TO THE DEATH
The forest gloom is broken by gladdening beams of sunlight. They sketch
a mazy fretwork pattern of light and shade on the dank underlay of
rotting vegetation which the melting snow has laid bare. The air is
weighted down with heavy, resinous odours, and an enervating warmth has
descended to the depths of the lower forests. But Winter has not yet
spread its wings for its last flight. Spring's approach has been
heralded by its feathered trumpeters, garbed in their sober plumage. It
is on its way, that is all. The transition of the seasons is at hand.
Winter still resists, and the gentle legions of Spring have yet to fight
out their annual battle. The forests are astir with wild, furred life;
the fierce life which emphasizes the solitude of the mountain world. The
pine-cones scrunch under the feet of the prowling beast as he moves
solemnly upon his dread way; there is a swish of bush or a snapping of
wood as some startled animal seeks cover; or a heavy crashing of
branches, as the mighty-antlered moose, solemn-eyed, unheeding, thrusts
himself through the undergrowth.
Ralph was bending over a large trap. It was still set although the bait
had been removed. It had been set at the mouth of a narrow track where
it opened out in a small, snow-covered clearing. The blood stains of the
raw meat with which it had been baited were still moist, but the flesh
itself had been taken. He turned from his inspection. There were
footprints in the snow, evidently the tracks of a timber-wolf. His face
expressed his disgust as he rebaited the trap. Wolves were the pest of
his life. Their skins were almost worthless, and they were as cunning as
any dog-fox. A trap had no terrors for them. He moved away to continue
on his journey. Suddenly he drew up and scanned the white carpet. His
trailing instincts were keenly alert.
The snow was disturbed by other marks than those made by the wolf. In
places the ground was laid bare, and broken pine-cones were displayed
upon its surface as though some great weight had crushed them. Moose
suggested itself. He looked keenly at the marks. No, the snow displayed
no imprint of cloven hoofs. It looked as though it had been raked by a
close-set harrow. To him there was much significance in what he saw.
Only one creature could have left such a track. There was but one animal
in that forest world that moved with shambling gait, and whose paws
could rake the snow in such a manner. That animal was the grizzly, the
monarch of the mountain forest.
The man looked further over the snow, and, in a few moments, had learned
all he wished to know. There were two distinct trails, one approaching,
the other departing. But there was a curious difference between them.
The approach had evidently been at a slovenly, ambling pace. The raking
of the trailing feet showed this. But the departing track displayed
every sign of great haste. The snow had been flurried to an extent that
had obliterated all semblance of footprints.
Ralph unslung his rifle. Ahead of him was the track, ahead of him also
was a further break in the forest where the sun shone down with dazzling
brilliancy. He passed on and looked up at the perfect sky. Then he took
the direction of the track. It struck out for the northeast.
"I wonder if Nick's lit on it," he muttered. "It 'ud be his luck,
anyway."
He further examined the tracks, and the whiteness of the snow warned him
they were quite fresh.
"Ain't been made more'n an hour," he added, in further soliloquy.
"Guess, I'll trail him."
And he set off hot-foot through the forest.
The trail was well marked, and he followed it with ease. And as he moved
slowly on his mind had much leisure from his task. The direction the
bear had taken was towards the country over which Nick was working. Also
Ralph could not help recollecting that the northeast was the direction
in which lay the Moosefoot camp. True there were many miles of wild
country between him and the Indians, but the knowledge of the direction
he was taking quickly turned his thoughts into other channels, and his
quarry no longer solely occupied his mind. His eyes followed the trail,
his thoughts went on miles ahead.
It was three days since Nick had first told Ralph of his meeting with
Aim-sa. And ever since the latter had sought her himself, but his search
had been in vain. And each of those three days Nick had returned to camp
happy and smiling in a manner which maddened his brother. Now he thought
of these things. He told himself, with warped reasoning, that Nick had
gone behind his back, that he had taken undue advantage in his winning
of Aim-sa's regard. He forgot, or admitted not, his own doings, his own
secret meeting with her on the night of her flight from the dugout.
Such was his mood as he traversed the forest paths. Through dell and
brake; through endless twilight maze of black tree-trunks; over
moss-grown patches, and roots and stumps reeking with the growth of rank
fungus. But his eyes never lost the indications of his quarry, and at
intervals he paused listening for some sound which should tell him of
the beast's proximity.
A frozen creek crossed his way. The surface was covered with the watery
slush of melting snow, and great cracks ran in many directions through
the ice.
He crossed it and the forest closed about him again. The beast he was
trailing had paused here, had moved roundabout as though seeking the
direction he required. Ralph followed the creature's movements,
understanding with the acuteness of his forest breeding.
Suddenly he started and a half-stifled cry broke from him. He dashed
forward to a point where the snow had drifted and was now disturbed. He
halted, and looked down. Other footprints mingled with those of the
bear. They were small, and had been made by moccasin-shod feet. He had
seen such footprints before. He knew the owner of the feet which had
made these imprints. Aim-sa's were such as these--Aim-sa's!
