TREACHERY OUT OF THE NIGHT
Johnny moved restlessly beneath his furs. He had been dreaming, and in
his dream he had traveled far over scorching deserts, his steed a camel,
his companions Arabs. In his dream he slept by night on the burning
sand, with only a silken canopy above him. In his dream he had awakened
with a sense of impending danger. A prowling tiger had wandered over the
desert, an Arab had proved treacherous--who knows what? The feeling,
after all, had been only of a vague dread.
The dream had wakened him, and now he lay staring into utter darkness
and marveling that the dream was so much like the reality. He was
traveling over barren wastes with a caravan; had been for three days.
But the waste they crossed was a waste of snow. His companions were
natives--who like the Arabs, lived a nomadic life. Their steeds the
swift footed reindeer, their tents the igloos of walrus and reindeer
skins, they roamed over a territory hundreds of miles in extent. To one
of these "fleets of the frozen desert," Johnny had attached himself
after leaving the train.
It had been a wonderful three days that he had spent in his journeying
northward. These Chukches of Siberia, so like the Eskimos of Alaska that
one could distinguish them only by the language they spoke, lived a
romantic life. Johnny had entered into this life with all the zest of
youth. True, he had found himself very awkward in many things and had
been set aside with a growled, "Dezra" (that is enough), many times but
he had persevered and had learned far more about the ways of these
nomads of the great, white north than they themselves suspected.
During those three days Johnny's eyes had been always on the job. He had
not traveled a dozen miles before he had made a thorough study of the
reindeer equipment. This, indeed, was simple enough, but the simpler
one's equipment, the more thorough must be one's knowledge of its
handling. The harness of the deer was made of split walrus skin and
wood. Simple wooden hames, cut to fit the shoulders of the deer and tied
together with a leather thong, took the place of both collar and hames
of other harnesses. From the bottom of these hames ran a broad strap of
leather. This, passing between both the fore and hind legs of the deer,
was fastened to the sled. A second broad strap was passed around the
deer's body directly behind the fore legs. This held the pulling strap
above the ground to prevent the reindeer from stepping over his trace.
In travel, in spite of this precaution, the deer did often step over the
trace. In such cases, the driver had but to seize the draw strap and
give it a quick pull, sending the sled close to the deer's heels. This
gave the draw straps slack and the deer stepped over the trace again to
his proper place.
The sleds were made of a good quality of hard wood procured from the
river forests or from the Russians, and fitted with shoes of steel or of
walrus ivory cut in thin strips. The sleds were built short, broad and
low. This prevented many a spill, for as Johnny soon learned, the
reindeer is a cross between a burro and an ox in his disposition, and,
once he has scented a rich bed of mosses and lichens, on which he feeds,
he takes on the strength and speed of an ox stampeding for a water hole
in the desert, and the stubbornness of a burro drawn away from his
favorite thistle.
The deer were driven by a single leather strap; the old, old jerk strap
of the days of ox teams. Johnny had demanded at once the privilege of
driving but he had made a sorry mess of it. He had jerked the strap to
make the deer go more slowly. This really being the signal for greater
speed, the deer had bolted across the tundra, at last spilling Johnny
and his load of Chukche plunder over a cutbank. This procedure did not
please the Chukches, and Johnny was not given a second opportunity to
drive. He was compelled to trot along beside the sleds or, back to back
with one of his fellow travelers, to ride over the gleaming whiteness
that lay everywhere.
It was at such times as these that Johnny had ample opportunity to study
the country through which they passed. Lighted as it was by a glorious
moon, it presented a grand and fascinating panorama. To the right lay
the frozen ocean, its white expanse cut here and there by a pool of salt
water pitchy black by contrast with the ice. To the left lay the
mountains extending as far as the eye could see, with their dark purple
shadows and triangles of light and seeming but another sea, that
tempest-tossed and terrible had been congealed by the bitter northern
blasts.
When twelve hours of travel had been accomplished, and it had been
proposed that they camp for the night, Johnny had been quite free to
offer his assistance in setting up the tents. In this he had been even
less successful than in his performance with the reindeer. He had set
the igloo poles wrong end up and, when these had been righted, had
spread the long haired deerskin robes, which were to serve as the inner
lining of the shelters, hair side out, which was also wrong. He had once
more been relegated to the background. This time he had not cared, for
it gave him an opportunity to study his fellow travelers. They were for
the most part a dark and sullen bunch. Not understanding Johnny's
language, they did not attempt to talk with him, but certain gloomy
glances seemed to tell him that, though his money had been accepted by
them, there was still some secret reason why he might have been
traveling in safer company.
This, however, was more a feeling than an idea based on any overt act of
the natives, and Johnny tried to shake it off. That he might do this
more quickly, he gave himself over to the study of these strange nomads.
