THE WEIRD OF THE WILD
For five days the snow fell without ceasing. Then the weather cleared
and the sun shone forth, and the temperature, which had risen while the
ghostly snow filled the air, dropped with a rush many degrees below
zero.
Again the call of the forest came to the two men, claiming them as it
ever claims those who are bred to the craft of trap and fur; and for the
first time in their lives, the call was hearkened to by unwilling ears,
ears which sought to turn from the alluring cry, ears that craved only
for the seductive tones of love. But habit was strong upon these
woodsmen, and they obeyed the voice which had always ruled their lives,
although with the skeleton of rebellion in their hearts.
The days passed, and March, the worst month of the mountain winter, was
rapidly nearing; and with it a marked change came over the routine of
the Westleys' home. Hitherto Ralph and Nick were accustomed to carry out
their work singly, each scouring the woodlands and valleys in a
direction which was his alone, each making his own bag of furs, which,
in the end, would be turned over to the partnership; but Aim-sa joined
them in their hunting, and, somehow, it came about that the men found it
necessary to work together.
They no longer parted at daybreak to meet again when the stealing night
shades fell. It became the custom for a party of three to set out from
the hut, and the skilled trappers found themselves willingly deferring
to a woman in the details of their craft, the craft of which they were
acknowledged masters.
But this was not the only change that took place with the coming of the
White Squaw. For a woman of the wild, for a woman who had been bred in
the mysterious depths of the northern forests, away from her fellow
creatures, shut off from all associations of men, Aim-sa displayed a
wondrous knowledge of those arts which women practise for the
subjugation of the opposite sex. She set herself the task of
administering to her companions' welfare in the manner which has been
woman's from the first. She took to herself the bothersome duties with
which no man, however self-reliant, loves to be burdened. She went
further. She demanded and accepted the homage of each of the brothers,
not impartially, but favouring first one and then the other, with the
quiet enjoyment of a woman who looks on at the silent rivalry of two men
who seek her smiles.
And as the days lengthened, and the winter crept on toward spring, the
peace of the house was slowly but surely undermined. Eve had appeared in
the Garden.
The calm that still remained was as the smooth surface of water about to
boil. Beneath it was chaos which must soon break out into visible
tumult. The canker of jealousy fastened itself like a secret growth upon
the uncultured hearts of the men, sapping and undermining that which was
best in their natures.
And Aim-sa looked on with eyes which smiled inscrutably; with silent
tongue, and brain ever busy. In due course she showed signs of beginning
to understand her comrades' language. She even essayed to speak it
herself; and, as she stumbled prettily over the words, and placed them
wrongly, she became more and more a source of delight, an object of
adoration to the poor souls who had been so suddenly born to this new
life. With keen appreciation she saw these things while she listened to
their speech between themselves, and her great, deep eyes would wear
many varying expressions, chief among which was the dark, abiding smile.
There could be no doubt that what she saw she interpreted aright. She
was too clever in everything else to do otherwise. Nick, impatient,
headstrong, could never long conceal his feelings. His eyes would
express displeasure the moment the quieter Ralph chanced to monopolize
Aim-sa's attention. Every smile she bestowed upon the elder brother
brought a frown to the younger man's brow. Every act or look which could
be interpreted into an expression of regard for his brother fired his
soul with feelings of aversion and anger till he was well-nigh
distracted. Nor was Ralph any less disturbed. In his undemonstrative way
he watched Nick, and suffered the acutest pangs of jealousy at what he
believed was Aim-sa's marked preference. But the woman continued to stir
the fire she had kindled with a childlike naivete which was less of the
wild than of the drawing-room.
And as day succeeded day, and week followed week, the companionship of
these men became forced. The old tacit understanding was replaced by a
feverish desire to talk; and this forced conversation only helped to
widen the rift which was already gaping between them.
One night the friction almost resulted in a blaze.
Ralph was lying prone upon his back, buried to the neck in his "Arctic
bag." He was smoking, as was his custom, while waiting for sleep to
come. An oil lamp reeked upon the earthen floor and threw its bilious
rays little further than the blankets spread out upon either side of it.
For a long time Ralph had lain silently gazing up at the frosted rafters
above him, while his brother sat cross-legged at work restringing his
snow-shoes with strands of rawhide. Suddenly Ralph turned his face
towards him in silent contemplation. He watched Nick's heavy hands with
eyes that wore a troubled look. Then he abruptly broke the long silence.
"Victor don't know as she's here," he said.
Nick looked up, glanced round the room, shook his head, and bent over
his work again.
"No," he answered shortly.
"Maybe he won't jest laff."
"No."
Again came Nick's monosyllabic reply.
"Guess we'd best let him know."
There was a pause. Ralph waited for his brother to speak. As no answer
came he went on.
"Who's goin' to tell him?"