His eyes took in every detail slowly, fondly. Where was she now? He must
follow. Then he remembered. Something else was following, not him, but
her. He straightened himself up, and a muttered exclamation broke from
his lips. Now he understood. Away there, back in the distant woods, the
bear must have scented the woman's presence and was tracking her down.
She had gone on through the forest, unknowing of the danger that lurked
behind her, which was hard upon her trail.
Forgetful of Nick, forgetful of all else, Ralph pursued the double
trail. Danger threatened the woman he loved, for aught he knew had
already overtaken her. To his credit be it said, that, as he raced over
the sodden carpet of the forest, not one selfish thought possessed him.
Aim-sa was in danger, and so he went headlong to the rescue. His quiet
eyes were lit with a fiery determination such as one might have expected
in the eyes of Nick, but not in those of Ralph. His soul was afire with
anxiety. Aim-sa was an expert in forest-craft, but she was a woman. So
he hasted.
The world about him might have been bathed in the blackness of night for
all he heeded it; only the track of footsteps stood out to his gaze like
a trail of fire. His speed was great; nor was he conscious how great. He
no longer walked, but ran, and thought nothing of distance, nor the
passing of time. The trail of pursuer and pursued still lit, red-hot,
before him, and the cry of his heart still rang out--On! On!
It was noon when his speed slackened. Nor was it weariness that checked
him. Once in the echoing wood he had heard the distant sound of breaking
undergrowth. The prospect about him had changed. The forest had become a
tangled maze of low-growing shrub, dotted with giant growths of maple,
spruce, and blue-gum. It was a wider, deeper hollow than any hitherto
passed, and the air was warmer. It was the valley of a wide,
swift-flowing river.
The declivity was abrupt, and the rush of the river, too swift to
succumb to the grip of winter, sounded faintly up from below. Suddenly
he halted listening, and the sound of breaking undergrowth came to him
again and again; he waited for the cry of the human, but it did not
come. With beating heart he hurried on, his mind was easier and his
thoughts centred upon the killing of the grizzly. His rifle was ready to
hand and he looked for a sight of the dark fur through the bush ahead.
Now his movements became almost Indian-like in their stealth. Bending
low to avoid the rustling branches, he crept on, silently and swiftly.
He no longer followed the tracks. He had turned off, meaning to come up
with his quarry against the wind. At every opening in the bush he
paused, his keen eyes alert for a sign of his prey. But the leafless
branches of the scrub, faintly tinged with the signs of coming spring,
alone confronted him; only that, and the noise of breaking brushwood
ahead.
It quickly became plain to him that the bear was no longer advancing,
but was moving about uncertainly; and as he realized this, his heart was
gripped with a terrible fear. Had the brute come up with his prey? Had
the tragedy been played out? He dashed forward, throwing all caution to
the winds; but ere he had gone fifty yards he came to a halt, like one
paralyzed.
His eyes, which had been peering ever ahead, had suddenly dropped to the
ground. It seemed as though they could no longer face that which they
looked upon. For a moment his face worked as might that of a man in
great pain. Then its expression changed and a flush mounted to his brow;
a flush of indescribable rage. Again his eyes were raised and a devilish
look peered out from them.
An opening not two acres in extent lay before him. In its midst was a
blackened tree-trunk, limbless, riven; a forest giant blasted by some
mountain storm. Nick was standing beside it; his gun rested against its
blackened sides, and, upon a fallen bough, scarcely a yard away, Aim-sa
was seated. They were in deep converse, and Ralph was near enough to
hear the sound of their voices, but not to distinguish their words. As
he strained his tingling ears to catch the tenor of their speech, he
could hear the movements of the bear in the adjacent woods.
The two in the open seemed all unconscious of what was going on so near
them. Nick was gazing upon the woman, his heart laid bare in his eyes.
And Aim-sa was smiling up into his face with all the arch coquetry of
her sex, with that simple, trusting look which, however guileful, must
ever appeal to the strong man.
For awhile Ralph looked on. The exquisite torture of his heart racked
him, but he did not turn away to shut out the sight. Rather it seemed as
if he preferred to thus harass himself. It was the working of his own
angry passion which held him, feeding itself, fostering, nursing itself,
and goading him to fury.
Suddenly the sound of movement close at hand broke the spell which held
him. He looked, and saw the bear less than twenty yards off.
He gripped his rifle, and his first thought was to slay. It was the
hunter's instinct which rose within him. But something held him, and his
weapon did not move from his side; somewhere in his heart a harsh voice
whispered to him, and he listened to words of evil counsel. Then a
revulsion of feeling swept over him, and he shook himself as though to
get rid of something which clung about him and oppressed him. But the
moment passed, leaving him undecided, his brain maddened with bitter
thoughts.
