THE VISITOR
The girl turned an indifferent, walled face toward the fire, refusing
to look at any of the men. Her beauty grew upon them momentarily.
Their amazement knew no bounds that one like this should have been led
to their door out of the night.
"Well," said Big Jack, breaking the silence at last. "It was a rough
welcome we give you, miss. We thought you was a spook or something
like that. But we're glad to see you."
She gave no sign of having heard him.
"Was it you whistled through the keyhole and tossed a stone down the
chimney?" demanded Husky.
No answer was forthcoming.
"I'm sorry if we hurt you," added Jack.
He might as well have been addressing a wooden woman.
"I say, I'm sorry if we hurt you," he repeated louder.
"Maybe she can't understand English," suggested Sam.
"What'll I do then?" asked Jack hopelessly.
"Try her with sign language."
"Sure," said Jack. He looked around for the table. "Oh, hell, it's
burnt up! We'll have to eat on the floor. Hey, look, sister!" He went
through the motions of spreading a table and eating. The others
watched interestedly. "Will you?" he asked.
She gravely nodded her head. A cheer went up from the circle.
"Hey, cookee!" cried Big Jack. "Toss up a bag of biscuits and put your
coffee-pot on. You, Joe, chase out to the stable and fetch a box for
her to sit on."
For the next few minutes the cabin presented a scene of great
activity. Every man, with the tail of an eye on the guest, was anxious
to contribute a share to the preparations. Husky went to the lake for
water; Shand cut bacon and ground coffee for the cook; Big Jack
produced a clean, or fairly clean, white blanket to serve for a
tablecloth, and set the table.
A glitter in each man's eyes suggested that his hospitality was not
entirely disinterested. They were inclined to bristle at each other.
Clearly a dangerous amount of electricity was being stored within the
little shack. Only Sam was as self-contained in his way as the girl in
hers.
Big Jack continued his efforts to communicate with her. He was deluded
by the idea that if he talked a kind of pidgin-English and shouted
loud enough she must understand.
"Me, Big Jack," he explained; "him, Black Shand; him, Husky; him,
Young Joe. You?" He pointed to her questioningly.
"Bela," she said.
It was the first word she had uttered. Her voice was like a strain of
woods music. At the sound of it Sam looked up from his flour. He
quickly dropped his eyes again.
When Joe brought her the box to sit on, he lingered beside her.
Good-looking Young Joe was a boasted conqueror of the sex. The least
able of them all to control his emotions, he was now doing the
outrageously masculine. He strutted, posed, and smirked in a way
highly offensive to the other men.
When, Bela sat down Joe put a hand on her shoulder. Instantly Big
Jack's pale face flamed like an aurora.
"Keep your distance!" he barked. "Do you think the rest of us will
stand for that?"
Joe retreated to the bed, crestfallen and snarling, and things
smoothed down for the moment.
"Where do you live?" Jack asked the girl, illustrating with elaborate
pantomime.
She merely shook her head. They might decide as they choose whether
she did not understand or did not mean to tell.
Husky came in with a pail of water. The sanguine Husky was almost as
visibly ardent as Joe. He rummaged in his bag at the far end of the
cabin, and reappeared in the firelight bearing an orange silk
handkerchief. His intention was unmistakable.
"You put that up, Husky!" came an angry voice from the bed. "If I've
got to stay away from her, you've got to, too!"
Husky turned, snarling. "I guess this is mine, ain't it? I can give it
away if I want."
"Not if I know!" cried Joe, springing toward him. They faced each
other in the middle of the room with bared teeth.
Big Jack rose again. "Put it away, Husky," he commanded. "This is a
free field and no favour. If you want to push yourself forward at our
expense you got to settle with us first, see?"
The others loudly approved of this. Husky, disgruntled, thrust the
handkerchief in his pocket.
After the two overweening spirits had been rebuked, matters in the
shack went quietly for a while. The four men watched the girl, full of
wonder; meanwhile each kept an eye on his mates.
It was their first experience at close range with a girl of the
country, and they could not make her out at all. Her sole interest
seemed to be upon the fire. This air of indifference at once provoked
and baffled them. They could not reconcile it with the impish tricks
she had played.
They could not understand a girl alone in a crowd of men betraying no
self-consciousness. "Touch me at your peril," she seemed to say; but
if that was the way she felt, what had she come for?
Sam brought his basin of flour to the hearth and, kneeling in the
firelight, proceeded to mix the dough. After the manner of amateur
cooks, he liberally plastered his hands and arms with the sticky mess.
