye +to roam along the defile, where the shadows were beginning to gather. +“Pards, I’ll jest set right down, an’ get some supper acrost me. Ain’t +got a saloon here yet?” + +“We’re only startin’,” admitted MacCaskill. + +The old man opened his pack, and produced some fat bacon and a fry-pan. + +“Tell ye,” he said profoundly, “the hull world’ll be on a buzz be now, +I guess. The Noo York papers, an’ the London papers, an’ the whole +durned rest uv ’em will be jest runnin’ over ’bout this place.” + +MacCaskill growled out his anger. + +“How the Jerusalem have they come to know?” + +Grizzled Bill’s bacon began to hiss in the pan. He turned his solemn +face towards us. + +“Ye ain’t reg’lars. No offence, pards. Can see ye ain’t. What’s the use +o’ tryin’ to explain things what can’t be explained?” + +“If it hadn’t been for me, this place wouldn’t ever a-been discovered,” +boasted MacCaskill falsely. + +The new-comer was as cool as ice. + +“Listen-a-here.” He turned his bacon, and sniffed hungrily at the +greasy steam. “I ben in South Africa a-minin’, an’ I ben in West +Australy a-minin’, and I ben in Californy a-minin’.” He paused, then +added: “Now I come here a-minin’. I’m a lone hand. I allus have been a +lone hand.” + +“Ain’t ye got any relations?” asked MacCaskill, when the miner stopped. + +“The world’s a-crawlin’ wi’ ’em. I was a-goin’ to say this, pard, jest +this: I’ve packed along one time wi’ me ole ox, or me ole hoss, an’ +maybe I’d see a pesky vulture a-comin’ away off, just like a bug en the +sky, an’ then another, an’ then another, an’ lots uv ’em, all like bits +o’ bugs. They’d be coming my way, see, an’ I’d say to meself, ‘There’s +a funeral.’ Me ole ox, or me ole hoss, would pack along right as right, +good an’ strong; but the bugs would get bigger, an’ turn inter big +bugs, and the big bugs would get bigger yet, and black, an’ they’d come +around, a-flappin’, an’ a-callin’, an’ a-rubber-neckin’ wi’ their ugly +bare necks. Then down would go me ole ox or me ole hoss, wi’ staggers, +or fly, or pissen-grass, an’ then the vultures would sorter chuckle, +jest like, ‘Told ye there was a blow-out a-comin’ to us.’ An’ down +they’d come, an’ I’d know that the ole pack-ox or the ole pack-hoss +would have to go. I can’t tell ye how them vultures knew, ’cause I +wouldn’t know meself, that the ole beast was a-goin’ to break. But I +says this to ye, that if a pesky bird can do that, a worldful o’ pesky +men oughter be able to do as good. + +“If a man gets to find gold, he ain’t a-goin’ to keep it to hisself. +No, sir! ’Tain’t in nature. Other men are a-comin’ up to have their +bite. They smells it en the air. They feels it en their innards. The +wind whistles uv it, an’ off they start, a-sniffin’ to find the place, +like half a million dogs. They’ll be comin’ in be scores every day. I +passed quite a few on me way. They’re comin’ in be boat mostly, an’ I +come in be land. Me ole pack-hoss played out yesterday, an’ I come on +wi’ me own trotters. Moccasin Bill ain’t never a-goin’ to get left. Not +him!” + +The professional miner spoke deliberately, pausing often to find the +word he wanted. When he had done this lengthy speech he started upon +his supper. After the arrival of Moccasin Bill an endless stream of +miners, and those who live upon them, came in; one week of such an +inrush caused the very characteristics of the place to change. Log +buildings sprang up with inconceivable rapidity along both sides of +the defile, making Hanafin City a fact as well as a name. A large +store became under course of erection, and across its unfinished front +suspended a huge canvas, bearing the inscription, “The Bonanza Trading +and Supply Association.” Bales and boxes of such supplies were packed +by oxen over the Bad Lands from Lake Peace. The men of the Association +drew the _Carillon_ off the mud-flats, patched her up, and steamed +her away south, to report how they had discovered her, wrecked and +deserted. Lennie and his men kept their own counsel. Two saloons were +erected. One roulette table had already arrived, and was working day +and night. A branch of one of the leading banks had been established. A +detachment of police arrived, and a Government representative to assume +the functions of Gold Commissioner. + +The Government were hard at work defining that portion of the +north-west territory which we had named Bonanza, and great power +was given to Inspector Hanafin to adjust the mining law, and to +administer the same. He was instructed to meet any difficulties that +might occur by the exercise of his own judgment, without waiting for +authority. He assumed the local rank of Commissioner, and later a post +from Ottawa awarded this rank to him absolutely. A mail service into +the interior was inaugurated, police stations were established, and +patrols traversed the country. Quite at the end of August the flag of +the Hudson Bay Company went up, and Fort Hanafin became marked upon +the map. By that date a theatre had been built upon Front Street, +and performances, known as variety shows, were given nightly. After +supper the city was alive with lights and singing, with drunkenness and +gambling, and there were women in the place. + +Mosquito Pass had been blown up, and a great rent appeared in the +cliffs where the miners passed to and from Bonanza. The spruce bluff +had vanished, the trees having been cut down for use, and the graves +of Joe Fagge and Leblanc, his murderer, had been trampled out. The +opening of the cliffs made the canyon far less of a blow-pipe, and I +missed the wild music, which only became sonorous in times of storm. +Along both sides of the Akshelah numbers of tents showed, with heaps +of dump, scores of rockers and sluice boxes, shining picks and spades, +and clumsy barrows, and all around figures of men, running, stooping, +shovelling, washing out, apparently never at rest. “MacCaskill” and +“Petrie” creeks were staked out for miles back. River claims and hill +claims were also staked out, every alternate ten claims being reserved +for the Government. A royalty of ten per cent. was levied by the Gold +Commissioner, and collected, in spite of loud grumblings from the +miners, on the gross output of every claim. + +Number One MacCaskill was my claim; Number Two was occupied by the +“Athabasca Mining Syndicate, Limited”; Number Three was leased to +MacCaskill; Numbers Four to Eight to Lennie and Company; Number Nine to +Moccasin Bill; Number Ten to one Jake Peterssen; while Numbers Eleven +to Twenty, both inclusive, belonged to the Dominion Government. + +It will be remembered that Hanafin had staked out a claim under +the style of Mr. John Smith, because, owing to something he called +“red-tape,” his position debarred him from working as a miner, or +holding a claim. When he had made me shift my stakes, after the +ejection of Olaffson, he had himself come into Number Two, and had +recorded this claim to the Athabasca Mining Syndicate, which was +himself. He hired two Swedes, who had come in, like so many, without +supplies, to work the claim for him as agent of the company, at a +remuneration of five dollars and food per day. When these assistants +had made sufficient money they started mining on their own account, and +then Hanafin simply hired two more improvident hands, and thus the work +of the Company proceeded. + +Claim Number Ten was worked by my former opponent, Jake Peterssen. The +tidings of Bonanza had quickly reached Gull in that inexplicable manner +which Hanafin named “wireless telegraphy,” and many of the men threw +up their work upon the lumber and “came in,” Peterssen among them. He +told me that I had spoilt his right arm, and that he was no good for +lumbering; but when he gripped my hand in greeting, I felt glad that I +should never be called upon to stand up to him again. + +By the end of August all these things had come to pass, and still +people were flocking in every day, despite the fact that the night +began to threaten, and that winter was near. To show how the camp was +governed by Hanafin, I narrate the following incident:-- + +A gang of bullies arrived, with no intention of mining or doing honest +trade, but simply bent upon ruling the place by fear, and living by +means of terrorism. These foul-mouthed beast-men, as Akshelah rightly +named them, spent most of the day in the principal saloon, drinking at +the expense of others, and when satisfied for the time, came out upon +Front Street, and, having captured a certain honest little character, +Jimmy Carruthers by name, proceeded to haze him in front of the saloon. +The little man, who had come into town to purchase supplies, took the +treatment good-naturedly at first, but presently one of the bullies +ordered him to dance for their edification. When he did not come up to +expectation, the