MAHOOLEY'S INNINGS
The next day, as far as the settlement was concerned, Sam Gladding had
ceased to be. Bringing the team to Bela's as he had promised, he left
it tied outside, and the night had swallowed him.
At first it was supposed he had started to walk out around the north
shore, the way he had come; but Indians from below Grier's Point
reported that no white man had passed that way. They found likewise
that he had not gone toward Tepiskow. He could not have crossed the
river, save by swimming, an impossible feat burdened with a rifle and
an axe.
Those who came in from around the bay said he had not been seen over
there, though Joe Hagland had barricaded himself in his shack in the
expectation of a visit.
It was finally decided that Sam must be hiding in the bush somewhere
near, and that he would come in with his tail between his legs when he
got hungry.
There was not much concern one way or the other. Most of the men
indulged in the secret hope that Sam would stay away. He was a game
kid, they were now ready to confess, but altogether too touchy; there
was no getting along comfortably with him. Had he not almost put the
resteraw out of business? It was as Bela said--if both the hotheads
kept out of the way, they might have some peace and comfort there.
Sergeant Coulson had compunctions. He proposed getting up a
search-party for Sam. The idea was laughed down. Nice fools they'd
make of themselves, opined Mahooley, setting out to look for a man in
good health and in the full possession of his faculties who hadn't
committed any crime.
There was a good attendance at Bela's dinner, and a full house at
night. To their undiscerning eyes Bela seemed to be her old self. That
is to say, she was not moping over what had happened. A wise man would
have guessed that she was taking it much too quietly; he would have
seen the danger signals in that unnaturally quick eye. Bela had
dropped her usual air of reserve. To-night she seemed anxious to
please. She smiled on each man in a way that bade him hope. She
laughed oftener and louder. It had a conscious, provocative ring that
the wise man would have grieved to hear. Competition became keen for
her smiles.
When they finished their supper there were loud calls for her to come
in and sit among them. Bela shrugged and, picking up a box, stood
looking over them. They fell suddenly silent, wondering which she
would choose. She laughed mockingly and, turning, carried her box in
front of the fire.
From this point Mahooley, in the midst of the general chaffing,
unexpectedly received a narrow-eyed look over her shoulder that went
to his head a little. He promptly arose and carried his box to her
side. Mahooley was the greatest man present, and none presumed to
challenge him.
Bela bridled and smiled. "What for you come over here?" she demanded.
"I not tell you to."
"Oh, I took a chance," said the trader coolly. At the same time his
wicked, dancing little eyes informed her that he knew very well she
had asked him over. The sanguine Mahooley was no celibate, and he
cared not who knew it.
"You think 'cause you the trader you do w'at you like," said Bela
mockingly.
"Any man can do pretty near what he wants if he has the will."
"What is will?"
"Oh--determination."
"You got plenty 'termination, I suppose." This with a teasing smile.
Mahooley looked at her sharply. "Look here, what are you getting at?"
he demanded.
"Not'ing."
"I'm no hand to bandy words. I'm plain spoken. I go direct to a
thing."
Bela shrugged.
"You can't play with me, you know. Is there anything you want?"
"No," said Bela with a provoking smile.
As Mahooley studied her, looking into the fire, a novel softness
confused him. His astuteness was slipping from him, even while he
bragged of it. "Damned if you're not the handsomest thing in this part
of the world!" he said suddenly. It was surprised out of him. His
first maxim was: "A man must never let anything on with these girls."
"Pooh! W'at you care about 'an'some?" jeered Bela. "Girls all the same
to you."
This flecked Mahooley on the raw. A deep flush crept into his face.
"Ah, a man leads a man's life," he growled. "That ain't to say he
don't appreciate something good if it comes his way."
"They say you treat girls pretty bad," said Bela.
"I treat 'em as they deserve," replied Mahooley sullenly. "If a girl
don't get any of the good out of me, that's up to her."
It was the first time one of these girls had been able to put him out
of countenance.
"Poor girls!" murmured Bela.
He looked at her sharply again. The idea that a native girl might
laugh at him, the trader, was a disconcerting one. "Some time when the
gang ain't around I'll show you I ain't all bad," he said ardently.
Bela shrugged.
Musq'oosis was in the shack again to-night. He sat on the floor in the
corner beyond the fire-place. Neither Bela nor Mahooley paid any
attention to him, but he missed nothing of their talk.
By and by the group around the table moved to break up.
"I'll go with them and come back after," whispered Mahooley.
"No you don't," said Bela quickly. "W'en they go I lock the door. Both
door."
"Sure! But it could be unlocked for a friend."
"Not for no man!" said Bela. "Not to-night any'ow," she added with a
sidelong look.
"You devil!" he growled. "Don't you fool yourself you can play with a
man like me. A door has got to be either open or shut."
"Well, it will be shut--to-night," she said, with a smile dangerous
and alluring.
When they had gone she sent Musq'oosis also.
"Not want talk?" he asked wistfully.
She laughed painfully and harshly.
"I your good friend," he said.
"Go to bed," she returned.
