A series of sounds that came to him at first like the booming of distant
cannon roused David from his slumber. He awoke to find broad day in his
room and a knocking at his door. He began to dress, calling out that he
would open it in a moment, and was careful to place the automatic in his
pocket before he lifted the table without a sound to its former position
in the room. When he flung open the door he was surprised to find Brokaw
standing there instead of Hauck. It was not the Brokaw of last night. A
few hours had produced a remarkable change in the man. One would not
have thought that he had been recently drunk. He was grinning and
holding out one of his huge hands as he looked into David's face.
"Morning, Raine," he greeted affably. "Hauck sent me to wake you up for
the fun. You've got just time to swallow your breakfast before we put on
the big scrap--the scrap I told you about last night, when I was drunk.
Head-over-heels drunk, wasn't I? Took you for a friend I knew. Funny.
You don't look a dam' bit like him!"
David shook hands with him. In his first astonishment Brokaw's manner
appeared to him to be quite sincere, and his voice to be filled with
apology. This impression was gone before he had dropped his hand, and he
knew why Hauck's partner had come. It was to get a good look at him--to
make sure that he was not McKenna; and it was also with the strategic
purpose of removing whatever suspicions David might have by an outward
show of friendship. For this last bit of work Brokaw was crudely out of
place. His eyes, like a bad dog's, could not conceal what lay behind
them--hatred, a deep and intense desire to grip the throat of this man
who had tricked him; and his grin was forced, with a subdued sort of
malevolence about it. David smiled back.
"You _were_ drunk," he said. "I had a deuce of a time trying to make you
understand that I wasn't McKenna."
That amazing lie seemed for a moment to daze Brokaw. David realized the
audacity of it, and knew that Brokaw would remember too well what had
happened to believe him. Its effect was what he was after, and if he had
had a doubt as to the motive of the other's visit that doubt disappeared
almost as quickly as he had spoken. The grin went out of Brokaw's face,
his jaws tightened, the red came nearer to the surface in the bloodshot
eyes. As plainly as if he were giving voice to his thought he was
saying: "You lie!" But he kept back the words, and as David noted
carelessly the slow clenching and unclenching of his hands, he believed
that Hauck was not very far away, and that it was his warning and the
fact that he was possibly listening to them, that restrained Brokaw from
betraying himself completely. As it was, the grin returned slowly into
his face.
"Hauck says he's sorry he couldn't have breakfast with you," he said.
"Couldn't wait any longer. The Indian's going to bring your breakfast
here. You'd better hurry if you want to see the fun."
With this he turned and walked heavily toward the end of the hall.
David glanced across at the door of Marge's room. It was closed. Then he
looked at his watch. It was almost nine o'clock! He felt like swearing
as he thought of what he had missed--that breakfast with Hauck and the
Girl. He would undoubtedly have had an opportunity of seeing Hauck alone
for a little while--a quarter of an hour would have been enough; or he
could have settled the whole matter in Marge's presence. He wondered
where she was now. In her room?
Approaching footsteps caused him to draw back deeper into his own and a
moment later his promised breakfast appeared, carried on a big Company
_keyakun_, by an old Indian woman--undoubtedly the woman that Marge had
told him about. She placed the huge plate on his table and withdrew
without either looking at him or uttering a sound. He ate hurriedly, and
finished dressing himself after that. It was a quarter after nine when
he went into the hall. In passing Marge's door he knocked. There came no
response from within. He turned and passed through the big room in which
he had seen so many unfriendly faces the night before. It was empty now.
The stillness of the place began to fill him with uneasiness, and he
hurried out into the day. A low tumult of sound was in the air,
unintelligible and yet thrilling. A dozen steps brought him to the end
of the building and he looked toward the cage. For a space after that he
stood without moving, filled with a sudden, sickening horror as he
realized his helplessness in this moment. If he had not overslept, if he
had talked with Hauck, he might have prevented this monstrous thing that
was happening--he might have demanded that Tara be a part of their
bargain. It was too late now. An excited and yet strangely quiet crowd
was gathered about the cage--a crowd so tense and motionless that he
knew the battle was on. A low, growling roar came to him, and again he
heard that tumult of human voices, like a great gasp rising
spontaneously out of half a hundred throats, and in response to the
sound he gave a sudden cry of rage. Tara was already battling for his
life--Tara, that great, big-souled brute who had learned to follow his
little mistress like a protecting dog, and who had accepted _him_ as a
friend--Tara, grown soft and lazy and unwarlike because of his voluntary
slavery, had been offered to the sacrifice which Brokaw had told him was
inevitable!