Their dress was a one-piece suit made of short haired deer skins. Men,
women and children dressed alike, with the exception that very small
children were sewed into their garments, hands, feet and all and were
strapped on the sleds like bundles.
The food was strange to the American. One needed a good appetite to
enjoy it. Great twenty-five pound white fish were produced from skin
bags and sliced off to be eaten raw. Reindeer meat was stewed in copper
kettles. Hard tack was soaked in water and mixed with reindeer suet. Tea
from the ever present Russian tea kettle and seal oil from a sewed up
seal skin took the place of drink and relish. The tea was good, the
seal oil unspeakable, a liquid not even to be smelled of by a white man,
let alone tasted.
By the second day Johnny had found himself confining his associations to
one person, who, to all appearances, was a fellow passenger, and not a
member of the tribe. He had learned to pitch his own igloo and hers. Not
five hours before he had hewn away a hard bank of snow and built there a
shelf for his bed. When his igloo was completed he had erected a second
not many feet away. This was for his fellow passenger. In case anything
should happen he felt that he would like to be near her, and she had
shown by many little signs that she shared his feelings in this.
"In case something happened," Johnny reflected drowsily. He had a
feeling that, sooner or later, something was going to happen. There was
something altogether mysterious about the actions of these Chukches,
especially one great sullen fellow, who had come skulking about Johnny's
igloo just before he had turned in.
These natives were supposed to be trustworthy, but Johnny had his
misgivings and was on his guard. They had come in contact with
Russians, perhaps also with Orientals, and had learned treachery.
"And yet," thought Johnny, "what could they want from me? I paid them
well for my transportation. They sold their reindeer to the American
army for a fat price. They would be more than greedy if they wanted
more."
Nevertheless, the air of mystery hung about him like a dark cloud. He
could not sleep. And not being able to sleep, he meditated.
He had already begun the eternal round of thoughts that will revolve
through a fellow's brain at night, when he heard a sound--the soft crush
of a skin boot in the snow it seemed. He listened and thought he heard
it again, this time more distinctly, as if the person were approaching
his igloo. A chill crept up and down his spine. His right hand
involuntarily freed itself from the furs and sought the cold hilt of the
Russian knife. He had his army automatic, but where there are many ears
to hear a shot, a knife is better.
"What an ideal trap for treachery, this igloo! A villain need but creep
through tent-flaps, pause for a breath, then stealthily lift the deer
skin curtain. A stab or a shot, and all would be ended." These thoughts
sped through Johnny's mind.
Scarcely breathing, he waited for other signs of life abroad at that
hour of night--a night sixteen hours long. He heard nothing.
Finally, his mind took up again the endless chain of thought. He had
arrived safely at Khabarask, the terminus of the Russian line. Here he
had remained for three days, half in hiding, until the "Reindeer
Special" had completed its loading and had started on its southern
journey to the waiting doughboys. During those three days he had made
two startling discoveries; the short Russian of the broad shoulders and
sharp chin, he of the envelope of diamonds, was in Khabarask. Johnny had
seen him in an eating place, and had had an opportunity to study him
without being observed. The man, he concluded, although a total stranger
in these parts, was a person of consequence, a leader of some sort,
accustomed to being obeyed. There seemed a brutal certainty about the
way he ordered the servants of the place to do his bidding. There was a
constant wrinkle of a frown between his eyes. A man, perhaps without a
sense of humor, he would force every issue to the utmost. Once given an
idea, he would override all obstacles to carry it through, not stopping
at death, or at many deaths. This had been Johnny's mental analysis of
the character of the man, and at once he began to half hate and half
admire him. He had lost sight of him immediately, and had not discovered
him again. Whether the Russian had left town before the native band did,
Johnny could not tell. But, if he had moved on, where did he go?
The other shock was similar in character. The woman who had bought furs
for the North had also been in Khabarask. Whether she was a Japanese
Johnny was not prepared to say, and that in spite of the fact that he
had studied her carefully for five days. She might be a Chukche who,
through some strange impulse, had been led south to seek culture and
education. He doubted that. She might be an Eskimo from Alaska making
her way north to cross Behring Strait in the spring. He doubted that
also. Finally she might be a Japanese woman, but in that case, what
could be the explanation of her presence here, some two hundred miles
north of the last vestige of civilization?
Now, not ten feet from the spot where Johnny lay in an igloo assigned
for her private use by the natives, that identical girl slept at this
moment. Only four hours before, Johnny had bade her good night, after an
enjoyable repast of tea, reindeer meat and hard bread prepared by her
own hand over a small wood fire. It was she who was his fellow
passenger, whose igloo he had erected, close to his own. Yes, there was
mystery enough about the whole situation to keep any fellow awake; yet
Johnny hated himself for not sleeping. He felt that the time was coming
when he would need stored strength.
