Although the Indians are not usually a demonstrative people, Big Eagle’s
joy at seeing Molly again was so apparent that it was almost
embarrassing. These two had a bond of language; and she at once essayed
to find out what chance had brought him here. He spoke briefly at first,
but at the girl’s eager questions he went into a long explanation of
some kind of which Jeff could not understand one word. And now the
latter found himself waiting with breathless interest for Molly’s
translation. Something in her manner indicated that the native’s story
was of extraordinary import to her.
“This is the strangest thing,” the girl told him at last, with shining
eyes. “Templeton and Staritsa are up at a Hudson Bay post a long, long
way on the river. He’s a bit vague as to how far, but he says it is
almost a month’s journey from here upstream.”
“They went up there searching for us?”
“That would be the natural supposition, but Big Eagle says not. He says
they weren’t searching for him, either—although he has been doing his
trading at the same remote post. This is his home country, you remember.
He tells me that when he brought in some water furs to sell, the men
were at the post, and as soon as he got a glimpse of them he recognized
them as two of the men in power at Sitka. He named Staritsa, and
described the other as an Englishman, Staritsa’s friend, so of course he
means Templeton. He thought at first they were in pursuit of him, but
when he inquired from his friends, he found they had not even asked
about him.”
“Did they recognize him?”
“He didn’t give them a chance to. He left at once to join his people who
have a summer village on the headwaters of the big tributary below—the
_Iskut_, I believe they call it.”
“Then what was their business up here, if they weren’t looking for us or
for him either?”
“That’s the mystery. Big Eagle says that some men in red coats—English
soldiers, of course—and some other big chiefs had come from afar to
meet Staritsa and Templeton. They had many horses, and according to the
accounts the natives told Big Eagle, they had come a journey of many
moons—as many as Big Eagle has fingers. That doesn’t seem reasonable,
does it?”
A grim look overspread Jeff’s face. “It might easily happen—if they had
come across country from Ottawa!”
“He says they brought papers which the Indians understood were of great
importance, and these were given to Staritsa and Templeton to carry back
to Sitka. He said the parley was almost completed when he got there; and
the men in the red coats were getting ready to start back—overland.”
“I suppose up the headwaters of the Stikine and across country to
Ottawa. Staritsa and Templeton must be on the way home too—only a short
distance behind Big Eagle.”
“I suppose so. Jeff, those two men must have passed here a week or so
after we arrived. What do you suppose it means?”
“It is pretty evident what it means, I should say!” Jeff replied. His
sparkling eyes showed suppressed excitement. “Molly, ask him how many
men from the post Templeton and Staritsa have with them. So much depends
on that.”
Molly put the question and presently translated the native’s answer. “He
says only two—one in each canoe. He says further that the other white
man was _Templeton_—he remembers he was called that.”
“Good. This thing is straightening out pretty well. It is astonishing
how much the natives can pick up about white men’s business; they are a
great deal like our servants down below, finding out more than their
masters know themselves. Molly, this man has let us in on a mighty
important piece of news.”
“What is it?”
“That a certain treaty is going through between England and Russia—or
rather between the semi-imperial Hudson’s Bay Company and the
Russian-American Company. Those men were undoubtedly messengers from
high-up government officials in Ottawa, accompanied by soldiers, and
Staritsa was sent to meet them as an agent of the Russian-American
Company. The business was carried on way out here in the backwoods
for—only one possible reason.”
“Secrecy?”
“Perhaps, but mainly safety. They wanted to travel in Canadian territory
all the way to avoid any risk of being intercepted and their documents
taken away from them—a possibility if they went by way of sea. Of
course, they weren’t looking for us, or for Big Eagle either. We are
small fry compared to this.”
“A treaty that concerns—America?” Molly asked, somewhat breathlessly.
“Of course—ultimately. It is of very great concern to America who gets
control of the great, northwest end of the continent. That treaty,
Molly, will decide the ultimate ownership of Alaska. It was the thing I
was sent up here to check.”
The girl’s eyes opened wide. “And you’re too late!” she cried. Her
manner indicated that Jeff’s affairs were her own. “The treaty has gone
through?”
“Molly, I don’t think so—yet. Neither Staritsa nor Templeton could
possibly have had authority to sign such a document as that would
be—one a secret agent, and the other a confederate of Karl without
official position. I think likely they were empowered to state the
Russian Company’s terms, and probably they reached an agreement with the
agents of the Hudson’s Bay Company, but certainly the document has to go
down to Sitka before the deal can be closed. Certainly Karl and Prince
Maksoutof will have to sign it, one as part owner of the company and the
other as governor of the province; and I wouldn’t wonder if it would
have to be carried to St. Petersburg.” He paused, his thoughts too
engrossing to permit speech. “Of course, Karl would have come except for
his wound—and if he had?—in that case, I wouldn’t feel so sure the
deal was not already closed and the treaties signed. Perhaps that bullet
I sent into his side will yet make history!”
“It is a renewal of the treaty of 1839, of course,” the girl remarked.
“I’ve heard something about it.”