He waited outside until he heard her bolt both doors. For an hour
after that he sat within the door of his tepee with the flap up,
watching the road. Nothing stirred on it.
* * * * *
Bela had obtained Gilbert Beattie's permission to keep her team in the
company's stable for the present. After breakfast next morning,
without saying anything to anybody, Musq'oosis climbed the hill and
hitched Sambo and Dinah to the wagon. Taking a native boy to drive, he
disappeared up the road. He was gone all day.
Bela was setting the table for supper when he came in. With an
elaborate affectation of innocence he went to the fire to warm his
hands.
"Where you been?" she demanded, frowning.
"Drivin'."
"Who tell you tak' the horses?"
"Nobody."
"Those my horses!" she said stormily.
Musq'oosis shrugged deprecatingly. "Horses go out. Get wicked in
stable all tam."
"All right," said Bela. "I say when they go out."
"W'at's the matter?" asked Musq'oosis mildly. "Before w'at is mine is
yours, and yours is mine."
"All right. Don't tak' my horses," Bela repeated stubbornly.
Musq'oosis sat down by the fire. Bela rattled the cups to justify
herself. The old man stole a glance at her, wondering how he could say
what he wished to say without bringing about another explosion.
"For why you mad at me?" he asked finally.
"You mind your business!" Bela cried passionately. "Keep out of my
business. I know where you been to-day. You been lookin' for Sam.
Everybody t'ink I send you look for Sam. That mak' me mad. I wouldn't
go to Sam if he was bleed to death by the road!"
"Nobody see me," said Musq'oosis soothingly.
"Everyt'ing get known here," she returned. "The trees tell it."
"I know where he is," Musq'oosis murmured with an innocent air.
Bela made a clatter among the dishes.
After a while he said again: "I know where he is."
Bela, still affecting deafness, flounced into the kitchen.
She did not come back until the supper guests were arriving.
With a glance of defiance toward Musq'oosis, Bela welcomed Mahooley
with a sidelong smile. That, she wished the Indian to know, was her
answer. The red-haired trader was delighted. To-night the choicest
cuts found their way to his plate.
When she was not busy serving, Bela sat on a box at Mahooley's left
and suffered his proprietary airs. Afterward they sat in front of the
fire, whispering and laughing together, careless of what anybody might
think of it.
This was not particularly entertaining to the rest of the crowd, and
the party broke up early.
"Bela is changed," they said to each other.
At the door Stiffy said, as a matter of form: "Coming, Mahooley?"
Mahooley, glancing obliquely at the inscrutable Bela, decided on a
bold play.
"Don't wait for me," he said. "I'll stop and talk to Bela for a while.
Musq'oosis will play propriety," he added with a laugh.
Bela made no remark, and the shack emptied except for the three of
them. Mary Otter had gone to call at the mission.
For a while Mahooley passed the time in idly teasing Musq'oosis after
his own style.
"Musq'oosis, they tell me you were quite a runner in your young days."
"So," said the old man good-humouredly.
"Yes, fellow said when the dinner-bell rang in camp, you beat the dog
to the table!"
Mahooley supplied the laughter to his own jest.
"Let him be," said Bela sullenly.
"Don't mak' stop," observed Musq'oosis, smiling. "I lak hear what
fonny thoughts come in his head."
Mahooley glanced at him narrowly, suspecting a double meaning.
When the rumble of the last wagon died away in the distance, Mahooley
said carelessly: "Well, Musq'oosis, you know the old saying: 'Two is
company, three is none.'"
Musq'oosis appeared not to have understood.
"In other words, your room is preferred to your company."
Musq'oosis did not budge from the position of the squatting idol. His
face likewise was as bland and blank as an image's.
"Oh, in plain English, get!" said Mahooley.
"Go to your teepee," added Bela shortly.
Musq'oosis sat fast.
Mahooley jumped up in a rage. "This is a bit too thick! Get out before
I throw you out!"
Musq'oosis, with the extraordinary impassivity of the red race,
continued to stare before him. Mahooley, with an oath, seized him by
the collar and jerked him to his feet. This was too much for Bela.
Her hard air broke up. Jumping to her feet, she commenced to belabour
Mahooley's back with her fists.
"Let him go! Let him go!" she commanded.
Mahooley dropped the old man and turned around astonished. "What's the
matter with you? You told him yourself to go."
"I don't care," said Bela. "Now I want him stay."
"What do you think I am?" cried Mahooley. "I don't want no third party
present when I call on a girl."
She shrugged indifferently. "It wouldn't do you no good to put him
out. I got not'ing for you. Not to-night."
Mahooley seized her wrist. "My God, if you think you're going to play
fast and loose----"
Bela smiled--scornfully, unafraid, provoking. "W'at you t'ink?" she
said. "I not same lak those girls down by your place. They come w'en
you whistle. I come when I ready. Maybe I never come."
There was a battle between their eyes. "You need a master!" cried
Mahooley.
Her eyes glowed with as strong a fire as his. "You can't get me easy
as them," said Bela.
