At the cabin on the Gray Loon, on the fourth night of Baree's absence,
Pierrot was smoking his pipe after a great supper of caribou tenderloin
he had brought in from the trail, and Nepeese was listening to his tale
of the remarkable shot he had made, when a sound at the door
interrupted them. Nepeese opened it, and Baree came in. The cry of
welcome that was on the girl's lips died there instantly, and Pierrot
stared as if he could not quite believe this creature that had returned
was the wolf dog. Three days and nights of hunger in which he could not
hunt because of the leg that dragged had put on him the marks of
starvation. Battle-scarred and covered with dried blood clots that
still clung tenaciously to his long hair, he was a sight that drew at
last a long despairing breath from Nepeese. A queer smile was growing
in Pierrot's face as he leaned forward in his chair. Then slowly rising
to his feet and looking closer, he said to Nepeese:
"Ventre Saint Gris! Oui, he has been to the pack, Nepeese, and the pack
turned on him. It was not a two-wolf fight--non! It was the pack. He is
cut and torn in fifty places. And--mon Dieu, he is alive!"
In Pierrot's voice there was growing wonder and amazement. He was
incredulous, and yet he could not disbelieve what his eyes told him.
What had happened was nothing short of a miracle, and for a time he
uttered not a word more but remained staring in silence while Nepeese
recovered from her astonishment to give Baree doctoring and food. After
he had eaten ravenously of cold boiled mush she began bathing his
wounds in warm water, and after that she soothed them with bear grease,
talking to him all the time in her soft Cree. After the pain and hunger
and treachery of his adventure, it was a wonderful homecoming for
Baree. He slept that night at the foot of the Willow's bed. The next
morning it was the cool caress of his tongue on her hand that awakened
her.
With this day they resumed the comradeship interrupted by Baree's
temporary desertion. The attachment was greater than ever on Baree's
part. It was he who had run away from the Willow, who had deserted her
at the call of the pack, and it seemed at times as though he sensed the
depths of his perfidy and was striving to make amends. There was
indubitably a very great change in him. He clung to Nepeese like a
shadow. Instead of sleeping at night in the spruce shelter Pierrot made
for him, he made himself a little hollow in the earth close to the
cabin door. Pierrot thought that he understood, and Nepeese thought
that she understood even more; but in reality the key to the mystery
remained with Baree himself. He no longer played as he had played
before he went off alone into the forest. He did not chase sticks, or
run until he was winded, for the pure joy of running. His puppyishness
was gone. In its place was a great worship and a rankling bitterness, a
love for the girl and a hatred for the pack and all that it stood for.
Whenever he heard the wolf howl, it brought an angry snarl into his
throat, and he would bare his fangs until even Pierrot would draw a
little away from him. But a touch of the girl's hand would quiet him.
In a week or two the heavier snows came, and Pierrot began making his
trips over the trap lines. Nepeese had entered into an exciting bargain
with him this winter. Pierrot had taken her into partnership. Every
fifth trap, every fifth deadfall, and every fifth poison bait was to be
her own, and what they caught or killed was to bring a bit nearer to
realization a wonderful dream that was growing in the Willow's heart.
Pierrot had promised. If they had great luck that winter, they would go
down together on the last snows to Nelson House and buy the little old
organ that was for sale there. And if the organ was sold, they would
work another winter, and get a new one.
This plan gave Nepeese an enthusiastic and tireless interest in the
trap line. With Pierrot it was more or less a fine bit of strategy. He
would have sold his hand to give Nepeese the organ. He was determined
that she should have it, whether the fifth traps and the fifth
deadfalls and fifth poison baits caught the fur or not. The partnership
meant nothing so far as the actual returns were concerned. But in
another way it meant to Nepeese a business interest, the thrill of
personal achievement. Pierrot impressed on her that it made a comrade
and coworker of her on the trail. His scheme was to keep her with him
when he was away from the cabin. He knew that Bush McTaggart would come
again to the Gray Loon, probably more than once during the winter. He
had swift dogs, and it was a short journey. And when McTaggart came,
Nepeese must not be at the cabin--alone.