And the Girl! Where was she? He was unconscious of the fact that his
hand was gripping hard at the automatic in his pocket. For a space his
brain burned red, seething with a physical passion, a consuming anger
which, in all his life, had never been roused so terrifically within
him. He rushed forward and took his place in the thin circle of watching
men. He did not look at their faces. He did not know whether he stood
next to white men or Indians. He did not see the blaze in their eyes,
the joyous trembling of their bodies, their silent, savage exultation in
the spectacle.
He was looking at the cage.
It was 20 feet square--built of small trees almost a foot in diameter,
with 18-inch spaces between--and out of it came a sickening, grinding
smash of jaws. The two beasts were down, a ton of flesh and bone, in
what seemed to him to be a death embrace. For a moment he could not tell
which was Tara and which was Brokaw's grizzly. They separated in that
same breath, gained their feet, and stood facing each other. They must
have been fighting for some minutes. Tara's jaws were foaming with blood
and out of the throat of Brokaw's bear there rolled a rumbling, snarling
roar that was like the deep-chested bellow of an angry bull. With that
roar they came together again, Tara waiting stolidly and with panting
sides for the rush of his enemy. It was hard for David to see what was
happening in that twisting contortion of huge bodies, but as they rolled
heavily to one side he saw a great red splash of blood where they had
lain. It looked as if some one had poured it there out of a pail.
Suddenly a hand fell on his shoulder. He looked round. Brokaw was
leering at him.
"Great scrap, eh?"
There was a look in his red face that revealed the pitiless savagery of
a cat. David's clenched hand was as hard as iron and his brain was
filled with a wild desire to strike. He fought to hold himself in.
"Where is--the Girl?" he demanded.
Brokaw's face revealed his hatred now, the taunting triumph of his power
over this man who was a spy. He bared his yellow teeth in an exultant
grin.
"Tricked her," he snarled. "Tricked her--like you tricked me! Got the
Indian woman to steal her clothes, an' she's up there in her
room--alone--_an' naked_! An' she won't have any clothes until I say so,
for she's mine--body and soul...."
David's clenched hand shot out, and in his blow was not alone the
cumulated force of all his years of training but also of the one great
impulse he had ever had to kill. In that instant he wanted to strike a
man dead--a red-visaged monster, a fiend; and his blow sent Brokaw's
huge body reeling backward, his head twisted as if his neck had been
broken. He had not time to see what happened after that blow. He did not
see Brokaw fall. A piercing interruption--a scream that startled every
drop of blood in his body--turned him toward the cage. Ten paces from
him, standing at the inner edge of that circle of astounded and
petrified men, was the Girl! At first he thought she was standing naked
there--naked under the staring eyes of the fiends about him. Her white
arms gleamed bare, her shoulders and breast were bare, her slim, satiny
body was naked to the waist, about which she had drawn tightly--as if in
a wild panic of haste--an old and ragged skirt! It was the Indian
woman's skirt. He caught the glitter of beads on it, and for a moment he
stared with the others, unable to move or cry out her name. And then a
breath of wind flung back her hair and he saw her face the colour of
marble. She was like a piece of glistening statuary, without a quiver of
life that his eyes could see, without a movement, without a breath. Only
her hair moved, stirred by the air, flooded by the sun, floating about
her shoulders and down her bare back in a lucent cloud of red and gold
fires--and out of this she was staring at the cage, stunned into that
lifeless and unbreathing posture of horror by what she saw. David did
not follow her eyes. He heard the growl and roar and clashing jaws of
the fighting beasts; they were down again; one of the 6-inch trees that
formed the bars of the cage snapped like a walking stick as their great
bodies lurched against it; the earth shook, the very air seemed to
tremble with the terrific force of the struggle--and only the Girl was
looking at that struggle. Every eye was on her now, and David sprang
suddenly forth from the circle of men, calling her name.