brute poked at his ribs with a pointed stake, thereby +reaching the limits of Jim’s endurance. He refused to gratify his +tormentors further, thereupon the chief bully pulled out a revolver, +and shouted: + +“Dance, ye little cuss, or I’ll make a hole through ye!” + +Hanafin proceeded up the street with Norman at his side, but the +disturbers of the city’s peace did not see them. I noticed that the +Commissioner quickened his walk. Jimmy Carruthers was blenching from +the revolver, because it was obvious that the half-drunken bully was no +respecter of life, and was calling out for mercy, when Hanafin pushed +him aside. + +“Norman!” exclaimed the Commissioner, “arrest that man.” + +The bully went dark with anger. + +“Arrest me, ye skunk! Arrest me--” + +There he stopped, threw up his arms, coughed once, choked, and fell +forward. An angry little curl of smoke floated away down Front Street, +to the accompaniment of a few sharp echoes among the cliffs. The bully +had drawn upon Norman, and the Commissioner shot him dead at once. + +Then he rounded upon the others, who snarled menacingly, and advanced +in a half-circle, brave because of their numbers. The Commissioner +whipped out his long sword, and the bullies stopped, more, I fancy, +because of the cold light in Hanafin’s eyes than for fear of the cold +steel. + +“Put up your hands,” said the Commissioner quietly, “else I’ll have +the crowd of you hanged before supper. This mining camp is in British +territory, I’ll make you remember, and I am the representative of the +Queen.” + +He removed his little forage cap, and Norman followed the example of +his chief. The bullies weakened, and obeyed with surly oaths. Norman +was ordered to search each one, and the majority were found to be +carrying secret weapons. These were marched off to the barracks, and +sentenced to one month’s imprisonment. That same evening a proclamation +was issued and posted about the city. + +After the date of that proclamation, any man found carrying hidden +weapons, either in the town or about Bonanza, would be fined one +hundred and fifty dollars for a first offence. For a second, he would +be deprived of all miner’s privileges, and be dismissed from the +district. The miners read, and realised what sort of a representative +they had over them. + +Hanafin City became the capital of the most law-abiding mining country +that the world has ever seen; so said the old miners. Yet when I went +to visit the man who had done this, I found him soaking his hands in +hot water, to prevent his fingers from losing their delicate shape +and whiteness. I am never likely to know whether Hanafin, who was +a combination of cleverness, coolness, courage, and conceit, was a +typical Englishman, but I like to think he was. I would have done +anything for that man. + +“Commissioner,” I said, on the night following the affair with the +bullies, but he interrupted me--“My name is Hanafin.” This was merely +one out of many instances in which he tried to set me at my ease. + +“You called yourself to-day the representative of the Queen,” I went +on. “An old man, who found me when Redpath put me away to starve off +the coast of Gull, sang ‘God save the Queen.’ Who is this Queen?” + +I thought Hanafin was about to laugh, then he went grave. + +“Is it possible?” I heard him murmur, before he said profoundly, “Boy! +you have been buried!” + +“I have lived at Yellow Sands since my babyhood,” I said. + +“Of course,” said he, “you could not know. But you are an Englishman, +and that makes your question sound more than ever strange to my English +ears. Well, listen! I’ll tell you something about our Empress and her +Empire.” + +He proceeded to give me a startling description of the world, of its +rulers, its politics, and its universal unrest--a description which +caused my mind to expand, if not to respond, and my brain whirled when +I walked home. + +MacCaskill I mention to say that we were partners only in name--that is +to say, we still lived together, Akshelah cooking for us and minding +us; but that was all. We were separated in work and in recreation. It +was my pleasure to watch the life and activity of the ever-growing +population of the city, but always at a distance. MacCaskill loved +life, too, but he liked to be a part of it, and it was the life of +the saloon and the gambling-den that he loved. The factor ran against +congenial spirits, who had knocked about the world; they suited him +better than the ignorant youth who, though born inside the world, had +been bred and brought up upon the outside. + +We came to the beginning of September, when the population of Hanafin +City, the wind-crossed defile of the former month, was over five +thousand souls. One night I was teaching Akshelah to read, and proud +indeed to find myself in the position of schoolmaster, when a message +summoned me to the chief. + +Hanafin was pushing himself to and fro in a rocking-chair beside his +table--luxuries which had just reached the city--and Carey stood +beside him. I imagined that something must have gone wrong, for the +Commissioner’s face was angry. + +“Petrie,” he said at once, “have you heard anything of Redpath?” + +When I had replied in the negative Hanafin mused for a few moments, +watching me, then said: + +“Father Lacombe has arrived in the city.” + +I gave a great start, and Hanafin went on: + +“Father Lacombe is a noted missionary. He could hardly find the leisure +to come here, and if he had been thinking of doing so I should have +heard. It certainly is possible for him to have come from Three Points +by river and portage, then by lake, and so over the flats; but in +that case the patrol would have seen him and reported. Repeat your +statement, Carey.” + +“It is said that the priest was paddled along the shore by Indians, who +also packed his things on from the beach. No one saw him on the route. +He arrived yesterday, and has a tent in West Hanafin; but he has not +been seen to-day. I am told he is unwell after his journey. The Indians +declare he is Father Lacombe, of Three Points--” + +“Their word goes for nothing. Because I have not succeeded in finding +Redpath’s hiding-place, he has come out into the open again, and defies +me. I’ll teach him his last lesson to-night.” + +Hanafin pulled his fur-lined cloak about him with angry movements, and +we three left headquarters, and made towards the western annex. + +“Redpath would never have taken that name,” I began, when Hanafin, who +was decidedly out of temper, took me up sharply. + +“If it had been Father Jones, or Father Anybody, I might have suspected +nothing. The blind is obvious. Redpath knows he has me to deal with. He +thinks he will be safe under the name which I must regard as the most +unlikely for him to select.” + +We came up and saw the solitary tent, glowing with a light inside. +Outside an Indian was chopping wood. We were quite away from the noise +and rush of Front Street. A big shadow was moving inside the tent. +It stopped, and suddenly settled down to half its former height. The +Commissioner went to the Indian, and summarily dismissed him on some +mission. Then he and I approached the tent-flap, and Carey followed. I +whispered: + +“Shall we cut the ropes?” + +“I mark my game before I shoot,” said Hanafin, and he put out his hand +to the tent-flap. + +Then I noticed that this was one of the tents made with a window--that +is, a detachable piece of canvas about five feet above ground, which +could be lowered to enable the occupant to see out; the hole was +covered with a piece of fine gauze to keep out the mosquitos. I drew my +companion’s attention to this, and we went up silently, and together +looked into the tent. + +The priest was upon his knees, his face buried in his hands. + +Hanafin’s face seemed to tighten, and his lips twitched. + +A lamp hung from the tent-pole. The priest knelt before a box, upon +which were arranged a few books, and in the centre a curious device of +wood and ivory. + +“What is that?” I whispered. + +“They call it a crucifix,” came the answer, which told me nothing. + +We expected to see the face of a villain, the loose face and flabby +skin, the cold eyes and the smooth smile of Redpath. It was a firm face +that we saw when the head came up and the hands lowered and clasped +each other, a kind, even a noble face; and the eyes, when they opened, +were deep and grey. It was a face that I could have gazed at for a +long time, because I had seen nothing like it before, but Hanafin was +pulling my arm. + +“Come away,” he whispered hoarsely. + +I watched lingeringly, and the priest, raising his right hand, touched +his wide forehead, and then traced his long fingers down and across his +chest. My untaught mind awoke and responded to the act, and began to +seek in its ignorance for more