A MEETING IN THE FOREST
Gerald Ainley's canoe had almost reached the junction of the rivers, on
the return journey, and he and his companion were battling hard against
the acceleration of the current, when the Indian gave a grunt and
looked round.
"What is it, Joe?" asked Ainley quickly.
"Man with canoe," answered the Indian laconically. "He make a portage."
"Where?"
"Up river," replied the Indian with a jerk of his head. Ainley craned
his neck a little and, as he did so, just caught sight of a man moving
across an open place between the trees a quarter of a mile away, the
canoe over his head and shoulder like a huge cowl.
"We must speak to him, Joe! Perhaps he has news," said Ainley quickly,
and a second later shouted at the top of his voice. "Hal--lo--o--o!"
That the man heard the hail was sure for both of them saw him halt and
turn to look downstream, but the next moment he turned, and, continuing
his journey, was instantly lost in the thick of the trees.
"That was queer," said Ainley. "He heard me, but whoever he is he
doesn't want to speak to us."
"We catch him," replied the Indian. "Make land below the meeting of the
waters, and portage through woods to other river. Meet him there."
As he spoke the native began to make a course across the river, and
Ainley asked for information.
"I don't understand, Joe. If we land below the junction how can we meet
a man who lands above?"
"Both go the same way," grunted the Indian. "Walk to meet the man. We
make short portage, and wait for him across the water. He come and we
meet him."
Ainley still was in a fog, but when they had landed and had started to
follow a well-defined path through the forest, he understood. The
direction they were following would bring them to the bank of the
tributary river, perhaps a mile and a half from the meeting of the
waters; and the path which the stranger was following would bring him
out on the opposite side of the river. If Joe were right the lower
portage was the shorter, and, notwithstanding that the other man had
the start, they could reach the river first and would be able to force
a meeting on him however much he wished to avoid them.
After half an hour's steady trudging through the woods, they came in
sight of the water once more, and set their burdens down behind a
screen of bushes.
"We first," said the Indian after a cautious survey of the empty river.
"Wait! He come."
Seated behind the screening bushes they waited, watching the other side
of the river. Half an hour passed and the man for whom they watched did
not appear. Then the Indian spoke.
"The man know," he said. "He wait till we go."
"But why should he be afraid?" asked Ainley sharply.
"I not know! But he wait."
"Then if the mountain won't come to Mahomet, Mahomet must go to the
mountain."
"What that?" asked the Indian.
"We will cross the river," said Ainley. "We will go look for him."
"Good!" said the Indian.
Five minutes later they were afloat once more, and in a few minutes had
landed on the further side.
"You stop here with the canoe, Joe," said Ainley picking up his rifle.
"I'll go and hunt up the fellow. If you hear me call, come along at
once."
The Indian nodded and proceeded to fill a pipe, whilst the white man,
following the track made by many feet portaging from one river to the
other, moved into the woods. He made no attempt at concealment, nor did
he move with caution, for he was assured that in the dense wood a man
burdened with a canoe could not turn aside from the path without
disaster overtaking him. If he kept straight on he was bound to meet
the man whom he sought.
That conviction proved to be well-grounded. He had been walking less
than ten minutes when he caught sight of the canoe lying directly in
his way, with the man who had been carrying it, seated on the ground
with his back against a tree, smoking. As the man caught sight of him
he started to his feet and stretched his hand towards a gun reposing
against a trunk. Holding his own rifle ready for action, Ainley shouted
reassuring words to the man, and then moved quickly forward. The man, a
half-breed, the same man who had stolen Stane's canoe, gave one keen
glance at him and then dropping his hand from the gun, awaited his
coming.
"Why did you run away when I shouted a while back?" asked Ainley
sharply.
"I not run," answered the half-breed, insolently. "I carry the canoe,
an' I tink I not wait. Dat is all."
Ainley looked at the man thoughtfully. There was something furtive
about the fellow, and he was sure that the reason given was not the
real one.
