When Ralph got around the house Nahnya was nowhere to be seen. He was
not enough of a woodsman to find her tracks in the dead leaves and the
pine needles. The river was her natural means of escape; cutting back
to the trail, he ran to the point. There was no sign of her. Drawn up
on the beach and tied to a branch he saw the dugout she had brought.
There were no tracks in the sand to show she had returned, nor any
impression of another boat having been pushed off.
Ralph rushed up and down the shore looking for her, or for her tracks.
"She must go by the river," he told himself; "the forest is
impenetrable." With every minute his heart sank; he knew he was no
match for Nahnya in the wilderness. Making a longer sally downstream,
he finally found her tracks where she had leaped over the bank, and had
set off down the beach. He followed after with renewed hope. After
running a quarter of a mile he suddenly pulled himself up. "I'll never
catch her this way," he thought. "She must have a boat down here to
cross. She'll only leave me stranded on the shore. She's got to go
home. I must follow her there by water."
He made his way back to the point, and thence to the work-shack, where
he borrowed an axe and an auger, without meeting any one. Returning to
the mouth of the creek he searched until he found a great, dry trunk,
that had been thrown high by a freshet. He set to work to chop it into
four lengths to make a raft. His right arm was still far from fit to
swing an axe, but an indomitable resolution kept him at work. Progress
was slow; the minutes escaped him maddeningly. "Never mind," he told
himself, "I'll go straight to the Bowl of the Mountains. She does not
know that I can find my way there."
By and by Jim Sholto pushed his way through the bushes, and, descending
the bank, sat down on a boulder. Ralph, with a glance, went on with
his work. Jim made a great business of searching for a suitable twig
at his feet. He started to peel it, pursing up his lips in a noiseless
whistle. Downright Jim had no talent for dissimulation; perturbation,
dismay, and anger were plainly visible, struggling with his elaborate
unconcern. He was keeping a tight hold on himself.
"So you're going to leave us?" he said, very off-hand.
"I must," muttered Ralph.
"I should 'a' thought you'd had your lesson against travelling alone.
You ain't in no shape to swing an axe or drive a paddle!"
"Can't help it," said Ralph.
"What'll you do for food, gun, blankets, to keep life in you?"
"I suppose you will sell me what I need. I have money."
"Money's of no use to me here," said Jim grimly.
"Then I won't trouble you," said Ralph quickly.
Jim showed a certain compunction. "It ain't a question of money when
you're short of necessities yourself," he explained.
"Then the sooner you are quit of me the better," said Ralph.
"You could stay here a while and work out your keep," said Jim craftily.
Ralph merely shook his head. They were silent, Jim meanwhile
transparently debating with himself how to open the subject again.
"Look here!" he said testily. "I can't talk to you while you're
swinging the axe. Are you in such a rush you can't stop for five
minutes?"
Ralph put down his axe with none too good a grace, and sat down on
another stone beside the creek's bed. His face showed a sullenness
that promised badly for the results of their talk. Ralph had conceived
a great liking for the bluff and simple Jim, but the situation was
hopeless, and since he could not mend it, he saw nothing but to brazen
it out. To protest his regrets he felt would be insincere, if not
positively insulting to the Scotchman.
Jim was humbling himself for Kitty's sake. He knew that the situation
was too much for him, but he was obliged to try to mend it because
there was no one else to help her.
"I took a fancy to you when you come," he said clumsily. "I can't see
you go to make a fool of yourself, and keep my mouth shut."
Ralph's nostrils dilated ominously. "I might as well be working," he
said shortly. "This does no good."
"Wait!" said Jim, with what was in him rare patience. "You're
inexperienced. Any man that knows this country knows the fatal results
of any connection between red and white."
Ralph rose abruptly. "That's enough!" he said, tightlipped. "You have
no call to interfere in my private affairs!"
Jim suddenly exploded. "No call!" he shouted. "You talk like a fool!
You're insane! I have a right to lock you up until you come to your
senses."
"Better not try it on," said Ralph.
"Insanity's the kindest name to put to it!" stormed Jim. "There are
uglier words!--coming here like you did, and making up to my little
daughter, and beguiling her with your city-bred tongue, and then to run
off after----"
"It's a lie!" cried Ralph. "I was coming after the other girl when I
had my accident. And I never made love to Kitty, neither by word, nor
look, nor touch! Ask her!"
"Ah, you'd hide behind her now," sneered Jim. "She has her pride!"
Roused to a blind fury by the unjust taunt, Ralph reached for his
axe--but he could not fight Kitty's father. His arms dropped to his
sides. "Oh, for God's sake, let me go, and forget me!" he cried
brokenly.
"Ye came to her sick and starving!" cried Jim accusingly; "she took ye
in and fed ye, and nursed ye back to life again! What does she get for
it? I found her---- Oh! it drives me mad to think on! I could kill
ye--but that would only break her heart! Ye miserable Jack-a-dandy!
What she can see in ye beats me!"
"What can I do?" cried Ralph despairingly. "It's not my fault! Tell
me what to do, and I'll do it!"
