THE DISCOVERY
Dawn was rosy in the East when Loseis got home; but the moon had set,
and the little square within the buildings was full of shadows. There
was no stir of life about the men’s house; the door was still closed.
Loseis slipped thankfully within her own door. Mary-Lou, being of no
help in packing the horses, had been sent home some hours before.
In her first feeling of relief, Loseis threw herself on her bed, and was
instantly asleep. But at six her subconscious anxiety awoke her again;
and the instant she awakened, she was at the window. The door of the
men’s house now stood open; and the two tall Crees were respectively
splashing in a basin and brandishing a towel outside the door. They had
learned this trick from the white man. Etzooah squatted on the ground
near by, grinning derisively. The Slavis did not believe in washing. If
they ever yielded to this weakness, it was in secrecy.
One of the Crees went off to the stable; and presently returned leading
Gault’s own horse, a rangy, half-bred chestnut from the “outside.” Gault
appeared from the house fully accoutered, and Loseis’ heart seemed to
drop into a hole in her breast. Suppose he rode along the river trail;
any man not absolutely blind must perceive the marks of the passage of
the fur train. However, to her relief, he trotted diagonally across the
square, and started up the trail behind the store.
Freshening himself up to come courting again, thought Loseis with
curving lips.
Her next anxiety was that Moale, actuated by his passion for fine furs,
might visit the warehouse to look them over. But Moale did not appear
outside the cabin. Loseis saw smoke rising from the chimney, and
supposed that he must be acting as cook for the time being. So she left
the window to prepare herself for the day.
In due course Gault returned from his ride. He went within to refurbish
himself; and promptly on the stroke of eight was to be seen striding
across the square, very stiff and handsome and black.
Quite a picture, thought Loseis in a detached way; but not for my album.
She spoke through the door to Mary-Lou. “Let him wait in the kitchen for
a moment. We must not appear to be too eager.”
When she opened the door, Gault was standing there, hand on hip, looking
every inch the chief, and fully aware of it. He presented a smooth face
to her, with a hard and wary eye. He did not know exactly what to
expect. Loseis, making her own face expressionless, greeted him
politely.
“Come in,” she said.
The table was ready spread in the inner room, and they sat down to it,
outvying each other in cool politeness. Gault was thinking: She asked me
here this morning. It’s up to her to show her hand. And Loseis was
thinking: I have everything to gain by keeping him guessing. Let him
make the first move. So it was:
“This fried rabbit is delicious, Miss Blackburn.”
“I’m glad you like it. I was sorry there was no other fresh meat. The
Slavis say that a man may starve on rabbit.”
“The Slavis may say so: but it satisfies me. I can never get it cooked
so well as this. It needs a woman.”
“But I have read that the most famous cooks are always men.”
“Oh, I was speaking of our country. I have had many a good man cook on
the trail; but they seem to lose their cunning in a house.”
“My usual cook is the Slavi girl that I call Mary-Ann,” said Loseis.
“But she has run off with the others.”
Gault shrugged in a commiserating fashion. This was getting on dangerous
ground.
The trader was at a serious disadvantage in this fencing, because he
wanted the girl, wanted her intolerably, whereas she was indifferent to
him. Gault did not know the cause for it; but his senses were aware that
Loseis was revealing a new beauty these past two days. Her dark eyes
were fuller and more beaming; her very skin seemed to radiate a
mysterious quality of light. All this made the man a little sick at
heart; but he could not altogether give up hope, either. She asked me to
breakfast, he told himself; what does that mean but that she is
beginning to come round. Very often a woman is most scornful just at the
moment when she is preparing to give in. I should hang off a little now.
Meanwhile Loseis was thinking: Five hours! They will be making their
first spell. Fifteen miles. I told Tatateecha to cut it down to three
hours on the first day. Then five hours on the trail, and camp for the
night thirty miles from here. Gault’s Crees cannot arrive before
to-morrow night at the earliest. My people will then have sixty miles
start.
Loseis’ beauty teased Gault to such an extent that he was forced to make
overtures to bring a little warmth into that composed face. “Shall I
send to the lake village to fetch Mary-Ann back?” he asked.
“Oh, no!” said Loseis. “I prefer to ignore her. I shall be in a better
position to deal with her when she comes crawling back of her own
accord.”
“I was merely thinking of your comfort,” said Gault.
“You are very kind.”
Gault could no longer keep it in. “Well, am I forgiven!” he asked in a
jolly sort of way.
Loseis gave him no answering smile. “I am no longer angry with you,” she
said coolly. “I am just neutral. I am waiting to see what happens.”
Gault was a good deal dashed. She is just playing with me! he thought
angrily. But Oh God! that pure, pale skin, that proud averted glance!
With an immense effort he controlled himself. “There is no need for you
to leave this place,” he said with a reasonable air.
Instead of showing the gratitude that he expected, she said in a
slightly surprised voice: “Of course there isn’t!”
“But if we are to remain here together,” he said, nettled, “you must
make it possible for me to work with you.”
“It seems to me that you are putting the cart before the horse,” said
Loseis softly.
