At noon next day the little _Aurora Borealis_ was reclining drunkenly
on a shoal in the river at the foot of Caliper island, sixty miles above
the Landing, and fifteen below the Warehouse. This had been the place of
Captain Jack's gloomy forebodings all the way up. The river spread wide,
shallow and swift on either side the island, and neither one channel nor
the other would permit their ascent. The _Aurora_ was having a little
breathing space on the shoal, while Captain Jack and St. Paul, the big
half-breed pilot, debated below on what to do.
The three passengers looked on from the upper deck. Natalie and Garth
tacitly ignored any change in their relation to-day; and no reference
was made to Natalie's story. They seemed, if anything, more friendly
with each other; nevertheless Constraint, like a spectre standing
between them, intercepted all their communications.
The third passenger was a half-breed woman nearing middle age, clad in a
decent black print dress, and a black straw hat, under the brim of which
depended a circlet of attenuated, grizzled curls. Her face, like that
of all the natives in the presence of whites, expressed a blank, in her
case a mysterious blank. She was silent and ubiquitous; whichever way
they looked, there she was. Captain Jack had mentioned to Garth that
her name was Mary Co-que-wasa. The off-hand shrug that accompanied the
information, between men, was significant. Garth resented it; and his
sympathies were enlisted. He had made several efforts to talk to the
woman, only to be received with a stupid shake of the head. He thought
she could not speak English. Natalie, more keenly intuitive, took an
active dislike to her. "I'm sure she listens to us," she had said.
Meanwhile, preparations were undertaken to hoist the _Aurora Borealis_
by main strength up the rapids. The "skiff," as they whimsically
termed the steamboat's great, clumsy tender--its official name of
"_sturgeon-head_" was more descriptive--was brought alongside; and a
half-mile of hawser, more or less, patiently coiled in the bottom. The
end of this rope was made fast on board the steamer, and the skiff,
pushing off, was poled and tracked up the rapids with heart-breaking
labour, paying out the hawser over her stern as she went. The other end
of the rope was made fast to a great tree on the shore above, and, the
skiff returning, the inboard end was turned about the capstan. Steam
was then turned on, and with a great to-do of puffing and clanking, the
_Aurora_ started to haul herself up hand over hand, as one might say.
Alas! she had no sooner raised her head than the hawser parted in the
middle with a report like a small cannon, and she settled dejectedly
back on the shoal.
Captain Jack refreshed himself with a pull at the Spring Tonic bottle;
and started all over. A newer piece of hawser was produced, and the
skiff despatched once more on its laborious errand. The loose end was
finally picked up and knotted, and the capstan started again. But no
better success followed, as soon as the full strain came upon it, the
rope burst asunder in a new place. After this they went around the other
side of the island and tried there. Each attempt consumed an hour or
more, but time is nothing in the North.
At five o'clock, after the failure of the fourth attempt, Captain Jack
threw up his hands, and turned the _Aurora's_ nose down-stream. The
little boat, which had sulked and hung back in the rapids all day,
picked up her heels, and hustled down with the current, like a wilful
child that obtains its own way at last.
Garth, in dismay, hastened to Captain Jack.
"Where are we going?" he demanded.
Captain Jack cocked an eye, and said with his air of gloomy fatalism:
"The Landing's the only place for me."
Garth became hot under the collar, as he always did in dealing with the
pessimistic skipper. "But we're only fifteen miles from the Warehouse!"
he cried.
"Might as well be fifteen hundred," said Captain Jack, "for all I can
get you there."
"Is there no house anywhere near?"
The skipper looked at him with gloomy scorn. "Say, do you think you're
in a rural neighbourhood?" he inquired.
"I asked you a question," Garth repeated. "Is there any one living near
here?"
Captain Jack shrugged. "Sometimes there's breeds at Bear Portage below,"
he said. "But not in the summer."
"Is there no road?"
"Not what _you'd_ call a road. How would you carry your outfit?"
This was a poser, Garth could not deny. "Where are the breeds in the
summer?" he demanded.
Captain Jack flung up his hands. "God knows!" he said. "Pitching
somewheres about between the East and the West!"
