THE LAP OF TO-MORROW
The storms of winter were over, and the days were rapidly lengthening.
The sun rode higher in the heavens, and the breath of spring was
pervading the great northland. Nance was much excited at the thought of
leaving the Quaska valley and passing beyond the mountains to the
marvellous world outside. She dwelt upon it by day and dreamed of it by
night. Her few scanty belongings she had carefully gathered together.
These she would take with her. But when out in the big cities she would
buy many wonderful things for which her heart longed.
Martin noted her animation, and listened quietly as she talked about the
journey they were to make, and what nice times they would have seeing
the strange sights. Although he was pleased to see Nance so happy, his
heart, nevertheless, was heavy. To him the idea of mingling once again
with the throbbing world of humanity brought no joy. The little cabin in
the wilderness was very dear to him. Here he had spent the past twelve
years, hidden from people of his own race and immune from the bitter
tongues of men and women. The lake, river, forest, and mountains were
friends true and tried. He loved them, and their varying moods drew him
very close to them. He had watched and studied them so often, both in
calm and storm, that he wondered how he could get along without them.
The Indians, too, though rough and uncouth, had been kind neighbors. He
disliked their manner of living and their improvident ways. Yet they had
always been good to him and to Nance, and he should greatly miss them.
Thus he would sit at night, long after Nance had gone to bed, smoking
and thinking about the changes which were soon to take place in his
life.
He was seated one evening before the fire with Nance by his side, when
the door of the cabin was gently pushed open, and Taku glided into the
room. He was given a hearty welcome, and Martin passed over his tobacco
as soon as the native had squatted himself upon the floor. When Taku had
filled his pipe, and clouds of smoke were circling above his head, an
expression of satisfaction overspread his honest, dusky face.
"Snow all go soon," he at length remarked. "Geese, duck all come back.
Plenty grub den."
"How long before the ice goes out this year?" Martin asked.
"Beeg moon, leetle moon, moon all go. Ice go also," was the reply.
"In about one month, eh?"
"Ah, ah."
"Good fishing this year?" Martin inquired.
"Good feesh? Ah, ah, mebbe so. Taku no feesh," and the Indian shook his
head.
"What, not going to do any fishing?"
"No. Taku go down ribber. Taku see white man. Taku get moche."
"Oh, I see. But are you sure that the white men are there? Maybe they
all went away last fall."
Again Taku shook his head, and gazed thoughtfully into the fire.
"White man no go," he at last explained. "Taku see two wan sleep ago."
"What? You saw two white men?" Martin exclaimed, now much aroused.
"Ah, ah."
"Where?"
"Down ribber."
"What, the Heena?"
The Indian nodded.
"And what were the white men doing on the river?"
"Trabblin', dat's all, pack on back. Taku see 'um. Dey in hurry. Dey
tell Taku come down to beeg ribber."
"Didn't they tell you where they had come from or what they were doing
in here?" Martin questioned.
"No, dey tell nottin'. Dey in beeg hurry; dat's all."
"Did they tell you what they wanted you for, Taku?"
"No."
"And you will go?"
"Ah, ah."
"When?"
"Wan sleep. Tak' dog also. Go queeck."
Martin sat up later than usual this night, as his mind was much
disturbed. Nance saw that something was troubling him, so she did not
ask for the customary evening music. She kissed him as she had done for
years, and went to her own little room.
Early next morning Martin announced that he was going up stream, and
might be gone all day. He left Nance standing in the doorway, looking
enquiringly after him.
"I will tell you all about it, Nance, when I come back," he called to
her as she waved him good-bye.
It was supper time ere Martin returned, and over the meal he explained
the object of his visit up the river.
"It's just what I thought, Nance," he began. "When Taku told us about
those two white men I had my suspicion, and I was right. They were
prospectors, and have discovered the gold up the Quaska."
"Oh!" It was all that Nance said as she looked inquiringly across the
table.
"Yes," Martin continued, "I suspected something, and made up my mind to
visit my old diggings. There were faded foot-prints all around, and I
found where the men had shovelled away the snow and examined the hole I
had made. Of course, as you know, the earth I left is full of gold, so
they must have found enough in the frozen ground to more than satisfy
them. I saw the little brush lean-to where they had evidently camped,
showing that they must have been there several days. I tracked them
down-stream, and learned that they had been close to our house. Why they
did not call, I cannot tell. Perhaps they were unaware that white people
lived here. They turned off sharply to the left, and either crossed the
lake or went around the other side, and came out upon the river farther
down."
"Do you think that they will come back?" Nance inquired.
"Come back! Indeed they will, and bring a regular crazy mob with them.
It isn't every day that men make such a strike as that. As soon as those
men record what they have found there will be the greatest stampede the
world has ever seen."