The girl watched him with a scornful lip. Suddenly she dropped to her
knees beside him, and without so much as "By your leave," took the
basin out of his hands. She showed him how it ought to be done,
flouring her hands so the batter would not stick, and tossing up the
mess with the light, deft touch of long experience. At the sight of
Sam's discomfiture a roar of laughter went up from the others.
"Guess you're out of a job now, cookee," said Shand.
"Now we'll have something to eat besides lead sinkers," added Joe.
Sam laughed with the others, and, retiring a little, watched how she
did it. The girl affected him differently from the rest. Diffidence
overcame him. He scarcely ever raised his eyes to her face.
All watched her delightedly, each man showing it according to his
nature. In every move she was as graceful as a kitten or a filly, or
anything young, natural, and unconscious of itself.
In a remarkably short space of time the three frying-pans were upended
before the fire, each with its loaf. No need to ask if it was going to
be good bread. It appeared that this wonderful girl had other
recommendations beside her beauty.
She rose, dusting her hands, and backed away from the fire, as if to
cool off. Before they realized what she was doing, she turned and
quietly walked out of the door, closing it after her.
They cried out in dismay, and of one accord sprang up and made for the
door. Sam involuntarily ran with the others, filled, like they were,
with disappointment. It was now pitch dark under the trees, and
straight from the fire as they were, they could not see a yard ahead.
They scattered, beating the woods, loudly calling her name and making
naive promises to the night, if she would only come back. They
collided with each other and, tripping over roots, measured their
lengths on the ground.
Curses began to be mixed with their dulcet invitations to the vanished
one to return. From the sounds, one would have been justified in
thinking a part of bedlam had been let loose in the pine-woods.
Sam was the first to take sober second thought. He began to retrace
his steps toward the cabin. Common sense told him she would never be
caught by that noisy crew unless she wished to be. In any case, the
bread might as well be saved.
In his heart he approved of her retreat. Trouble in the shack could
not long have been averted if she had stayed. Perhaps she had been
better aware of what was going on than she seemed. What a strange
visitation it had been altogether! How beautiful she was, and how
mysterious! Much too good for that lot. It pleased him to think that
she was honest. He had not known what to think before.
Thus ruminating he came to the cabin door, and was pulled up short on
the threshold by a fresh shock of astonishment. There she was,
kneeling on the hearth as before!
She glanced indifferently at him over her shoulder and went on with
her work. Such hardihood in face of all the noise outside did not seem
human. Sam stared at her open-mouthed. She had some birds that she was
skinning and cutting up. The pungent, appetizing smell of wild fowl
greeted his nostrils.
"Well, I'll be damned!" he exclaimed involuntarily. "What does this
mean?"
She disdained any answer.
"You were foolish not to beat it while you had the chance," he said,
forgetting she was supposed not to understand. "This is no place for a
woman!"
She glanced at him with a subtle smile; Sam flushed up. "Oh, very
well!" he said hotly. Turning, he called outside: "Boys, come back!
She's here!"
One by one they straggled in, grinning delightedly, if somewhat
sheepishly. They shook their heads at each other. "We sure have a
queer customer," was the general feeling. It was useless to bombard
her with questions. The language of signs is a feeble means of
communication when one side is intractable.
Apparently she had merely gone to some cache of her own to obtain a
contribution toward the feast. She had brought half a dozen grouse.
The biscuit-loaves were now done sufficiently to stand alone, and the
pans were giving off delicious emanations of frying grouse and bacon.
The four men who, for the past week, had been sunk in utter boredom,
naturally reacted to the other extreme of hilarity. Loud laughter
filled the cabin. The potentialities for trouble were not, however,
lessened. On the contrary, a look or a word was enough at any moment
to bring a snarling pair face to face. Presently the inevitable
suggestion was brought forth.
"This is goin' to be a regular party," cried Joe. "Jack, be a sport;
get out a bottle, and let's do it in style!"
To save himself, Sam could not keep back the protest that sprang to
his lips. "For God's sake!" he cried.
"What the hell is it to you, cook?" cried Joe furiously.
There was old bad blood between these two. Perhaps because they were
of the same age.
Big Jack was bursar and commissary of the expedition. He smiled and
gave his mouth a preliminary wipe. "Well, I think we might stand one
bottle," he said.
Sam shrugged and held his tongue.
Jack returned with one of the precious bottles they had contrived to
smuggle past the police at the Landing. He opened it with loving care,
and the four partners had an appetizer.
When the food was ready, the always unexpected girl refused to sit
with them around the blanket. No amount of urging could move her. She
retired with her own plate to a place beside the fire.