He had half dosed off when a sound very close at hand, within the walls
of canvas he thought, started him again into wakefulness. His arm ready
and free for action, he lay still. His breathing well regulated and
even, as in sleep, he watched through narrow slit eyes the deer skin
curtain rise, and a head appear. The ugly shaved head of a Chukche it
was; and in the intruder's hand was a knife.
The knife startled Johnny. He could not believe his eyes. He thought he
was seeing double; yet he did not move.
Slowly, silently the arm of the native rose until it hung over Johnny's
heart. In a second it would--
In that second something happened. There came a deadly thwack. The
native, without a cry, fell backward beyond the curtain. His knife shot
outward too, and stuck hilt downward in the snow.
Johnny drew himself slowly from beneath the furs. Lifting the deer skin
curtain cautiously, he looked out. Then he chuckled a cold, dry chuckle.
His knuckles were bloody, for the only weapon he had used was that truly
American weapon, a clenched fist. Johnny, as I have suggested before,
was somewhat handy with his "dukes." His left was a bit out of repair
just now, but his right was quite all right, as the crumpled heap of a
man testified.
Johnny bent over the man and twisted his head about. No, his neck was
not broken. Johnny was thankful for that. He hated to see dead people
even when they richly deserved to die.
Then he turned to the knife. He started again, as he extricated the
hilt from the snow. But there was no time for examining it. His ear
caught a stifled cry, a woman's cry. It came, without a doubt, from the
igloo of his fellow traveler, the woman. Hastily thrusting his knife in
his belt, he threw back the tentflap and crossed the intervening
snowpatch in three strides.
He threw back the canvas just in time to seize a second native by the
hood of his deer skin parka. He whirled the man completely about, tossed
him high in the air, then struck him as he was coming down; struck him
in the same place he had hit the other, only harder, very much harder.
He did not examine him later for a broken neck, either.
Turning, Johnny saw the woman staring at him. Evidently she had slept in
her furs. As she stood there now, she seemed quite equal to the task of
caring for herself. There was a muscular sturdiness about her which
Johnny had failed to notice before. In her hand gleamed a wicked looking
dagger with a twisted blade.
But that she had been caught unawares, there could be no question, and
from the kindly flash in her eyes Johnny read the fact that she was
grateful for her deliverance.
He threw one glance at the other igloos. Standing there casting dark,
purple shadows, they were strangely silent. Apparently these two
murderers had been appointed to accomplish the task alone. The others
were asleep. For this Johnny was thankful.
Turning to the woman he said sharply:
"Gotta git outa here. You, me, savvy?"
"Savvy," she replied placidly.
Seizing her fur bag of small belongings, Johnny hastened before her to
where the sled deer were tethered. Two sleds were still loaded, one with
an unused igloo and deerskins, the other with food. To each of these
Johnny hastily harnessed a reindeer. Then whipping out his knife, he cut
the tether of all the other deer. They would follow; it was the way of
reindeer.
Johnny smiled. These extra deer would spell the others and quicken
travel. In case of need, they could be killed for food. Besides, if they
had no deer, the treacherous natives could not follow. They would be
obliged to return to the Russian town they had left and make a new
start, and by that time--Johnny patted his chest where reposed the bill
with the Alaskan stamp on it, and murmured:
"Stay with me li'l' ol' one-spot, and I'll take you home."
He cast one more glance toward the igloos. Not a soul had stirred.
"We're off," he exclaimed, leaping on his sled and slapping his reindeer
on the thigh with the jerkstrap.
"Yes," the Jap girl smiled as she followed his example.
Johnny thought they were "off," but it took only an instant to tell that
they were not. His deer cut a circle and sent him gliding away over the
snows. Fortunately he held to his jerkstrap and at last succeeded in
stopping the animal's mad rush.
The Jap girl smiled again as she took the jerkstrap from his hand and
tied it down short to her own sled. Then she leaped upon her sled again
and, with some cooing words spoke to her reindeer. The deer tossed his
antlers and trotted quietly away, leaving Johnny to spring upon his own
sled and ride in increasing wonderment over the long glistening miles.
When they had traveled for eight hours without a pause and without a
balk, the Jap girl allowed her deer to stop. She loosened the draw strap
and, turning the animal about, tied him by a long line to the sled, that
he might paw moss from beneath the snow in a wide circle.
"How--how'd you know how to drive?" Johnny stammered.
"Never before so," she smiled.
"You mean you never drove a reindeer?"
