CHIGMOK'S STORY
When Stane set his face to the storm he knew there was a difficult task
before him, and he found it even more difficult than he had
anticipated. The wind, bitingly cold, drove the snow before it in an
almost solid wall. The wood sheltered him somewhat; but fearful of
losing himself, and so missing what he was seeking, he dared not turn
far into it, and was forced to follow the edge of it, that he might not
wander from the lake. Time after time he was compelled to halt in the
lee of the deadfalls, or shelter behind a tree with his back to the
storm, whilst he recovered breath. He could see scarcely a yard before
him, and more than once he was driven to deviate from the straight
course, and leave the trees in order to assure himself that he had not
wandered from the lake side.
The bitter cold numbed his brain; the driving snow was utterly
confusing, and before he reached his objective he had only one thing
clear in his mind. Blistering though it was, he must keep his face to
the wind, then he could not go wrong, for the storm, sweeping down the
lake, came in a direct line from the bluff in the shadow of which the
tragedy which he had witnessed, had happened. As he progressed, slowly,
utter exhaustion seemed to overtake him. Bending his head to the blast
he swayed like a drunken man. More than once as he stumbled over fallen
trees the impulse to sit and rest almost overcame him; but knowing the
danger of such a course he forced himself to refrain. Once as he halted
in the shelter of a giant fir, his back resting against the trunk, he
was conscious of a deadly, delicious languor creeping through his
frame, and knowing it for the beginning of the dreaded snow-sleep which
overtakes men in such circumstances, he lurched forward again, though
he had not recovered breath.
He came to a sudden descent in the trail that he was following. It was
made by a small stream that in spring flooded down to the lake but
which now was frozen solid. In the blinding snow-wrack he never even
saw it, and stepping on air, he hurtled down the bank, and rolled in a
confused heap in the deep snow at the bottom. For a full minute he lay
there, out of the wind and biting snow-hail, feeling like a man who has
stumbled out of bitter cold to a soft couch in a warm room. A sense of
utter contentment stole upon him. For some moments he lost all his grip
on realities; time and circumstances and the object of his quest were
forgotten. Visions, momentary but very vivid, crowded upon him, and
among them, one of a girl whom he had kissed in the face of death. That
girl--Yes, there was something. His mind asserted itself again, his
purpose dominated his wavering faculties, and he staggered to his feet.
"Helen!" he muttered. "Helen!"
He faced the bank of the stream on the other side from that which had
caused his downfall. Then he paused. There was something--twenty
seconds passed before he remembered. His rifle! It was somewhere in the
snow, he must find it, for he might yet have need of it. He groped
about, and presently recovered it; then after considering for a moment,
instead of ascending to the level, he began to walk downstream,
sheltered by the high banks. It was not so cold in the hollow, and
though a smother of sand-like particles of snow blew at the level of
his head, by stooping he was able to escape the worst of it. His numbed
faculties began to assert themselves again. The struggle through the
deep soft snow, out of reach of the wind's bitter breath, sent a glow
through him. His brain began to work steadily. He could not be far from
the bluff now, and the stream would lead him to the lake. How much time
he had lost he did not know, and he was in a sweat of fear lest he
should be too late after all. As he struggled on, he did not even
wonder what was the meaning of the attack that he had witnessed; one
thing only was before his eyes, the vision of the girl he loved
helpless in the face of unknown dangers.
The banks of the stream lowered and opened suddenly. The withering
force of the blast struck him, the snow buffeted him, and for a moment
he stood held in his tracks, then the wind momentarily slackened, and
dimly through the driving snow he caught sight of something that loomed
shadowlike before him. It was the bluff that he was seeking, and as he
moved towards it, the wind broken, grew less boisterous, though a
steady stream of fine hard snow swept down upon him from its height.
The snow blanketed everything, and he could see nothing; then he heard
a dog yelp and stumbled forward in the direction of the sound. A minute
later, in the shelter of some high rocks, he saw a camp-fire, beside
which a team of dogs in harness huddled in the snow, anchored there by
the sled turned on its side, and by the fire a man crouched and stared
into the snow-wrack. As he visioned them, Stane slipped the rifle from
the hollow of his arm, and staggered forward like a drunken man.
