In the big tepee Reivers rolled on his blankets and cursed himself for
his weakness. What had happened to him? Was he getting to be like other
men, that he would let the memory of an impudent, red-haired girl
interfere with his plans or pleasures? Had he not sworn to forget? And
yet here came the memory of her--the wide grey eyes, the suffering mouth,
the purity of the look of her--rising before his eyes like a vision to
shame him.
To shame him! To shame the Snow-Burner! He understood the significance
of the look she had given him, and which had stood between him and
Tillie. Womanhood, pure, noble womanhood, was appealing to his better
self.
His better self! Reivers laughed a laugh so ghastly that it might have
come from a bare skull. His better self! If a man believed in things
like that he had to believe in the human race--had to believe in goodness
and badness, virtue and sin, right and wrong, and all that silly,
effeminate rot. Reivers didn't believe in that stuff. He knew only one
life-law, that of strength over weakness, and that was the law he would
live and die with, and Miss Hattie MacGregor could not interfere.
With his terrible will-power he erased the memory of her from his mind.
He did not erase the resentment at his own weakness. On the contrary,
the resentment grew. He would revenge himself for that moment of
weakness.
There were two ways of finding Moir and the mysterious mine. One--the way
he had first planned to follow--was to scatter his Indians, and as many
others as he could bribe with caribou meat, over the country lying to
the south of Fifty Mile, where he knew the mine must be. Moir, or his
men, must show themselves sooner or later. In time the Indians would
find Moir's camp.
But there was also a shorter and surer way--a shameful way. Moir, by the
talk he had heard of him, came to Fifty Mile and Dumont's Camp for such
whisky and feminine company as might be found. He had even sent one of
his henchmen to steal Hattie MacGregor. Such a move proved that Moir was
desperate, and by this time, by the non-appearance of the
would-be-kidnapper, the chief would know that his man was either killed
or captured, and that no hope for a woman lay in that quarter. Moir's
next move would be to come to Fifty Mile and Dumont's, or to send a man
there, to procure the means of salving his disappointment. And Reivers
had two attractive women at his disposal, Tillie, and the young girl who
was nearly beautiful. Thus did Reivers overcome his momentary weakness.
The black shamefulness of his scheme he laughed at. Then he went to
sleep.
He gave his orders to Tillie early next morning.
"Have this tepee and another one loaded on one sledge," he directed.
"Have a second sledge loaded with caribou meat. Do you and the young
girl prepare to come with me. We are going on a long journey. You will
both take your brightest clothes."
He waited with set jaws while his orders were obeyed. No weakness any
more. There was only one law, the strong over the weak, and he was the
strong one.
A call from Tillie apprised him that all was ready, and he strode forth
to find Nawa, the young hunter, waiting with the two women ready for the
trail.
"How so?" he demanded. "Did I say aught about Nawa?"
"Oh, Snow-Burner," whispered Tillie, "Neopa is to be Nawa's squaw with
the coming of Spring. They wish to go together."
"And I do not wish them to go together," said Reivers harshly. "Give me
that rifle." He took the weapon from Nawa's hands. "Do you stay here and
eat caribou meat and grow fat against the coming of Spring, Nawa."
"Snow-Burner," said Nawa, a flash of will lighting his eyes for the
moment, "does Neopa come back to me?"
"Perhaps," said Reivers, cocking the rifle. "But if you try to follow
you will never come back. Is it understood?"
Nawa bowed his head and turned away. Neopa made as if to run to him, but
Reivers caught her brutally and threw her upon the lead sledge. He had
resolved to travel the way of shame, no matter what the cost to others.
"Mush! Get on!" he roared at the dogs, and with the rifle ready and with
a backward glance at Nawa, he drove away for Fifty Mile and Dumont's
Camp.