Garth set his jaw. "Well, there's some way of reaching the Warehouse,"
he said, "and I'm going to find it. You stop at Bear Portage, as you
call it, and I'll see what I can do."
"Sure!" said Captain Jack hopelessly. "As long as you like--But you'll
never make it!" he added with an atrabilious eye. "Never in God's world!
You better take my advice and get out of the country while you can!"
Garth turned on his heel, and Captain Jack revisited his stateroom for
consolation. Here, two shelves at the foot of his berth contained his
pharmaceutical stock in ancient, torn and fly-specked wrappers. He
bought every new variety of remedy he heard of with the ardour of a
collector. One of his most serious occupations was to lie in bed in
the morning, making up his mind what to begin the day on. Endless and
ingenious were the combinations he made.
They tied up at Bear Portage and had supper. Afterward, three breed boys
with their scent for happenings in the bush, as unerring and mysterious
as the buzzard's scent for carrion, turned up from nowhere, and at the
same time a fourth came nosing under the bank in a crazy dugout filled
with grass. So soft was the arrival of the last that Garth was not aware
of it, until he happened to catch sight of Mary Co-que-wasa deep in a
whispered consultation with the paddler. Finding Garth's eyes upon her,
Mary, with a hasty word to the boy, embarked, and the canoe's nose was
turned up-stream. As a possible means of transport later, Garth called
after the boy; but he only paddled the faster. The incident caused Garth
a vague uneasiness.
In the other three he found a means, such as it was, of extricating them
from their dilemma. He learned through St. Paul, who interpreted, that
there was a camp of Indians engaged in cutting wild hay, seven miles
off, and that a wagon and team could be got there next morning, to carry
them and their goods to the Warehouse. At the mention of seven miles,
Garth looked dubiously at Natalie, but she stoutly averred her ability
to do it twice if necessary, and since nothing better offered, Garth
hired the boys to show the way and carry the baggage.
The _Aurora Borealis_ presently backed off, and blithely kicking up the
water astern, disappeared down the river. Her going out severed their
last bond with the world of civilization and henceforth they must fend
for themselves in the wilderness. Natalie looked around at the grim,
empty woods, and at the strange, alien boys who were to conduct them;
and instinctively put out her hand to Garth.
The eldest and smartest of the breeds was a beady-eyed youth answering
to the name of Pake. When the _Aurora_ passed out of sight his demeanour
changed. It was not that he became openly insolent, but what was harder
for Garth to deal with, he was blandly and blankly indifferent to the
whites. Garth inwardly fumed, and there was a heavy weight of anxiety,
too, for Natalie. Pake constructed packing harness out of rope, and
divided all their goods into five lots, of which four were of about
equal weight, and the fifth lighter. This one Garth supposed was for
Natalie, though he thought it too heavy, but to his astonishment he
learned Pake intended the light pack for himself, and one of the others
for Natalie. Upon Garth's vigorous objections, Pake coolly added the
greater part of Natalie's load to Garth's.
Hampered as he was by his augmented pack, Garth still managed to carry
his rifle across his arm. And yet St. Paul, who interpreted for him, had
assured him these were good boys and would treat him well. St. Paul was
right, when Garth had been in the country longer he learned this was
simply the breed way. Only superior, or at least equal, numbers will
impress them, and then they are obsequious enough in good sooth.
Whatever Natalie thought of their situation, she put on a bold air. As
they started Indian file, under the great trees in the gathering dusk,
the three swarthy youths in advance bowed under their packs: "Look!"
she cried. "Isn't it like the frontispiece to a book of adventure!"
The breeds inherit from the red side of the house a shuffling half-trot,
produced with steady shoulders and rolling hips, that is a good deal
faster than it looks. Natalie with her tiny bundle had much ado to keep
up, and Garth under his, plodded doggedly behind, with breaking neck and
shoulders. The breeds, careless of their fate, never once looked behind.
Garth had to keep them in sight, or instantly lose the faint trail in
the darkness.