"Then why are you waiting here?" he asked with a directness that in no
way nonplussed the other.
"I take what you call a breather," answered the man stolidly. "What
matter to you?"
Ainley looked at him. He was sure the man was lying, but it was no
affair of his, and after a moment he turned to his main purpose.
"I wanted to ask you something," he said. "A white girl has been lost
on the river--she is a niece of a great man in the Company, and I am
looking for her. Have you seen her?"
"What she like?" asked the half-breed with a sudden quickening of
interest.
Ainley described Helen Yardely to the best of his ability, watching the
other's evil face whilst he did so, and before he had ended guessed
that the man knew something of the girl he was seeking.
"You have seen her?" he cried abruptly.
"Oui!" replied the half-breed. "I haf seen her, one, two, tree days
ago. She is in canoe on zee river," he pointed towards the water as he
spoke, and waved his hand towards the south. "She is ver' beautiful;
an' I watch her for zee pleasure, vous comprenez? And anoder man he
watched also. I see him, an' I see him shoot with zee gun--once, twice
he shoot."
"You saw him shoot?" Ainley's face had gone suddenly white, and there
was a tremor in his voice as he asked his questions. "Do you mean he
shot the girl?"
"No! No! Not zee girl. He very bad shot if he try. Non! It was zee
paddle he try for, an' he get it zee second shot. I in the woods this
side zee river an' I see him, as he stand behind a tree to watch what
zee girl she will do."
"You saw him?" asked Ainley, in a faltering voice. "Who was he?"
"I not know," answered the half-breed quickly, "but I tink I see heem
again since."
"You think----"
"Oui! I tink I talk with heem, now."
There was a look of malicious triumph on the half-breed's face, and an
alert look in his furtive eyes as he made the accusation. For a moment
stark fear looked out of Ainley's eyes and he visibly flinched, then he
recovered himself and broke into harsh laughter.
"You think? Then you think wrong, and I wouldn't say that again if I
were you. It might lead to sudden trouble. If I were the man who fired
those shots why should I be spending my time looking for her as I am?"
"I not know," said the half-breed sullenly.
"No, I should think not; so you had better put that nonsense out of
your head, now, once for all; for if you go about telling that mad tale
you'll surely be taken for a madman and the mounted police----" He
broke off as a flash of fear manifested itself in the half-breed's
face, then he smiled maliciously. "I see you do not like the police,
though I daresay they would like to meet you, hey?"
The man stood before him dumb, and Ainley, convinced that he had
stumbled on the truth, laughed harshly. "Stoney Mountain Penitentiary
is not a nice place. The silent places of the North are better; but if
I hear of you breathing a word of that rot you were talking just now, I
will send word to the nearest police-post of your whereabouts, and once
the mounters start after a man, as I daresay you know, they follow the
trail to a finish."
"Oui, I know," assented the man quickly.
"Then unless you want to land in their hands in double quick time
you'll tell no one of the silly mistake you made just now, or--well you
understand."
The half-breed nodded, and thinking that he had gone far enough, Ainley
changed the subject.
"And now tell me, have you seen that girl I asked you about since you
saw her three days back?"
A thoughtful look came in the half-breed's face, and his unsteady eyes
sought the canoe lying at his feet. He thought of the white tent on the
river bank and of the man sleeping outside of it, and instantly guessed
who had occupied the tent.
"Oui!" he replied laconically.
"You have?" Sudden excitement blazed in Ainley's face as he asked the
question. "When? Where?"
The half-breed visioned the sleeping camp once more, and with another
glance at the stolen canoe, gave a calculated answer. "Yesterday. She
go up zee oder river in a canoe with a white man."
"Up the other river?"
"Oui! I pass her and heem, both paddling. It seems likely dat dey go to
Fort Winagog. Dey paddle quick."