Pierrot's trap line swung into the north and west, covering in all a
matter of fifty miles, with an average of two traps, one deadfall, and
a poison bait to each mile. It was a twisting line blazed along streams
for mink, otter, and marten, piercing the deepest forests for fishercat
and lynx and crossing lakes and storm-swept strips of barrens where
poison baits could be set for fox and wolf. Halfway over this line
Pierrot had built a small log cabin, and at the end of it another, so
that a day's work meant twenty-five miles. This was easy for Pierrot,
and not hard on Nepeese after the first few days.
All through October and November they made the trips regularly, making
the round every six days, which gave one day of rest at the cabin on
the Gray Loon and another day in the cabin at the end of the trail. To
Pierrot the winter's work was business, the labor of his people for
many generations back. To Nepeese and Baree it was a wild and joyous
adventure that never for a day grew tiresome. Even Pierrot could not
quite immunize himself against their enthusiasm. It was infectious, and
he was happier than he had been since his sun had set that evening the
princess mother died.
They were glorious months. Fur was thick, and it was steadily cold
without any bad storms. Nepeese not only carried a small pack on her
shoulders in order that Pierrot's load might be lighter, but she
trained Baree to bear tiny shoulder panniers which she manufactured. In
these panniers Baree carried the bait. In at least a third of the total
number of traps set there was always what Pierrot called
trash--rabbits, owls, whisky jacks, jays, and squirrels. These, with
the skin or feathers stripped off, made up the bulk of the bait for the
traps ahead.
One afternoon early in December, as they were returning to the Gray
Loon, Pierrot stopped suddenly a dozen paces ahead of Nepeese and
stared at the snow. A strange snowshoe trail had joined their own and
was heading toward the cabin. For half a minute Pierrot was silent and
scarcely moved a muscle as he stared. The trail came straight out of
the north--and off there was Lac Bain.
Also they were the marks of large snowshoes, and the stride indicated
was that of a tall man. Before Pierrot had spoken, Nepeese had guessed
what they meant. "M'sieu the Factor from Lac Bain!" she said.
Baree was sniffing suspiciously at the strange trail. They heard the
low growl in his throat, and Pierrot's shoulders stiffened.
"Yes, the m'sieu," he said.
The Willow's heart beat more swiftly as they went on. She was not
afraid of McTaggart, not physically afraid. And yet something rose up
in her breast and choked her at the thought of his presence on the Gray
Loon. Why was he there? It was not necessary for Pierrot to answer the
question, even had she given voice to it. She knew. The factor from Lac
Bain had no business there--except to see her. The blood burned red in
her cheeks as she thought again of that minute on the edge of the chasm
when he had almost crushed her in his arms. Would he try that again?
Pierrot, deep in his own somber thoughts, scarcely heard the strange
laugh that came suddenly from her lips. Nepeese was listening to the
growl that was again in Baree's throat. It was a low but terrible
sound. When half a mile from the cabin, she unslung the panniers from
his shoulders and carried them herself. Ten minutes later they saw a
man advancing to meet them.
It was not McTaggart. Pierrot recognized him, and with an audible
breath of relief waved his hand. It was DeBar, who trapped in the
Barren Country north of Lac Bain. Pierrot knew him well. They had
exchanged fox poison. They were friends, and there was pleasure in the
grip of their hands. DeBar stared then at Nepeese.
"Tonnerre, she has grown into a woman!" he cried, and like a woman
Nepeese looked at him straight, with the color deepening in her cheeks,
as he bowed low with a courtesy that dated back a couple of centuries
beyond the trap line.
DeBar lost no time in explaining his mission, and before they reached
the cabin Pierrot and Nepeese knew why he had come. M'sieu, the factor
at Lac Bain, was leaving on a journey in five days, and he had sent
DeBar as a special messenger to request Pierrot to come up to assist
the clerk and the half-breed storekeeper in his absence. Pierrot made
no comment at first. But he was thinking. Why had Bush McTaggart sent
for HIM? Why had he not chosen some one nearer? Not until a fire was
crackling in the sheet-iron stove in the cabin, and Nepeese was busily
engaged getting supper, did he voice these questions to the fox hunter.
DeBar shrugged his shoulders.
"He asked me, at first, if I could stay. But I have a wife with a bad
lung, Pierrot. It was caught by frost last winter, and I dare not leave
her long alone. He has great faith in you. Besides, you know all the
trappers on the company's books at Lac Bain. So he sent for you, and
begs you not to worry about your fur lines, as he will pay you double
what you would catch in the time you are at the Post."