The dark form in the bush beyond moved. There came no sound, and the
waiting man wondered if his eyes deceived him. No cat could have moved
more silently upon its prey. Not a twig creaked. It moved on stealthily,
inexorably, till it paused at the edge of the opening.
Ralph's eyes turned upon the dead tree. Nick's back was turned, and
Aim-sa was intent upon her companion. She seemed to be hanging upon his
every word. And Ralph's heart grew harder within him. His hand held his
rifle in a nervous clutch and his finger-nails scored the stock. A shout
from him would avert disaster; a shot would arrest that terrible
advance. But the shout remained unborn; the trigger still waited the
compressing hand. And the unconscious brother stood with death stealing
upon him from beyond the fringe of the woods.
Solemnly the great grizzly advanced. Once in the open he made no pause.
The lumbering beast looked so clumsy that the inexperienced might have
been forgiven a smile of ridicule. Its ears twitched backward and
forward, its head lolled to its gait, and though its eyes shone with a
baleful ferocity they seemed to gaze anywhere but at its intended
victims.
Ralph stood watching, with lips compressed and jaws set, and a cruel
frown darkening his brow. But his heart was beating in mighty
pulsations, and somewhere within him a conflict was raging, in which
Evil had attacked in overwhelming force, and Good was being beaten back.
Within ten yards of the tree the bear halted and reared itself upon its
haunches. Thus for a moment it towered in terrible menace.
It was the last chance. Ralph's lips moved as though to shout, but only
a low muttered curse came from them. Suddenly the air was split with a
piercing scream. Aim-sa stood erect, one arm was outstretched pointing,
the other rested against the tree as though she would steady herself.
Her eyes were staring in terror at the huge brute as it came towards
them.
Nick swung round. He was too late. There was no time to reach his rifle.
His right hand plunged at his belt, and he drew a long hunting-knife
from its sheath, and thrust himself, a shield, before Aim-sa.
The cry smote the savage heart of Ralph, smote it with the sear of
white-hot iron. A wave of horror passed over him. It was not of his
brother he thought, but of the woman he loved. Nick's death would only
be the forerunner of hers. In a flash his rifle sprang to his shoulder.
A second passed while his keen eyes ran over the sights, the compressing
hand was upon the trigger. A puff of smoke. A sharp report. The grizzly
swung round with a lurch. He had not stopped, he merely changed the
direction of his steps and came straight for the forest where Ralph
stood.
But the magnificent brute only took a few strides. Ralph went out to
meet him, but, ere he came up, the creature tottered. Then, reeling, it
dropped upon all fours, only, the next instant, to roll over upon its
side, dead.
Ralph gave one glance at the body of the great bear; the next moment its
presence was forgotten. He passed on, and confronted those whom he had
unwillingly rescued. The depression of his brows, and the glint of his
eyes and merciless set of his jaws, all gave warning of a danger that
dwarfed to insignificance that which had just passed.
"I 'lows I hadn't reckoned to find you wi' company," Ralph said,
addressing his brother with a quietness that ill-concealed the storm
underlying his words. "Mebbe I didn't calc'late to find you, anyway."
There was no mistaking the challenge in his look. Nick saw it. His
impetuous temper rose in response. The bear was forgotten. Neither
alluded to it. The two men faced each other with the concentrated
jealous hatred of weeks' growth uppermost in their hearts.
"Wal, I guess y've found me. What then?"
Nick squared himself, and his expression was as relentless as that of
the older man.
Ralph paid no heed to the taunting inquiry. He looked over at Aim-sa,
who had shrunk away. Now she answered his look with one that was
half-pleading, half-amused. She realized the feud which was between the
men, but she did not understand the rugged, forceful natures which she
had so stirred.
"Say, gal," Ralph said abruptly. "Ther's jest us two. Ye gave yourself
to me that night, maybe you've give yourself to him since. Which is it,
him or me? Ye'll choose right here. Choose!"
Nick turned and looked at her with strained, anxious eyes. Ralph's face
belied his outward calm.
"An' what if Aim-sa loves neither?" the woman asked, with a laugh in
which there was no mirth, and some fear.
"Then she's lied."
Ralph's teeth shut with a snap.
Aim-sa looked from one to the other. She was beginning to understand,
and with understanding came a great dread. She longed to flee, but knew
that to do so would be impossible.
"Aim-sa loves both," she said at last.
There was a long, deathly silence. The brooding solitude of the wild was
never more pronounced than at that moment.
Then Ralph looked into the face of his brother, and Nick returned his
gaze.
"You hear?" said Ralph. "She is an Injun, I guess, an' don't know no
better. Maybe we'd best settle it for her."
"That's so."
Ralph threw off his buckskin shirt. Nick removed his heavy clothing.
"Stand aside, woman," said Ralph. "Ye'll wait by, an' your man'll claim
ye."
"Knives?" said Nick, through his clenched teeth.
"Knives."
And then again silence reigned.