"Before now, no. Hungry you?" The Jap girl smiled, as if to say, "Enough
about that, let's eat."
It was a royal meal they ate together, those two there beneath the
Arctic moon. This Jap girl was a wonder, Johnny felt that, and he was to
learn it more certainly as the days passed.
Three days later he sat upon a robe of deer skin. The corners of the
robe were drawn up over his shoulders. A shelter of deer skins and
walrus skins, hastily improvised by him during the beginning of a
terrible blizzard which came howling down from the north, was ample to
keep the wind from driving the biting snow into their faces, but it
could hardly keep out the cold. In spite of that, the Jap girl, buried
in deer skins, with her back against his, was sleeping soundly. Johnny
was sleeping bolt upright with one ear awake. His reindeer were picketed
close to the improvised igloo. Other nights, they had taken turns
watching to protect them from prowling wolves, but this night no one
could long withstand the numbing cold of the blizzard. So he watched and
half slept. Now he caught the rising howl of the wind, and now felt its
lull as the deer skins sagged. But what was this? Was there a different
note, a howl that was not of the wind?
Shaking himself into entire wakefulness, Johnny sat bolt upright and
listened intently. Yes, there it was again. A wolf beyond doubt, as yet
some distance away, but coming toward them with the wind.
A wolf, a single one, was not all menace. If he could be shot before his
fangs tore at the flesh of a reindeer, there would be gain. He would be
food, and at the present moment there was no food. The Jap girl did not
know it, but Johnny did. Not a fish, not a hunk of venison, not a pilot
biscuit was on their sled. They would soon be reduced to the necessity
of killing and eating one of their deer, unless, unless--the howl came
more plainly and strangely enough with it came the crack crack of hoofs.
Johnny sprang to his feet. What could that crack cracking of hoofs mean?
Had one of his deer already broken his tether?
With automatic in hand, he was out in the storm in an instant. Even as
he became accustomed to the dim light, he saw a skulking form drifting
down with the wind. Dropping upon his stomach, he took deliberate aim
and fired. There was a howl of agony but still the creature came on.
Another shot and it turned over tearing at the whirling snow.
Johnny jumped to his feet. "Eats," he murmured.
But then there came that other sound again, the crack crack of hoofs. He
peered through the swirling snow, counting his reindeer. They were all
there. Here was a mystery. It was not long in solving. He had but to
glance to the south of his reindeer to detect some dark object bulking
large in the night.
"A deer!" he muttered. "A wild reindeer! What luck!"
It was true. The wolf had doubtless been stalking him. Creeping
stealthily forward, foot by foot, Johnny was at last within easy range
of the creature. His automatic cracked twice in quick succession and a
moment later he was exulting over two hundred pounds of fresh meat, food
for many days.
Twenty hours later, Johnny found himself sitting sleepily on the edge of
one of the deer sleds. The reindeer, unhitched and tethered, were
digging beneath the snow for moss. The storm had subsided and once more
they had journeyed far. The Jap girl was buried deep beneath the furs on
the other sled.
Johnny was puzzling his brain at this time over one thing. They had
followed a half covered, ancient trail due north for two days. Then a
fresh track had joined the old one. It was the track of a man with dog
team and sled. This they had followed due north again, and two hours
ago, while the deer were resting and feeding, Johnny had detected the
Jap girl in the act of measuring the footprints of the man who drove the
dog team.
She had appeared troubled and embarrassed when she knew that he had seen
what she was doing. Notwithstanding the fact that there had been no sign
of guilt or treachery in her frank brown eyes, Johnny had been
perplexed. What secret was she hiding from him? What did she know, or
seek to know, about this man whose trail had joined theirs at an angle?
Could it be? No, Johnny dismissed the thought which came to his mind.
He had dismissed all his perplexities, and was about to abandon himself
to three winks of sleep, when something on the horizon attracted his
attention. A mere dot at first, it grew rapidly larger.
"Dog team or reindeer on our trail," he thought. "I wonder."
From beneath his parka he drew his long blue automatic. After examining
its clip, he laid it down on the sled with two other clips beside it.
Then he drew the two knives also from his belt; the one he had secured
at the time of the street fight in Vladivostok, the other had belonged
to the Chukche who had attacked him. For the twentieth time he noted
that they were exactly alike, blade forging, hilt carving, and all. And
again, this realization set him to speculating. How had this brace of
knives got so widely separated? How had this one found its way to the
heart of a Chukche tribe? Why had the Chukches attempted to murder the
Japanese girl and himself? Had it been with the hope of securing wealth
from their simple luggage, or had they been bribed to do it? Once more
his brain was in a whirl.
But there was business at hand. The black spot had developed into a
reindeer, driven by a man. How many were following this man Johnny could
not tell.