knowledge. + +The strong-minded Commissioner was positively trembling. + +“Heaven be thanked that I did not cut those ropes! My reputation would +have gone for ever.” + +“Who is he?” I said, the glamour of the scene impressed upon my +struggling mind. + +“He is the Reverend Gabriel Lacombe, who, I believe, could be a +cardinal if he chose, but who prefers to serve in the solitude +reclaiming Indians. The great Lacombe, who has refused an +archbishopric! And I was going to jump upon him for a murderer! Carey, +not a word, if you desire mentioning!” + + + + +VI + +THE NIGHT + + + + +CAN A LEOPARD CHANGE HIS SPOTS? + + +Upon the 19th of September, Akshelah came in from her own little hut +behind my shanty. Her cheeks were a wonderful ripe colour. She looked +at me with large, sad eyes, and softly announced: + +“She has come!” + +I had already felt the exhilaration of the atmosphere, and I had been +conscious of the raw, strong light, though I could not see outside, +so I knew that the change had come. I did not put any question to +Akshelah, but I must have looked it with my eyes. + +She replied simply, “Mispoor,” and I went out. + +Mispoor, the lovely cold goddess, had indeed come to us in the night, +and all the country glared and shivered. The mountain ranges looked to +have moved and come closer. Hanafin City was shrouded, and all things +had increased in size. The water along the defile was the colour of +indigo. The smoke hung in the stagnant air like thick lumps of wool. +Here was Pepooa, and the night was upon us. + +“We cannot go away now,” said a plaintive voice behind. + +Akshelah was right. We could not go away while the night lasted. The +prison bars were closing round us; the light went out fast; we were two +occupants of the gilded prison called Bonanza, and we could not escape +until the time of May, when the Spirit of the Green Mantles should tear +open the waterways, and melt apart the bars of ice. + +I went inside my shanty, and desolation and loneliness fell and settled +over me. In all that busy cosmopolitan mining town I was alone. I was +friendless and forsaken. + +MacCaskill had left me. We had drifted apart gradually, because I would +not join him in the saloon or at the faro table; he had bought a tent, +and pitched it in Bonanza upon his claim, and there made merry with his +new friends. Wealth had poured in upon him like the riches of an old +tale. His claim had turned out to be the Eldorado hole of old Fagge. +Hanafin and Redpath had each made the pardonable mistake of thinking +that the treasure would be found immediately below the forks. Probably +Leblanc had known that it was five hundred feet lower down, but Justice +had overtaken him before he could make use of his ill-bought knowledge. +MacCaskill was the lucky man, the drawer of the highest prize in this +gigantic lottery. He had achieved the height of his ambition; he had +found the gold which should satisfy all the cravings of avarice. Apart +from his finds of the stone, he would frequently wash out over one +hundred and fifty dollars in dirt alone per day. + +At one time I thought that he must be gathering in his fortune +fast--that fortune with which he hoped to retire to luxury in New York +City, but I found myself in error. How did he spend his wealth? The +city prices were not exorbitant. Flour cost nine dollars, fat bacon +twenty-five, sugar seventeen for fifty pounds, beans ten dollars per +bushel, and a pound of tea could be bought for two dollars. + +But on a certain night MacCaskill made me enter the largest of the +saloons upon Front Street. One half of the place was devoted to +drinking, the other half to gambling. + +My companion soon left me to join a gang, and I grew tired of waiting +for him and came away. + +Later I met Lennie, who was slipping downwards fast. + +“Say!” he exclaimed, with unwonted eagerness but customary insobriety, +“your ole pard Mac’s ben havin’ quite a bad streak. Heard of it?” + +When I had replied, Lennie proceeded: + +“He started out to run the faro bank dry, did Mac, an’ he’s ben cleared +out of fourteen thousand dollars. Come and liquor.” + +I refused, and walked away, Lennie jeering after me taunts of pride, +because it was a bad breach of etiquette to refuse to drink. I was +making myself unpopular that way, but I simply could not swallow the +smoky, scorching spirit. Only a few minutes later I met MacCaskill, +surrounded by a gang of half-drunken miners; he was himself half drunk, +more with the madness of gambling than with liquor, and was swearing +furiously that he had not finished with that faro bank. + +“Wait till I lift a few more thousands outer my hole. I’ll bust it!” he +shouted. + +The gang passed on, MacCaskill not more than a yard from me; but +already a great gulf spread between us. He had been changed by coming +into Bonanza; I had remained the same. + +Father Lacombe had gone. He had only spent a fortnight in Hanafin City. +I was presented to him, and proclaimed my utter ignorance at once, +because, not knowing how to address him, I asked the natural question +whether he had come to mine. + +“Yes,” he replied, his grey eyes lighting. “It is my idea to stake out +and record the entire district.” + +He asked me into his tent, and both then and on several subsequent +occasions, because he was a man who never seemed to want sleep, +unfolded to me another world, even more mysterious than the inside and +outside worlds I already had knowledge of. When he had gone, another +blank was made; but he sent a priest to form a mission, and this Father +Casey came for me, and continued my education where his superior had +left off. He was planning to erect a church in Hanafin City, and I had +promised him five thousand dollars from my own rich finds. + +Hanafin had gone. That was the saddest loss of all. He had been +recalled by Government to make his report upon the new district, and +on the 10th of September I had wrung his hand and said good-bye, and +then turned away from the handsome aristocratic Englishman, who had +deigned to be my friend, weary at heart, because I knew that I should +never see him again. He would go home and marry his beautiful English +sweetheart, and find the place that had been appointed for him. The +Athabasca Mining Syndicate, Limited, paid good dividends, he had +assured me, and later on I heard that he had made an assignment of the +claim for a high figure. He had done very well, and I feel sure he +deserved all his success. So on that morning when the snow came, which +would not begin to melt until the following late April, I broke down +under the realisation of my loneliness. Two men had declared themselves +my partner--one an unprincipled rascal, who had always held a complete +influence over me; the other as true as steel, and as weak as sand; +both had deceived and forsaken me. I was alone, and yet-- + +An arm went round my neck, and a flushed face looked down on mine. + +“You have lost your friends,” said a sad little voice. “But all the +time I have had only you.” + +And had it not been for her, should I have ever seen Bonanza? + +I took Akshelah’s hand, and she sat beside me, and there we remained in +silence, with the snow around us, and the ice coming up. + +“I should not have come away, but he persuaded me. My father advised me +to stay--with you. But I wanted to see what life was.” + +“Ah, and you have seen it,” said Akshelah. Then, after a pause: “Do you +like it?” + +“I hate it.” + +“And the women of the world--do you like them?” + +I have referred to the women who had entered Hanafin City. Their +numbers had grown of late; women wonderfully dressed in bright colours, +with faces of careless strength and boldness, with cold eyes and +mechanically laughing mouths. “Fine women,” MacCaskill had dubbed +them. I thought of them when Akshelah spoke, and I looked at her large +bright eyes, her delicate colouring, her soft fawn skin, her wealth of +rich black hair. I mentally compared this maid of the outside with the +women of the inside. So, I thought, would the great City of London, my +birthplace inside the world, compare with my little home outside. + +“Do you like the women?” Akshelah was asking again, and I answered her +truly, and she was satisfied. + +The day soon darkened, and the pale snow became ghastly when the arch +of the aurora lit, and the livid spears lengthened and shortened +across a clear black sky. The atmosphere lowered and tightened its +hold upon us, as the grim frost began to assert its long rule, and the +thermometer went down, far below zero, and still down. The close season +had come. + +I had five thousand dollars for Father Casey in the currency of the +country, having made the exchange at the bank that morning. The money +was fastened up into a little bundle, which I had left lying ready +to