THE MAN-HUNTER
All went well, though slowly and with vast labor, for a few hundred
yards; and then the girl stalled. Jim turned back, lifted her to her
knees again and shook her again.
"Are you frozen anywhere?" he asked,
"I'm not cold," she replied faintly. "I'm tired out. Please leave
me alone."
He rubbed her face with handfuls of snow. She protested angrily and
burst into tears.
"Leave me be!" she sobbed. "Let me rest!"
"You can't rest here!" he cried, and shook her roughly. "I've a
shelter somewhere. It isn't far. You can rest there."
She exerted herself again, but after a few yards subsided on her face
and refused to budge. He struggled and argued with her in vain for
several minutes, then realized that he was wasting his own strength
for nothing. He unslung the snowshoes and pack and fastened the
snowshoes to the collar of one of the dogs and the pack to the back
of the other. Then he burrowed under the girl, raised himself to his
hands and one knee beneath her and continued his journey.
It was slow work. The dogs ceased to frisk. Jim was frequently
forced to shake the girl from his back and extricate one or the other
of the dogs from either its load or the drift. The dogs understood
and did their best--but the snowshoes on the pack were ever-lastingly
slipping around and dragging beneath them. Only Flora did not seem
to understand or to make any effort to do so. She rolled off Jim's
back when he wanted her to stay on, and several times roused herself
sufficiently to clutch at his neck when he wanted to roll her off.
And yet so unreasonable a thing is the human heart, the more trouble
she gave him the more kindly did he feel toward her. All his
bitterness had gone at the first glimpse of her lying helpless; and
now that she made no effort to help herself, and exerted herself only
to impede his progress, he felt only tenderness and admiration for
her. The fact that she had not believed his word was forgotten; that
she had thought him a shooter from ambush seemed a small thing; that
she had thought him a coward--even that appeared a small matter now.
She had come out alone to find him; that was the great thing! And
she had admitted her shame for having thought meanly of him, and that
was another great thing! So he struggled onward.
The wind began to fail. It blew less violently, lifted the snow no
more than five or six feet and dropped it almost immediately. It
struck less frequently, baffled, and finally died away.
Jim reached the thicket from which a thin plume of smoke arose
straight into the still air. He freed the floundering dogs of their
burdens, dragged the girl through the tangle and deposited her in the
den and sank on his face beside her. He lay motionless for fully ten
minutes, then turned over and sat up. Flora, too, was sitting up,
with her back against the wall of brush and snow. Her eyes were open
and their green gaze was fixed anxiously and wonderingly upon him.
"How did you--get me here?" she whispered.
"You crawled part of the way," he answered. "Then I lugged you on my
back. Are you feeling better?"
"I feel dizzy--and sick. I thought I was dead. But I remember
crawling. You saved my life."
"I'll make some tea. Your pack's just outside."
"You saved my life--and I thought you hated me."
"It was my fault. I shouldn't have crawled away last night."
He staggered up, crawled out and brought in the pack. He made tea
and buttered toast, the girl and the dogs watching him in silence.
"I didn't eat any breakfast," she said as he handed her the only mug,
full of tea.
"I was a fool to crawl away last night," he said.
"You might have started your leg bleeding again," said the girl.
"It would have served me right," he answered.
"Can you forgive me for--for thinking you lied to me?"
"I forgave you long ago--when I saw you on your face in the snow. I
wanted to kick myself then for having raised such a row about a
little thing like that."
He took the empty mug from her and filled it for himself.
"I am glad you saved my life, even if you do feel--that way about
me," she said.
"What way?" he asked.
"As if I--wasn't capable of--really understanding you."
He moved over closer beside her.
"I--only want you to think well of me," he said. "It was my pride
that was talking last night, but seeing you helpless out there in the
drift took the silly pride out of me."
"I think--very well of you. I think, I know, that you are brave and
honest. But what do you think of me, Jim?"
"I think you are as brave as--as you are--dashed beautiful!"
"Beautiful! I have green eyes!"
"They are beautiful. Flora, do you know I--I don't want to make you
angry but--I kissed you once, out there in the snow. And if you can
forgive me--I was quite desperate, don't you know--I'd like to do it
again."
"Hands up!" cried a voice; and they looked up and beheld the head and
shoulders and rifle of Homer Steeves at the edge of the pit. Jim
didn't remove his arm from Flora's waist.
"Hands up, I said!" cried Homer. "An' move away from that girl!
Pack yer dunnage an' come along out of that!"
Jim stood up.
"What's the matter with yer leg?" asked Homer.
"Cut it. What's the matter with you?" asked Jim.
"Cut it, did ye. Well, ye got to come along all the same. I
figgered on tyin' you an' haulin' you anyhow--an' Flora can help me."
"Very kind of you, but why are you pointing that rifle at me?"
"To shoot you if you resist, that's why."
"He will come quietly, Homer. Don't shoot!" cried the girl.
