A THREE-CORNERED GAME
It was now a case of being between the devil and the deep
sea with a vengeance, and Dorothy, as she surveyed the
two vindictive rebels on one side and the hungry bear on
the other, was almost at a loss to determine which enemy
was the more to be dreaded. Upon the whole she thought
she would have the better chance of fair play with the
bear. If the latter succeeded in clambering on the roof,
at a pinch she could get down the wide chimney, a feat
which it was not likely the bear would care to emulate.
True, it would be a sooty and disagreeable experiment,
not to speak of the likelihood of being scorched on
reaching the fire-place, but then she could at once heap
more fuel on the fire, which would make it impossible
for Bruin to descend, and barricade herself in until the
others returned.
It was fortunate that the girl's presence of mind did
not desert her. Her policy was to temporise and keep the
foe waiting until the others returned with the horses.
Moreover, she noticed that Bruin sat on his haunches,
listening, with his head to one side, as if this new
interruption were no affair of his.
A brilliant idea occurred to her, and already she almost
began to look upon Bruin as an ally. As yet the half-breeds
were unaware of the bear's proximity.
The girl, without rising, picked up the pole and placed
it across her knees.
"What is the matter with you?" she asked the taller of
the two rebels. "Don't you want to return to Battleford?"
"Eet is too late how, and we want you," explained the
first villain. "Come down queeck. Eet is no time we have
to waste. Eef we have to fetch you eet will be ver' bad
for you."
"Dear me!" remarked Dorothy, outwardly keeping cool, but
not without serious misgivings. "I can't think what you
can want with me. But, as you're so anxious, I'll come
down--in a few minutes--when my father and the others
return."
"Ze horses they in big snowdreeft stuck and ze man cannot
leaf. Come down now--we want you!"
It was obvious to Dorothy that the two rebels, in taking
a circuitous route to the hut, had come upon the horses
stuck fast in a snowdrift, and that her father and Jacques
and Bastien were busily engaged in trying to extricate
them. Knowing that the girl must have been left alone
with the fire-arms, the two rebels had hurried back to
secure them, with wild, half-formed ideas of revenge
stirring their primitive natures.
Dorothy's policy was to keep cool, in order not to
precipitate any action on their part.
"Co-om," said the taller one, whose villainous appearance
was not lessened by a cast in his right eye, "we want
you to gif us to eat. Co-om down."
"Goodness! have you eaten all we gave you already? You
must have wonderful appetites, to be sure. If you look
in the sleigh--"
"Pshaw! co-om you down and get. What for you sit all
alone up there? Eet is not good to sit zere, and you will
catch cold."
"Oh, don't trouble about me, thanks. I'm all right; I
don't catch cold easily--"
What the cross-eyed one ejaculated at this point will
not bear repetition. He actually so far forgot himself
as to threaten Dorothy with bodily violence if she did
not at once obey him. But as the girl only remained
seated, with apparent unconcern, upon the biscuit tin,
and gazed mildly into his face, it became evident to the
big rebel that he was only wasting words in thus addressing
her. He prepared to ascend the snow bank, jump thence on
to the roof, and fetch her down by force.
Dorothy, like Sister Ann of Bluebeard fame, gazed anxiously
around and listened with all the intensity born of her
desperate state; but there was nothing to be seen or
heard. Only Bruin had risen again and was coming slowly
towards the hut. A bright scheme suggested itself to the
girl; but she would wait until the cross-eyed one discovered
how utterly rotten and soft the snow-bank had become
before putting it into practice. She must gain all the
time she could.
The rebel managed to reach the top of the drift, which
was nearly on a level with the roof of the hut, without
sinking more than an inch or two into the snow; but when
he braced himself preparatory to springing across the
intervening wind-cleared space, the crust gave and down
he went nearly up to the waist. The more he struggled,
the deeper he sank. His flow of language was so persistent
and abusive that even Bruin, on the other side of the
hut, stood still to listen and wonder. It was as much as
Dorothy could do to keep from laughing heartily at the
fellow's discomfiture, but she restrained herself, as
such a course might only drive him to some unpleasant
and desperate measure. She, however, thought it a pity
that only one of them should be struggling in the drift.
She must drive the other into it also. She therefore rose
and called to the second villain, on whose evil face
there was an unmistakable grin. Like Bastien, and most
of his kind, he had no objections to seeing his own
friends suffer so long as he himself came by no harm.
"Ho, you there!" she cried in apparent indignation. "Don't
you see your friend in the drift? Why don't you give him
a hand out? Are you afraid?"
But the second villain was too old a bird to be caught
with chaff, and replied by putting his mitted hand to
one side of his nose, at the same time closing his right
eye. He bore eloquent testimony to the universality of
the great sign language.