Ten paces separated them; half that distance lay between the Girl and
the cage. With the swiftness of an arrow sprung from the bow she had
leaped into life and crossed that space. In a tenth part of a second
David would have been at her side. He was that tenth of a second too
late. A gleaming shaft, she had passed between the bars and a tumult of
horrified voices rose above the roar of battle as the girl sprang at the
beasts with her naked hands.
Her voice came to David in a scream.
"Tara--Tara--Tara----"
His brain reeled when he saw her down--down!--with her little fists
pummelling at a great, shaggy head; and in him there was the sickening
weakness of a drunken man as he squeezed through that 18-inch aperture
and almost fell at her side. He did not know that he had drawn his
automatic; he scarcely realized that as fast as his fingers could press
the trigger he was firing shot after shot, with the muzzle of his pistol
so close to the head of Tara's enemy that the reports of the weapon were
deadened as if muffled under a thick blanket. It was a heavy weapon. A
stream of lead burned its way into the grizzly's brain. There were
eleven shots and he fired them all in that wild, blood-red frenzy; and
when he stood up he had the girl close in his arms, her naked breast
throbbing pantingly against him. The clasp of his hands against her
warm flesh cleared his head, and while Tara was rending at the throat
of his dying foe, David drew her swiftly out of the cage and flung about
her the light jacket he had worn.
"Go to your room," he said. "Tara is safe. I will see that no harm comes
to him now."
The cordon of men separated for them as he led her through. The crowd
was so silent that they could hear Tara's low throat-growling. And then,
breaking that silence in a savage cry, came Brokaw's voice.
"Stop!"
He faced them, huge, terrible, quivering with rage. A step behind him
was Hauck, and there was no longer in his face an effort to conceal his
murderous intentions. Close behind Hauck there gathered quickly his
white-faced whisky-mongers like a pack of wolves waiting for a lead-cry.
David expected that cry to come from Brokaw. The Girl expected it, and
she clung to David's shoulders, her bloodless face turned to the danger.
It was Brokaw who gave the signal to the men.
"Clear out the cage!" he bellowed. "This damned spy has killed my bear
and he's got to fight me! Do you understand? Clear out the cage!"
He thrust his head and bull shoulders forward until his foul, hot breath
touched their faces, and his red neck was swollen like the neck of a
cobra with the passion of his jealousy and hatred.
"And in that fight--I'm going to kill you!" he hissed.
It was Hauck who put his hands on the Girl.
"Go with him," whispered David, as her arms tightened about his
shoulders. "You must go with him, Marge--if I am to have a chance!"
Her face was against him. She was talking, low, swiftly, for his ears
alone--with Hauck already beginning to pull her away.
"I will go to the house. When you see me at that window, fall on your
face. I have a rifle--I will shoot him dead--from the window...."
Perhaps Hauck heard. David wondered as he caught the glitter in his eyes
when he drew the Girl away. He heard the crash of the big gate to the
cage, and Tara, ambled out and took his way slowly and limpingly toward
the edge of the forest. When he saw the Girl again, he was standing in
the centre of the cage, his feet in a pool of blood that smeared the
ground. She was struggling with Hauck, struggling to break from him and
get to the house. And now he knew that Hauck had heard, and that he
would hold her there, and that her eyes would be on him while Brokaw was
killing him. For he knew that Brokaw would fight to kill. It would not
be a square fight. It would be murder--if the chance came Brokaw's way.
The thought did not frighten him. He was growing strangely calm in these
moments. He realized the advantage of being unencumbered, and he
stripped off his shirt, and tightened his belt. And then Brokaw entered.
The giant had stripped himself to the waist, and he stood for a moment
looking at David, a monster with the lust of murder in his eyes. It was
frightfully unequal--this combat. David felt it, he was blind if he did
not see it, and yet he was still unafraid. A great silence fell. Cutting
it like a knife came the Girl's voice:
"_Sakewawin--Sakewawin...._"
A brutish growl rose out of Brokaw's chest. He had heard that cry, and
it stung him like an asp.
"To-night, she will be with me," he taunted David and lowered his head
for battle.