PRISONERS
WHEN Dick Bracknell had led the way from the cabin he knew that he was
leading a forlorn hope. It was possible that many hours would pass
before the men in the camp discovered their flight; whilst on the
other hand the discovery might be made immediately and, in that case,
as the ruthlessness of the attackers had shown, there was little hope
of escape. But there were dangers before as well as behind, and the
wilderness of the North was itself the greatest danger. They had little
food, he himself was a very sick man, ill-fitted for the strenuous toil
which the situation called for, and in the woods wild beasts and wild
men might lurk, against whom, armed merely with pistols and hunting
knives, they would be almost helpless. All this he knew, but braced
himself for the task before him, determined at all costs to save the
two girls and to win Joy’s respect if that was at all possible.
When they won to the darkness of the forest without discovery, he
breathed more freely, and pushed on along an ill-defined track, which
he seemed to know well. As the night wore on, he grew unutterably
tired, and once when he was overtaken by a fit of coughing, which left
him terribly exhausted, Joy suggested that they should rest for a
little while.
“Are you too tired to continue?” he asked.
“Oh no,” she answered quickly.
“Then we will keep on.”
“But you are not fit to do so,” she protested. “Your cough----”
“What do I matter?” he replied with a mirthless laugh. “I am done for
in any case, and we must be a long way from here before morning. This
is the only service I shall ever be able to render you, and you are not
going to deny me the chance of atonement which it gives, are you?”
“I was not thinking of that!” answered Joy gently. “I was thinking only
of you.”
“And I am thinking only of you!” he retorted quickly. “I have thought
of myself too long. I am very glad to have this opportunity of service,
however I may regret the circumstances.”
“I am very grateful to you,” was Joy’s reply, and without further words
they started anew upon their way.
Once they stopped, and ate a little food which had been prepared before
leaving the cabin, and then pushed on until dawn, when a fire was lit,
and a halt for a couple of hours was made. At the end of that time they
resumed their desperate journey, and an hour later struck the river
for which Dick Bracknell had been making. A look of relief came on his
haggard face as he saw it.
“It will be easier now,” he said, “and unless the Indians have removed
we shall reach the encampment all right now.”
“Unless those men overtake us!”
“Yes! In that case we are up a tree.”
“And of course if the Indians are hospitable we--- Ah! Look there?”
She indicated a point a little way up the river. A man had emerged from
the trees. He stood there regarding them for a moment, then without a
sign he withdrew.
“An Indian,” said Joy quickly. “I am sure of it!”
“Yes,” answered Dick Bracknell slowly, “an Indian. But he may be one of
these men who are following us. The question is, what are we to do? Our
way lies up river.”
“Perhaps it will be better if we take to the woods again,” suggested
Miss La Farge.
“There is little to be gained by doing that,” replied Bracknell. “The
man has seen us, and if he is hostile he will follow. The only course,
I think, is to keep straight on.”
They were still discussing when Joy broke in.
“The question is solved for us,” she said quickly. “There are men in
the wood behind us. See!”
She had scarcely spoken when an Indian stepped from the wood, and
another followed, and another until seven men stood on the trail.
“How!” said the leader, approaching them.
Bracknell replied to the salutation, and the man spoke to his
companions who drew nearer, apparently quite friendly disposed to them.
Then came a change. One of the men stepped forward, looked at the
white man, and gave a sudden exclamation. Then he turned towards his
companions and addressed them volubly. Joy strove to catch what he was
saying, but the dialect in which he spoke was strange to her, and she
could make nothing of his words. It was clear to her, however, that the
man was excited, and as he spoke the excitement communicated itself to
his companions. Joy looked at Dick Bracknell for an explanation, and
found that his face was very white.
“What is it?” she asked quickly. “Something has gone wrong?”
“Yes, terribly wrong. These men will be merciless. I have done you my
last dis-service.”
“What do you mean?” she questioned, as she looked at the gesticulating
natives.
“I did this tribe a grave wrong, two years ago. One of the men has
recognized me, and I think there is little hope for us. We might put
up a fight, but it would probably be little use, and would certainly
jeopardize your life as well as mine. If they get me, they may let you
go. It is worth trying. I will explain and perhaps----” He broke off
and took a step forward.
“What are you going to do?” inquired Joy sharply.
“Just going to try what a little explanation will do,” he answered, “a
little explanation coupled with persuasion.”