The man by the fire becoming aware of him leaped suddenly to his feet.
In a twinkling his rifle was at his shoulder, and through the wild
canorous note of the wind, Stane caught his hail. "Hands up! You
murderer!"
Something in the voice struck reminiscently on his ears, and this, as
he recognized instantly, was not the hail of a man who had just
committed a terrible crime. He dropped his rifle and put up his hands.
The man changed his rifle swiftly for a pistol, and began to advance.
Two yards away he stopped.
"Stane! by--!"
Then Stane recognized him. It was Dandy Anderton, the mounted
policeman, and in the relief of the moment he laughed suddenly.
"You, Dandy?"
"Yes! What in heaven's name is the meaning of it all? Did you see
anything? Hear the firing? There are two dead men out there in the
snow." He jerked his head towards the lake. "And there was a dog-team,
but I lost it in the storm. Do you know anything about it, Stane? I
hope that you had no hand in this killing?"
The questions came tumbling over each other all in one breath, and as
they finished, Stane, still a little breathless, replied:
"No, I had no hand in that killing. I don't understand it at all, but
that sledge, we must find it, for to the best of my belief, Miss
Yardely is on it."
"Miss Yardely! What on earth----"
"It is a long story. I haven't time to explain. We were attacked and
she was carried off. Come along, Dandy, and help me to find her."
The policeman shook his head and pointed to the whirling snow. "No use,
old man, we couldn't find a mountain in that stuff, and we should be
mad to try. We don't know which way to look for her, and we should only
lose ourselves and die in the cold."
"But, man, I tell you that Helen----"
"Helen is in the hands of the good God for the present, my friend. I
did not know she was with that sledge, and though I had only a glimpse
of it, I will swear that the sledge was empty."
"There were two men ran out after the firing," cried Stane. "I saw them
just before the snow came. They were making for the sledge. Perhaps
they took Helen----"
"Sit down, Stane, and give me the facts. It's no good thinking of going
out in that smother. A man might as well stand on Mount Robson and jump
for the moon! Sit down and make me wise on the business, then if the
storm slackens we can get busy."
Stane looked into the smother in front, and reason asserted itself. It
was quite true what Anderton said. Nothing whatever could be done for
the present; the storm effectually prevented action. To venture from
the shelter of the bluff on to the open width of the lake was to be
lost, and to be lost in such circumstances meant death from cold.
Fiercely as burned the desire to be doing on behalf of his beloved, he
was forced to recognize the utter folly of attempting anything for the
moment. With a gesture of despair, he swept the snow from a convenient
log, and seated himself heavily upon it.
The policeman stretched a hand towards a heap of smouldering ashes,
where reposed a pan, and pouring some boiling coffee into a tin cup,
handed it to Stane.
"Drink that, Hubert, old man, it'll buck you up. Then you can give me
the pegs of this business."
Stane began to sip the coffee, and between the heat of the fire and
that of the coffee, his blood began to course more freely. All the
numbness passed from his brain and with it passed the sense of despair
that had been expressed in his gesture, and a sudden hope came to him.
"One thing," he broke out, "if we can't travel, neither can anybody
else."
"Not far--at any rate," agreed Anderton. "A man might put his back to
the storm, but he would soon be jiggered; or he might take to the deep
woods; but with a dog-team he wouldn't go far or fast, unless there was
a proper trail."
"That's where they'll make for, as like as not," said Stane with
another stab of despair.
"They--who? Tell me, man, and never bother about the woods. There's a
good two hundred miles of them hereabouts and till we can begin to look
for the trail it is no good worrying. Who are these men----"
"I can't say," answered Stane, "but I'll tell you what I know."
Vividly and succinctly he narrated the events that had befallen since
the policeman's departure from Chief George's camp on the trail of
Chigmok. Anderton listened carefully. Twice he interrupted. The first
time was when he heard how the man whom he sought had been at Chief
George's camp after all.
"I guessed that," he commented, "after I started on the trail to the
Barrens, particularly when I found no signs of any camping place on
what is the natural road for any one making that way. I swung back
yesterday meaning to surprise Chief George, and rake through his
tepees."
