It was only in Ralph's presence that Kitty's pride sufficed to bear her
up. When she and Jim returned to the shacks she collapsed again, and
Jim had no difficulty in reasserting his parental authority. When the
sudden hue and cry was raised after Ralph, Jim ordered her to remain
behind locked doors while he went to investigate. She dared not
disobey him. She awaited his return in a state bordering on
distraction; her quick imagination running ahead to picture horrors
overtaking the man she loved. On his coming in she read in his face
that the worst had not happened--but less than the worst was bad enough.
Little by little she wormed out of him all that he had learned. Jim
affected to make light of the matter, insisting that Ralph was getting
no more than his due. Kitty's truer instinct warned her that the young
man was in the hands of deadly and unscrupulous enemies, who would stop
at nothing, so they thought themselves safe. Supper in the shack was a
ghastly pretence for her. Her hands shook so that she could scarcely
lift the dishes. Her distracted eyes saw nothing they were turned on,
all her faculties being concentrated on listening for sounds from the
point. Jim, exasperated beyond bearing by the sight of her distress,
lost his temper and stormed at her, with inconsistency worse than that
he accused her of.
Fortunately for her it was Jim's habit to turn in almost immediately
after eating. Not even the extraordinary sequence of events this day
could keep him up an hour longer than his time. He refused to return
to the point, from a secret fear perhaps of learning something that
would shake the philosophic stand he had taken. He retired to his bunk
in the kitchen, and Kitty locked herself in her own room.
Here she was at least free to listen without being sworn at. She flung
herself across her bed with her head on the window-sill. The night was
absolutely still except for the tireless voice of the brook. Its
senseless chatter and brawl drove her wild. She could hear nothing
above it. To be obliged to wait and listen, practically a prisoner,
with only her imagination free to create the worst--real madness lay
that way. If they were going to carry him off bound and helpless, she
knew she must follow or die. She rose and listened at the door. Jim
was snoring like an exhaust pipe. "He can sleep!" she thought, amazed.
Catching up a shawl, she slipped out of the window the way Nahnya had
gone.
Her flying moccasined feet fell noiselessly on the earth. She ran
around the house, and down the trail toward the river. It was not yet
dark. Fearful of being seen, she struck off the trail and ran doubled
up under the willow branches like a partridge in cover. Every few
seconds she stopped short, holding her breath in the effort to hear.
The turmoil of the brook still drowned all other sounds. A suggestion
of men's voices and coarse laughter only tantalized her ears.
Yesterday if anybody had told Kitty she would be spying on a camp of
rough men and listening to their talk she would have covered her head
in shame. She never thought of shame now.
She came closer and closer by little runs until no more than twenty
yards separated her from their camp. She could see the light of their
fire reflected on the high branches overhead. Here she crouched down
behind a thick screen of leaves, prepared to spend the night if need
be. For a while she could hear nothing. She began to fear that they
must have gone after all, taking him. Suddenly a disembodied voice
fell upon her ears.
"He's come to," it said. "Try him again."
Kitty's heart stood still at the picture this called up. There was a
pause; then another voice said brutally:
"Will you tell?"
She had no clue to the scene of her previous knowledge, but her
intuition told her what was taking place. Another pause, and a soft,
torn groan reached Kitty's ears. She sprang up, electrified. Gone
were all maidenly modesties and shrinkings. Fiery-eyed and
self-forgetful as a mother-animal whose young are threatened, she
crashed through the branches, and stood among the men, crying:
"Let him alone, you cowards!"
Joe Mixer, Stack, and Crusoe Campbell fell back, dumfoundered. The
half-breed, who slept by the fire, woke up, and partly raised himself,
blinking at her stupidly. Kitty saw only Ralph. He hung limply on the
rope that bound him to the tree. His face was ghastly, his breath came
in gasps; and the sweat of pain had left wet channels in front of his
ears and down his neck. Kitty flew to him with a moan of
commiseration, and fumbled helplessly with the knots of the rope.
The men recovered from their surprise. Knowing that Jim had a
daughter, it was not hard for them to explain Kitty's presence. As men
must needs do everywhere in the presence of a genuinely angry woman,
they looked silly and sheepish.
"Stand away from there, young lady!" growled Joe.
"You unspeakable coward!" cried Kitty, in her hushed and thrilling
voice.
Joe flushed darkly. "Go back to your father," he said. "This is no
place for you!"
Kitty paid no further attention to him.
"If he finds you here and cuts up rough, mind I warned you," blustered
Joe. "These men will bear me out."