hand, because there was little fear of anything being stolen in +this mining town. Akshelah had gone out, and I was sitting alone in +the lantern light, beside my cook-stove, when the fall of footsteps +crunched the snow; a hand felt across the piece of canvas which did +duty for a door; there was the sound of quick breathing; the flap gave +way, and a well-known voice spoke familiarly: + +“Good evening, Petrie!” + +A terrible apparition introduced itself into my shanty. A tall figure, +abnormally thin, with unspeakable rags clinging about it; an emaciated +face, where two great cheek-bones protruded as though they must burst +the skin; two pouches of bloodless flesh represented cheeks; two cold, +deeply-sunken eyes; two large loose ears; a little grey hair, and a +neck that had dwindled down to the dimensions of a stove-pipe. This was +the Redpath who advanced to bend greedily over my glowing stove. + +“An inclement night, my dear fellow. Really miserably cold and +cheerless. Well, and how are you? Of course, I ought to have visited +you long ago; but you know, perhaps, how peculiarly I have been +situated. An incident of a painful nature has compelled me to retire +into temporary seclusion. Even now I have to exercise supreme caution. +Ah, excuse my clothes, Petrie. Anything goes in a mining camp, you +know.” + +The same as yesterday! + +The living skeleton reached out a hand which made me shiver, and closed +it upon my pipe. He looked round. + +“I don’t see your tobacco. Ah, thanks.” He began to fill my pipe, but I +noticed that it was only with the utmost difficulty he could maintain +an upright position. “Well, and how are things? Going smoothly, eh? +Confounded nuisance my being knocked out of it for the time. Excuse +plain speaking, Petrie, but I really think you might have done a +little more for me. I know it’s _sauve qui peut_ in gold-mining, as in +most other things, and shove the hindmost to the devil. You needn’t +remind me. Ah, well, bygones must be bygones. I thought I’d just trot +round, look you up, and have a bit of supper with you, old man, to +show there’s no ill-feeling on my part; but I daresay, with my usual +inaccuracy, I’ve dropped in at the wrong time, and you’ve done your +bite.” + +He could talk in that strain though he was fainting, and absolutely +starved. He began to sway to and fro, and sometimes groped blindly. I +could not bear to look at him. + +“I never expected to see you again,” I said. + +“You thought Hanafin had driven me away?” Redpath spoke with the +greatest difficulty, and the bony hand that clutched my still unlighted +pipe shook in a horrid fashion. “I have been in hiding a few miles +from Bonanza, awaiting my opportunity. It has been decidedly lonesome +and, of course, annoying, because I have been compelled to furnish +myself with supplies. I think you said that you have had your supper? +Hanafin has gone, I hear. He could not find me, after all. He was +wasted here ... admirable tactician ... clever in finesse ... sees +the board with his mind ... always sure of his next move, anticipates +yours.... You move one way--check ... you move another way--check ... +then checkmate; down comes your number, and the lights go out Ah, God! +What an earthquake!” + +The unhappy wretch reeled about in an agony, stumbled against the +stove, and cried like an animal when he felt his leg scorched. It was +horrible to watch him being tortured, but with all his pride striving +to conceal it. + +I pushed him down upon a log of wood, and as quickly as I could put +some food before his half-blind eyes, and gave him some hot whisky in a +tin mug. It was marvellous how rapidly the food and drink acted. In a +very short time Redpath was his cynical self again, and I noticed that +he had the sense and the self-restraint to eat sparingly. + +“I most sincerely beg your pardon,” he said with dignity. “It is +altogether inexcusable to enter a man’s house and straightway make a +scene before him. It is most unpardonable and ridiculous. The fact is, +I breakfasted very early, found myself too busy to take luncheon, and +this keen winter’s air acts suddenly upon an empty stomach and such a +weak constitution as mine. You see, Petrie, we sometimes over-estimate +our strength. We forget we are getting on in years.” + +Then he again took up my pipe, lighted it, and smoked heartily. What +was I to do with this man, who appeared to think that I had wronged him? + +“It is not safe for you to be here,” I said. “Why don’t you go away?” + +“That is impossible now that the winter has come,” said Redpath, as +though pitying my ignorance. “Besides, this place has attractions for +me. It has been the object of my life to attain. I have played my hand +very badly, and must now suffer the consequences. I shall not go. +Indeed, my finances happen to be too shaky to permit me to travel. +There is plenty to be picked up about here.” + +“Honestly?” I inquired. + +His eyebrows went up. + +“Spare me bathos,” he said entreatingly. + +“Where is Olaffson?” + +The expression on the human skeleton’s face altered. + +“Ah, you may congratulate me there! He has gone, and, I trust, for +ever. I can feel myself a free man now. Olaffson has really gone, and +my malediction goes with him and after him.” + +“Hadn’t you better go?” I suggested, following the train of thought. +“If you are found in my shanty--” + +“Ah, yes, I understand! Your skill in touching upon these delicate +matters is very remarkable, Petrie. Why mince the matter? Let us say +boldly that the law, as administered here so admirably, would exact a +penalty from you were I to be discovered under your hospitable roof.” +He poured himself out some more whisky. “Here is your very excellent +health. All that you can possibly wish me do I wish you.” + +He drank slowly, his eyes half shut. + +“Good-night!” I said coldly. + +“You good fellow!” said Redpath warmly, clasping my hand in his cold, +bony grip. With his spare hand, I noticed, he was gathering up the +scraps of food he had left, and stuffing the same somewhere among his +rags. “With your never-failing good heart, you speed your parting guest +Good-night, dear old boy! I’m coming round again very shortly, as I +have a suggestion to lay before you. Make both our fortunes in a very +little time. Good-night. Don’t come with me. I must slip along the back +of the street, and ’ware soldiers.” + +He went, my pipe in his mouth, and my plug of tobacco in his hand. +Devoutly I hoped that I had seen the last of him. + +I had promised to visit Father Casey that same night, to leave with him +my little donation. I put on my hat, coat, and overshoes, and looked +for my tiny bundle of money--that five thousand dollars. + +Will it be believed that I looked in vain? + + + + +THE HUNTERS AND THE HUNTED + + +There were no October leaves to fall upon Hanafin City; the ragged +spruce held its dark greenery, which looked black under the snow and +glaze of ice, but all else was dead; not a bird flew, not an insect +trumpeted, nothing marked the carpet of the covered cliffs. Where had +the countless millions of mosquitos gone? Where the sable ravens, and +the loons and divers? Nothing would be alive again until April. It was +the time of the great silence. + +Beginning at an hour before noon, and continuing until three, a +glimmering of raw light visited us, a pale unhealthy ghost-light, +without sun, and all the rest was night. Not darkness, because the +aurora rose and set, and sometimes the uneven arch was white and +brilliant; but generally it was smoky, and sometimes pale-blue and +livid, and sometimes it was red and terrible. There it hung, swaying +over us mysteriously, loaded with electricity, shivering, darting, +whispering, and influencing our lives and movements by its moods. +Everything was frozen. The temperature of eighty or ninety degrees +of cold kept us working for warmth, and to rid ourselves of the +superfluous electricity which that magnetic land poured into our bodies. + +It was the close season for placer-mining, and there was only one +thing we could do, namely, to drift out our pay streaks by burning. All +the miners of Bonanza were thawing the frozen ground with fire, and +they told me that this method of winter-mining had never been attempted +before. First we cut away the moss and surface accumulations until +solid ground was reached. In the hole thus made we would build a fire, +and when this had died down we would throw out the ashes, and as much +of the ground as had been thawed out, make another fire, and repeat +the process, until we had burnt our way down to bed-rock. We would +then build our fires against the bank of the hole, and drift sideways, +moving perhaps one foot of pay-dirt each day. The dirt thus brought +out we would dump in piles, to be left until spring, when water