A TRICK OF COWARDS
As Keith stood gazing in surprise upon the retreating figure, there
suddenly came to him the realization of the mischief this one child
might do. He felt there was a strained feeling between the Indians and
some of the miners; how deep he could not tell. Should Jennie commit
this crime Pritchen's followers would be only too glad to wreak their
revenge upon the few natives who were at Klassan. They would make the
most of the deed, and no doubt draw with them the rest of the white
men. Then when the absent Indians returned from their hunting grounds,
and found what had been done, their rage would be fearful, and he
shuddered to think of the dire consequences.
Though this portion of the North was British Territory, yet there was
no one to enforce law and order. Every man was a law unto himself, and
if it came to a contest of brute strength, it would be the survival of
the fittest. He believed the religious truths he had instilled into
the Indians' hearts and minds would have some influence, but when their
savage nature was once fully aroused they might forget it all. He
determined it should not reach such a crisis; the girl must be stopped
at all cost.
Seizing his cap, he started down the aisle, and had almost reached the
door, when it swung open and Amos, the catechist, entered. Most gladly
did Keith welcome the native's arrival. Here was help in time of need.
Quickly and briefly he told his story.
"Amos," he said in conclusion, "we must go at once, and do what we can
to stop the girl."
"Gikhyi" (teacher), came the reply, "you are hungry and tired. Your
cabin is warm, and some good moose-steak is ready. Do not worry any
more to-night about Jennie. Leave the matter to me."
Keith's heart was touched by this simple expression of thoughtfulness.
"God bless you," he said, grasping the native's hand. "I am tired,
very tired. But do you think you can manage it alone?"
"I am never alone, Gikhyi," was all the answer he received, and as he
looked into that honest face, and read the man's meaning, he felt
rebuked for his own lack of faith.
"Very well, Amos; I leave it to you, but you will come to me in the
morning, will you not?"
"Amos will come," was the brief answer, and at this they left the
building.
Tired though he was, it was late ere Keith sought any rest. His mind
was much troubled, and after his frugal repast he sat for a long time
by the cheerful fire. Pritchen was the disturbing element, and he
shivered as he thought of the man. He had not expected to find him
here, working havoc among his flock. His wicked, leering face stood
out clearly before him. How he had changed. What a monster he had
become. If Nellie knew all. If she could see him now, what would she
think? His mind reverted to a sweet, pure face, and eyes filled with
tears. He heard again her parting words:
"Find him, Keith; he is somewhere in the North. Bring him back to me,
and to the little ones."
And he had found him,--a degraded squaw-man--with the blood of an
Indian woman, and a child, upon his hands. He had seen him then, only
for an instant, but long enough to receive his fearful curses ere he
fled from his sight to be swallowed up by the great, silent North. He
had never told Nellie, for how could he; it would break her heart. Now
the villain had returned, from whence he knew not, but with intent most
sinister, he had no doubt. What was he to do?
"O God," he prayed, "help me; guide me in this time of trial."
When he awoke dim daylight was struggling in through the one frost and
dust-covered window which the cabin afforded. It showed him Amos
sitting quietly by the sheet-iron heater in the adjoining room, which
was used as study, kitchen, dining and sitting room combined. The
catechist was very still, with a far-away look upon his placid face.
"Good morning, Amos," said Keith, springing from his cot. "You are
early; I didn't hear you come in."
"You slept well, Gikhyi," replied the native. "It is good."
"Amos," continued the missionary eagerly, as the scenes of the previous
evening rushed through his mind, "what of last night? Did you find the
girl?"
"All's well, Gikhyi."
"Thank God! Thank God! But tell me, Amos, what have you been doing?"
"I went to the store when I left you, but it was in darkness. There
were voices within, which sounded like Perdue's and Pritchen's. Jennie
I did not see; she was not there. I had been waiting only a short time
when a man arrived with a dog team. I think he came from Siwash Creek.
There's a small camp of white men there, and they come in at times for
supplies. This man went into the store, and that was the last I saw of
him."
"And you didn't see Jennie at all?" asked Keith in surprise.
"No, not there. When I had waited quite a while near the store, and
nothing happened, I went to the Indian camps, and visited them in turn.
At last I found Jennie, sitting in one of the lodges, while the rest
were asleep. Upon her face was a strange look. She neither spoke to
me, nor I to her. I cannot understand the girl."
"But you will watch her, Amos," said Keith. "She may do the deed when
we are off our guard."
"Yes, I will go at once, Gikhyi. But I will come back soon, for I have
much to tell you about what happened last night."