“No!” she replied quickly. “You are going to make a bargain with those
men. I know you are, and I shall not agree. We stand or fall together.”
“Do you think you are wise?” he asked.
“I do not know whether I am wise or not,” she answered firmly. “But I
keep the faith of the trail, and I shall not leave you in the lurch.
Neither will Babette, I am sure.”
As he regarded her, a strange look came into his eyes, a look of
mingled pride and pain.
“Joy,” he said brokenly, “you are a great woman and I was never worthy
of you!... You can take your chances with me if you like. When I come
to think upon it they are perhaps as good as those that wandering in
the wilderness, short of stores, offers. They may spare you; who knows?
And it is coming spring. You can feel it in the air. A few days and the
river will begin to break up, and then will come white men, prospectors
and what not. You may have a chance.”
“It is by that chance I shall abide,” Joy replied, “and not by any that
leaves you to the mercy of savages.”
The Indians finished their confabulation and the leader stepped forward
again, and with lowering looks addressed himself to Dick Bracknell, who
nodded and then handed over his pistol and hunting knife, and with his
back to Joy addressed her in warning.
“Keep your pistol out of sight, Joy. These brutes will not suspect you
are carrying one, and we may yet find it very useful. They demand that
we accompany them to their encampment up the river. I have agreed,
since there is nothing else that I can do. I do not think they will
hurt you or Miss La Farge--yet.”
A few minutes later they started and presently arrived at an encampment
consisting of perhaps a score of tepees. Dogs greeted their coming
noisily, children and women came out of the skin tents to look at them,
and a few men joined their captors as they moved towards the centre of
the camp. Just as they halted, a tall Indian came out of one of the
tents, and by his side tottered a man who seemed incredibly old, but
though his step was feeble, his eyes were keen, and as they fell on
Dick Bracknell they lighted with sudden ferocity, and as she caught
the glare he directed towards them, Joy felt the clutch of fear at her
heart.
“Who is that old man?” she asked. “He knows you. I saw the recognition
leap in his eyes.”
“He is the Shaman--the tribal witch-doctor, you know. I am afraid his
recognition of me is not a propitious one. He is a ferocious old beast,
and he owes me one.”
“What have you done to the tribe,” asked Joy curiously, “that all of
them should be against you?”
Bracknell laughed shortly. “I am afraid I cannot unfold the record
of that particular sin for your gaze. It was a wild, mad thing, but
it seemed all right at the time. Now I think I shall have to pay for
it--and you too. I seem to be your evil genius,” he added penitently.
Joy did not reply. She was watching the proceedings of the Shaman, who
after listening to their captors, tottered up to Bracknell and surveyed
him with eyes that were gloating and cruel. Joy shuddered as she read
the evil triumph in the old savage’s face, and looked at her husband.
Apparently he was altogether composed, and there was a contemptuous
look on his haggard face. Joy was conscious of a certain thrill of
pride as she looked at him. Dick Bracknell might have many weaknesses,
but cowardice was not one of them. Then the Shaman spoke, mumbling
through toothless gums, and though she did not understand a single
word of what he was saying, Joy caught the rasping menace in his voice
and shuddered again. The Shaman laughed as he broke off, a throaty,
croaking laugh, which seemed unutterably evil; and a moment later they
were hurried to one of the tepees and the skin door was thrown together
and lashed outside. In the darkness, Joy spoke.
“What was that old savage saying to you, Dick?”
Bracknell laughed shortly. “Oh, he was promising himself pleasure and
me pain, indeed my pain was to be his pleasure.”
“Ah! You mean they are going to torture you?”
“I shouldn’t wonder!”
“Will they be long before----?”
“Tonight, I fancy! It seems the tribe is in luck. A couple of moose
were killed this morning, and a potlatch--sort of tribal bean-feast,
you know--is arranged for tonight and most of them will gorge. The
Shaman will no doubt arrange some form of entertainment in which I
shall take a star part!”
“Oh, it is dreadful!” cried Joy.
In the darkness she heard Dick Bracknell draw his breath sharply, and
a second later a hand touched hers. She did not shrink, but remained
quite still, and then heard him speak in a broken, stammering whisper--
“My dear ... I’m infernally sorry ... to have brought you into this
mess, I ... I----”
“We shall have to get away before,” broke in Joy’s voice. “We can’t
remain here and wait for a thing like that to happen.”
“What will it matter?” he asked lightly. “It will be the end--for me.
But if it will save you, I do not care.”