"Stay here," said Jim. "Give up this insane chase, and make good here."
Ralph shrugged helplessly. "It's impossible," he said sullenly. "I'd
be no good to Kitty if my heart was down the river."
"Your heart!" echoed Jim disgustedly. He raised his clenched fists.
"Grant me patience!"
He was interrupted by the sound of Kitty's voice calling him. In the
hollow where Ralph was building his raft they were invisible both from
the trail, and from the camping-place on the point. Jim answered the
hail sulkily. Presently Kitty, white-faced and wide-eyed, came pushing
through the bushes.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded of her father.
Thus to be addressed by one of his children brought the skies tumbling
about the old-fashioned father's head. He gaped at her stupidly.
"That's a nice way to speak to me!" he cried, puffing out his cheeks.
It had no effect on her now. The gentle Kitty was transformed. "I
believe you were trying to persuade him to stay here!" she cried, with
flashing eyes.
"Well--well," stammered Jim, thoroughly confounded. "I was doing it
for your sake!"
A little cry of helpless anger escaped her. "How can you shame me so?"
she murmured.
"Shame you?" said poor Jim. "If you want a thing you've got to fight
for it, ain't you?"
"I don't want him!" she cried. "Let him go! The sooner he goes the
better I'll be pleased! Understand, both of you, he is repulsive to
me! I never want to see him again as long as I live!"
It was the third time that day that Ralph had been denounced. He was
only human. His self-love was wounded. "What's the matter with you
all?" he cried. "I'm neither a leper nor a crook! Why should I be
blamed for what nobody could help?"
"Come back to the house," said Kitty imperiously to her father.
Jim followed her as if he had been whipped. "God save the wumman!" he
muttered. "Blest if I know what she wants!"
Ralph returned to his work with a savage zest, and wholly unmindful of
the pain in his shoulder. It was an impossible situation; there was
nothing he could do, therefore no use thinking about it. The only
thing was to get away as soon as he could. He bored holes in the ends
of his four logs, and cutting two cross-pieces bored them and fastened
the whole frame together with stout wooden pegs. By the time it was
done the afternoon was far advanced. He floated his craft out into the
river, and, pulling it up on the sand, took the auger and the axe back
to the work-shack.
Jim Sholto, busy with the furnaces, turned a grim, hard face at his
entrance.
"Will you sell me food and a gun and a blanket?" asked Ralph stiffly.
"It's waiting for you in the kitchen," was the harsh answer. "No dog
shall starve through me."
Ralph swallowed the affront. The two men went to the kitchen. The
stuff was lying on the table: gun, ammunition belt, double blanket, and
packet of food. Kitty was not visible.
"Pay me what you like," said Jim carelessly.
"It's worth fifty dollars," Ralph said, counting out the money.
"Here's something else that belongs to you," said Jim, holding out the
necklace with a sneer.
Ralph pocketed it without comment. Gathering the slender outfit in his
arms, he left the shack. There were no good-byes.
Everything was now clear for his departure, and as he set foot on the
trail to the river he breathed more freely. He bitterly regretted what
had happened, but since he could not mend it there was relief in
putting it behind him. Down the river was Nahnya.
Halfway to the camping-place he stopped and stood fast to listen with a
horrible sinking of the heart. He thought he heard men's voices ahead
of him. He thought he recognized the voices. He heard them again, and
could no longer doubt. The worst had happened. He paused, frantically
debating what to do. His way was cut off in front; they were already
in possession of the raft that had caused him such pains to make.
Behind him was the grim and angry father. No help there! While Ralph
hung in agonized indecision Joe Mixer hove in sight in the trail ahead,
and, seeing him, set up a loud shout.
Ralph cast the blanket and the bag of food from him, and hanging on to
the rifle and ammunition, darted into the woods. Joe Mixer, shouting
the news over his shoulder, came plunging after him. The other three
men caught up Joe's cries, and crashed into the underbrush. The
surprised forest rang like the halls of bedlam with shouts and crashes
on every hand.
Ralph pressed his elbows against his ribs, and ran, breathing deep for
endurance. He headed east into the thickest of the woods, meaning to
strike back to the river if he could distance them a little. He judged
from the sounds that they had spread out fanwise behind him. None of
them caught sight of him again. He ran with despair in his heart, for
there was no escape ahead. Suppose he did outdistance them, there was
no place to run to, and nothing to do. He could not build another raft
with his bare hands.
The sounds behind him finally fell away a little, and Ralph turned
sharply to the left. Breaking out of the woods, he scrambled down the
bank almost in the same spot where he had found Nahnya's tracks
earlier. At the bottom he came face to face with Philippe Boisvert
crouching in wait behind a boulder. Ralph almost collided with him.
Before he could lift his arms, he was locked in the half-breed's sinewy
embrace. He struggled with the strength of despair without being able
to break it. Meanwhile Philippe shouted vociferously. Joe Mixer
leaped down the bank and fell on Ralph from behind. Crusoe Campbell
and Stack appeared, each ready to lend a hand. It was useless for
Ralph to struggle further.