The catechist had been gone but a short time when a knock sounded upon
the door.
"Come in," called out Keith, thinking it was an Indian who had come to
see him.
To his surprise, however, a white man entered, who seemed to be in a
great hurry.
"Are you Mr. Steadman?" he at once began.
"Yes," replied Keith. "What can I do for you?"
"You're a doctor, I understand."
"Yes."
"Well, then, you're wanted bad at Siwash Creek. Jim Blasco's knocked
out. Gun bust, and tore away his arm. Jim's a devil, if ever there
was one, but he's hard pinched now and squaking like a baby. His
cabin's the first you'll come to, in a bunch of timber. Will you go?"
"Certainly," replied Keith. "But, say, when did this happen?"
"Night before last."
"And who brought word?"
"Dave Perkins, and he travelled like he--, oh, I beg your pardon, like
the wind."
"And got in at midnight. Why didn't he come to me at once? I might
have been on the way by this time."
The man gave a slight start, and looked up quickly into the
missionary's face, but seeing no shadow of suspicion there, replied:
"We didn't know about it till this morning. You see, Dave was so
tuckered out from cold and want of sleep that he had to warm up with a
drink or two, and so forgot his business. He only woke a short time
ago, and swore like a--a--trooper at Perdue and his whiskey. I guess
he's swearing yet, for as soon as he'd coughed up his story I left to
find you."
"I'll be off as soon as possible," said Keith, throwing a stick of wood
into the stove, and reaching for the frying pan.
"Now, Yukon, old boy," he continued, when the man had gone, "there's
stiff work ahead. But you've been there before, and know the way, so I
want you to strike such a gait that it will make Don and Hector think
there's a fox ahead for sure. Brisko we'll leave with Amos to get some
flesh on his staring ribs."
The dog pricked up his ears, wagged his tail, and gave a joyful bark.
"Very well, master," he seemed to say, "you can depend upon me. I've
never failed you yet."
In less than an hour Keith stood girt for his long run. His face
glowed with enthusiasm; his mission was one of mercy, and it thrilled
his whole being. The dogs stood before the cabin shaking their bells,
impatient to be away. A parting word to Amos, a crack of the whip in
the frosty air, and the three noble brutes bounded forward out upon the
trail, which wound through the village, past Perdue's store, and into
the great lone beyond.
Pritchen was leaning over the bar when Keith sped by. "Bells!" he
cried, rushing to the small window. "There he goes, boys; see him!"
Instantly a scramble ensued for a glance at the rapidly disappearing
team, and then shouts of laughter shook the building.
"A drink to the fool's success!" shouted Pritchen in high glee. "Say,
Sam, you're a corker. You've missed your calling. You should be on
the stage."
"Did he bite quick?" chimed in Perdue.
"Ha, ha, he bit like a d-- sucker. But there's one thing I can't
savvy."
"What's that?"
"He knew when Perkins arrived, and asked me why he didn't go to him at
once."
"The devil!" ejaculated Pritchen, setting down his half-drained cup.
"How in h-- did he know that?"
"Who shaid Perkins?" broke in a watery-eyed individual, staggering up
to the group. "Here he-hic-ish. Watcher want, eh?"
"It's all right, Dave," laughed Pritchen. "Come and have a drink. You
held the trump card this time without any doubt."
"Don't care'f I do," assented the man. "I-hic-alish holds trumps."
While the men laughed, drank, and swore in the saloon, Keith was
speeding far out upon the long trail. The dogs were in excellent form,
and enjoyed the exhilarating exercise with their beloved master. The
moon was full, and only a short pause was made at night for rest and
refreshment.
On the second day from Klassan the weather changed. The air became
milder, and a dull grey sky lowered overhead. In the afternoon the
wind began to blow, and ere long man and dogs were flecked with
particles of driving snow. The mountain tops were hidden from view,
and the storm rolled along their sides like the smoke of a thousand
cannon. It burst from the funnel-like pass to their left, swept across
the valley, and struck the travellers full abeam.
Hector, the wheel dog, howled and nipped Don's heels, whose teeth
gleamed white at the insult. But Yukon uttered never a sound. He gave
one lightning glance at his master, straightened himself out in the
harness, and nosed his way through the storm. For an hour they thus
proceeded, the trail becoming more difficult all the time. At length
it was entirely obliterated, and nothing remained to guide them in
their onward march. The wind raved and tore round them; the snow
curled and encircled their bodies like a huge winding sheet, half
blinding them as they staggered on. No friendly forest was near to
give them shelter. The region through which they were passing was a
vast, desolate tract of burnt land. The dead trees, stripped of every
vestige of foliage, stood out gaunt and weird. The wind rushed howling
through their naked branches, and the driving snow seemed like the
packed lances of a million unseen horsemen in a mad charge.