Joy did not answer, she knew that he was sincere, but she did not know
what to say, and presently he spoke again--
“I do not know what we can do. If we try to get away they will follow,
and they will travel faster than we shall. And besides, with the food
gone the attempt would be hopeless. One cannot go into the wilderness
without grub.”
They sat discussing the situation quietly, and outside, the clamour of
the camp grew. Once Joy, finding a small hole in the tent, peeped out.
On the edge of the encampment a great fire had been lit, and around
it a number of women and men were engaged in trampling the snow hard.
She guessed that it was there that the potlatch was to be held, and
wondered what would happen when the Indians had feasted. The uncouth
figures moving to and fro, and cut out from the deepening darkness by
the glow of the fire, seemed inconceivably wild and grotesque, and
once, when the strange form of the Shaman shuffled into view, and stood
gesticulating and pointing to the tepee, she shuddered.
She knew that these men were as the men of the Stone Age, that pity was
a quality to which they were strangers, and that they would do things
which, merely to think of, made her shake with terror.
“Oh,” she cried sharply, “is there nothing that we----”
“Hush!” broke in Dick Bracknell’s voice peremptorily. “Listen!”
All three listened. Some one was fumbling at the back of the tent, then
presently there came a ripping noise, and a voice whispered, “Are you
there?”
Even at that moment Joy Gargrave’s heart leaped as she recognized it.
“Yes, Corporal Bracknell. Your cousin, Babette and myself are here.”
“Can you move? Are you free?”
“Quite free.”
“Wait a moment, then.” The sound of slitting hide was heard once more,
then came the corporal’s voice again, “You must slip out through the
hole I have cut. Quickly! There is not a moment to lose.”
Joy felt herself propelled forward and thrust through the opening which
the corporal had cut, and whilst another pair of hands guided her,
caught Dick Bracknell’s whisper, “Now--Miss La Farge!”
Babette slipped out, and two seconds later Dick Bracknell followed.
“This way,” said the corporal quickly. “As silently as you can.”
He led the way through the darkness to the river bank, and as they
began to descend he whispered to Joy--
“Your boy Jim, and my man Sibou, are waiting for us with the dogs, a
little way off.”
“Then Jim is safe?”
“Yes, he found me, and told me what had happened to---- By George,
listen!”
An ear-splitting yell sounded from the direction of the encampment. It
was followed by another, and that by a great clamour.
“They have discovered our escape,” said Dick Bracknell grimly. “Hurry!
where are you taking us, Roger? Have you a rifle?”
“Yes! I have a rifle----”
“Then give it me. Listen to that! The hunt is up. Give me the gun. I’ll
hold the pass.”
As he spoke he laughed a laugh that sounded harshly in the night, then
broke off. “Great Scott! They’re in front of us already! Look there!”
The dark figures had appeared on the snow in front, but the corporal
quickly dispelled the fears their appearance had awakened.
“My man, and the boy Jim! Hurry! Those beggars behind are following
fast.”
Dick Bracknell looked round. Against the red glare of the great camp
fire half a score of dark figures showed plainly. They were running
towards the fugitives. An exultant yell told the latter that they had
been seen.
“For God’s sake, give me the rifle, and get the girls away, Roger, old
man. I’m crocked, and can’t travel fast, but I can hold those devils
back.”
“But--but----”
“Can’t you see this is my chance of doing the decent thing? For God’s
sake don’t deny me, man!”
Roger Bracknell looked into his cousin’s haggard face, and understood.
Silently he put his rifle into his cousin’s hand, and unbuckling his
bandolier, threw it on him.
“Thanks, old man! Thanks, awfully!”
“I’ll send my man to back you, and when I’ve started the girls I’ll
return myself.”
“No!” replied Dick Bracknell. “You go with them. You must! It’s
necessary.” He lifted the rifle as he spoke and sighting at the
foremost of the pursuers pulled the trigger.
“One!” he said exultantly, as one of the running shadows toppled into
the snow. “The beggars aren’t thinking of the light behind them....
Go!” he said again. “Go with the girls and send your man. Let me play
the hero for once.... Man!” he blazed suddenly, “can’t you see it is
all that is left to me.”
“Yes,” replied his cousin, “I can see it, and I’ll go. But you must
promise me that you won’t stay longer than----”
The rifle cracked again, and then Dick Bracknell replied. “I’ll promise
anything you like if you’ll only go and get Joy away.”
Then, very reluctantly, Corporal Bracknell went.