COMPLICATIONS
Devinne's trading-post was not the sort of place one expected to find in
Alaska. Devinne himself was a queer customer, a man of good education and
birth. That he chose to establish a trading-post on the upper reaches of
the Yukon was a mystery to all who knew him. The real reason was a secret
in the heart of Devinne, and had reference to a quarrel in a Parisian club
in which a blow had been struck in a moment of pardonable fury, resulting
in the death of a revered citizen of Paris.
Devinne found the Yukon district a comparatively "healthy" spot. He had
started the trading-post four years back, and had prospered very
considerably. He had started in a small way, taking trips into Indian
villages and bargaining for furs. A man of quick intelligence, he soon
acquired a substantial knowledge of most of the queer Indian dialects,
which proved a tremendous asset from a business point of view.
After one year's profitable trading he had built the "post." It was a
fairly commodious affair, boasting three rooms upstairs and three below,
plus a long shed attached to the rear of the main building where he
carried on his business, with two half-breed assistants, who slept in the
shed itself.
A year after the post was completed Natalie, Devinne's only daughter, a
woman of uncertain age, came out to keep house for him. Natalie had all
the quick passions of her Southern mother, which doubtlessly accounted for
the sudden rupture between herself and her husband after but a brief span
of married life.
Two years in Alaska had not changed her nature. Unlike Devinne, she was
quick to anger. She ruled her father as completely as she had ruled her
husband, until that worthy sought refuge under the wing of another, less
tyrannous, woman.
On this night, in late May, Natalie and her father sat in the big front
room which afforded them an uninterrupted view of the river. Natalie was
busy at crochet-work, and Devinne was going over some accounts with a view
to finding what profit the year had yielded. Judging by his frequent purrs
and sighs, the result was not displeasing. Natalie looked up.
"Well?" she queried, in French.
"Another good season and we'll be able to get away."
"Where to?"
"Los Angeles would not be so bad. A good, equable climate, a little
society, and a club or two--ah!"
"But is it safe?"
He furrowed his brows.
"We'll risk it. Four years is a long time, and I think I am changed
somewhat. You won't be sorry to leave this country--ma cherie?"
Natalie put down her crochet.
"No. It seems a waste of one's life. Mon Dieu, I am tired of it."
Devinne cocked up his ears as two shrill hoots came from the river. He
sprang to the window and saw the dim light of a ship going up the river.
"It's the old _Topeka_ back again. She's early this season, which is
fortunate, for we're badly in need of that consignment. 'Chips' will have
to get up to Dawson to-morrow and bring the stuff back. Maybe the piano is
aboard."
"Was it wise to get the piano, when we are leaving next fall?"
"We can sell it--at a profit, too.... What's that?"
"That" was a sharp rap on the outer door. It was repeated again in a few
seconds. Callers were unusual at that time of the day, but all callers
were welcome enough in Alaska. Natalie ran out and unbarred the door. In
the dim light she saw the figure of a big man supporting a woman, who was
obviously on the verge of utter collapse.
"Why, vat is it?" she ejaculated in her broken English.
"It's all that's left of us," growled a voice. "I guess we're nearly
beat."
He staggered, and Natalie ran to the mute figure of Angela. "Father,
father!" she cried.
Devinne appeared in a second, and took in the situation at a glance. While
Jim relinquished Angela to the excited Natalie, Devinne took him by the
arm and led him into the sitting-room.
"It's good fortune that led you here. How long have you been without
food?"
"Two days."
"We'll soon put that right. Don't talk till you've eaten. I'll get you
something to take the edge off while Natalie cooks a sound meal."
He left Jim reclining on the couch, and came back with a loaf of bread and
some canned beef. Jim eyed the food with ravenous eyes.
"Where's Angela?" he queried.
"Angela?--who is--ah yes, your companion. You haven't told me your name."
"Conlan--Jim Conlan."
"And the lady?"
"My--my sister."
He started to see Angela standing in the doorway, her arm linked in that
of Natalie. She regarded him in amazement as the untruth left his lips,
and then came and sat down at the table.
"You vill excuse me. I go make something verra nice," said Natalie, and
vanished into the kitchen.
"Now go ahead," said Devinne. "Regard that as _hors-d'oeuvre_ till the
supper is ready."
They partook of the good home-made bread, and of the meat, Devinne
regarding them with kindly eyes.
"It's a good thing the steamer is early, or we might have been as badly
off as you. We have but a week's supply, but the new lot will be down in a
day or two.... Where have you come from?"
"Endicott," said Jim. "We lost our dogs and got delayed some. Gee, but
food is a wonderful thing!"