“Yes, only more comprehensive in character. Molly, there’s no use of my
keeping Seward’s instructions from you any longer; you have guessed
part, and the time has come to tell you the rest. You are sure this
native cannot understand English?”
“Not this kind of English. He can’t follow you, possibly.”
“Good. You know, by the treaty of 1839, the Hudson’s Bay Company had
leased all south of Cape Spencer on the mainland. This treaty has
expired, and in renewing it, undoubtedly the two companies have joined
hands for the exploitation of all of Russian-America. It is to be
trapped by Hudson’s Bay Company’s agents, settled by English citizens,
and, of course, the province will soon be an English province by right
of settlement. England wants it to complete her American possessions and
give her a full sweep on the three oceans. America doesn’t want England
to have it, for many reasons, one of them England’s attitude during the
war; and for equally many reasons, wants it and needs it herself. But if
that treaty goes through before February first, America won’t get it. On
that date the Czar will authorize the sale of the province to the United
States Government, provided that the Russian-American Company does not
renew their charter in the meantime. If the company makes this
profitable deal with England, they _will_ renew the charter, harsh
though it is—and our chance to own Alaska will be gone forever.
“Now, let us suppose what would happen in case that treaty should be
intercepted somewhere between the post where it was put in Staritsa’s
hands, and Sitka—in other words, somewhere on this river. The English
officials have already started back overland, and they could not be
overtaken. In a very few weeks and possibly days, the winter will close
all travel in the mountain regions, at least until the snow is packed.
The possibility suggests itself that even if Staritsa and Templeton lost
the treaty itself they could go on into Sitka, report in general the
terms agreed to, and the Russian Company would get a renewal of their
charter with the Czar on the expectation of getting the British to sign
up again in the spring. But this would be risky business. Things might
look entirely different in the spring, and the Hudson’s Bay Company
would have Karl and his crowd just where they want him. He would be
bound to a charter which would ruin him and the Company too, unless
Hudson’s Bay Company helped him out. I must admit, however, that Karl
might do that very thing: sign up with the idea of rewriting the treaty
with Hudson’s Bay next spring, provided he is aware of their terms. The
only sure way the deal can be blocked would be that Staritsa and
Templeton should become snowed in for the winter, and unable to get back
to Sitka until after February. In that case, Karl and Maksoutof would
have no way of knowing what terms had been agreed to, and they would
have to wait till spring to renew their charter with the Czar. The
latter, suspicious of Karl and some of his other agents, and wanting to
let go of a province he can’t protect, will in the meantime sell out to
America.
“There will probably be a lot to this agreement which is not down on
paper, but which Staritsa carries in his head. That makes it all the
more important that he report personally to Karl. I think the terms
concern ultimate betrayal of the Czar to England, not to mention other
points not meant for the liberal monarch’s eyes. Molly, if you and I
wanted to do a great thing—perform a service for America that will be
appreciated a hundred years from now—far more than it can be
appreciated now, or any time in the near future—we would see to it that
the treaty never arrives in Sitka!”
Molly’s eyes spoke as plainly as the ringing words with which she
answered him. This was a universal language—the changing, welling light
in her eyes—and the dusky Indian grunted, wondering at this white
goddess from beyond the forests. “Then what can be your answer?” she
asked.
“Wait, Molly. We must see where we stand. We can’t look at the natives’
side of the case: the fact that with England to protect the
Russian-American Company against the Czar they will be exploited as they
never were before. We can’t look from the Czar’s point of view
either—that Karl is undoubtedly planning to betray him. We must only
look from America’s side. Are we justified in descending to force to
stop that treaty?”
“England didn’t hesitate to commit overt acts against us—when the Union
was jeopardized. Privateers fitted out in England didn’t hesitate to
stop our ships. Never fear—she knows the game. The British leaders were
no friends of ours, Jeff, during the war—with the exception of a few
liberals like Gladstone and the Queen herself, and they have to pay for
their folly! I don’t think what you propose need rest heavily on your
conscience.”
“Everything is fair—in war and diplomacy. A man ought to sacrifice a
little of his conscience just as quickly as his life, if great public
good will come of it. Besides, it may be we have a personal interest.
This affair is of the greatest personal moment to Karl and Staritsa.”
The warm lips in front of him—near enough to touch with his own—set in
a hard line. “Yes,” she breathed, “there may be personal debts to pay.”
They brooded awhile on this. Remorse showed no more in Molly’s lovely
face between the two flaxen braids that came down over her breasts than
in the bronzed, weather-beaten countenance of her companion. These two
had their debts to pay; that much was sure. The Indian grunted, darkly
stirred by what he read in their eyes.
Molly seemed to be waiting for Jeff to speak. She clasped her hands,
perhaps only to hold them from entreating him, and her look was one of
such intense anxiety that it was akin to terror. It was as if her whole
world hung on his next few words.
He reached out his hands, finding hers. Their pulses leaped together, as
if in united purpose. “It’s destiny, Molly,” he told her in hushed
tones. “This chance has come to me to atone for all my folly!” Then with
mounting gusto, “We’ll see to it, my girl. Molly, we’ll see what can be
done!”