Gault ground his teeth together. This child to be taking such a tone to
him! “My dear girl!” he said loftily, “I must be the one to decide what
is best for us until some better qualified person appears.”
Loseis thought: I must not make him too angry. I must lead him along.
She said in a more amicable tone: “We are just talking in a circle.”
Gault contrived to laugh again. “Of course we are!” he cried. “Well,
what do you propose? You promised to meet me half way.”
“I will do anything that you suggest,” said Loseis with an alluring
mildness, “provided you explain the reasons for it.”
The blood rushed to Gault’s pale face. He had to restrain himself from
reaching for her hand. “That is all I could ask!” he cried.
“Yes,” Loseis slyly went on, “I will even go out to Fort Good Hope when
you send the fur, if it is necessary.”
A doubt occurred to the trader—this was such a violent face-about: but
she looked so adorable when she said it, that he waved the doubt away.
“Splendid!” he cried. “I now say to you that there is not the slightest
necessity for your going to Fort Good Hope!”
Loseis smiled at him at last, a slow, oblique, curious smile, having
infinitely more meaning than the trader suspected. It carried him clean
off his feet. His hand shot out.
“Shake!” he cried.
Loseis could not control the impulse of her blood that forced her to
rise suddenly (she had finished her breakfast) and to say with cool
distaste: “Oh, please not. I hate to paw.”
And Gault’s blood was aware of the true significance of that recoil, but
his vanity would not acknowledge it. He sat glowering at her half-hurt,
half-angry, a pathetic sight at fifty-three. “Oh, sorry,” he said in a
flat voice. “It is instinctive amongst men.”
“I know,” said Loseis, trying to smooth things over. “But I am not a
man. . . . Do smoke one of your delicious cigars. I have missed them
during the last few days.”
Gault allowed himself to be deceived. “My pet weakness!” he said,
smiling at Loseis rather killingly.
They were tempted outside. Loseis’ gaze involuntarily swept the heavens.
No cloud in sight; not the filmiest of vapors to dim the inverted bowl
of blue. There would be no rain for days. It was well.
“What are you expecting?” asked Gault smiling.
“Oh, nothing!” she said with a shrug. “My father always looked at the
sky when he came out of doors. I suppose I caught the habit from
him. . . . Shall we walk down to the river? Things have been so mixed up
lately, all my habits are broken up. I need exercise.”
“Delighted!” said Gault. “. . . There is not going to be any more
quarreling, is there?” he added with his fond smile.
“I hope not,” said Loseis demurely.
They paused at the edge of the river bank. The view was filled in by the
bold high point opposite, with the old grave and the new grave side by
side on top within the extended palings. The sight of the grassy mound
and the earthy mound aroused a poignant emotion in Loseis.
Do _they_ know what I am going through? she wondered. Ah! I hope not! I
should not want their peace to be disturbed!
Gault, watching the girl’s face, said with a heavy gravity: “I have not
yet had the opportunity to visit Blackburn’s grave. I trust I may be
permitted to pay that tribute. He was a great man!”
Loseis turned back from the river. She did not care to share her emotion
with _him_. The hypocritical words sickened her slightly. “Of course!”
she said coolly. “Why not?”
A hard nature! said Gault to himself.
However as they sauntered back through the grass, which was now
bestarred with pale crocuses, Loseis exerted herself to charm him, and
God knows that was not difficult. Matters went swimmingly again. Gault
expanded. He could see himself bending elegantly and solicitously to the
slim and lovely girl. It was a sensation one had never experienced in
that rude country.
As they mounted the rise to the little plateau, Gault was saying: “I am
expecting my men back to-morrow afternoon with some fresh supplies from
Good Hope. I trust you will give me the pleasure of dining with me. The
fare will not be as good as that you provide, but perhaps it will have
an element of novelty. . . .”
And at that moment they perceived Moale running towards them like a
madman.
Loseis’ heart sank. All her trouble to fool him was for nothing, then!
Immediately afterwards she went hard all over. Now for it! Well, let it
come!
“The fur is gone!” yelled Moale.
“_What!_” cried Gault, with an affronted air, that was almost comic.
“The warehouse is empty!” cried Moale waving his arms. “Gone! Gone! All
gone!” Nothing else could so have aroused that wooden man.
Gault and Loseis now stood at the top of the rise. The trader turned to
the girl with a towering look. “By God!” he said, softly at first, then
louder: “By God! . . . You have hidden the fur!”
Loseis, holding herself very straight, looked away with a maddening air
of unconcern, and held her tongue.
“She has sent it out!” cried Moale. “The saddles are gone; the horses
are gone! I have sent Watusk along the trail to pick up their tracks.”
“Where is the fur?” demanded Gault of Loseis.
She reflected that the truth was bound to come out immediately. “I have
sent it out,” she said coolly. “It was mine.”
The two men stared at her open-mouthed, bereft of speech. Finally Gault
got his breath back, and his anger.
“You foolish girl!” he cried. “You have lost it then! The Slavis are
useless without a leader.”
Loseis thought it just as well to let them know that they had more than
the Slavis to deal with. “They have a leader,” she said with an offhand
air. “My friend Mr. Conacher is in charge of the pack-train.” How sweet
it was to flick that name so carelessly in Gault’s rage-distorted face.