Natalie came in and discreetly removed the remainder of the loaf and the
meat.
"No more, pleece," she said. "You vill haf no room for zat supper. I haf
him on the stove now."
She laughed merrily, not a little pleased at this unexpected invasion. For
months she had seen no one but wandering Indians and grizzled miners. It
was a delight to hold conversation with a pretty woman--not to mention a
strapping son of Hercules, like unto nothing she had ever seen before.
Jim found Devinne a charming and interesting host. Over a pipe they
discussed New York and London, these being Devinne's idea of paradise, a
point of view which Jim scarcely shared. By the time supper was ready they
all felt like old friends. Natalie, much to Angela's embarrassment,
displayed particular interest in Jim.
"But your brother--he ees magnifique! Such eyes--such limbs! Mon Dieu, but
I haf nevaire seen one lak him. And you go all zat way wit' him?--you are
verra brave--and so beautiful."
Angela would have liked to return the compliment--for the French woman was
beautiful enough, and fascinating to her finger-tips--but she felt annoyed
that Jim should have placed her in this position. Why should he attempt to
pass her off as his sister? It was unpardonable! And here was this French
woman regarding him with eyes of obvious admiration. Angela felt a queer
little stab in the region of her heart.
"I can trade you some food the day after to-morrow, Conlan," said
Devinne.
"I guess I'll be making Dawson to-morrow."
"Nonsense! If you succeed in getting food there, it will be at famine
price. Better stay. Nay, I insist. It isn't often we have the pleasure of
meeting good company, and we claim you as guests for at least two days."
Jim glanced at Angela and saw her mouth twitch. For some reason Angela was
keen to get away, but nevertheless there was sound reasoning in Devinne's
argument. At Dawson food would fetch a fabulous price, until the freights
could bring in bigger supplies. Devinne, with his acute business acumen,
had insured a certain supply by ordering the stuff at the close of the
last season and paying freightage in advance.
Jim intimated that he would wait for the arrival of the food, much to
Angela's chagrin and to Natalie's unconcealed joy.
"We'll have to rig you up a bed in the next room, Conlan," said Devinne.
"We only boast one spare room upstairs, and ladies come first--even in
Alaska."
"Sure!"
"So you've no luck at prospecting?"
"Nope. I guess we came too late."
Devinne shook his head.
"This country is full of gold, but it's just luck in finding it. I know
old-timers who have mushed their legs off without striking a cent. On the
other hand young Cheechakos, without a grain of experience, have gone
straight to the gold and made millions. You aren't giving up?"
"I never give up," growled Jim. "But there's my--my sister to be
considered. 'Tain't a kind thing to yank a woman over the trail in
winter."
Devinne agreed with a nod of his head. Conlan puzzled him a good deal. It
was amazing that he should be the brother of that beautiful blonde girl,
who spoke in cultured tones and was as different from him as chalk is from
cheese. There lurked the suspicions that their relationship was other than
brother and sister, but being a cleanminded man he strove to banish the
thought.
In the meantime Natalie was showing Angela the sleeping-room reserved for
her, and talking at a tremendous rate about "La Belle France" and all the
things she had sacrificed--among these latter she omitted to include her
late husband. Doubtless she no longer regarded him as a sacrifice!
It was later in the evening that Jim faced the music. He carried Angela's
few belongings up to her room, and was bidding her "good-night" when she
turned on him with flashing eyes.
"How dare you tell lies?"
"Eh?"
"How dare you tell that woman I was your sister?"
"I didn't. I told Devinne."
"Don't quibble. I--I thought you were above mean falsehood."
He shrugged his shoulders, surprised that she did not see his object.
"If I had told her the truth it would have been embarrassing for you."
"For me!"
"Yep. Angela, don't you see it would mean----"
"Well?"
"It would mean that we should have to act as man and wife."
"Well, haven't you always tried to act as--husband?"
"Have I?--I guess not. And I'm not wanting to take advantage of a
situation. If you'll look clearly you'll see this thing square. I
guess it would have bin awkward if they had yanked us into this
room--together."
He said "good-night" softly and shut the door. Angela sat down on the bed
and stared at the wall. So he had thought of that! It was amazing the
things he could think of when he tried hard!
She tore off her clothes and flung herself on to the pillow, annoyed,
exasperated, and generally bewildered. Then she got up, lighted the candle
again, and surveyed her fresh, incomparable beauty in the mirror.
"Am I getting old--ugly?" she murmured. "Ah yes--Natalie is pretty enough
to get things if she tries!"