At length the dogs stopped and, squatting in the snow, looked
beseechingly into their master's face. The small sled dragged heavily,
even with its light load of blankets and provisions.
"Come, Yukon, old boy, cheer up," encouraged Keith, going to the
leader's side, and patting him affectionately on the head. "I'll give
you a hand. We must get out of this."
Again they pushed forward, the man assisting the dogs by means of a
small rope attached to the sled. But night--an awful night--now closed
down, adding its horror to the situation. A sense of helplessness shot
into Keith's heart, and stayed his steps. He dropped the rope, tore
away the harness from the crouching brutes, and turned them loose.
Seizing the sled, he stood it on end in the snow, and taking with him
only his small medicine case, began once more his hard fight. But he
found it much harder now. His feet left the trail, and he sank deep
into the snow. Back he scrambled, and groped onward like a blind man,
searching with his feet for the hard bottom. Again and again he missed
the track until at last he stopped in despair. What was he to do? Was
he to perish miserably there in that blinding storm? The wind was
piercing, chilling him to the bone, and he shivered.
Presently Yukon, who had been following close at his master's heels,
pricked up his ears, sniffed the air, and, bounding forward, took the
lead. This action aroused Keith. He believed a human habitation was
near, and that the dog had scented the smoke afar off. Neither was he
mistaken, for soon they reached green timber, which broke somewhat the
violence of the storm.
Pushing their way through the trees for several hundred yards, a faint
glimmer of light pierced the darkness straight ahead.
"Thank God!" murmured Keith, as he waded wearily up to the small log
building, and rapped on the rude door. "This must be the place; the
first on the trail, so I was told."
A noise of some one moving within fell upon his ear, followed by a
fumbling sound as of a bar being removed. Then the door was cautiously
opened, and a big grizzly head was thrust out. Keith started back at
the wild appearance, and the terrible look in the man's eyes. He had
seen such eyes before in mad-houses.
"Does Jim Blasco live here?" he stammered.
"Does he? Does he?" came the deep, jerky reply. "And what if he does?"
"H-h-ow is he?" Keith could not help it. An indescribable chill was
creeping over him, and his teeth chattered.
"Doesn't he look well?" roared the giant, as he flung the door wide
open. "Watch'er want of 'im?"
"They told me you were hurt; the gun burst, and tore away your arm."
"Who told you that?"
"The men at Klassan."
"And who are you, anyway?"
"A medical man, and a missionary."
The man started, and his eyes, terrible before, now fairly blazed in
their sockets. Torrents of oaths poured from his lips, and he sprang
back into the cabin towards a rifle which was standing in a corner.
No longer did Keith hesitate. He realized his danger, and turning fled
from the building out again into the night, whither he knew not, any
place was better than near that raving demon with those terrible eyes.
Breathless and exhausted, he at length paused and listened, but nothing
could he hear except the wind howling in the tree-tops overhead. The
truth now flashed upon him. He had been deceived, tricked, the object
of a huge joke. It hardly seemed possible that men with any spark of
feeling would do such a thing. For an instant a fierce rage took
possession of his soul. He clenched his mittened hands, his teeth
ground together, and the blood surged tumultuously through his body.
"O God!" he cried, "punish them. Strike them down, or give me strength
to do it!"
He paused. His lifted hand dropped to his side, and a change passed
over his face. What was that he saw standing there in the storm? A
form, thorn-crowned, with bleeding hands, and pierced side. The lips
moved. "Father, forgive them," he heard Him say, "they know not what
they do."
The scene was so vivid, and the words so clear, that Keith fell upon
his knees in the snow, unheeding the curious dogs squatting near.
"Father, forgive _me_!" he cried, lifting his hands to heaven.
"Forgive me, Thy ambassador, for my wicked words. I was----"
What was that? Music, the strains of a violin. He listened intently.
He recognized the refrain.
"Hark! the herald angels sing
Glory to the new-born King,
Peace on earth, and mercy mild,
God and sinners reconciled."
Keith staggered to his feet, and peered through the darkness, but could
see nothing. He followed the sound, and ere long a square building
loomed up in the distance. Toward this he feebly made his way,
tottering like a drunken man, and at times beating the air with his
hands for support.