Though she was the guest, she assumed the duty of hostess, watching
their plates and keeping them filled. This was the first amenity she
had shown them. They were perplexed to reconcile it with her scornful
air.
Only once did she relax. Big Jack, jumping up to put a stick on the
fire, did not mark where he set his plate. On his return he stepped in
it. The others saw what was coming, and their laughter was ready.
Above the masculine guffaws rang a girlish peal like shaken bells.
They looked at her, surprised and delighted. More than anything, the
laughter humanized her. She hastily drew the mask over her face again,
but they did not soon forget the sound of her laughter.
Big Jack kept control of the bottle, and doled it out with strict
impartiality. Under the spur of the fiery spirit, their ardour and
their joviality mounted together.
Sam was not offered the bottle. Sam was likewise tacitly excluded from
the contest for the girl's favour. It did not occur to any of the four
to be jealous of little Sam. He accepted the situation with
equanimity. He had no desire to rival them. His feeling was that if
that was the kind she wanted, there was nothing in it for him.
Like all primitive meals, it was over in a few minutes. Sam gathered
up the dishes, while the other men filled their pipes and befogged the
atmosphere with a fragrant cloud of smoke. Like all adventurers, they
insisted on good tobacco.
The rapidly diminishing bottle was circulated from hand to hand, the
hilarity sensibly increasing with each passage. Their enforced
abstention of late made them more than usually susceptible. Their
faces were flushed, and their eyes began to be a little bloodshot.
They continually forgot that the girl could not speak English, and
their facetious remarks to each other were in reality for her benefit.
A rough respect for her still kept them within bounds.
Bela, as a matter of course, set to work on the hearth to help Sam
clean up. This displeased Joe.
"Ah, let him do his work!" he cried. "You come here, and I'll sing to
you."
His partners howled in derision. "Sing!" cried Husky. "You ain't got
no more voice than a bull-bat!"
Joe turned on him furiously. "Well, at that, I ain't no fat,
red-headed lobster!" he cried.
A violent wrangle resulted, into which Shand was presently drawn,
making it a three-cornered affair. Big Jack, commanding them to be
silent, made more noise than any. Pandemonium filled the shack. The
instinctive knowledge that the first man to strike a blow would have
to fight all three kept them apart. No man may keep any dignity in a
tongue-lashing bout. Their flushed faces and rolling eyes were hideous
in anger.
Through it all the amazing girl quietly went on washing dishes with
Sam. He stole a glance of compassion at her.
Big Jack, having the loudest roar, battered the ears of the disputants
until they were silenced. "You fools!" he cried. "Are you going to
waste the night chewing the rag like a parcel of women?"
They looked at him sullenly. "Well, what _are_ we going to do? That's
what I'd like to know," said Shand.
A significant silence filled the cabin. The men scowled and looked on
the floor. The same thought was in every mind. An impossible situation
confronted them. How could any one hope to prevail against the other
three.
"Look here, you men," said Jack at last. "I've got a scheme. I'm a
good sport. Have you got the nerve to match me?"
"What are you getting at?" demanded Husky.
Jack put his hand in his pocket. "I'm gettin' at a weddin'. Why not?
Here's as pretty a piece of goods, as I, for one, ever see or ever ask
to. Handy, too, and the finest sort of prime A1 cook. Bride O.K. Four
lovin', noble bachelors to choose the bridegroom out of. Bishop
Lajeunesse'll be along to-morrow or the next day, or mighty soon. He's
due to pass any minute. Priest all ready. Husband ready--leastwise I
am for one. Bride all ready----"
"Damned if she is," contradicted Sam.
"Give her a chance and see," snarled Jack truculently. "She don't look
no manner of a fool. It'll be a mighty fine thing for a girl of this
blasted country to get a downright white husband, and I'll bet my
bottom dollar this here girl's cute enough to see it--or--what the
hell did she come to our shack for? And, if no such notion ever
crossed her prutty head, I'll explain it to her clear enough--give me
five minutes' chin with her----You all been complainin' it was so gol
darn dull. Well, here's some excitement: a weddin' on the spry." He
pulled his hand from his pocket and showed the dice in its palm. "This
shack ain't big enough to hold the four of us men, not just at
present," he said meaningly. "Three has got to get out for a bit, and
leave one to do his courtin'--and do it quick. I've got a pair of dice
here. Three rounds, see? The low man to drop out on each round. The
winner to keep the shack, and to pop the question--while the other
three camp on the shore. What do you say to it?"