Mahooley laughed and dropped her wrist. "Oh, you want a bit of
wooing!" he cried. "All right. You're worth it."
Bela changed her tactics again. She smiled at him dazzlingly. "Go now.
Come to-morrow."
He went willingly enough. He did not know it, but he was well on the
way of being tamed.
* * * * *
"Go!" said Bela to Musq'oosis.
"I got talk to you," he said.
"Talk! Talk!" cried Bela irritably. "You bus' my head open wit' your
talk. I had enough talk. Go to bed."
"No, to-night I goin' stay," said Musq'oosis calmly. "I your fat'er's
friend, I your friend. I see you goin' to the bad. I got say somesing,
I guess."
Bela laughed harshly. "Bad! Ol' man talk! What is bad? Everything is
bad!"
"Mahooley is bad to women," said Musq'oosis.
"I know that. He can't hurt me. Because I hate him. I goin' mak' a
fool of him. You see."
"Mahooley never marry you," said the old man.
"Marry me if I want," said Bela defiantly. "I got him goin' already.
But I not want marry him. Not marry no man, me! When you marry a man,
you his slave. Always I goin' live in my house and have men come see
me. Men are fools. I do w'at I like wit' 'em."
"That is bad talk," said Musq'oosis.
"All right!" cried Bela passionately. "I goin' be bad woman now. I lak
that. I am good woman before. W'at do I get? I get throw down. I get
cursed. Now I goin' be bad! I have a fire inside me burn me up lak dry
grass. I got do somesing. I goin' be moch bad. Everybody talk about
me. Men fight for me! I am handsome. What's the use bein' good? I not
goin' cry again. I goin' laugh and have some fun now!"
Musq'oosis let it all come out before he spoke. When his opportunity
came he said calmly: "You are a big fool. You don't know w'at's the
matter wit' you."
She fell into his trap. "W'at is the matter wit' me?" she demanded
sullenly.
"Sam!" he said scornfully. "I tell you before. You what they call in
love wit' Sam. It is the white woman's sickness."
Bela gazed at him a moment in white silence. Her tongue was unable to
convey its load of anger. She flung her arms up helplessly.
"Love him!" she stammered. "I hate him! I hate him! I am burning with
my hate! I--I can't say it! I lak see Joe strike him down. I lak see
the men mak' mock of him. I would laugh. That mak' me feel little
better."
Musq'oosis shrugged.
"Maybe before I love him," she went on passionately. "I want be
friends. I want help him because he poor. Always I am think how can I
help him, not mak' him mad. I buy horses for him. I come here so I
feed him good and mak' him strong. W'at he do for me? He shame me!
Twice he shame me before all the people! He throw me away lik' dirt.
Now, all my good feeling is turn bad inside. I hate him!"
Tears poured down her cheeks, and sobs choked her utterance. Fearful
that he might misunderstand these evidences, she cried: "I not cry for
sorry. I cry for hate!"
Again Musq'oosis waited patiently until she was in a state to hear
him.
"Sam gone to Spirit River," he said calmly.
"I don' care!" cried Bela. "He can't go too far from me!"
"Maybe he sorry now," suggested the old man.
"Not sorry him!" cried Bela. "He not care for nobody. Got hard heart!"
"If you let me tak' team I lak go see him."
Bela stared at him full of excitement at the idea, but suspicious.
"W'at you want see him for?"
"Maybe I bring him back."
"Don' you tell him I want him back," she said. "I hate him!"
"Can I tak' horses?"
"Yes," she cried suddenly. "Go tell Sam I crazy 'bout Mahooley. Tell
him I gone wit' Mahooley. He rich. Give me ev'ryt'ing I want."
"I not tell Sam that kind of stuff," returned Musq'oosis scornfully.
"It is truth," she insisted sullenly. "I goin' all right."
"If Sam come back sorry you feel bad you gone wit' Mahooley."
"No, I glad!" she cried passionately. "I hope he want me when it is
too late. I want turn him down. That mak' me feel good."
Musq'oosis debated with himself. It was a difficult case to deal with.
"Tak' the team," said Bela. "Tell Sam all I say."
The old man shook his head. "W'at's the use if you goin' wit'
Mahooley, anyway? You wait a while. Maybe I bring him back. Mak' say
him sorry."
Bela hesitated. Angry speech failed her, and her eyes became dreamy.
In spite of herself, she was ravished by the picture of Sam at her
feet, begging for forgiveness.
"Well, maybe I wait," she said.
Musq'oosis followed up his advantage. "No," he said firmly. "Not lak
travel in wagon, me. Mak' my bones moch sore. I am old. I not go
wit'out you promise wait."
"Not wait all tam," declared Bela.
"Six days," suggested Musq'oosis.
She hesitated, fighting her pride.
"If you go wit' Mahooley, Sam get a white wife," went on Musq'oosis
carelessly. "Maybe him send letter to chicadee woman to come back."
"All right," said Bela with an air of indifference, "I promise wait
six days. I don' want go wit' Mahooley before that, anyhow."
They shook hands on it.