Neither the thought of her father's anger, nor anything else, could
deter Kitty now. She worked desperately at the knots.
"Go back, Kitty," whispered Ralph between his pale lips. "You can't do
any good!"
"Oh, my dear!" murmured Kitty on the passionately solicitous note of a
mother to her hurt child.
"Campbell, take her away from there!" ordered Joe.
The long-haired nondescript grinning witlessly pinned Kitty's elbows to
her sides from behind, and drew her away from the tree. She was
helpless. Her eyes flashed.
"I'm not afraid of you--any of you!" she cried.
"You get this matter wrong, Miss," said Joe, with an offensive
servility. "This fellow did us an injury. He is our rightful
prisoner. But I don't want to be hard on him. I offered him his
release on fair terms. If he don't take 'em, 'tain't my fault, is it?"
"Tell this man to take his hands off me, and I'll speak to you," said
Kitty indignantly.
At a nod from Joe, Crusoe released her.
"What terms?" Kitty demanded to know.
"You tell him he's foolish," said Joe fawningly. "Maybe he'll listen
to you. You tell him to tell me what I want to know, and I'll trouble
him no further."
"What do you want to know?"
"Only where the girl Annie Crossfox lives."
The suddenness and completeness of the surprise almost undid Kitty.
She swayed a little as under a physical blow. Her cheeks blanched.
"Annie Crossfox?" she murmured.
"I have business with her," Joe went on. "I can find her anyway, but
I'm in a hurry. Let him tell me, and I'll set him loose."
Kitty was torn into shreds by her conflicting emotions. It nearly
killed her to see Ralph suffering so--and it turned her into ice to
think that it was for Nahnya's sake he was bearing it. She was
terrified, too, knowing that the secret was in her own keeping.
Strange and dreadful consequences must depend upon it for Ralph to be
willing to stake his life. Kitty saw plainly enough that they would
kill him before he told.
Little Stack was watching Kitty with ferret-like sharpness. Suddenly
he cried out: "She knows herself!"
Kitty felt as if a net had suddenly been cast over her head, entangling
her inextricably.
Stack sprang up, and looking from Ralph to Kitty with a timorous,
malignant smile, whispered in Joe's ear. Joe nodded in high
satisfaction.
"So you know where he got his gold, and where the girl is hidden?" said
Joe, leering at Kitty.
"No! No!" she protested desperately. "I know nothing!"
Her terror-stricken face betrayed her. Joe merely laughed. "Very
good," he said, "you can make him tell us then, or tell us yourself."
Kitty's first impulse was to fly. She saw, however, that they meant to
work on her through Ralph, and then nothing could have dragged her from
the spot. Ralph's right arm had been freed, and it hung down outside
the ropes that bound him. Joe grasped the helpless wrist. Kitty saw a
quiver pass through Ralph; saw him try to stiffen his fainting body;
saw the muscles stand out on his jaw as he clenched his teeth.
"Don't! Don't!" she cried wildly. "That's his hurt arm!" Crusoe
Campbell's great hand pressed her back from rushing to Ralph's aid.
"I just give him a little osteopathy," said Joe grinning.
Kitty had dressed that shoulder every day; a vivid picture of the
angry, throbbing flesh was before her. She had hardly dared touch it
with her delicate fingers, and now she saw the butcher about to wreak
his strength on it. An agonizing pain struck through her own frame.
She nearly swooned.
Joe, watching Kitty with a sidelong smile, gave the arm a little twist.
Kitty saw Ralph's eyes roll up with the pain. He made no sound.
"For a starter," said Joe. "Better tell before he gets worse!"
He lifted the arm again.
"Stop! Stop!" screamed Kitty. "I'll tell!" She sank to the ground
and covered her face.
Ralph, half stupefied with pain and nausea, looked at Kitty with a dull
wonder. He did not suspect that she knew the secret.
"Will you promise to let him go if I tell you?" murmured Kitty.
"I promise to let him go if you tell the truth," said Joe.
On the ground, with her hands clenched in her lap and her head bowed,
Kitty began her tale breathlessly, as if she dared not pause to think
of what she was doing. "About half a mile this side of the Grumbler
rapids there is a stream comes in on the north side. You will know it
by a large, flat rock beside the river. That is where you land. You
will find a trail up the mountain beside the stream. You follow it
until you come out of the forest at the foot of a big peak that sticks
up like a thumb."
The men hung breathlessly on her words. The painstaking details
carried conviction. Little Stack wrote it down in a notebook. With
her first words a new horror was born in Ralph's face. He forgot his
weakness.