"Tie his hands!" shouted Joe.
It was done with the thongs from the half-breed's moccasins. Ralph was
half-led, half-dragged along the beach, back to the camping-place.
Whenever he stumbled Joe with foul oaths struck him in the face with
his fist. Joe was not susceptible to any sentiments of generosity
toward a helpless enemy. Crusoe Campbell guffawed, and Stack
snickered. Ralph set his teeth, and held his tongue. A cold hate
distilled itself drop by drop in his heart.
Jim Sholto attracted by the noise of the chase was at the camping-place
when they got there. Seeing Ralph's plight, he grimly smiled. Ralph
was stood, back against a tree, and a stout line wound about his body,
and knotted behind the trunk.
Meanwhile Joe Mixer blustered up to shake hands with Jim. "You know
me," he cried; "Mixer of Gisborne portage. These three gentlemen are
friends of mine. From your smile I take it you've had a sample of this
young crook's quality."
Jim was not at all charmed by Joe's effusiveness, but he was more
enraged against Ralph. "I know nothing to his good," he said grimly.
"Let me tell you what he did to us," said Joe. "Landed below our camp
in the night when we was all asleep, and set our boat adrift. We might
have starved in the woods for him!"
Ralph disdained to answer this impudent charge.
"Where was this?" asked Jim.
"Thirty mile above the Grand Forks."
"You've been a long time coming down."
"We had a little business up the Stanley," said Joe.
Ralph had at least the satisfaction of learning that he had made them
sweat for ten days.
"How did he come here?" asked Joe.
"Sick and starving," said Jim bitterly. "Said he lost his boat in the
Stanley rapids."
"If he did, it's God's justice!" said Joe piously.
Ralph smiled peculiarly.
"What funny business has he been up to around your camp?" asked Joe.
"That's my affair," said Jim grimly. "I will deal with him as I see
fit."
Joe looked at him with an ugly glitter, and decided to swallow the
rebuke. "Sure!" he said easily. "He's got a pardner," he went on, "a
good-looking Indian wench who calls herself Annie Crossfox. Has she
been around here?"
Ralph roused himself sharply. "Sholto, think how you answer!" he
cried. "You and I have our differences, but you're an honest man!
You've got nothing to do with this vermin! Look in their faces; it's
written plain enough there. They can't look in a man's eyes, the mean
and cowardly----"
Joe Mixer turned purple, and springing toward Ralph, struck him
violently across the mouth with the back of his hand. "Shut your
head!" he cried with an oath.
Ralph wiped the blood from his lips on his shoulder. "Mean and
cowardly blackguards without decency or manliness!" he cried defiantly.
Joe made to strike him again, but big Jim held his arm. "The man is
bound," he said laconically.
"Then let him keep a clean tongue in his head," muttered Joe, turning
away.
"For God's sake, think it over before you join in with them," Ralph
begged of Jim.
"I see no reason why I should not answer a civil question," said Jim
judicially. Jim thought he was being fair and disinterested, while he
was being swayed by his feelings no less than an angry woman. "If the
girl is straight she has nothing to fear from anybody. She was here
this morning."
"Aha!" cried Joe delightedly.
Ralph groaned. "You'll be sorry for this!" he muttered.
"Where does she hang out?" Joe asked eagerly.
"I don't know," said Jim. "She went down the river."
"We'll get her!" cried Joe.
"What do you want with her?" asked Jim curiously, "and him there?"
Joe looked disconcerted. His thick wits had no answer ready.
Stack spoke up. "Robbery," he said smoothly. "They broke into Mr.
Mixer's store. There are no police in the country, so we have to bring
them to justice ourselves."
"It's a lie!" cried Ralph scornfully. "That little lick-spittle
confessed to me that he had trailed me all the way from the coast,
because he thought I'd made a strike here in the country!"
Stack's eyes bolted; his little body writhed, and a curious, painful
smile distorted his ashen face.
Jim shrugged and turned away. "It's nothing to me," he said. "Fight
it out among yourselves."
As soon as Jim was safely out of hearing, Joe turned to Ralph with an
evil smile. "Now I've got you where I want you!" he said triumphantly.
He drew a significant line across his throat. "I can string you up to
the tree over your head if I want, and go scot free for it! Setting a
traveller's boat adrift is worse than murder up here! And I got three
witnesses to swear to it. No jury in this country would convict.
They'd thank me for strangling a coyote!"
Ralph proudly held his tongue.
His air of unconcern infuriated the ex-butcher. "Damn you! I'll lower
your proud stomach!" he cried. "I'll give the night to it! I've been
saving up for this! Before morning you'll be crawling and whining for
mercy!"
A blow accompanied this. Ralph instinctively jerked away his head, and
it fell on his sore shoulder. As a result of his exertions with the
axe it was now puffed up, throbbing, and exquisitely painful. When Joe
Mixer's fist descended on it, Ralph caught his breath with the pain.