After several miles of this, without warning, the breeds simultaneously
cast their packs on the ground, and took a rest. Every move these strange
creatures made was unexpected. Garth laboriously ridding himself of his
burden, proceeded to read them a severe lecture on the necessity of
accommodating their pace to the lady's for the rest of the way. It
was received with stolid, uncomprehending stares.
Among themselves they gossiped freely enough, and from the frequent
recurrence of the word _moon-i-yas_, Garth knew that he and Natalie were
the subject of it all. The discomforting thought did not fail to suggest
itself that they might be hatching a plot in the very presence of their
intended victims. Their outfit, Garth reflected, must seem a very
fortune to the ragged breeds. He watched them closely.
Presently they set off again as fast as ever, whereupon Garth did as he
should have done at first, lost his temper, and swore at them roundly.
Pake looked around with a gleam of awakened intelligence, and slackened
his pace. After a brief consultation, Pake and another set off in
advance with their share of the goods, leaving the third boy to guide
the feebler steps of the two _moon-i-yas_. Garth wondered if they would
ever see Pake and the boxes again.
It was a long seven miles; and absolute darkness clothed the lofty
aisles of the pine trees long before they finished passing through;
and beyond there were interminable, misty meadows of wild grass to be
crossed. Garth could no longer distinguish any sign of a trail; but the
breed bent steadily ahead. Once or twice an owl whirred suddenly low
over their heads; and somewhere far off a loon guffawed insanely. In
the end their guide, to cheer his own soul, lifted up his voice in the
strident, unearthly chant of the Crees; and it only needed this to add
the last touch of unreality to their eerie journey. They began to feel
like spirits after death, hurried in the darkness they knew not whither.
At last a bright light flared suddenly across the hay marsh; and from
their guide's joyful exclamation, they gathered that it marked the end
of their journey. Fire was something human and known; and amazingly
cheering. They covered the last lap at a brisk pace.
Five tepees, faintly phosphorescent with interior fires, stood in a line
where the pine trees bounded the hay marsh. Garth's mind was relieved to
find Pake waiting with the balance of the outfit intact. The fire they
had seen was from an armful of brush lighted for a beacon to guide
them. The people were all within. The three breed boys dived into the
principal tepee without ceremony, leaving Garth and Natalie standing
rather foolishly outside. They were evidently expected to follow; for
presently a head was stuck inquiringly outside; and what they took
for an invitation to enter was delivered in Cree.
"Let us go in," whispered Natalie. "I'm crazy to see what it's like!"
Without more ado, she lifted the flap which covered the entrance, and
crawled, blinking, into the light, Garth close at her heels.
A fire was built on the ground in the centre of the tepee; and the
smoke, filling the apex, finally found itself out at the top. Around
the fire was grouped a motley, gipsy crew of all ages; the elders in the
place of honour above the fire; the children by the door. The firelight
threw their copper-coloured faces into strong relief; each wore an
expression of stolid expectation. Stolidity is the pet affectation
of the breed; at heart he is as garrulous as an ape. Like mongrels
generally, their manners were bad; a grunt served for welcome, and
places were coolly pointed out where they should sit.
With that the guests were forthwith yielded up to discussion, while the
whole circle stared at them as if they were vegetables. In especial, the
children sitting across the fire, transfixed them with eyes, under each
mop of raven hair, as hard, bright and unwinking as the eyes of little
birds of prey. Young Pake sat at the right hand of the principal man--a
personage in frayed overalls and cotton shirt, with a scarlet handkerchief
about his temples--and called attention to the points of the two
_moon-i-yas_ like their showman. After all the elders had partaken of
tea, somebody recollected to thrust the battered pot at Garth and Natalie,
with two more than doubtful tin cups. They declined to partake.
Garth was fuming. "Let's get out," he whispered.
"Just a minute," Natalie begged, with bright eyes. "Never mind their
manners. It's all so strange and different!"