could +be obtained to wash out the pay. I mention this to show how we passed +the winter in Bonanza. Everywhere these fires were burning, and all +day the smoke hung or drifted very slowly, in thick sheets like vast +overhanging masses of wool. + +My claim had not proved so rich as the one I had vacated, and yet +it was impressed upon me that I had done very well. I had taken out +altogether some eight thousand dollars, the bulk of which had been +stolen by Redpath, and the greater part of what remained would be +swallowed up in buying supplies during the winter. None of the men from +the _Carillon_ had done any good, and Jim Morrison was a loafer about +the city. Jake Peterssen, with many another, made a very substantial +grub stake. MacCaskill was the one lucky man, who had struck a +“world-beater,” but his wealth benefited only the saloon proprietors +upon Front Street. + +It was a day in November, when, after buying some tea and sugar at +the store of the Bonanza Trading and Supply Association, during the +short period of the glimmer, I became attracted by a notice suspended +over the big stove. A knot of men were discussing the same loudly and +angrily. I could read anything by that time, so I went up; and this is +what I read:-- + + “The Citizens of Hanafin City are warned that there is a bad gang of + sneak-thieves around the place. Quite a few things, such as grub and + tools, have been missed around Bonanza. Old Man Septimus M‘Quatrain + had a fur cap and coat lifted out of his tent right on his claim, + Number Twenty-three Petrie Gulch. Bill Petro had a bag of dirt and + twenty pounds of bacon cycloned away from his dug-out. These are + just examples of what has been going on. The Citizens are requested + to keep their eyes skinned; and if any of them think they are upon a + good track, they will be doing the right thing to themselves and this + City if they communicate right off with the undersigned, or any of + the City councillors. + + “ALEC. MACINNES, + “Mayor of Hanafin City. + + “P.S.--Mind that bundle of money lifted off Rupe Petrie.” + +The days crept on to the end of the month, and the thefts went on, +too, while the public anger became hotter, and excitement fired the +entire city. There are crimes worse than murder in the eyes of miners: +such crimes as tampering with another man’s claim in the close season, +taking a neighbour’s lawful water; but above all, opening and rifling +an associate’s cache, the special act of guilt for which pardon can +never be given. When any man is sentenced of robbing a cache, let that +man be condemned! + +One miner assured me that in the course of a long life spent about the +gold-mines of the world, only two cases of this extreme guilt had ever +come within his knowledge. The miner trusts his associates implicitly. +Before going away, he will store his supplies, his tools, and his tent +inside a cave, or in some hole, set his name upon the outside and his +mind at rest, because he knows that no miner will touch his cache or +its contents, however hard put to it he may be for supplies. The rascal +who would rob a church will not touch a cache. + +There were three quaint old men of Hanafin City, all as like each other +as it was possible for men to be, named respectively Rod, Abe, and +Pal, close friends, but not related. These men had come in during the +beginning of August with a quantity of supplies, and had gone out about +the middle of September, before the coming of the ice, after they had +stored their possessions in a cache upon the partnership claim, which +was 1,000 feet in length, and rectangular in form, going up the hill +from the Akshelah. They were fine old gentlemen, very popular, true +miners, who understood the science of their profession thoroughly. They +went out to escape the night, with the idea of returning to work their +claim in the spring. + +Upon the 27th of November, at twenty minutes past six by the clock in +the Record Office, a patrol rode into Hanafin, horse and rider white +with frost, and a few minutes later a report passed feverishly about +the city that the cache of the three old men had been tampered with. +The deep-toned threatenings of the infuriated citizens had hardly +broken out when Moccasin Bill appeared upon Front Street, his grizzled +beard heavy with ice, and his preternaturally grave face sterner +even than usual. He stood upon the street, in front of the principal +drinking and gambling saloon, and called in his high nasal tones: + +“Boys all! I’ve jest come right from old men’s cache. I’ve ben burnin’ +on me new claim alongside.” + +The miners came about him in the weird night under the aurora. The snow +wore a greenish hue, and the frost crystals danced in the firelike +atmosphere as so many electric sparks. I could see the lumps of ice +upon Bill’s beard knocking together when his head moved. A shout went +up from the saloon, and the men came forth like hornets out of their +nest, smoking, swearing, shouting, among them MacCaskill, his big +face scarlet, his tongue noisy, his hands full of money, because the +interruption had drawn him from the furious excitement of the faro +table. The crowd surged up and around Moccasin Bill. + +“Boys all! old men’s cache has ben pulled inter pieces. Everything’s +ben took. This city uv our Queen has ben disgraced--” + +I could see his lips still moving, but what more he said was lost in +the mad shoutings of all Hanafin. These men were terrible. Their faces +were like those one half sees passing in a bad dream. Their cigars had +dropped, and I could see the red points blinking upon the green snow. +The electric light of the sky flashed and hissed over their heads and +all their insanity. At last Moccasin Bill was heard again. + +“I’ve ben around. Them things were took to-day. There’s tracks en the +snow--” + +There he was stopped. A yelling went up on every side, and the men ran +together, apparently in confusion, but all with an object--to prepare +themselves for a journey. A thousand men made for the silent canyon, a +thousand men poured through what once had been Mosquito Hole, and that +thousand men swept over the snow and the hidden treasures of Bonanza. +So the hunt began. The pursuers were men, and their quarry men. They +were more terrible than dogs, these hunters, because men can call off +the dogs of chase. But who can call off men? + +“Say!” A hand pulled my arm, and a frightened voice exclaimed: “The +Commissioner’s away!” + +It was Dave, late of the _Carillon_. + +“Don’t ye see?” he went on fearfully. “The boys are so mad there’ll +be no holdin’ of ’em. The Commissioner’s gone around the country, an’ +won’t be back before the week-end. The boys’ll jest take the law inter +their own hands.” + +“What will they do if they catch the thieves?” I could hardly speak +with fear, because I was sure I could name one of the marauders. + +“They’ll flog ’em sure. They’ll hang ’em. They’re so ter’ble mad, +p’r’aps they’ll put ’em on the wood-pile.” + +I shuddered dreadfully. The frost choked my breath when I tried to +protest against the horror of burning fellow-men. + +“The police will stop it,” I managed to say. + +“The police’ll make the boys give ’em over to the law, if so be they’re +strong enough. But there’s only fifty of ’em in Hanafin, now the +Commissioner’s gone wi’ his crowd.” + +A quiet settled over the city, perhaps because it felt a tragedy +impending, perhaps because the noisiest fifth part of its inhabitants +were hunting in the night over Bonanza. I did not sleep during the +hours which are considered night in the other world. Sometimes I looked +out fearfully along silent Front Street, which spread away under the +pale green glow, the lights from the saloons flashing on the near side, +and upon the far side, from the Variety Theatre, came fitfully a burst +of harsh music or a yell of drunken applause. One or two huge huskies +moved slowly about the snow like hungry bears. + +The hours of business returned, but the hunters were not among us. The +glimmer of hopeless daylight reached us, and the miners went out into +Bonanza to watch and wait for the hounds, but there was no burning +done. There were no signs of the thousand who had gone forth to hunt, +beyond their innumerable tracks in the snow. + +“They’ll be ter’ble cold an’ hungry,” said some. + +Then an old man, who knew all the moods of the arctic winter, put up +his hand at noon, and pointed north. + +“There’s wind a-comin’ there,” he said. “If they ain’t back afore +night, we won’t see half of ’em no more.” + +I saw the scar of misty cloud he indicated rising out of the northern +snows, a long thin patch, the colour of indigo, and as it ascended all +our dim, sad light went out. + +Only a few citizens knew that a posse of police had set forth during +the night, so soon as the