Another silence. Gault’s face looked perfectly witless in its
astonishment. Then it crimsoned, and the storm broke. In his passion the
man’s coarse nature brazenly revealed itself.
“You lying hussy!” he cried. “All the time you’ve been showing me your
demure face, you’ve been secretly receiving your lover! Lies! Lies!
Lies! Nothing but lies behind that smooth face! All morning you have
been lying to me to pave the way for his escape! . . .”
The girl faced him, surprised at first, then royal in her anger. “How
dare you!” she cried. “You accuse me of lying, you! _you!_ Why should I
not lie to you? You, whose whole presence here has been a lie since you
told me Etzooah could not speak English! You! with your mouth full of
hypocritical talk, pretending to be my friend while you plotted to rob
me! You unspeakable blackguard! It was lucky for me that I found a true
friend!”
Gault’s face turned blackish; and his lips drew back over his teeth. He
raised his clenched fists over his head as if to strike Loseis down. But
the scared Moale touched his arm, and the blow never descended. A
terrible shudder went through Gault’s frame. He turned and strode
stiffly away. At the door of his house he curtly dismissed Moale, and
went in alone.
Inside her own door, Loseis’ knees weakened under her, and she was glad
to sink into a chair. She covered her face in the effort to shut out
that truly frightful picture of rage. After all she was only a girl. Ah!
how thankful she would have been to have Conacher at her side then!
Her weakness was but momentary. She hastened to the window, standing far
enough back to keep her face from showing at the pane. It was essential
for her to know what Gault was going to do. Suppose he and his men rode
after Conacher, she would have to follow, and let the Post look after
itself. Impossible to remain inactive! Her horse was as good as the
best. Should she not ride at once to warn Conacher? Her horse was in the
stable with Gault’s horses. But there were other horses she might catch.
No! No! First she must see what Gault was going to do.
The Cree, Watusk, returned, and the four men were hanging around outside
the door, at a loss what to do. Suddenly Moale went in as if summoned by
a call. He immediately reappeared, spoke to the others, and they all
went into the corral and stable. In due course they came out leading all
of Gault’s remaining horses, eight in number, ready saddled; some to be
ridden, others to carry packs. They began to carry out their belongings
from the house.
Now I must start! thought Loseis in a fever. But a more prudent voice
restrained her. You mustn’t let Gault see what you’re going to do!
When the little train was ready, Gault came out of the house. To Loseis’
astonishment he kept on across the square. He was coming to speak to
her. She began to tremble all over. Just the same, she was glad that she
had stayed. She went to the door, and waited for him in an unconcerned
pose. He should never guess that her heart was pounding.
Gault had only partly succeeded in regaining his composure. He was
lividly pale; his lips moved with a curious stiffness; and there was an
ominous triangular furrow etched in his forehead. Without looking
directly at Loseis, he said in a controlled voice:
“I have done my best to look after your affairs. You have rejected my
efforts at every turn. Well, if you have found somebody else to advise
you, there is nothing further for me to do here. I am returning to Fort
Good Hope.”
With that, he faced about, and went to his horse. Loseis had not said
anything at all. The others were waiting in the saddle; and as soon as
Gault mounted they set off, Gault staring stiffly ahead of him, the
others looking askance at the girl lounging in the doorway. Around the
store, and up the side hill at the back.
The instant they were out of sight Loseis sprang into action. Without
waiting for so much as coat or hat, she ran across to the stable, and
flung saddle on her horse. It was perfectly evident to her that Gault
was still lying. If he had, as he pretended, given up in disgust, he
would have ridden away without a word. The fact that he felt it
necessary to advertise his giving up was to her proof positive that he
was not giving up at all.
Mary-Lou, seeing her mistress prepare to ride away, realized that she
would be left the last living soul at Blackburn’s Post. Panic seized
her. Running across the square, she met Loseis leading her horse out of
the stable.
“Take me! Take me!” she gasped.
Loseis was obliged to curb her headlong desire to be off. “Well . . .
well . . .” she said impatiently. “The buckskin is in the stable. I will
saddle him for you. Run back to the house. Fetch some grub. Shove my
riding clothes in a saddlebag. I’ll change on the trail.”
As she tightened girths, Loseis reflected: Etzooah is familiar with the
triangle of country between the two trails, from having trapped it in
the winter. There is no cross trail, but it would be possible to lead
their horses through the bush, and across the coulee. Take a little
time, though. I shall be on the southerly trail ahead of them. . . . But
suppose they steal back here first to spy on me . . . ?
A hard little smile wreathed Loseis’ lips. Hastily tying the horses to
the corral fence, she flew across the grass again. Meeting Mary-Lou
coming out of the house, she ordered her to put down the things, and
help her. In the house, Loseis tore the mattress off her bed, and
dragging it into the kitchen ripped it open. It was stuffed with moss.
Wetting the moss from the barrel of water which stood within the door,
she arranged it in the fireplace in such a way that it would smolder a
little at a time.
“That will last out the day,” she said smiling. “Come on; let’s go!”