"Near the place where you come out of the forest," Kitty went on, "the
trail crosses a ravine. You leave the trail at that place, and follow
the bed of the ravine up to the left--just a little way. There is a
little bend in the ravine, and a drift-pile at the bend, and above the
drift-pile three stunted trees are growing on a little ledge, and some
bushes----"
"Kitty! for God's sake!" murmured Ralph.
She would not look at him. She went on faster than before. "Behind
the bushes there is a hole in the rock, you let yourself down into the
hole, and you come out into a cave. Turn to the left in the cave, and
walk a long way--half an hour's walk. You carry a torch to show you
the way. You cross the hole where the water goes down. Half a mile
farther you come out on the other side of the mountain. It is a
beautiful valley. There is no other way to get in. That is the place!"
Kitty came to a stop and looked around her a little wildly. Joe Mixer,
Philippe, and Crusoe, were all staring at her as if thunderstruck.
From her their eyes turned on each other furtively. The same thought
was in the mind of each, and each wondered if the others knew. Joe saw
that it could not be kept a secret.
"By Gad! It's Bowl of the Mountains!" he cried. "And it's ours!"
"Maybe she's lying," said Stack.
"Who told you this?" Joe demanded to know.
Kitty nodded toward Ralph. She had not dared to look at him yet. "Now
let him go!" she murmured.
Joe Mixer's little eyes glittered strangely; he was touched with a kind
of awe. More than once he repeated "Bowl of the Mountains!" under his
breath, as if he could not fully grasp the idea. Stack's ferret-like
glance darted from the face of one man to another, trying to read the
secret they shared; he was tortured by his exclusion. A strange sound
of laughter broke from Ralph's lips, and all the men looked at him. At
the call of his desperate need, he had partly overcome his weakness.
He was playing his last card.
"You're easily taken in," he said scornfully. "It's likely I'd tell
her!"
Kitty timidly raised her eyes to Ralph's. The scorn that blazed on her
shrivelled up her very soul. She wondered how she could go on living
after it.
"How do I know you ain't lying?" Joe asked her. "How did he come to
tell you about the other woman?"
"I'll say no more," murmured Kitty.
Joe made a move toward Ralph's arm, and she sprang to her knees with a
cry. "I'll tell you! It is true! I swear it! He was out of his head
when he came--for two days. He told me in his fever. Over and over,
he told me. I wrote it down. I thought it was just fancies until
Annie came to-day, and then I knew it was true. Now let him go!"
Hope died within Ralph's breast. His head fell forward. "Nahnya
foresaw this," he thought. "She is always right. I have ruined
everything. What is there left for me?"
Joe looked at Stack. It was clear that he had come to lean on the
little man's evil perspicacity.
"It's true all right," said Stack. "He'd have kept his mouth shut if
it was a lie."
"Now let him go," said Kitty again.
"Hold your horses," said Joe; "I didn't say----"
"You promised!" cried Kitty wildly.
"I'll keep to my promise," said Joe--"in my own time. I'd be a fool to
let him loose now to make trouble for us. We're going to push off at
dawn. I'll leave him tied to the tree, and as soon as we're gone you
can come and cut him loose!"
"He'll pot us from the shore!" Stack piped up excitedly.
"He'll not raise a gun with that arm inside a month," said Joe,
grinning. "Run back to your bed," he said to Kitty.
"I'll wait here until you go," she said.
"No, you don't!" said Joe. "And have your father down on us like a mad
moose directly! You run along, or I'll go up to the shack myself, and
fetch him back to bring you."
The threat was effective. Kitty turned abruptly, and ran back over the
trail.
She ran until she was sure her footfalls had passed out of earshot.
Then she stopped, and listened to make sure she was not followed.
Satisfied of this, she crept into the underbrush, and began to make her
way back, feeling her way with infinite patience over treacherous twigs
and dry leaves, doubling and circling to find a way through the thickly
springing stems, drawing her skirts close around her, and insinuating
her body softly through the clustering leaves. Kitty had never hunted
nor practised woodcraft; it was pure instinct that enabled her to make
her way through the undergrowth as noiselessly as a lynx. These soft
natures have a boldness of their own. She proceeded until through the
interstices of the leaves, she could watch every move of the four men
around their fire, and watch Ralph that they did him no further injury.