"Will they wait until the river is open, do you think?" Nance asked. "We
may be away soon afterwards, and so they will not trouble us."
"No, they won't wait, Nance. They will come at once, and many of them,
no doubt, will die upon the way. There is no trail, and the ice in the
river is getting weak. I've heard about such stampedes. Men seem to go
about crazy. They start off with little food, some get hurt, others
sick, and numbers just play out. It is wonderful to me what men will
endure for the sake of gold."
Almost three weeks later what Martin had foretold came to pass. The
vanguard of the prospectors and miners arrived. It was early morning
when men were observed making their way slowly along the shore of the
lake. They bore packs upon their backs, and leaned much forward. Each
carried a stick, which he used as a cane. They all passed close to the
cabin, so Martin and Nance could see them quite plainly. They did not
turn aside to rest, but moved steadily onward. They seemed to be very
weary, and their clothes were ripped and torn. They passed, and, later,
others came. Several were limping painfully, which told of swollen and
blistered feet. They, too, passed without stopping. Then far down the
shore of the lake a struggling line appeared, and as they drew near and
staggered by, the watchers from the cabin were moved to deep pity.
"Look at that old man with the white beard!" Nance exclaimed. "Why, he
can hardly walk, and that young man by his side is supporting him and
helping him along. They must be father and son."
She had barely finished speaking when the old man fell heavily forward.
With a cry that could be heard within the cabin, the young man knelt by
his side, and endeavoured to lift him to his feet. No one stopped to
help him, but all brushed by and hurried on. The gold was ahead, and
they must not delay. They had witnessed numerous cases such as this
since leaving the great river, one hundred and forty miles away, and
their hearts had become hardened to such sights.
With the watchers in the cabin, however, it was different. No sooner had
the man fallen than Martin bounded across the room, flung open the door,
and hurried out into the open. The young man was astonished to see aid
in the form of a white man emerge from a building, which he had supposed
contained only natives. "Come," Martin ordered, "give me a hand, and
we'll carry him up to the house."
Lifting the helpless man in their arms, they bore him swiftly and gently
up the slope. Nance was standing holding open the door as they drew
near, and when the sufferer had been laid upon Martin's cot she came
close and stood by his side. She noted how worn and haggard was the
man's face, while his eyes shone with an unnatural light. His hair was
white and long, and his beard fell in profusion upon his breast. He was
a powerfully-built man, and the cot upon which he was lying was too
short for him. He kept tossing his arms wildly about, and made several
attempts to rise, but always fell back panting heavily after each
exertion.
"I must get there!" he cried. "Don't stop me! The rest will be ahead of
me. Fer God's sake, let me go!"
At these words the young man bent over him, and placed his right hand
upon his arm.
"Hush, hush, Tom," he commanded. "Everything will be all right. Be quiet
and rest a while."
The vacant expression in the old man's eyes suddenly cleared, and he
looked eagerly up.
"Is it much farther, pard?" he asked. "Are we almost there?"
The young man turned inquiringly to Martin standing near.
"Can you answer him?" he asked.
"It's not far," Martin replied. "But it's too far for this man in his
present condition."
"Is there anything there?" the young man asked. "Is the ground rich?"
"Rich! There's gold everywhere. The ground is full of it."
The old man heard these words, and attempted to rise.
"Help me up," he cried. "I must go! D'ye hear what he says? The ground
is full of gold. Give me yer hand, pard, an' help me out of this."
"No, no, Tom; you can't; you're not able," the young man insisted,
pushing him gently back.
"I can't! Why can't I? Why should I stay here an' let the others get all
the gold? I've been rustlin' fer gold all me life, an' d'ye think I'll
be baulked when it's so near? Let me up, I say."
"But you know, Tom, it's impossible," the young man urged. "You're all
in. You should never have come on this trip at all."
"I shouldn't! Why shouldn't I? I'm not a baby."
"But think how sick you were at Rapid City. Why, man, you got out of bed
to come, and would listen to no advice. It's a wonder to me that you're
not dead. What kept you up for days on that trail is more than I can
understand."
"It was the gold that did it, ha, ha," and the old man's eyes glowed
with the intense light of the enthusiast. "Yes, the gold'll cure all
sickness in my body. It always has. Didn't dozens of chaps play right
out, while I came through? Yes, an' by God, I'll go on, too, an' won't
be stuck here. I'll stake my claim with the rest. I've never been
beaten, an' won't now!"
"Now, look here, Tom. Don't you worry about that claim you hope to
stake. I'll stake it for you, so it will be all right."
"But you can't stake two, pard."
"No, and I don't intend to try. I didn't come here to stake a claim. But
as you are not able to do it, there's nothing else for me to do but take
your place, see?"
"But----"
"There, that will do, Tom," and the young man's voice was firm; "I won't
listen to anything more. You can't go, that's certain, and I won't help
you. I'm going in your place. You stay here, keep quiet, and don't
worry. I will come back as soon as I can, and report."