Still there was no reply. The silence was broken only by the "ping" of
the rawhide strands which Nick tested as he drew tight.
"We need some fixin's fer her," Ralph went on, a moment later. "Wimmin,
I 'lows, has fancies. Now, maybe, Victor's got a mighty fine show o'
print stuffs. A bit o' Turkey red wouldn't come amiss, I dessay.
Likewise beads."
"Maybe."
"Why don't you take the dogs an' run in?"
Nick's hands suddenly became motionless; his eyes were raised until they
looked into the face of his brother. His seared, weather-beaten skin
flushed a desperate hue, and his eyes were alight and shining angrily.
His lips twitched with the force of the passion stirring within him, and
for some seconds he held himself not daring to trust to speech.
When at last he answered it was in a tone of fiery abruptness.
"Guess not," he said. And it was Ralph's turn to hold back the anger
which rose within him.
"Why?"
"Say, brother," said Nick, with a biting distinctness, "quit right
there. Ther' ain't no need fer another word."
For a moment Ralph peered into the other's face; but he remained silent.
Then he turned over upon his pillow with a sound very like a muttered
curse. And from that moment the gulf between them became impassable.
Aim-sa was a subject henceforth tabooed from their conversation. Each
watched the other with distrust, and even hatred, full grown within him.
And soon there came a further disturbing element in that mountain home.
It awoke all the dormant atmosphere of mystery, which, in the minds of
the two men, surrounded the lovely Aim-sa. It awoke afresh the "Dread of
the Wild" that had assailed them on their journey north.
It came in the early morning, when the world about them was cloaked in
the grey shroud of daylight mists; when the silent forests above and
below them were rendered even more ghostly and sepulchral by reason of
the heavy vapour which depressed all on which it settled. Nick was
standing, rifle in hand, preparing to sling it across his back. Ralph
was stooping to adjust his snow-shoes. Aim-sa had been left within the
hut.
A gentle breeze, like the icy breath of some frozen giant on the peak
above the hut, came lazily down the hillside. It broke the fog into a
turmoil of protest. The heavy vapour rolled in huge waves, sought to
return to its settled calm, then slowly lifted from the flustered
tree-tops. Another breath, a little stronger than the first, shot
forcefully into the heart of the morning fog and scattered it
mercilessly. Then the whole grey expanse solemnly lifted. Up it rose;
nor did it pause until the lower hills were bared, and the wintry sun
shone splendidly down upon the crystal earth.
And as the air cleared the keen eyes of Nick flashed out in a swift
survey of the prospect. Suddenly his breathing was sharply indrawn. His
rifle never reached his shoulder, but remained gripped in his hand. His
eyes had become riveted upon a low hill far out across the valley. It
looked as though it rose sheer out of the forest below, but the watching
man knew full well that it was only a spur of the giant that backed it.
It was the summit of this clear-cut hill, and what was visible upon it,
that held his fascinated attention. Suddenly a half-whispered word
escaped him and Ralph was beside him in a moment.
"Look!" And Nick's arm was outstretched pointing.
And Ralph looked in time to see the ghostly form of the Hooded Man as it
slowly passed from view over the hill.
"The Hood!" exclaimed Ralph, in awestruck tones.
"Ay."
"What's--what's he doin' here?" Ralph asked, more of himself than of his
brother. Then he added: "He's on our trail."
There was a slight pause.
"It's somethin' on her account," Nick said, at last, with uneasy
conviction.
As if actuated by a common thought, both turned and looked back at the
hut. Nor was their uneasiness lessened when they beheld Aim-sa standing
directly behind them, gazing out across the woodland hollow with eyes
distended with a great fear. So absorbed was she that she did not
observe the men's scrutiny, and only was her attention drawn to them
when she heard Nick's voice addressing her. Then her lids drooped in
confusion and she hastily turned back to the house. But Nick was not to
be denied.
"Ye've seen him," he said sharply; "him wi' the hood?" And he made a
motion with his hand which described the stranger's headgear.
Aim-sa nodded, and Nick went on.
"We seen him up north. On the trail to the Moosefoot."
The woman again nodded. She quite understood now, and her eyes
brightened suddenly as she turned their dazzling depths of blue upon her
questioner. She understood these men as they little thought she
understood them.
"It is the Spirit--the Great Spirit," she said, in her broken speech.
"The Spirit of--Moosefoot Indian. Him watches Aim-sa--Queen of
Moosefoot. She--White Squaw."
Ralph turned away uneasily. These mysterious allusions troubled him.
Nick could not withdraw his fascinated gaze. Her strange eyes held him
captive.
They took her words without a doubt. They accepted all she said without
question. They never doubted her identity with the White Squaw.
Primitive superstition deeply moved them.
"You was scared when you see him just now?" said Ralph, questioningly.
Aim-sa nodded.