Presently the preparations for retiring, which their arrival had
probably interrupted, were resumed. Hideously dirty and torn comforters
with protruding cotton filling, were spread on the ground; and
individuals began to roll up, feet to the fire. A woman indicated a
place for Garth and Natalie, side by side. When her meaning became
clear, they elaborately avoided each other's eyes, and Natalie beat
a hasty retreat outside. She never again expressed a wish to enter a
tepee. Garth, blushing to the roots of his hair, explained that they
preferred to sleep outside. The breeds let them go, with a shrug for
the queer ways of the _moon-i-yas_.
Garth pitched the little tent he had for Natalie under the pine trees
at a short distance, and spread her bed on balsam boughs inside, with
tender hands. Natalie had suddenly half collapsed like a sleepy child.
She disappeared with a murmured good night, and was heard of no more
until morning. Garth spread his own bed under the stars, athwart the
door of the tent. He remembered, before turning in, that they lacked
water, and returned to the tepee to ask where it was to be procured. As
he entered the second time, his attention was arrested by the sound of
Mary Co-que-wasa's name on Pake's lips.
"Who is Mary Co-que-wasa?" he asked, recollecting his previous
uneasiness.
It appeared they could understand English well enough when they had a
mind to. The women visibly bridled, as women white or red will do,
when an erring ewe of the flock is mentioned in company.
"Mary Co-que-wasa--one--bad--woman," said one, with the toneless
enunciation of a parrot.
Another volunteered further information in Cree, in which the names
of Mary and Nick Grylls were coupled.
"What's that?" demanded the startled Garth.
"Mary Co-que-wasa--Nick Grylls's--woman," said his first informant.
That was all he could get out of them. It did not conduce to the ease
of his first bed in the wilderness.
* * * * *
In the morning Natalie issued forth radiant; and Garth marvelled afresh
at the vision of urban perfection she made in the wilderness. He was
blowing the fire at the time; a typical tenderfoot's fire, all tinder
and no fuel, at which the breeds grinned askance. He soon learned
better. The breeds haunted their camp, enjoying their struggles with
that superior, insulting grin. Natalie, rolling up her sleeves,
announced her intention of cooking the breakfast, while Garth struck
camp. She who had never cooked under the best of conditions, had a
sad time of it balancing a frying pan on a fire of twigs, and keeping
the water in the pot long enough for it to come to a boil. They were
sad-looking lumps of bacon that she offered Garth, burnt withal, and
she gravely informed him there was a small slice of her thumb cooked up
with it. The cocoa, too, which obstinately refused to dissolve in a cold
element, was watery and full of lumps; however they still had civilized
bread and butter; and Garth would have eaten Paris green with gusto, if
offered with the same appealing smile.
Afterward an ancient box wagon came rattling up, drawn by two champing
cayuses, guided by Pake, the "wise guy" of the bush. The duffle was
thrown in; Pake and one of his brethren coolly preempted the box,
allowing Garth and Natalie to dispose themselves as they chose among the
freight; and they set off at a smart pace across the gloriously sunny
meadow.
It was rough enough in all conscience; and in spite of every effort to
brace themselves in the body of the wagon, they were shaken about like
corn in a hopper. But in the bush it was worse; there, though their pace
necessarily slackened, what with the holes, roots, stumps and fallen
trunks, they had seldom more than two wheels on the ground; and more
than once all that stood between them and a total capsize was Pake's
dexterous wrist. There were deep gullies, down which they precipitated
themselves, almost turning the wagon over on the horses' backs at the
bottom; and the climbs up the other side were heart-breaking. Pake was
often obliged to descend and chop; and on the whole progress was so
slow, Garth decided they might venture to insure their necks by walking.
So he and Natalie strode on ahead, pausing here and there to pick the
delicious acrid mooseberries, and discussing their problems. Their talk
was chiefly of Nick Grylls. Natalie finally confessed what had happened
at the Landing.
"You should have told me immediately," Garth said with a frown.
Natalie looked "poor," as she called it. "I was afraid you'd send me
home," she said. "Now you can't," she added provokingly.
Garth in turn told her what he had learned the night before.
"Look here," said Natalie frankly; "what is the use of our hiding these
things from each other? Let us promise to tell everything that happens
after this. You wanted me to take you for granted as if I were a man.
You treat me like a man and I will."
Garth smiled; and promised to try--just as she had done on a similar
occasion.