"You are a coward!" she exclaimed, disgusted with the
man, and at the failure of her little scheme.
"A nice comrade, you! I wonder you ever had the spirit
to rebel!"
This was too much for the rogue's equanimity, and he
launched into such a torrent of abuse that the girl was
obliged to put her fingers in her ears. He, however,
went to the trouble of crawling over the snowdrift and
picking up the gun which his worthy mate had dropped when
he broke through the crust By this time the first villain
had managed to extricate himself, and had moved into the
clear space opposite the front door of the hut The eyes
of the two were now fairly glowing with rage, and they
prepared to storm the position. One of them was in the
act of giving a back to the other when. Dorothy appeared
on the scene with the sapling.
"Don't be silly," she cried. "If you do anything of that
sort I shall use the pole. Go round to the back; there's
a barrel there, and if you can set it up on end against
the wall, I'll come down quietly."
They looked up at her; they did not quite understand all
she said, but the girl's face seemed so innocent and
unconcerned that they strode round the hut, still keeping
their evil eyes upon Dorothy and her weapon of defence.
It must be confessed that Dorothy had some qualms of
conscience in thus introducing them to Bruin, but her
own life was perhaps at stake, and they had brought the
introduction on themselves. Still, they had a gun, and
there were two of them, so it would be a case of a fair
field and no favour.
Bruin heard them coming and stood on his hind legs to
greet them. Next moment the three were face to face. It
would have been difficult to imagine a more undignified
encounter. The big breed's legs seemed to collapse under
him; the other, who carried the gun, and was therefore
the more self-possessed of the couple, brought it sharply
to his shoulder and fired.
Bruin dropped on his knees, but speedily rose again, for
a bear, unless hit in a vital place, is one of the most
difficult animals to kill; and in this case the bullet
had merely glanced off one of his massive shoulder-blades.
Being ignorant of the resources of a magazine rifle, the
half-breed dropped it, and ran towards a deserted outhouse
close to the horse corral.
Thoroughly infuriated now by the bullet-wound, the bear
made after him. As he could not annihilate the two men
at once, he confined his efforts with praiseworthy
singleness of purpose to the man who had fired the shot.
It was lucky for the fugitive that bullet had somewhat
lamed the great brute, otherwise it would not have needed
to run far before overtaking him.
It was an exciting chase. The breed reached the hut, but,
as there was neither open door nor window, he was obliged
to scuttle round and round it, after the manner of a
small boy pursued by a big one. Sometimes the bear, with
almost human intelligence, would stop short and face the
other way, when the breed would all but run into him,
and then the route would be reversed. On the Countenance
of the hunted one was a look of mortal terror; his eyes
fairly started from his head, and his face streamed with
perspiration. It seemed like a judgment upon him for
breaking his word to the rancher and interfering with
the girl, when he might now have been well on his way to
Battleford.
While this was going on, the cross-eyed ruffian endeavoured
to clamber on to the roof of the hut by jumping up and
catching the projecting sapling as Dorothy had done, but
the girl stopped him in this by tapping his knuckles with
the pole.
"Pick up and hand me that gun," she said, pointing to
it. "When you have done so, I will allow you to come up."
The cross-eyed one looked sadly astonished, but as he
did not know the moment when the bear might give up
chasing his worthy comrade to give him a turn, he did as
he was bid. The rifle would be of no use to the girl,
anyhow, and, besides, her father and the others must have
heard the shot and would be on their way back to see what
the matter was. It would therefore be as well to comply
with her request and try to explain that their seemingly
ungrateful conduct had only been the outcome of their
innate playfulness. If they had erred it was in carrying
a joke a trifle too far.
As soon as Dorothy found herself in possession of the
rifle she knew that she was safe. She even laid the pole
flat on the roof, allowing one end of it to project a
foot or so beyond it so as to aid the cross-eyed one in
his unwonted gymnastic feat. In a few moments the
discomfited villain stood on the roof in front of her.
Dorothy lowered the lever of the Winchester so that he
could see it and pumped another cartridge into the barrel.
The half-breed realised the extent of his folly, but saw
it was too late to do anything.
"Now stand over in that far corner," said the girl to
him, "or I will shoot you."
But the cross-eyed one was humility itself, and protested
that he could not for all the gold in the bed of the
Saskatchewan have lifted a finger to do the dear young
Mam'selle any harm. In his abject deference he was even
more nauseous than in his brazen brutality. He did as he
was bid all the same, and the two turned their attention
to the unlucky man who was having such a lively time with
Bruin. Dorothy, however, did not forget to keep a sharp
eye on the man near her.