The second time was when he heard of the white man who had offered the
bribe of the guns and blankets for the attack on the cabin, and the
kidnapping of the girl.
"Who in thunder can have done that?" he asked.
"I don't know," answered Stane, and explained the idea that had
occurred to him that it was some one desiring to claim the reward
offered by Sir James.
"But why should you be killed?"
"Ask the man who ordered it," answered Stane with a grim laugh.
"I will when I come up with him. But tell me the rest, old man."
Stane continued his narrative, and when he had finished, Anderton spoke
again. "That solitary man with the team whom you saw coming down the
lake, must have been me. I turned into the wood a mile or two on the
other side of this bluff to camp out of the snow which I saw was
coming. Then it struck me that I should do better on this side, and I
worked towards it. I was just on the other side when the shooting
began, and I hurried forward, but the snow came and wiped out
everything, though I had an impression of a second dog-team waiting by
the shore as I came round. When I looked for it I couldn't find it; and
then I tumbled on this camp, and as there was nothing else to be done
until the snow slackened I unharnessed."
Stane looked round. "This would be the place where the man, who was to
have paid the kidnappers their price, waited for them."
"And paid them in lead, no doubt with the idea of covering his own
tracks completely."
"That seems likely," agreed Stane.
"But who----" Anderton broke off suddenly and leaped to his feet.
"Great Christopher! Look there!" Stane looked swiftly in the direction
indicated, and as the veil of snow broke for a moment, caught sight of
a huddled form crawling in the snow.
"What----" he began.
"It's a man. I saw him distinctly," interrupted the policeman, and then
as the snow swept down again he ran from the shelter of the camp.
A minute and a half later he staggered back, dragging a man with him.
He dropped the man by the fire, poured some coffee into a pannikin, and
as the new-comer, with a groan, half-raised himself to look round, he
held the coffee towards him.
"Here, drink this, it'll do you----" he interrupted himself sharply,
then in a tone of exultation he cried: "Chigmok!"
"Oui!" answered the man. "I am Chigmok! And thou?"
"I am the man of the Law," answered Anderton, "who has been at your
heels for weeks."
"So!" answered the half-breed in native speech, with a hopeless
gesture, "It had been better to have died the snow-death, but I shall
die before they hang me, for I am hurt."
He glanced down at his shoulder as he spoke, and looking closely the
two white men saw that the frozen snow on his furs was stained.
"Ah!" said the policeman, "I hadn't noticed that, but we'll have a look
at it." He looked at Stane, who was eyeing the half-breed with a savage
stare, then he said sharply: "Give me a hand, Stane. We can't let the
beggar die unhelped, however he may deserve it. He's a godsend anyway,
for he can explain your mystery. Besides it's my duty to get him back
to the Post, and they wouldn't welcome him dead. Might think I'd
plugged him, you know."
Together they lifted the man nearer the fire, and examined the injured
shoulder. It had been drilled clean through by a bullet. Anderton
nodded with satisfaction. "Nothing there to kill you, Chigmok. We'll
bandage you up, and save you for the Law yet?"
They washed and dressed the wound, made the half-breed as comfortable
as they could; then as he reposed by the fire, Anderton found the man's
pipe, filled it, held a burning stick whilst he lit it, and when it was
drawing nicely, spoke:
"Now, Chigmok, you owe me something for all this, you know. Just tell
us the meaning of the game you were playing. It can't hurt you to make
a clean breast of it; because that other affair that you know of is
ample for the needs of the Law."
"You want me to tell?" asked the half-breed in English.
"Yes, we're very curious. My friend here is very anxious to know why he
was attacked, and why he was to die whilst the girl who was with him
was carried off."
"You not know?" asked the half-breed.
"Well, we haven't quite got the rights of it," was the policeman's
guarded answer.
"Then I tell you." His dark eyes turned to Stane. "You not know me?"
"No," answered Stane. "I never saw you in my life before."
"But I haf seen you. Oui! I steal your canoe when you sleep!"
"Great Scott!" cried Stane. "You----"
"I run from zee poleece, an' I haf nodings but a gun. When I watch you
sleep, I tink once I shoot you; but I not know who ees in zee leetle
tent, an' I tink maybe dey catch me, but I know now eet vas not so."