"And--Nepeese?" said Pierrot. "M'sieu expects me to bring her?"
From the stove the Willow bent her head to listen, and her heart leaped
free again at DeBar's answer.
"He said nothing about that. But surely--it will be a great change for
li'le m'selle."
Pierrot nodded.
"Possibly, Netootam."
They discussed the matter no more that night. But for hours Pierrot was
still, thinking, and a hundred times he asked himself that same
question: Why had McTaggart sent for him? He was not the only man well
known to the trappers on the company's books. There was Wassoon, for
instance, the half-breed Scandinavian whose cabin was less than four
hours' journey from the Post--or Baroche, the white-bearded old
Frenchman who lived yet nearer and whose word was as good as the Bible.
It must be, he told himself finally, that M'sieu had sent for HIM
because he wanted to win over the father of Nepeese and gain the
friendship of Nepeese herself. For this was undoubtedly a very great
honor that the factor was conferring on him.
And yet, deep down in his heart, he was filled with suspicion. When
DeBar was about to leave the next morning, Pierrot said:
"Tell m'sieu that I will leave for Lac Bain the day after tomorrow."
After DeBar had gone, he said to Nepeese:
"And you shall remain here, ma cherie. I will not take you to Lac Bain.
I have had a dream that m'sieu will not go on a journey, but that he
has lied, and that he will be SICK when I arrive at the Post. And yet,
if it should happen that you care to go--"
Nepeese straightened suddenly, like a reed that has been caught by the
wind.
"Non!" she cried, so fiercely that Pierrot laughed, and rubbed his
hands.
So it happened that on the second day after the fox hunter's visit
Pierrot left for Lac Bain, with Nepeese in the door waving him good-bye
until he was out of sight.
On the morning of this same day Bush McTaggart rose from his bed while
it was still dark. The time had come. He had hesitated at murder--at
the killing of Pierrot; and in his hesitation he had found a better
way. There could be no escape for Nepeese.
It was a wonderful scheme, so easy of accomplishment, so inevitable in
its outcome. And all the time Pierrot would think he was away to the
east on a mission!
He ate his breakfast before dawn, and was on the trail before it was
yet light. Purposely he struck due east, so that in coming up from the
south and west Pierrot would not strike his sledge tracks. For he had
made up his mind now that Pierrot must never know and must never have a
suspicion, even though it cost him so many more miles to travel that he
would not reach the Gray Loon until the second day. It was better to be
a day late, after all, as it was possible that something might have
delayed Pierrot. So he made no effort to travel fast.
McTaggart took a vast amount of brutal satisfaction in anticipating
what was about to happen, and he reveled in it to the full. There was
no chance for disappointment. He was positive that Nepeese would not
accompany her father to Lac Bain. She would be at the cabin on the Gray
Loon--alone.
This aloneness to Nepeese was burdened with no thought of danger. There
were times, now, when the thought of being alone was pleasant to her,
when she wanted to dream by herself, when she visioned things into the
mysteries of which she would not admit even Pierrot. She was growing
into womanhood--just the sweet, closed bud of womanhood as yet--still a
girl with the soft velvet of girlhood in her eyes, yet with the mystery
of woman stirring gently in her soul, as if the Great Hand were
hesitating between awakening her and letting her sleep a little longer.
At these times, when the opportunity came to steal hours by herself,
she would put on the red dress and do up her wonderful hair as she saw
it in the pictures of the magazines Pierrot had sent up twice a year
from Nelson House.
On the second day of Pierrot's absence Nepeese dressed herself like
this, but today she let her hair cascade in a shining glory about her,
and about her forehead bound a circlet of red ribbon. She was not yet
done. Today she had marvelous designs. On the wall close to her mirror
she had tacked a large page from a woman's magazine, and on this page
was a lovely vision of curls. Fifteen hundred miles north of the sunny
California studio in which the picture had been taken, Nepeese, with
pouted red lips and puckered forehead, was struggling to master the
mystery of the other girl's curls!
She was looking into her mirror, her face flushed and her eyes aglow in
the excitement of the struggle to fashion one of the coveted ringlets
from a tress that fell away below her hips, when the door opened behind
her, and Bush McTaggart walked in.