"He come to--take me," she said, halting over the words. "The
Moosefoot--they angry--Aim-sa stay away."
"Hah!"
Nick thrust his rifle out towards her.
"Here take it. It shoots good. When 'The Hood' comes, shoot--savvee?"
Aim-sa took the gun and turned back to the hut. And the men passed out
into the forest.
Aim-sa left the hut soon after the brothers had departed. For long she
stood just beyond the door as though not sure of what she contemplated
doing.
And as she stood her eyes travelled acutely over the silent valley. At
last, however, she moved leisurely down the hill. Her easy gait lasted
just so long as she was in the open; the moment she entered the forest
her indifference vanished and she raced along in the dark shadow with
all the speed she could summon. The silence, the heavy, depressing
atmosphere, the labyrinth of trees so dark and confusing; these things
were no deterrent to her. Her object was distinct in her mind and she
gave heed to nothing else. She ran on over the snow with the silent
movements of some ghostly spirit, and with a swiftness which told of the
Indian blood in her veins. Her dilating eyes flashed about her with the
searching gaze of one who expects to see something appear, while not
knowing whence it will come. Her flowing hair trailed from under her cap
with the speed of her going, and the biting air stung her face into a
brilliant glow. Her direction was plainly in her mind, for, though
dodging her way through trees, she never deviated from a certain course;
all her thoughts, all her attention, were centred upon the object of her
quest.
Nor did she pause till she came to the low hill which stood on the far
side of the valley. As she came to the edge of the forest which skirted
its base she drew up and stood for a moment hesitating. Once she raised
a hand to her mouth as though about to give voice to a prolonged
mountain call, but she desisted, and, instead, set out to round the
hill, always keeping to the shadow of the forest edge.
At length she stopped. Her hand went up to her mouth and her head was
thrown back, and out upon the still air rang a cry so mournful that even
the forest gloom was rendered more cheerless by its sound. High it rose,
soaring upwards through the trees until the valley rang with its
plaintive wail. As if recognizing the distressful howl of their kind,
the cry came back to her from the deep-toned throats of prowling
timber-wolves. The chorus rang in her ears from many directions as she
listened, but the sound? had little effect. As they died down she still
waited in an attitude of attention.
The moments slipped by. Presently she again sent the call hurtling
through the trees. Again came the chorus; again she waited. And the
sounds of the chorus were nearer at hand, and a crackling of undergrowth
warned her of the presence of the savage creatures she had summoned. The
deep blue eyes were alert and watchful, but she showed no signs of fear;
nor did she move. Suddenly a less stealthy and more certain crackling of
the bush made itself heard; and the roving eyes became fixed in one
direction. Beneath the shadow of the laden boughs a tall grey figure
appeared moving towards her. But this was not all, for several slinking,
stealing forms were moving about amongst the barren tree-trunks;
hungry-looking creatures these, with fierce burning eyes and small
pricked ears, with ribs almost bursting through the coarse hides which
covered their low, lank bodies.
But all the woman's attention was centred upon the form of the
other--the hooded figure she had seen in the morning. He came with long,
regular strides, a figure truly calculated to inspire awe. Even now,
near as he was to her, there was no sign of his face to be seen. He was
clad in the folds of grey wolfskin, and a cowl-like hood utterly
concealed his face, while leaving him free to see from within.
As the man came up Aim-sa plunged into voluble speech.
They talked together long and earnestly; their tones were of dictation
on the part of the woman and subservience on the part of the man. Then
the Spirit of the Moosefoot Indians moved away, and the White Squaw
retraced her steps to the dugout.
A look of triumph was in Aim-sa's blue eyes as she returned through the
forest. She gave no heed to the slinking forms that dogged her steps.
She saw nothing of the forest about her; all her interest was in the
dugout and those who lived there.
When she came to the house she received a shock. Nick had returned
during her absence. He had come for the dog sled, and had since brought
the vast carcass of a grizzly into camp. Now he was stripping the rich
fur from the forest king's body. The five huskies, with shivering bodies
and jowls dripping saliva, were squatting around upon their haunches
waiting for the meal they hoped would soon be theirs.
The man, still kneeling over his prize, greeted Aim-sa without pausing
in his work.
"Wher'?" he asked, sparing his words lest he should confuse her.
The unconcern of the query reassured her.
"The forest," replied Aim-sa easily, pointing away down the hill.
There was a long pause while the woodsman plied his knife with rough but
perfect skill. The thick fur rolled under his hands. The snick, snick of
his knife alternated with the sound of tearing as he pulled the pelt
from the under-flesh. Aim-sa watched, interested, then, as Nick made no
further remark, she went on. She pointed back at the forest.
"The wolves--they very thick. Many, many--an' hungry."
"They've left the open. Guess it's goin' to storm, sure," observed the
man indifferently. He wrenched the fur loose from the fore paws.