"You know who was in the tent?" asked Stane sharply.
"I fin' dat out zee ver' next morning, when I meet a man who ask for
zee white girl. Ah I haf seen dat man b'fore. I see heem shoot zee
paddle from zee girl's hand--."
Startled, Stane cried out. "You saw him shoot----"
"Oui! I not know why he do eet. But I tink he want zee girl to lose
herself dat he may find her. Dat I tink, but I not tell heem dat. Non!
Yet I tell heem what I see, an' he ees afraid, an' say he tell zee
mounters he haf seen me, eef I say he ees dat man. So I not say eet,
but all zee time he ees zee man. Den he pay me to take a writing to zee
camp of zee great man of zee Company, but I not take eet becos I am
afraid."
"Who was this man?" asked Stane grimly, as the half-breed paused.
"I not know; but he is zee ver' same man dat was to haf paid zee price
of guns an' blankets for zee girl dat vos in zee cabin."
"And who said I was to die?"
"Oui! He order dat! An' I tink eet ees done, an' I not care, for
already I am to zee death condemned, an' it ees but once dat I can die.
Also I tink when zee price ees paid, I veel go North to zee Frozen Sea
where zee mounters come not. But dat man he ees one devil. He fix for
me bring zee girl here, where zee price veel be paid; den when I come
he begin to shoot, becos he veel not zee price pay. He keel Canif and
Ligan, and he would me haf keeled to save zee guns and blankets and zee
tea and tabac, dog dat he ees!"
"Perhaps it was not the price he was saving," said Anderton. "Perhaps
he was afraid that the story would be told and that the mounters would
seek out his trail, Chigmok?"
"By gar! Yees, I never tink of dat," cried the half-breed as if a light
had broken on him suddenly. "I tink onlee of zee price dat hee save."
"What sort of a man was he? What did he look like, Chigmok?"
"He dark an' vhat you call han'some. He haf sometimes one glass to hees
eye, an----"
"Ainley, by Heaven!" cried Stane in extreme amazement.
"I not know hees name," answered the half-breed, "but I tink he ees of
zee Company."
Anderton looked doubtfully at Stane who suffered no doubt at all. "It
is Ainley, unquestionably," said Stane, answering the question in his
eyes. "The description is his, though it is a trifle vague and the
monocle----"
"He affects a monocle still then?"
"I have seen it, and it is so. He sported it down at Fort Malsun."
Anderton nodded, and for a moment looked into the fire, whistling
thoughtfully to himself. Then he looked up. "One thing, Stane, we need
not worry over now, and that is Miss Yardely's welfare. Assuming that
Ainley has taken possession of her, no harm is likely to come to her at
his hands. Whatever may be behind his pretty scheme, it will not
involve bodily harm to her. We have that assurance in the position he
occupies and the plan he made for her to be brought here alive. No
doubt he will be posing as the girl's deliverer. He doesn't know that
Chigmok has survived. He doesn't know that I am here to get Chigmok's
story; and whilst he can hardly have been unaware of your sledge
following the trail of Chigmok, it is not the least likely that he
associates it with you. Probably he is under the idea that it formed
part of Chigmok's outfit. No doubt a little way down the lake he will
camp till the storm is over, then make a bee line for Fort
Malsun--we'll get him as easy as eating toast."
"And when we've got him?"
"Duty's duty!" answered Anderton with a shrug. "I can't enumerate all
the charges offhand; but there's enough to kill Mr. Ainley's goose
twice over. Lor', what a whirligig life is. I never thought--Hallo!
Who's this? Jean Bènard, or I'm a sinner!"
Jean Bènard it was, and his face lighted with pleasure as he staggered
into the camp.
"I fear for you, m'sieu," he said to Stane in simple explanation,
"therefore I come. Bo'jour, M'sieu Anderton, dis ees a good meeting on
zee bad day! But dat--surely dat ees Chigmok? An' zee mees where ees
she?"
Stane waved a hand towards the lake. "Somewhere out there, Jean, and
still to find."
"But we fin' her, m'sieu. Haf no fear but dat we weel her find, when
zee snow it stop!"
And the ringing confidence in his tone brought new heart to Stane,
still beset with fears for Helen.