Reivers led the way to his tepee and bade Moir wait a moment by the
fire, while he spoke to Tillie. "Dress yourself and Neopa in your
newest," he commanded. "Then do you both come in to me, bringing food
for two men."
"What's wrong, sonny?" laughed Moir, seeing Reivers come under the door
flap alone. "Hast lost the whip over thy cattle?"
"They're getting some grub ready," replied Reivers fawningly. "They'll
be here in a minute. Let's have a drink out of that bottle, mister.
That's the stuff."
He tipped the bottle to his lips and lowered the burning liquor in a
fashion that made even Moir open his eyes in admiration.
"Takest a man-sized nip for a broken waster, sonny," he chuckled, and
measuring with his fingers on the bottle a drink larger than Reivers' he
tossed it gurgling down his hairy throat. Reivers took the bottle from
his hand.
"I always take an eye-opener before my real drink," said Reivers, and,
measuring off twice the amount that Moir had taken, he drank it off like
so much water.
The fiercest liquor made was to Reivers only a mild stimulant. On his
abnormal organisation it merely had the effect of intensifying his
characteristics. When he wished to drink whisky he drank--out of
full-sized water tumblers. When he did not wish to drink he put liquor
from him with contempt. Now he handed the bottle back to Moir. The
latter looked at him and at the bottle, a trifle puzzled but not
dismayed. Reivers had apparently unconsciously passed the challenge to
him, and it was not in his nature to play second to any man in a
drinking bout.
"Shouldst have taken all thee wanted that time, sonny," said Moir, and
finished the bottle.
"No more?" muttered Reivers vacantly.
"Gallons!" replied Moir. "Whisky enough to drown you dead--if your women
satisfy."
"Look at them," said Reivers as the door-flap was flung back. "Here they
are."
Tillie came in first. She was dressed in white buckskin, her hair
hanging in two thick braids down her shoulders. Neopa followed, and the
wistfulness that had come into her face from thinking of Nawa made her
the more interesting in Shanty Moir's eyes.
A glance from Neopa's fawn-like eyes at the big man whom Reivers had
brought home with him, and then her eyes sought the ground and she
trembled. Tillie looked at Moir with interest. Save for the Snow-Burner,
she had never seen so masterful a man. She looked at Reivers and saw
that he was not watching her. So she smiled upon Moir slyly. She was the
Snow-Burner's slave; his will was her law. But since he refused to
notice her smiles it would do no harm to smile upon a man like this Iron
Hair--just a little, when the Snow-Burner was not looking.
Moir read the smile wrong and spoke sharply to Reivers.
"Take the young one outside for two minutes. I've a word to say to this
one."
To his surprise Reivers rose without demur, thrust Neopa out before him,
and dropped the flap.
"Listen," whispered Moir swiftly in her own tongue to Tillie, "we will
put his man out of the way. It is easily done. Then you will go with me,
you and the young one, and you will be first in my tepee and the young
one your slave. Speak quickly. We will be on the trail in an hour."
Still smiling invitingly, Tillie shook her head.
"The Snow-Burner is the master," she said seriously. "I will slay the
man who does him harm. I can not do what he does not wish. I can not go
away from him."
"But when he is dead, fool, he can have no wish."
The smile went from Tillie's full lips and she took a step toward the
opening.
"Stop," laughed Moir softly. "I merely wished to know if you are a true
woman. All right, old sonny!" he called. "Come on in."
"I takest off cap to you, lad," he continued as Reivers and Neopa
re-entered. "Hast got thy squaws fair buffaloed." His eyes ran over the
shrinking Neopa in cruel appraisal. "Now, old sonny, out with it. What's
thy idea of tuh bargain?"
Reivers looked longingly toward the empty whisky bottle.
"Said enough," laughed Moir. "Shall have all tuh hooch thy guts can
hold."
Reivers shook his head, a sly grin appearing on his lips.
"Hooch is good," said he, "but gold is better."
"Go on," said Moir sullenly.
"You've got gold," continued Reivers. "I saw it. You've got lots of
gold; I've heard them talk about you down at Raftery's. You want us to
go with you when you go back to your camp, don't you?"
Moir nodded angrily.
"I want the women," he said brutally. "I might be able to use you, too."
Reivers cackled and rubbed his hands.
"You've got to use me if you're going to have the women," he chuckled.
"You know that by this time, don't you, mister?"
Again Moir's black head nodded in grudging assent.
"What then?" he demanded.
"I'm a handy man around a camp, mister," whined Reivers. "You got to
take me along if you take the women, but I can be a help----"
"Canst cook?" snapped Moir suddenly.
"Heh, heh! Can I cook?" Reivers rubbed his hands. "I'm an old--I used to
be an old sour-dough, mister. Did you ever see one of the old-timers who
couldn't cook?"
"Might use thee then," said Moir. "My fool of a cook has gone. Sent him
after a woman for me, and he hasn't come back. Happen he got himself
killed, tuh fool. Wilt kill him myself if he ever shows up without tuh
woman. Well, then, if that's settled--what's tuh bargain?"
Reivers appeared to struggle with indecision. In reality the situation
was very clear to him. Moir had listed him as a weakling; therefore he
had no fear of taking him to the mine. Once there, Moir would be
confident of winning the loyalty of the two women from their apparently
helpless master. And as it was apparent that the man whom Reivers had
slain with a rock had been Moir's cook, it was probable that he was
sincere in his offer to use Reivers in that capacity.
"In the Spring," said Reivers in reply to Moir's question, "me and my
two kids go north again, back among their own people."
"In the Spring," growled Moir, "canst go to ---- for all of me. I'll be
travelling then myself. Speak out, sonny. How much?"
"Plenty of hooch for me all Winter," Reivers leered with drunken
cunning.
"I said plenty," retorted Moir. "What else?"
"Gold," said Reivers, rubbing his hands. "Gold enough to buy me hooch
for all next Summer."
Moir smiled at the miserable request of the man he was dealing with. His
eyes ran over the plump Tillie, over Neopa, the supple child-woman.
"Done," he laughed. "And now, old son, break up thy camp while I load my
sledge with hooch. Be ready to travel when I come back. I'll bring
plenty of liquor, but none to be drinked till we're on the trail. Wilt
travel fast and far to-night, I warn thee. But willst have a snug berth
in my camp when we get there. Yes," he laughed as he hurried out, "wilt
not be able to tear thyself away."