"Yes--it storm--sure." And Aim-sa gazed critically up at the sky. The
usual storm sentries hung glittering upon either side of the sun, and
the blue vault was particularly steely.
Nick rose from his gory task. He drew the fur away and spread it out on
the roof of the dugout to freeze. Then he cut some fresh meat from the
carcass, and afterwards dragged the remainder down the hill and left it
for the dogs. The squabble began as soon as he returned to Aim-sa. A
babel of fierce snarling and yapping proceeded as the ruthless beasts
tore at the still warm flesh. And in less than a minute other voices
came up from the woods, heralding the approach of some of the famished
forest creatures. Nick gave no heed. The dogs must defend their own.
Such is the law of the wild. He had Aim-sa to himself, and he knew not
how long it would be before his brother returned.
And Aim-sa was in no way loth to linger by this great trapper's side. It
pleased her to talk in her halting fashion to him. He had more to say
than his brother; he was a grand specimen of manhood. Besides, his
temperament was wilder, more fierce, more like the world in which he
lived.
She hearkened to the sounds of the snarling wolves and her blue eyes
darkened with the latent savagery that was in her nature.
"The dogs--they fight. Hah!" she said. And a smile of delight was in her
eyes.
"Let 'em fight," said Nick, carelessly. Then he turned upon her with a
look there was no mistaking. His whole attitude was expressive of
passionate earnestness as he looked down into the blue worlds which
confronted him.
She taunted him with a glance of intense meaning. And, in an instant,
the fire in his soul blazed into an overwhelming conflagration.
"You're that beautiful, Aim-sa," he cried. Then he paused as though his
feelings choked him. "Them blue eyes o' yours goes right clear through
me, I guess. Makes me mad. By Gar! you're the finest crittur in the
world."
He looked as though he would devour the fair form which had raised such
a storm within his simple heart. She returned his look with a
fearlessness which still had some power to check his untutored passion.
Her smile, too, was not wholly devoid of derision; but that was lost
upon him.
"Aim-sa--beautiful. Ah! yes--yes, I know. You speak love to me. You
speak love to White Squaw."
"Ay, love," cried Nick, the blood mounting with a rush to his strong
face. "Guess you don't know love, my girl. Not yet. But mebbe you will.
Say, Aim-sa, I'll teach it ye. I'll teach it ye real well, gal. You'll
be my squaw, an' we'll light right out o' here. I've got half share in
our pile, an' it ain't a little. Jest say right here as ye'll do it, an'
I'll fix things, an' hitch up the dogs."
Nick paused in his eloquence. The squaw's eyes danced with delight, and
he read the look to suit himself. Already he anticipated a favourable
answer. But he was quickly undeceived. Aim-sa merely revelled in the
passion she had aroused, like a mischievous child with a forbidden
plaything. She enjoyed it for a moment, then her face suddenly became
grave, and her eyelids drooped over the wonderful eyes which he thought
had told him so much. And her answer came with a shake of the head.
"Aim-sa loves not. She must not. The Moosefoot--she is Queen."
"Curses on the Moosefoot, I say," cried Nick, with passionate impulse.
Aim-sa put up her hand.
"The man--'The Hood.' Fear the Spirit."
A chill shot down through Nick's heart as he listened. But his passion
was only checked for the moment. The next and he seized the woman in his
powerful arms and drew her to his breast, and kissed her not too
unwilling lips. The kiss maddened him, and he held her tight, while he
sought her blindly, madly. He kissed her cheeks, her hair, her eyes, her
lips, and the touch of her warm flesh scorched his very soul. Nor is it
possible to say how long he would have held her had she not, by a
subtle, writhing movement, slipped from within his enfolding arms. Her
keen ears had caught a sound which did not come from the fighting dogs.
It was the penetrating forest cry in the brooding mountain calm.
"Remember--'The Hood,'" Aim-sa warned him. And the next moment had
vanished within the dugout.
Now Nick knew that he too had heard the cry, and he stood listening,
while his passion surged through his veins and his heart beat in mighty
pulsations. As he gazed over the forest waste, he expected to see the
mysterious hooded figure.
But what he beheld brought an angry flush to his cheeks. He did not see
"The Hood," but Ralph walking slowly up the hill.
And a harsh laugh which had no mirth in it broke from him. Then a frown
settled darkly upon his brow. What, he asked himself, had Ralph returned
for? He bore no burden of skins.
And when Ralph looked up and saw Nick whom he believed to be miles away,
his heart grew bitter within him. He read the look on the other's face.
He saw the anger, and a certain guiltiness of his own purpose made him
interpret it aright. And in a flash he resolved upon a scheme which, but
for what he saw, would never have presented itself to him.
And as the gleaming sun-dogs, drooping so heavily yet angrily in the
sky, heralded the coming storm of elements, so did that meeting of the
two brothers threaten the peace of the valley.