THE END OF ELI'S HUNT
Indian Jake, quick as a cat, had thrown himself upon the ground with
Eli's last count. Like the loon that dives at the flash of the
hunter's gun, he was a fraction of a second quicker than Eli. Now,
lying prone, his rifle at his shoulder, he had Eli covered, and the
chamber of Eli's rifle was empty.
"Drop that gun!" he commanded.
Eli, believing in the first instant that Indian Jake had fallen as the
result of the shot, was taken wholly by surprise. He stood dazed and
dumb with the smoking rifle in his hand. He did not at once realize
that the half-breed had him covered. His brain did not work as rapidly
as Indian Jake's. His immediate sensation as he heard Indian Jake's
voice was one of thankfulness that, after all, there was no stain of
murder on his soul. Even yet he had no doubt Indian Jake was wounded.
He had taken deadly aim, and he could not understand how any escape
could have been possible.
"Drop that gun!" Indian Jake repeated. "I won't count. I'll shoot."
Eli's brain at last grasped the situation. Indian Jake was grinning
broadly, and it seemed to Eli the most malicious grin he had ever
beheld. He did not question Indian Jake's determination to shoot. It
was too evident that the half-breed, grinning like a demon, was in a
desperate mood. Eli dropped his rifle as though it were red hot and
burned his hands.
"Step out here!" Indian Jake, rising to his feet, indicated an open
space near the tent.
Eli did as he was told.
"Shake the ca'tridges out of your bag on the ground!"
Eli turned his cartridge bag over, and the cartridges which it
contained rattled to the ground.
"Turn your pockets out!"
A turning of the pockets disclosed no further ammunition.
Indian Jake took Eli's rifle from the ground, emptied the magazine,
and placed the rifle in the tent.
"Where's your boat?" he asked.
"Just down here."
"You go ahead. Show me."
Eli guided Indian Jake to the boat, and while he remained on the bank
under threat of the rifle, the half-breed went through his belongings
in the boat in a further search for ammunition. Satisfied that there
was none, he replaced the things as he had found them, and was
grinning amiably when he rejoined Eli upon the bank.
"Come 'long up to camp," he invited, quite as though Eli were a most
welcome guest.
"Give me that silver fox!" Eli's anger had mastered his surprise.
"I won't give un to you, but don't be mad, Eli," Indian Jake grinned
in vast enjoyment.
"You stole un!" Eli burst out. "And you were thinkin' to do murder!"
"Did I now?"
"You did!"
Indian Jake did not deign to deny or confess. Eli, at his command,
returned to camp. Indian Jake handed him the tea-kettle.
"Fill un at the river," he directed.
While Eli obeyed silently and sullenly, Indian Jake lighted a fire,
and when Eli returned put the kettle on. Then he brought forth his
frying-pan, filled it with sliced venison, and as he placed it over
the fire, remarked:
"Knocked a buck down this mornin'."
Eli said nothing. The odour of frying venison was pleasant. Eli was
hungry, and when the venison was fried and tea made, he swallowed his
pride and silently accepted Indian Jake's invitation to eat.
When they had finished, Indian Jake cut a large joint of venison, and
presented it to Eli with his empty rifle, remarking as he did so:
"The deer's meat's a surprise. I like to surprise folks. Taste good
goin' home. I'll keep the ca'tridges. You might hurt somebody if you
had un. You'll get quite a piece down before you camp to-night."
"Were you takin' that silver?" asked Eli, changing his accusation to a
question.
"Maybe I were and maybe I weren't," Indian Jake grinned. "'Twouldn't
do me any good to tell you if I had un, and if I told you I didn't
have un you wouldn't believe me. Maybe I've got un. You better be
goin'. I'd ask you to stay, Eli, and I'd like to have you, but you
don't like me and you'd better go on."
"I don't want the deer's meat," said Eli in sullen resentment.
"You ain't got any ca'tridges, and you can't shoot any fresh meat,"
insisted Indian Jake, adding with a grin: "She'll go good. Take un
along, I got plenty. It's just a little surprise present for you bein'
so kind as not to shoot me."
Eli, doubtless deciding that he had better take what he could get,
though a bit of venison was small compensation for a silver fox,
accepted the meat. Indian Jake accompanied him to the boat, and as he
dropped down the river he could see Indian Jake still on the bank
watching him until he turned a bend.
Without cartridges for his rifle, Eli felt himself as helpless as a
wolf without teeth or a cat without claws. He was subdued and humbled.
He had had Indian Jake completely in his power, and through delay in
taking prompt advantage of his position, had permitted the half-breed
to capture and disarm him.
The thought increased his anger toward Indian Jake. He had no doubt
the man had the silver fox in his possession. If there had been any
doubt in the first instance that Indian Jake was guilty, and Eli had
never admitted that there was doubt, he was now entirely satisfied of
the half-breed's guilt. Indian Jake, indeed, had quite boldly stated
that he "might" have it, and Eli accepted this as an admission that he
_did_ have it.
"There'll be no use getting more ca'tridges and goin' back," Eli
mused. "He's had a warnin' and he'll not bide in that camp another
day. He'll flee the country."
Then Eli's thoughts turned to his old father and mother.
"The silver's gone, and it leaves Pop and Mother in a bad way," he
mused. "They've been fondlin' that skin half the winter. Pop's had un
out a hundred times to see how fine and black 'twere, and shook un out
to see how thick and deep the fur is. And they been countin' and
countin' on the things they'd be gettin' and needs, and can't get now
she's gone. And they been countin' on the money they'd have to lay by
for their feeble days when they needs un. They'll never get over
mournin' the loss of un. 'Twere worth a fortune, and Pop'll never
cotch another. He were hopin' and hopin' every year as long as I
remembers to cotch a silver, and none ever comes to his traps till
this un comes. And now she's gone!"