A sudden, reckless rage took possession of Jim. He stooped swiftly,
snatched the largest brand from the fire and flung it in Homer's
face. Homer swore and twitched his finger. The hammer of the Snider
fell, the cap in the base of the cartridge detonated with a sharp
crack--and that was all! And before the volunteer man-hunter could
eject the worthless charge and insert another--another equally
worthless, had he only known it--Jim was at him. Homer clubbed his
rifle and swung it, but Jim ducked, grabbed with his right hand and
yanked Homer into the pit, rifle and snowshoes and all. Despite the
fact that he kept his left foot clear of the ground all the time, Jim
had the intruder disarmed and bound helplessly at wrist and ankle in
thirty seconds.
Jim crawled out of the den and thicket to look for the sled which
Steeves had mentioned. Flora followed him.
"He tried to kill you," she whispered.
"He doesn't like me, evidently," replied Jim. "Lucky for me the
cartridge didn't explode!"
"What will we do next?" she asked.
"Start for home first thing to-morrow morning, if you feel fit to
travel."
"But you can't crawl all the way."
"Homer will have to drag me on the sled. That's what he brought it
for."
"But he intended to haul you home as a prisoner. Now it will be a
different matter entirely when he knows that the sheriff doesn't want
you. He will refuse to haul you, for he is very stubborn; and then
what can we do? You wouldn't shoot him."
"No, I wouldn't shoot him. I couldn't do more than threaten him."
"And if he saw that you were anxious to get back to the glen, then he
would know that you are innocent and he would refuse to haul you a
foot. We'll have to fool him."
"How?"
"Let him go on thinking you are guilty. And I'll tie you up early
to-morrow morning and set him free, but I'll throw his cartridges
away and keep your rifle handy. He will haul you right up to the
kitchen door, Jim; and then it will be time to tell him the truth."
"Flora, you are a wonder! And you are not angry with me, are you?"
"Angry? Why should I be angry now that we are good friends again?"
"Then I'll chance it again!" he exclaimed, and he did.
They returned to their prisoner and the fire. They did not talk to
each other or Homer. Jim ejected the unexploded cartridge from the
Snider and pocketed it. He took the other cartridges from Homer's
pocket and was about to throw them away when a bright scratch on the
brass of one of them caught his eye. He examined it carefully, then
extracted the bullet with the point of his knife. He did the same to
the other shells.
"Where did you get your ammunition?" he asked.
"What's wrong with it?" asked the prisoner, who had watched the
operations keenly and curiously.
"No explosive charges," replied Jim.
"The devil you say!" cried Homer. "No powder! That's old Hercules
Ducat, the tricky old skunk. He loaned me the rifle an' ca'tridges.
But he'll wish he hadn't been so smart when I put the law onto him."
"You should be very grateful to him," returned Jim. "You would be a
murderer now if they had been all right."
The rest of the evening was passed in silence. Supper was eaten in
silence.
Jim was awakened by Flora before dawn.
"Now I must tie you up," she whispered, with her lips very close to
his ear.
She bound his wrists comfortably. She bound his ankles. Then she
kissed him swiftly and slipped away. He smiled and fell asleep
again. His dreams were scattered again half an hour later by the
sharp punching of a moccasined toe against his ribs. He opened his
eyes and beheld Homer Steeves standing over him.
"Wake up an' feed yer face, Mr. Dood!" cried Homer; and then, as Jim
pretended to try to free his wrists, he laughed with loud derision.
Jim scowled and maintained a sullen silence throughout breakfast, but
he ate heartily.
"Go to it," jeered Homer. "It's a durn sight better'n the grub ye'll
get in jail."
Flora hung her head as if in shame, but whenever the man-hunter's
back was turned she winked at the captive and blew him a kiss.
Jim made no protest when Homer told him to sit on the sled. The day
was bright, without wind, but the going was heavy. Homer pulled
mightily, while Flora beat a trail in front. They rested often; and
Homer turned frequently and damned the passenger. By the time they
had gone four miles, Homer's wind and temper were both demoralized.
He dropped the rope, slipped his feet from his webs and went back and
kicked Jim off the sled. Jim lay helpless and half smothered in the
deep snow.
"Crawl, durn ye!" cried Homer.
The girl came back on the jump, raised Jim to a sitting position, and
flashed green fire at Homer.
"How can he crawl when he's tied hand and foot?" she asked.
"I dassent risk lettin' him loose, but we'd sure get along quicker if
he could crawl a piece now an' agin," replied Homer.
"Untie me, and I give you my word I won't hurt you and I'll crawl
part of the way," promised Jim.
Homer agreed to this and the girl loosed the thongs. Jim crawled
behind the sled for a distance of several hundred yards, then grabbed
the sled and pulled himself onto it. After traveling at his ease for
half a mile, he rolled off and crawled again.
Jim was tied again before camp was made that night, and the night
passed uneventfully. Homer, who had been the first to sleep, was the
first to wake. He was in a bad humor, despite the fact that his
rival was in his power and would soon be in the grasp of the law. He
built up the fire. Then he went over to his captive and kicked him
in the ribs as hard as he could without hurting his soft-shod toes.
Again they traveled glenward, with Flora and the dogs leading, Homer
hauling the sled and Jim sometimes on and sometimes off the sled.
The hauls were long and the crawls were short, but they went forward
at a fair pace.