The young man turned away from the cot, and as he did so he caught sight
of Nance near the fire-place. He had not noticed her before so much
taken up had he been with his stricken companion. But now he stood
looking with wonder at the woman before him. The table was set ready for
breakfast. The cloth was spotless, and the dishes were all neatly
arranged. Nance had just stooped to lift the tea-pot, where it was
warming before the coals, as the young man turned and saw her. The light
of the fire brought into clear relief her graceful figure, adding at the
same time a charm to her face and well-poised head such as he had never
seen before. He stood spellbound for a few seconds, wondering where she
could have dropped from. He had never expected to find such a beautiful
being in this wilderness region. He even passed his hand across his eyes
to make sure that it was not a vision which would immediately vanish.
Then he glanced around the room, and was still further surprised at the
books so neatly arranged against the wall. He longed to cross over and
examine them, as he was hungry for reading matter of any kind.
As he stood thus Martin approached.
"Come, young man," he remarked; "you must have something to eat before
you start up river. Breakfast is all ready, so if you care to put up
with our humble fare, you are more than welcome."
The man addressed turned a pair of grateful brown eyes upon Martin's
face.
"Humble, do you say!" he replied with a laugh. "Do you call that humble,
sir? Why, I have not seen anything half so good as that steak for
months. And as for bread, I don't know when I have tasted a scrap.
Hard-tack, and mighty little of that, has been the nearest I have had to
bread since last year. And as to sitting down to a table with a white
cloth upon it, and such dishes as you have here, is most unusual in this
country. Why, this is a palace. It is certainly good of you to invite me
to such a feast as this, for I am very hungry. But with your permission
I shall feed Tom first, for he is about starved."
Martin liked the appearance and the voice of the stranger. He had such
an honest face, almost boyish in appearance. His eyes were expressive of
sympathy and fun. His tall, erect figure was clad in a rough buckskin
suit, a belt encircled his waist, while his feet were encased in the
rough miner's boots laced halfway to the knees. Over his right shoulder
extended a strap, supporting at his side a black leather case.
"Pardon me," Martin remarked, suddenly realising his position as host;
"this is my--my daughter, Nance, Nance Rutland. I fear I have been
neglecting my duty."
The young man at once stepped forward, and held out his hand.
"This is certainly more than I expected, Miss Rutland," he replied. "I
had no idea that there was such a house as this out here. It is a great
treat to meet a white woman, especially," he continued with a smile,
"when one is starving. I have been doing my own cooking for months, and
am thoroughly tired of it."
"You had better wait until you know what my cooking is like," Nance
replied, as she took her place at the head of the table.
She tried to be calm, but her heart kept beating very fast, and she knew
that her cheeks were flushed more than they should be. She instinctively
felt that this stranger was a gentleman, and she wished to do what was
proper in his presence, and not seem confused. But her hand trembled as
she poured the tea, and she could not trust herself to speak lest she
should make some foolish blunder. She tried to imagine how Beryl would
act on such an occasion, and what she would say.
There was little need for words, however, on her part. Martin and the
stranger talked, so she was content to listen. The young man told about
his own experience and that of the others on their wild stampede into
the Quaska valley. He drew a pathetic picture of the hardships and
sufferings which were endured, and how many became discouraged and
turned back. He told of the humorous side as well, and related several
stories of an amusing nature.
"If I were only an artist," he concluded, "or if I had a camera along, I
should have been able to obtain some excellent pictures."
"I thought that black case contained a camera," Martin replied. "I am
quite relieved, for I was afraid lest you should snap our cabin and
force Nance and me to undergo the same ordeal."
"Nothing would please me better," the visitor laughed, glancing toward
Nance. "But it's not as serious as that. It's only a simple medical case
I always carry with me. I've had to use it quite often since leaving
Rapid City."
"You're a medical man, then--a doctor," Martin returned.
"I suppose I am, and back at old McGill I'm recorded as an M.D., and the
men will persist in calling me 'Doc.' But I like to be called just
'Dick,' without any handle. Dick Russell is my name, by the way. 'Mr.'
and 'Doctor' make one feel so old, but just Dick sounds fine to my ears.
But, say," he added in a lower voice, "you won't mind looking after Tom,
will you? He's all gold, but knocked out just now. He's a character all
by himself, true as steel, and full of fun. He's been the life of the
camp down river all winter. I must be off now, but would you let me
sleep here on the floor to-night if I should come back?"
"Sure," Martin replied. "You're welcome to the best we have, and you'll
need it, too, I'm thinking."
Telling Tom to keep up courage, and with a good-by and a wave of the
hand to Martin and Nance standing at the door, the young man swung away
from the cabin toward the trail, leading along the Quaska River.