hunters had gone out, and no one could know +which direction they had taken, because it is the habit of these men +to ride back upon their tracks, and jump their horses to some patch of +ground which the wind has swept clean of snow, and so ride away and +baffle pursuit. The few who knew guessed that they had gone to bring +the Commissioner. They would have to ride against time, and the act of +God. + +The _Hanafin Herald_, our daily paper, did not appear, not for the lack +of news that day, but because the men who prepared it were out upon the +chase. + +By two o’clock daylight was done; at three, no news; about four, the +aurora came up like dark-blue smoke, and the atmosphere was entirely +without motion; five, the silence was still unbroken, the air so still +that it would never have supported a feather; at ten minutes past, the +snow-dust along Front Street began to whirl in small eddies. It was a +fantastic sight, and the man who was weather-wise chewed his cigar-end +fiercely. + +“It’s a-goin’ to be an old-time night,” he said simply. + +Six o’clock, and the murmur of many voices filled the city. The hunters +were returning from Bonanza. The atmosphere was filled with a stream +of liquid ice, and the noise of feet tramping upon snow. The dark-blue +aurora was growing purple, and a dreadful darkness settled down, like +something tangible and creeping. + +Out of the closeness of that gloom the procession entered Hanafin City. +First came a sweeping van of misty ghosts, whirling along side by side, +formed by columns of ice-cold snow-dust, whipped up into the atmosphere +by some northern current sent as a forerunner of the great wind; then +those who had gone forth to watch and wait; after these, the hunters +and the hunted. + + + + +WHEN SENTENCE IS GIVEN, LET HIM BE CONDEMNED + + +Some of the hunters carried packs, silent witnesses brought to appear +against the hunted; and at the end of the procession eight men +staggered, four of them leaning to one side, and four to the other. +Before these had advanced into the open, a cyclonic spout of wind swept +over the northern cliffs, rushed down, and broke upon us. The torrent +swept and roared through Hanafin, so that none of us could determine +the nature of the burden that the eight men carried. + +Then the night became terrible. One man might stand holding another, +yet neither would be able to see the other; the snow-dust choked the +wind and lashed upon our faces with cold ice-pricks; above us, around, +and below the grey sea of wind and snow roared, and rushed, and smote. + +A great crowd had massed in Front Street, surging to and fro, jostling +and pushing, but each separate individual in that crowd could feel +himself alone in that arctic tempest. The voices were heard no longer, +because in her insanity Nature can roar louder than a million madmen. +Now and again a light goggled out of the grey whirl, to disappear in +an instant. + +That crowd drifted towards the doors of the big saloon, and I was +carried with them, my face smarting under the lash of ice. Already the +great hall appeared choked, and yet I believe hundreds were packed +in after I tumbled inside. The space used for dancing was a sea of +humanity, and, like the sea, it roared and heaved; the gambling-tables +had been folded up and set aside; the bar was thronged. Still the +men came, with here and there a woman who had long ago abandoned +self-respect, and the passion of the assembly became greater. Everyone +was wildly shouting, and I could gather nothing from the tumult. + +A great voice sounded over us, and this voice rolled from end to end in +the order, “Quit yer noise!” + +A silence fell into the crowd, but outside the arctic storm went +yelling on its way. + +A chair had been placed upon the bar counter, and on this chair +Moccasin Bill seated his spare figure. To his right stood MacInnes, the +mayor; to his left the man who had become a stranger to me, my former +partner MacCaskill. These three looked down upon us. + +“Shet the doors,” commanded Moccasin Bill, “an’ keep ’em shet. The rest +uv the citizens must get away home, ’cause there ain’t room for ’em en +here. Make a space right there.” + +He pointed down, and the sea of men heaved back, until I found it hard +to draw breath. + +Grizzled Bill rose solemnly. + +“Citizens,” he proclaimed, pulling off his fur cap and holding it out, +“ye know as well as me that we’re on British territory, where the law +ain’t jest what it is en minin’ towns over the line. Ther’ the miners +make their own law, an’ pays out their own justice. Right here the law +is the law uv the country, an’ ’tis administered by the judge uv the +Court. I ain’t for sayin’ anything ’gainst that. We ain’t all British +be any manner uv means, but while we’re en Hanafin City we’re subjects +o’ Queen Victoria. Citizens, I say this is a case where we’re entitled +to take the law inter our own hands.” + +The voices answered him with a great shout of approval. + +“I’ve ben appointed judge,” went on the old man solemnly. “An’ me +bowers are the mayor uv this city an’ Factor MacCaskill, the first +miner inter Bonanza. I’ve ben judge afore this, boys, an’ I’ve jedged +fair, I’ve ben told, and, ’fore God, I’ll judge fair again.” + +The old man bent forward, and peered over the upturned faces rising and +falling beneath. + +“Bring up that prisoner!” he called, and the crowd swayed to and fro, +and my heart began to thud. + +I heard the voice of the judge asking, “Where’s the other pris’ner?” + +Every word of the answer reached my ears. + +“Out in the snow, judge. He’ll thaw inside.” + +“What’s that?” I asked the man who was jammed upon me. + +“Guess t’other pris’ner’s ben froze,” he gasped back. + +“Burn him! Burn him!” was the cry going up around the building. If the +man had been frost-bitten, let him be thawed with fire. “Burn him!” + +“Order!” shouted the mayor. + +The prisoner stood before his judge. I craned my neck, but I could not +see. I was fastened into the crowd like a cork in a bottle. + +“Who is he?” I called, because Redpath was tall, and this man surely +was short, or I should have seen him. + +“’Tis a little man,” spoke a very tall miner generally, “wi’ a face +like lumps o’ wet dough.” + +Olaffson, the Icelander, for the last time. + +“He’s sweatin’ an’ skulkin’ something horrid,” said the tall miner. + +“Pris’ner!” spoke the grizzled judge, and the entire assembly tried to +push forward. “Ther’ has ben a lot uv sneak-thievin’ about this city +an’ around Bonanza. You was took right among a lot uv stolen property. +There’s jest one case we want to try special, an’ that’s the robbin’ +uv the cache what belongs to ole men, Rod, Abe, an’ Pal, who’ve gone +out for the winter. We didn’t find none o’ that stuff in your dug-out, +nor yet in yer pard’s. We surmise you’ve hid it away some place. If you +speak up, an’ show grit, we’ll take that into consideration when we +come to pass sentence. Are ye guilty, or are ye not guilty?” + +The pause which followed was not silence, because the wind screamed and +the snow hissed where it struck. Surely the prisoner upon the other +side of the door would be frozen to death, and his guards with him. + +A voice proclaimed, “Says he’s not guilty.” + +The crowd broke into furious shouts, “Flog him! Flog him!” + +“Quit yer noise!” the judge ordered angrily. “This is a court uv +justice.” + +He spoke to MacInnes, and the latter held up a big coon coat. + +“’Twas found in the pris’ner’s dug-out,” explained the mayor. “Does any +citizen claim it?” + +“That’s mine,” shouted the coarse voice of old miner Septimus +M‘Quatrain. “The durned thief! Likewise an otter cap.” + +“Here ’tis,” said MacInnes. He then put up twenty pounds of very fat +bacon. + +Bill Petro shouted: + +“Lemme smell a hunk, an’ I’ll tell. I spilt me oil-can over me bacon.” + +The mayor sniffed gravely. + +“Ay, it smells of coal oil all right, Bill,” he said. + +Not a laugh went up from the crowd. Only the same angry mutterings and +the deep growls, “Flog him!” + +“You’ve pleaded not guilty, pris’ner,” said the judge. “Them things +were found en yer dug-out. What have ye got to say en yer defence?” + +The men near the inaudible wretch repeated his frightened answer, and +it was passed on through the crowd. + +“Says he never took ’em. Says he knows who did. Says his pard done it +all.” + +“Pris’ner,” exclaimed the judge with sudden heat, “ye are the meanest +skunk what ever trod!” + +The citizens broke loose again. + +“Wood-pile, jedge! Say wood-pile!” and under it all the monotonous +antiphon, “Flog him!” + +Above the tumult of those demands, and the insanity of the elements, a +bull-like bellow roared, and an arm, like a black tree, shot up--the +black arm which I had once broken at Gull. + +“Jake Peterssen for the floggin’!” yelled the half-mad