The half-breed had already laid himself down to sleep again. After the
manner of his race, he held himself aloof, affecting a stolid unconcern
with white men's matters. The three white men talked together
low-voiced. It was as if the very magnitude of their good fortune had
sobered them. Joe Mixer clapped his thigh and cried softly:
"Bowl of the Mountains! We're made for life! Millionaires, big-bugs,
second to none! This means living like a lord, the real thing; steam
yachts, private cars, horses, automobiles, jewelled women! And eating
and drinking of the best as much as a man can hold--if it's handled
right!" He licked his lips greedily, and shot a contemptuous and
furtive glance at his two companions, the one weak-minded, the other a
physical weakling. The look boded them no good.
Even in the prospect of such riches men must sleep, and one by one they
wrapped themselves in their blankets, and lay down. In time they lay
all four in a row, feet to the fire, looking in their wrappings like
four corpses ready for burial in the sea.
Kitty drew even closer, the better to see how it was with Ralph. He
hung for support on the ropes that bound him, his head fallen forward
on his breast. A fresh terror attacked her at the sight of his
limpness; she crept toward him until she could see his eyes wink in the
firelight, and knew that he was at least conscious. Her heart was
wrung by the sight. In reality Ralph had passed the extremity of pain,
both physical and mental, and was sunk in a kind of lethargy. The
effect of what had happened was to fill him with the same hopeless
fatalism that Nahnya had. What would happen was bound to happen. The
powers were against them and it was useless to struggle.
The brook made no noise where it emptied into the river; its distant
brawling was reduced to a murmur here. In the stillness of the forest
the breathing of the four sleepers became audible to Kitty. It gave
her an idea that caused her heart to set up a beating like a frightened
bird's. She listened and found she could distinguish the sounds made
by all four, the stertorous snoring of the full-blooded butcher, the
quick, gasping breaths of the ferret-man, the wooden snores of the
witling, even the deep, slow breathing of the half-breed youth, who did
not snore. It was unquestionable that they were all sleeping deeply.
Kitty's tongue clave to her palate, and she nearly died with fright at
what she was about to do, but she never hesitated. With infinite
caution she made her way around through the bush to Ralph's tree,
approaching it from behind. The beating of her heart was the most
sound she made, and she could not control that.
Arrived at the tree at last, she crouched behind it, not daring to
speak to him. Rising to her feet at last, she softly touched his
elbow. Ralph started violently, but betrayed no sound. Kitty attacked
the knots with shaking fingers. Ordinarily she could never have
loosened them, but there was no question of failing now; it had to be
done. In the end it was done. Ralph steadied himself against the
tree, while she lowered the loosened coil to his feet.
Ralph sank to his knees. Instantly, aided by one hand, he started to
drag himself toward the edge of the bank. The other hand trailed
helplessly. Kitty tried to steer him in the other direction, but he
shouldered her aside. She was obliged to follow him. Once Joe Mixer's
snore broke off short; he muttered in his sleep and changed position.
Kitty's heart turned over in her breast. Somehow they got down the
bank to the sand below. Ralph made straight for his raft, which lay as
he had left it, the paddle sticking between the logs.
Kitty put her lips to his ear. "What are you going to do?" she
whispered, apprehending the worst.
"Warn Nahnya," he returned. "In two hours it will be light."
"You can't!" she began, with rising excitement. "You're not fit to----"
Ralph clapped his good hand over her mouth.
"How he hates me!" thought Kitty. Realizing the hopelessness of trying
to dissuade him, she helped push the raft off the sand. Ralph climbed
on board, and Kitty followed.
"Go back!" he whispered sharply.
For answer she took the paddle out of his hand and shoved the raft into
deeper water. "You can't travel alone," she whispered. "You can't use
the paddle. You'd only be carried down the rapids."
He made no further objection. Kitty propelled the raft into the main
current, and laid the paddle down.
Thereafter they travelled without speaking. The raft was ceaselessly
and slowly swung around and back in the eddies. The shadowy mountain
masses crouched and looked dumbly up at the stars like gross, earthy
creatures under the spell of fairy wands. There was no air stirring,
and the river was like oil stirred with a spoon. Occasionally the
eddies burst beside them with a soft gush, immediately to reform again.
Though there was but an arm's length between them, the two on the raft
were separated by a wall more impenetrable than stones and mortar. On
one side of it sat the youth with his hooded despair; on the other side
the girl nursed her unrequited love, and her torturing jealousy. Her
quick mind ran ahead to picture the meeting with the other woman that
she must witness. She knew that Nahnya loved Ralph, however she might
repulse him. It was she, Kitty, who was the scorned outsider. Yet of
the two the youth was the worse off, for under cover of the darkness
she might weep and ease her heart.