Had there not been such tragic possibilities in the temper
and strength of the bear, the situation might have been
eminently entertaining. The position of the two principals
in the absorbing game of life and death was not an uncommon
one. Bruin stood upright at one corner of the hut and
the half-breed stood at another: each was watching the
other intently as a cat and mouse might be expected to
do. The man's mitted hands rested against the angle of
the wall and his legs straddled out on either side so as
to be ready to start off in any direction at a moment's
notice. Whenever the bear made a move the half-breed
slightly lowered his body and dug his feet more securely
into the soft snow. They resembled two boys watching each
other in a game of French and English. After standing
still for a minute or two and regaining their wind, they
would start off to their positions at two other corners.
Sometimes the bear would be unseen by the man, and this
state of affairs was generally a very puzzling and
unsatisfactory one for the latter, as he never knew from
which direction Bruin might not come charging down upon
him.
When the two spectators on the roof turned their attention
to the two actors, the latter were in the watching
attitude, but almost immediately the game of "tag" began
again. The pursued one was evidently in considerable
distress; his face matched the colour of his knitted
crimson tuque, at the end of which a long blue tassel
dangled in a fantastic fashion. His whole attitude was
that of one suffering from extreme physical and nervous
tension. Dorothy's first impulse was to try and shoot
the bear, but owing to the distance and its movements
she realised that this would be a matter of considerable
difficulty. Besides, unless the bear-hunted rogue were
fool enough to leave the friendly vantage of the hut, it
was obvious that he would be quite able to evade the
enemy until such time as her father and the others came.
This would serve the useful purpose of keeping him out
of mischief and rendering him a source of innocent
entertainment to his friend, for it must be admitted that
the latter, now that he was safe, or considered himself
so, adopted the undignified, not to say unchristian-like,
attitude of openly expressing a sporting interest in the
proceedings.
But the fugitive had grown tired of the trying device of
dodging the bear round four corners, and, thinking that
if he could only get to the horse corral and squeeze
between the posts, he could, by keeping it between himself
and Bruin, gain the hut at the far end and mount on to
the roof. He determined to put his scheme to the test.
So, when for a moment he lost sight of Bruin behind the
other corner, he made a frantic bolt for the fence. But
his enemy happened to be making a dash round that side
of the house from which Leon reckoned he had no right to
make, one, and the result was that in another instant
the beast was close at his heels. It was an exciting
moment, and Dorothy, despite the fact that the hunted
one was a dangerous enemy, could not restrain a cry of
horror when she saw his imminent peril. She would have
shot at the bear if she could, but just at that moment
it happened to be going too fast for her.
As for the cross-eyed one, it was indeed a treat to see
Leon, who had laughed at him when he sank into the
snowdrift, flying for his life with a look of ghastly
terror on his face. It was a case of retributive justice
with a vengeance. His sporting tendencies were again in
the ascendant, and he clapped his hands and yelled with
delight.
The hunted half-breed managed to reach and squeeze through
the fence ahead of the bear, but the latter, to Leon's
dismay, succeeded in getting through after him, lifting
up the heavy rails with his strong snout and great back
as if they were so many pieces of cane. Then for the next
three minutes Leon only managed to save himself by a very
creditable acrobatic performance, which consisted of
passing from one side of the fence to the other after
the manner of a harlequin. He had lost his tuque, and
the bear had spared time to rend it to shreds with its
great jaws and one quick wrench of its forepaws. His
stout blue coat was ripped right down the back, and
altogether he was in a sorry plight.
The cross-eyed one had never witnessed anything so funny
in all his life, and fairly danced about on the roof in
his glee. There was every chance that Leon would be clawed
up past all recognition in the next few minutes, so he
shouted encouragement to Bruin for all he was worth.
Then to the girl's horror she saw the hunted half-breed
stumble in the snow, and the bear grab him by his short
blue coat just as he was wriggling under the fence.
Dorothy did not hesitate to act promptly now. If she
did not instantly put a bullet into the bear the man
would be torn to pieces before her eyes, and that would
be too horrible. True, she might just possibly kill the
man by firing, but better that than he should be killed
by Bruin. Fortunately she was accustomed to fire-arms,
and was a fairly good shot, so, putting the rifle to her
shoulder, she took aim and drew the trigger.
It was a good shot, for the bullet penetrated a little
behind the left shoulder, in the neighbourhood of the
heart, and the bear, releasing his grip upon Leon, lurched
forward and lay still, while the breed crawled, in a very
dishevelled condition, into the horse corral.
Dorothy was congratulating herself upon her success, and
was in the act of heaving a sigh of relief, when suddenly
the rifle, which for the moment she held loosely in her
right hand, was snatched from her grasp. At the same
moment an arm was thrust round her throat, and she was
thrown roughly on the snow.