crowd, and +refused to be quieted. + +The judge was talking with MacCaskill, and so soon as he could make his +voice heard, called to know if I were present. Directly I had answered, +the negro shouted: + +“He’s a better man than me, jedge. He beat me. He’s the boy ye want. +Rupe Petrie fo’ the floggin’!” + +The miners took up the cry and yelled it, until I could already hear +Olaffson’s vile screams for mercy, and the horrid shock of a heavy +whip. When he was allowed to speak, the judge recounted the charges +brought by the factor against the prisoner--the burning of my home, the +treachery at Gull upon the lake, and at Hanafin; and I had to answer +that the story was all true. + +“Bring in his pard,” the voices were demanding. + +The judge spoke grimly to the Icelander. + +“Ye are a mean, skulkin’ louse, pris’ner, an’ we don’t have to show +ye no pity, though I allow we ain’t got nothing ’cept what they call +circumstantial evidence ’gainst ye. Jest ye tell me if ther’ is any +sort uv reason why we should show mercy to ye.” + +“He’s sweatin’ awful,” said the tall miner. + +Olaffson had only his former story. His partner had been the thief. + +The voices went up strongly: + +“Fetch in his pard.” + +Moccasin Bill almost smiled. + +“Fetch in his pard,” he repeated terribly. + +The doors were open, and in fought the rush of snow and wind, and the +lamp flames leapt wildly. There was a sound of struggling, of lifting, +and of carrying. The doors were shut again, and I knew that Redpath +was amongst us, the cynical, opinionative English gentleman, the man +who had made such a miserable failure of that space between coming and +going called life. Redpath for the last time. + +He had come to my home at Yellow Sands, like a thief in the night; he +had come to mock at my misery in the old stone ruin of the bush, where +he hoped to steal away my life; he had come half a skeleton to be fed, +and, after taking my hospitality, had robbed me and gone. As he entered +then, what was the influence of that superior smile, what the use of +that gentlemanly manner, and what the power of that contemptuous glance? + +He had always been fond of life. + +Four men carried a long shape, swathed in a snow-covered blanket. They +proceeded to unwrap this shape. It was like unrolling a sheet of lead, +because the cruel frost had made the thick duffle rigid and unyielding. +The blanket came away gradually, and revealed the man, frozen body and +blood and bones. The flesh frozen into ridges, was as solid to the +touch as stone, and colder far. They had brought me forward to identify +the frozen man. + +“His name was Redpath,” I said. “He was my father’s enemy, and I know +he was a thief.” + +“The corpse is guilty,” said the judge, and a whisper of assent hurried +round the building. + +I could still find that old superior smile upon Redpath’s face. It +could not disappear, because it was frozen there, and it seemed to me +to be intended for myself, and for those around, the men who had hunted +him down who now judged and had found him guilty, but who could not +condemn. Through his half-open lips I saw his white even teeth. They +were the only pleasant feature he possessed, and they were false. + +The blanket frozen round the frozen man was claimed by one miner; +the clothes he had been frozen in by another; my bundle of money was +discovered in one of the pockets, and returned to me; everything upon +him, from the clothes to a lump of tobacco, had been stolen. The only +thing he had failed to steal was a longer span of the life he loved. + +I stood between Olaffson and the dead; the one silent for ever, the +other wringing and cringing in an agony. Still I felt that inexplicable +pity for the Englishman. He had once been friendly with my father; he +had taken the hand of my mother, whom I had never seen; he had held +me as a baby upon his knee. A revulsion of feeling crossed me when +I looked upon Olaffson, and for him I had no pity at all. I heard +the vengeful voices demanding, “Sentence the pris’ner, jedge.” Once +MacCaskill’s glance met mine, and he turned aside with an awkward +movement. Moccasin Bill stood up. + +“Ye are guilty, pris’ner,” he said slowly. “I’ve ben around the world +en me time, an’ followed the yeller every place, an’ I’ve seen crooks +an’ blacklegs shot an’ hung--ay, an’ burned--an’ I’ve stood by an’ said +as how they deserved it. But I’ve never known a worse case than this.” +The assenting voices shouted again. “No, boys,” he said, appealing to +his audience, “I’ve never known a worse case than this. Ye have ben +tried fair, pris’ner. We’re on Canadian soil, an’ a Canuk has tried ye. +For I’m Canadian, boys; I’m Canadian to the cuticle. Ye are guilty of +sneak-thievin’, pris’ner. Ye are jest a louse what wants poundin’, an’ +we’re a-goin’ to pound ye. The boys want to have ye flogged.” + +The voice of the grizzled judge became drowned, and above all the yells +sounded the mighty bull bellow of Jake Peterssen, calling my name, and +invoking my right arm for the punishment of the thief. + +“I sentence ye to be flogged,” said the judge. “Fifty lashes--” + +Then it seemed to me as though the wind had swept into the building, +and had caught up the assembly, and brought them down upon me like +an overwhelming wave. I heard the screams of Olaffson. They had +seized him, and were dragging him this way and that. My name was upon +everyone’s lips. “Rupe Petrie!” The place howled with it. The wind +caught it up, and whirled it away over all Bonanza. And still the men +were shouting, “Rupe Petrie!” + +I understood at length that a tribute had been paid to my strength, +that, partly because the condemned had wronged me, I had been appointed +by the judge public executioner to the city. + +I could not--I shouted that I could not--do what was required of me, +but I might as successfully have appealed to the wild wind outside as +to the wilder men about me. The whip was being made; Olaffson, beside +himself with terror, was being stripped; and the scene made me sick +when the entire meaning of my hideous duty confronted me. And all the +time the men shouted with mad tongues, and around were all the demon +faces and the demon eyes. Jake Peterssen snatched my weak hand and +wrung it in congratulation, confident that he had shown himself my +friend. + +Another shout went up. The doors were being bombarded with fists and +kicks. + +“The boys are spoilin’ to get inside.” + +“Open up!” called some of the men. + +“There’s no room for ’em!” shouted Moccasin Bill. + +The arctic temperature streamed inside; the tempest paused in its +yelling, to draw its icy breath for a fresh outburst. A strong voice, +muffled and angry, demanded admission in the name of the Queen-Empress. + +“Open,” said the judge. + +Again the stream of wind and ice, and the delirious leaping of the +lights. Figures like white bears pushed inward, their moustaches frozen +up in fine snow, a snow-covered figure at their head, grasping a sword +covered with crystals in his fur mitt--the Commissioner himself; and +behind him his police. + +“Draw on them!” the representative shouted, and the white company +brought up their revolvers and covered every part of the building. +Two men at least felt the joy of reprieve--the executioner and the +condemned. + +“Hand over that man!” called the Commissioner. + +The crowd growled like lions disappointed of their prey. This +Commissioner was a different man from Hanafin. He was bold and hard, +but had no tact, and when he gave an order he would have it instantly +obeyed, though he might accompany it with a curse or an insult. + +“Hand him over, or I’ll cancel the certificates of the lot of you.” + +“We tried him fair, Commissioner,” entreated Moccasin Bill. “He ain’t +done so much agin her gracious Majesty as agin us boys. He an’ his +pard, who’s froze solid ther’, have ben bad sneak-thieves, an’ we’ve +ben an’ took this case right inter our own hands for this once. You’d +only put him inter prison, but we’re a-goin’ to hang him.” + +The City of Hanafin endorsed every word spoken by their own appointed +judge. + +The Commissioner simply gave the word of command to his men. Four tall +figures shoved forward, the fine snow falling off their furs. + +“Shoot anyone who interferes!” shouted the angry Commissioner. + +MacInnes, the mayor, spoke aside to Moccasin Bill. + +“Boys!” called the latter, “the law has got to be obeyed. Let the +police have the pris’ner.” + +The miners could scarcely obey the order of their own judge, but +the police made the arrest of Olaffson, and marched him out. The +Commissioner wheeled round sharply, with a satisfied smile, and +followed. But while the clouds of snow hissed inwards, the mayor, +standing stiff upon the bar counter, yelled with all his might: + +“Boys! To hell with the