"I wish I had some men's clothes," said Natalie stoutly; frowning as
girls always do, when they see themselves in that character. And in
the very act of wishing it, she forgot; and drove home her femininity.
Tipping a palmful of mooseberries into her mouth, "Wouldn't I look
nice!" she said with a sidewise sparkle.
Garth, swallowing a sigh, smiled, and allowed that she would.
They speculated on what Mary Co-que-wasa's errand might be; neither of
them was experienced in villainy. There, in the matter-of-fact daylight,
and, as Natalie said, on Sunday, August the fifth _now_, it was impossible
for the thought of one silent old woman to cause them much uneasiness;
besides, they presently expected to join forces with the Bishop's ample
party. Nothing nearly so simple and devilish as the actual truth occurred
to them; and it was brought home with the force of a blow, when they
reached the Warehouse.
About eleven, a final descent brought them to the shore of a demure
little river flowing softly between high banks--Musquasepi, that they
were to know so well. Off to the left it merged into the muddier waters
of the "big" river. On the further shore stood the Warehouse they had
heard of so often.
"Oh!" said Natalie. "Only another little log shack! Why I imagined
a--a----"
"Five-story stone front?" suggested Garth.
"Well, I don't know," she said, "but not that!"
On the hither side was a solitary cabin; and in the doorway stood a
breed, outwardly of a different pattern from any they had seen--but
after all not so different. He was clad in decent Sunday blacks minus
the coat; and wore heavy-rimmed spectacles which he took off when he
really wished to see. On the table within was ostentatiously spread an
open Bible--the sharp-eyed Natalie took note that it was upside down.
This young man had a heavy expression of conscious responsibility,
before which the insouciant Pake visibly quailed. Pake indicated to
Garth that Ancose Mackey stood before him.
"Where is the Bishop?" Garth demanded impatiently.
Ancose blandly ignored the question for the present. "How-do-you-do,
sir," he said, like a mechanical doll, at the same time politely
extending his hand.
Garth, shaking it hastily, repeated his question--but the young man was
not to be hurried over any of his self-pleasing formalities.
"How-do-you-do, sir," he repeated to Natalie in precisely the same tone,
gravely shaking hands with her.
Then they must needs come in and sit down, while their host made a
remark on the weather, and informed them, with an air, that he was
a very good reader. He wrapped his Bible in an end of comforter, and
pulling a doll's trunk from under the bed, put it away. Natalie had a
glimpse of the contents of the trunk; she said afterward, it was like
the inside of his head; beside the Bible, there were sundry pieces
of dried moose meat, a gaudy silk handkerchief, tobacco and a brass
watch-chain of the size of a small cable. He took out the latter
and put it on.
Finally he appeared to hear Garth's question. "Bishop gone up little
river. Four days," he said.
"Some one was to meet me here," said Garth confidently.
An expression of genuine concern appeared under Ancose Mackey's solemn
mugging. "You Garth Pevensey?" he asked.
Garth nodded.
Ancose's English was not equal to the situation. He turned quickly to
Pake, squatting in the doorway, and exploded in Cree. Pake answered in
kind. It takes a roundabout course to say anything of an abstract nature
in Cree. Finally Garth heard the ominous name of Mary Co-que-wasa enter
into their discourse.
"What is it?" he demanded impatiently.
Ancose turned a long face to him. "Bad medicine here," he said. "Bishop
send ol' Pierre Toma down from head of rapids with him team to get you,"
he went on, struggling manfully with his English. "Ol' Pierre stay to me
three days of waiting. Las' night come boy up big river in canoe. Boy
say to ol' Pierre, Cap'n Jack stuck at Caliper Island. Boy say, Cap'n
Jack want tell to Bishop, Garth Pevensey no can come. Garth Pevensey him
gone back outside."
Garth and Natalie looked at each other in dismay.
"Mary Co-que-wasa do this," added Ancose. "Him no speak never true."
"Of course!" said Natalie. "She knew they wouldn't believe her, so she
sent the boy up, while she waited below."
"Where's the boy?" Garth demanded.