Perhaps had the silver fox skin been Eli's own, and perhaps had his
father and mother not built so many hopes and laid so many plans upon
the little fortune it was to have brought them, Eli would never have
ventured to the verge of murder to recover it. Even now, with all his
regrets, he thanked God from the bottom of his heart that he had not
killed Indian Jake and stained his hands with blood.
"'Twere the mercy of God sent the bullet abroad," said he reverently.
"Indian Jake's a thief and he deserves to be killed, but if I'd killed
he I'd never rested an easy hour again while I lives. But I might o'
clipped his trigger hand, whatever," he thought with regret. "I can
clip off the head of a pa'tridge every time, and I might have clipped
his hand, and got the skin and took he back for Doctor Joe to fix up."
Three days later Eli pulled his boat wearily into The Jug. The boys
had returned, and with Thomas they met him on the jetty.
"Did you find Injun Jake?" Thomas asked anxiously.
"Aye," said Eli, "he were there."
Eli volunteered no further details for a moment. Then he added:
"I didn't kill he, thank the Lord, but he's got the silver. He said he
had un, and he took my ca'tridges away from me."
"Said he had un? Now, that's strange--wonderful strange. Come in, Eli,
supper's ready," Thomas invited, manifestly relieved that Eli had not
succeeded in accomplishing his rash purpose. "You'll bide the night
with us, and while you eats tell us about un, and the lads'll tell
what were happenin' to they."
Margaret was setting the table. She greeted Eli cordially, and
arranged a plate for him while he washed at the basin behind the
stove.
"Come," invited Thomas, "set in. We've got a wonderful treat."
"What be that, now?" asked Eli as Margaret placed a dish of steaming,
mealy boiled potatoes upon the table.
"Potaters," Thomas announced grandly. "Doctor Joe brings un on the
mail boat from where he's been, and onions too. Margaret, peel some
onions and set un on for Eli. They's fine just as they is without
cookin'."
The onions came, and when thanks had been offered Eli tasted his
first potato.
"They is fine, now! Wonderful fine eatin'," he declared.
"Try an onion, now. They's fine, too," Thomas urged.
Eli took an onion.
"She has a strange smell," he observed before biting into it.
Eli took a liberal mouthful of the onion. He began to chew it. A
strained look spread over his face. Tears filled his eyes. But Eli was
brave, and he never flinched.
"'Tis fine, I like un wonderful fine," Eli volunteered presently,
adding, "if she didn't burn so bad."
"Take just a bit at a time," advised Thomas, laughing heartily, "and
eat un with bread or potaters and you won't notice the burn of un."
Presently Eli told of his experiences with Indian Jake, and Andy told
of the tracks he had seen under the window, and all of the boys told
of what had happened on the island, the theft of the boat, the tracks
of the nailed boots and the discovery of the boat at Fort Pelican.
Then Eli made an announcement that again laid the burden of suspicion
more strongly than ever upon Indian Jake.
"I were workin' at the lumber camps a week this summer helpin' they
out," said Eli. "Whilst I were there Indian Jake comes and trades a
pair of skin boots with one of the lumber men for a pair of their
boots, the kind with nails in un. He the same as says he has the fur,
and 'twere he took un."
"Injun Jake wears skin boots when he come to our camp on Flat P'int,"
said David.
"Aye, 'tis likely," admitted Eli. "He'd be wearin' skin boots in the
canoe, whatever. The nailed boots would be hard on the canoe. He uses
the nailed boots trampin' about, but he'd change un when he travels in
his canoe."
The whole question was canvassed pro and con, and due consideration
given to the length of time that Indian Jake must have consumed in
passing from Horn's Bight to Flat Point. This was alone sufficient in
the mind of Thomas and the boys to lift all suspicion from Indian
Jake, but Eli still held stubbornly to the opposite view.
Two days later, and on the eve of Thomas's departure for the trails,
Doctor Joe returned. Lem had so far recovered that a further stay at
Horn's Bight was unnecessary.
Thomas and Doctor Joe quietly discussed the shooting incident. Lem, it
appeared, had later decided that he may have been shot much earlier in
the afternoon than sundown. What had occurred had fallen into the hazy
uncertainty of a dream.
"What kind of a rifle does Indian Jake use?" asked Doctor Joe.
"A thirty-eight fifty-five," said Thomas.
Doctor Joe drew from his pocket the bullet extracted from Lem's wound.
Thomas examined it critically.
"There's no doubtin' 'tis a thirty-eight fifty-five," he admitted.
"'Tis true Injun Jake gets a pair of nailed boots like the lumber folk
wears. But Injun Jake'll tell me whether 'twere he shot Lem. Injun
Jake'll be fair about un with me whatever. 'Tis hard for me to believe
he did un. If he did, he'll be gone from the Nascaupee when I gets
there. If he didn't, I'll find he waitin'!"
"Let us hope he'll be there, and let us hope he's innocent," said
Doctor Joe.
Some day and in some way every sin is punished and every criminal is
discovered. It is an immutable law of God that he who does wrong must
atone for the wrong. We do not always know how the punishment is
brought about, but the guilty one knows. And so with the shooting and
robbery of Lem Horn. Many months were to pass before the mystery was
to be solved, and then the revelation was to come in a startling
manner in the course of an adventure amid the deep snows of winter.
Thomas sailed away the following morning. They watched his boat pass
down through The Jug and out into the Bay, and then the silence of the
wilderness closed upon him, and no word came as to whether or no
Indian Jake met him at the Nascaupee River camp.