sneak-thief!” + +The men went mad again. Taking up the cry, they rushed into the +whirling night, into the freezing, tearing wind and the grey torrent +of snow, and flung themselves upon the police. Revolvers flashed +uselessly, and swords darted aimlessly, stabbing merely the great grey +shapes that fled down the wind ghost-like. The miners of Hanafin were +drunk with fury, and they were in thousands against a handful. Soldier +after soldier was seized and dragged to the light of the saloon, +that each might be identified. The time came when they found the one +shrieking wretch they wanted.... + +I fled, battling against the stream of ice, away from the life I had +come from home to see. + +Standing beside the stove in my shanty I found poor Akshelah, shivering +with terror. The relief of finding myself alone with her, the delight +of being able to console and assure her! She had told me that I was all +she had. What had I upon earth beside her? + +“We have no enemies to follow us now, little squirrel,” I said, +stroking her thick warm hair. “Redpath is frozen into stone, and +Olaffson,” I shivered, because the shrieks of the wind were pitilessly +human. + +“The white face!” she said fearfully, coming up to me. + +“They are killing him now.” + +She shivered, and clung to me more closely. She spoke presently. + +“I told you the factor loved the yellow stones.” She was playing +nervously with my cold fingers. “He has left you, and--you have no one +now.” + +I lifted her face and kissed her soft mouth with a new feeling which +made me forget everything save the present. + +“I have all that I want. And when the storm has done, we will go +together to Father Casey, and tell him”--the wind became terrible, and +I had to wait for it to pass--“that we want to be together all our +lives.” + + + + +VII + +BONANZA + + + + +WHERE THE SUN SHINES UPON THE SAND + + +It was the beginning of June, and my wife and I had travelled since the +end of April, when the break-up had visited the land somewhat earlier +than usual. It was the season of sound after the silence of winter, the +season which we call Sekwun, or the Spring. The streams were running +among the hills, the wavies were calling overhead, the snow buntings +were whirling past in clouds, and the crocus made the slopes purple; +and we were happy--we were coming home. The long night was done, the +aurora had gone out, and the sun turned everything into gold. + +The five awful months filling the interval are black to look upon now. +I had nothing to bind me to the false Bonanza. I had parted with my +claim, not unselfishly, but because I needed it no more. + +I had found an old gentleman, another Englishman, and a very frail old +man, who had been ruined by his only son, and who had come into the new +land to try and find a little gold, not so much for the comforting of +his old age as to enable him to pay the profligate’s debts, and so to +clear an honourable name. He had often come to my shanty during the +eternal night, and he was never so happy as when talking about his +unnatural son. + +Once, in conversation, he began to narrate how he had followed the +young man after nightfall along the London way which he called +Piccadilly, being anxious to learn in what company the scapegrace spent +his time; but the latter discovered the nearness of his father, and +escaped. + +“He eluded me beside the Park,” said the old man, “but I could not be +sure which way he went. However, later that night--” + +I interrupted his recollections. + +“Is there not an archway of white stone,” I said suddenly, “opening +into a big space where there are trees and walks? Perhaps your son went +under that arch.” + +The old gentleman started and stared at me. + +“You told me you had passed all your life out here!” he exclaimed. + +“My father brought me out from London as a baby,” I said, wondering at +my own late words. + +After an interval of silence, the old gentleman spoke, and explained +for me. + +“Your nurse would have taken you through the Park every day, I daresay, +and often out at Hyde Park Corner. That is the archway which you +remember. You must have seen it with your baby eyes, and your brain +still retains the impression.” + +Another night I ventured to ask him how his claim had worked before the +coming of the close season, and the question made him sad. + +“No good,” he said, in his quiet voice. “It is a hill claim, and such +are hard to work. I have found next to nothing.” + +Before leaving Hanafin City, I went to the Record Office, paid the fee +of two dollars, and registered an assignment of my grant permitting +me to mine upon Number One MacCaskill. The following day I paid the +required fee of fifteen dollars, and took out a new grant made in +favour of Alexander Pearson, the good old English gentleman, whose only +fault was his too great affection for a worthless son. I sent this +little present by Akshelah, who gave it into his hands, and then came +away, as I had instructed her, and we left Hanafin City at once. I +believe there was a good deal of coarse gold left in that claim. I hope +there was. + +On that last night I went to bid farewell to MacCaskill, with whom I +had not spoken since Christmas. He had come out with me as my partner, +and I could not go away without bidding him good-bye. It was not +difficult to find him, but when I came out of the drinking saloon +into the gambling division, and discovered him, I did not carry out +my intention. He was drunk, not with liquor, but with the fever and +passion of gambling, and he was watching the faro cards with the wild +stare of a hungry beast. I did speak to him once, but he took no heed; +I ventured to touch his arm, but he only looked ahead, and howled “Lost +again!” and pulled out more gold. He had not noticed me, and I went +sadly away, to see him no more. I left MacCaskill, the lucky owner of +old Fagge’s gold-hole, to realise his dreams. + +“See!” exclaimed happy Akshelah, as our canoe, which I had bought at +Waterhen from one of the Swampy Tribes, brushed lightly along the +smiling shore of our own Lake Whispering. + +I looked, and saw upon the slopes that tiny rare red flower which +blooms on a level with the ground, and which refuses to live within +the influence of human passions. It is even true that this flower will +alter its colour, and become blue, if men settle near the spot where it +grows; and if many people collect, and a town or village springs up, +the little plant dies altogether, because it is too ethereal to live +where men breathe, and move, and defile the atmosphere. + +I sprang ashore and picked some of the plant, but directly I touched +the bloom it withered in my hands, and Akshelah tried with a like +result. Had we been going out I might have been depressed, but we were +home again, so we laughed and sang aloud with the excellent happiness +that comes so seldom. We paddled on towards the bend in the brimming +lake, because the sun was falling low behind. + +Now I was coming to the land of treasure. I had left Yellow Sands to +look for it, and all the time I had it, and by coming away left it +behind. Happy for me that no one had discovered it in my absence! For +the true Bonanza is home, wherever it may be. Some may have that dear +home in the city or country inside, and some in the world outside; +but wherever it is, there the heart turns, like the robin, who leaves +us for the long winter, but flies back in the spring. The canoe swept +round the bend, where the fine shingle murmured with the play of the +emerald water. Before us we saw the sun shining upon the golden sands. + +My home had been rebuilt, and I was expected. Antoine was planting +potatoes that evening, and pointed with a grunt to a fresh piece of +garden land, which he had reclaimed from the willows and wood-ants. +Everything was scented and delicious in the magnificent spring. And +below, my own little Yellow Sands ran with its sparkling music. + +Such is my dream of the false Bonanza. I am awake again now--awake, +with the old remembered song of the waters beneath, and my bright-eyed +wife at my side. I am satisfied, because I have proved the two worlds, +and tried the men who live in each. I am happy, because I have escaped +from the world which I could never love, because I am surrounded by the +wonderful Nature which is all I ask for. + +So I shall never leave my northern home again. + + +THE END + + +_Printed by Cowan & Co., Limited, Perth._ + + + + +TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: + + + Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. + + Perceived typographical errors have been corrected. + + Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized. + + Archaic or variant spelling has been retained. + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75921 *** |