"Fort Winagog!" As he echoed the words, a look of thought came into
Ainley's eyes. Helen would have heard that name as the next destination
of the party, and if the man who had saved her from the river was in a
hurry and travelling that way it was just possible that she had decided
to accompany him there. He nodded his head at the thought, and then a
new question shot into his mind, a question to which he gave utterance.
"Who was the man--I mean the man who was with the girl in the canoe?"
"I not know," answered the half-breed, trying to recall the features of
the sleeping man whose canoe he had stolen. "Heem tall man, with hair
that curl like shavings."
"Tell me more," demanded Ainley sharply, as an unpleasant suspicion
shot into his mind.
"I not know more," protested the half-breed. "I see heem not ver'
close; an' I travel fast. I give heem an' girl one look, cry bonjour!
an' then he is past. Vous comprenez?"
"Yes," replied the white man standing there with a look of abstraction
on his face. For a full two minutes he did not speak again, but stood
as if resolving some plan in his mind, then he looked at the half-breed
again.
"You are going up the river?" he asked.
"Oui!"
"Then I want you to do something for me. A day's journey or so further
on you will find a camp, it is the camp of a great man of the
Company----"
"I know it," interrupted the half-breed, "I haf seen it."
"Of course, I had forgotten you had been in the neighbourhood of it!
Well, I want you to go there as fast as you can and to take a note for
me. There will be a reward."
"I will take zee note."
"Then you must wait whilst I write it."
Seating himself upon a fallen tree he scribbled a hasty note to Sir
James Yardely, telling him that he had news of Helen and that he hoped
very shortly to return to camp with her, and having addressed it gave
it to the half-breed.
"There is need for haste," he said. "I will reward you now, and the
great man whose niece the girl is, will reward you further when you
take the news of her that is in the letter. But you will remember not
to talk. I should say nothing about what you saw up the river a few
days back. Sir James is a suspicious man and he might think that you
fired those shots yourself--in which case----" He shrugged his
shoulders, then taking out a ten-dollar note, handed it to the
half-breed, whose eyes gleamed as he took it. "Now," he continued,
"shoulder your canoe, and come along to the river. I should like to see
you start. I'll carry your gun, and that sack of yours."
He took the half-breed's gun, picked up the beans, and in single file
they marched through the wood back to where the Indian sat patiently
waiting. On their appearance he looked round, and as his eyes fell on
the half-breed's face a momentary flash came into them, and then as it
passed he continued to look at the new-comer curiously.
Ainley rapidly explained the situation and the Indian listened without
comment. He waited until the half-breed was actually afloat and out of
earshot, and then he spoke.
"Bad man!" he said. "No good. Heem liar. I have seen heem b'fore."
"Maybe," answered Ainley lightly. "So much the better--for one thing!
But there's no reason why he should lie about this matter, and I think
he was telling the truth about that meeting up the other river. We'll
follow the trail anyway; and we will start at once. Will the portage or
the river be the better way?"
"Portage," said the Indian, following the half-breed with his eyes.
"Then we had better get going. We've no time to lose, and you needn't
worry yourself about that fellow. He'll do what I've asked him, for the
sake of himself. He can have no reason for doing otherwise."
But in that, as in his statement that the half-breed could have no
reason for lying, Ainley was mistaken. The stolen canoe was a very
ample reason, and so little inclined was the thief to seek the presence
of Sir James Yardely, that when he reached a creek three miles or so up
the river, he deliberately turned aside, and at his first camp he used
Ainley's note to light his pipe, tossing what was left of it into the
fire without the least compunction. Then, as he smoked, a look of
malice came on his face.
"No, I not meestake. Dat man fire zee shots. I sure of dat; an' by Gar!
I get heem one of dese days, an' I make heem pay for it, good an'
plenty. Mais--I wonder--why he shoot? I wonder eef zee white mees, she
knew?"
And whilst he sat wondering, Gerald Ainley and his Indian companion,
travelling late, toiled on, following the river trail to Fort Winagog
on a vain quest.