THE VENOM OF HATRED
The banks of the Takan River, at the head of the Kaska Rapids, were
lined with tall fir trees and jack pines. It was a sombre place, this,
and the regular camping ground where from time immemorial natives had
disembarked to portage overland to the big lake below.
Near one of the large trees stood Nadu, the Indian woman, dark, straight
and motionless as the numerous boles around her. But, though very still,
a new light shone in her eyes--the light of indecision. For weeks past
only grim determination had been expressed in those restless orbs. At
Hishu, and all the way down the river, no change or softening gleam
could be detected. There was nothing but that savage glitter of a beast
of the forest ready to spring upon its victim.
But now something was disturbing that fevered brain, some counter
attraction was at work, causing those ever-varying expressions. As dark
billowy clouds roll and surge threateningly athwart the sky, while
occasionally a brief glimpse of the clear blue is seen, so it was across
Nadu's face. Now the storm of passion was seen, and again a sudden rift
telling of the violence raging within.
Her form was straight and unbending. A shawl covered her head and swept
her comely shoulders. Night was symbolised there--black, desolate Night.
Occasionally her eyes turned to the spot where Madeline and Donnie were
lying. Then the clouds grew dark, and the staring eyes gleamed cruelly
fierce. But anon they shifted to the left, and roamed among the silent
arches of the shadowy forest. Then the fire died down to a softer glow,
suggesting warmth rather than destruction.
For some time she remained in this position. At length, drawing the
loose ends of the shawl closely together about her head, she moved
swiftly forward. Down among the trees she sped, following what seemed to
be a narrow trail. No mortal eye could see this rough crooked path. But
Nadu needed not the light of day for guidance. She was on familiar
ground, and intuitively kept the way. Ere long the trees became somewhat
sparse, and soon a large clearing appeared in view.
Silently Nadu sped from the midst of the shadows and started across the
open. Presently she paused and looked keenly ahead. A light suddenly
shone through the darkness. For some time it held her special attention.
It fascinated and then drew her steadily on. Brighter and brighter it
shone. By this time she was quite near, close enough to see the outline
of a rude log house, with the light streaming from the one window on the
northern side. Her form was not straight now, but much bent as she crept
warily onward, fearful lest she should be observed. But so silent were
her movements that a watchful dog could hardly detect her approach.
She came close to the window, and standing somewhat to one side peered
in through the small dust-laden panes. The scene she beheld caused
Nadu's bosom to heave, and the hardness of her face to change entirely
to an expression of love. Eagerly her eyes dwelt upon various things
within that building. The rough deal table, the few stools and benches,
and the one lighted candle. But a thin white hand, steadily writing,
moved her most, and lifting her eyes they rested upon a bent head
covered with hair of snowy whiteness, while a long beard swept the
writer's breast.
All unconscious of the eager eyes peering in upon him, the lonely worker
continued his task through the silent watches of the night.
For some time Nadu stood by the window, her eyes riveted upon that
grey-haired man. After a while she turned aside, glided around the house
until she came to the door. Here she paused and looked carefully about.
But no sign of life was to be seen. The far-off eastern horizon was now
reddening above the tree tops. The light of the rising moon was slowly
stealing over the land, bringing into relief the dim outlines of various
log houses and tent frames not far away.
Nadu dropped upon the wooden doorstep and leaned her head against her
right hand. Occasionally her form trembled, and a half-smothered sob
escaped her lips. Some strong emotion was stirring in this Indian
woman's heart like a deep lake disturbed by a subtle, unseen volcano.
At length she arose and moved slowly away from the building. At times
she paused, and looked yearningly back upon the house she had just left.
But when once again among the trees her step quickened, and as she
neared the river the old hard look returned to her face. She stayed her
steps where the woman and the child were lying. Then she crept softly
forward, and peered down intently upon the silent pair. What were the
thoughts which racked her brain as she saw Madeline's face strained and
white lying there amidst the shadows? When she had gazed to her
satisfaction she once more glided away, and moving to the bank of the
river crouched down upon the ground. A canoe lying in a little eddy near
the shore chafed and tugged at its moosehide painter. The cold dark
river surged sullenly by, to leap with a roar and a swirl through the
dreaded Kaska Rapids several hundred yards down-stream.
Nadu did not sleep, for when the brain becomes the battlefield of strong
contending emotions the ministering angel of slumber can find no abiding
place. At length she roused to action. Having awakened the men she went
to the white woman's side, and looked for a few minutes upon that slight
form. Madeline's left arm was thrown about Donnie's body in a protecting
embrace. Her right hand pillowed her tired head, while across cheek and
brow swept a few loosened tresses of dark brown hair. About the corners
of her mouth a faint semblance of a smile was to be detected. Was she
dreaming of happy bygone days in her old home far away? If so what a
terrible change to awake to her real situation!
Was it the crackling of the fire which one of the Indians had made or
the presence of that dark face staring down upon her which caused
Madeline to move restlessly, then open her eyes, and start up with a
little cry of fright? A malicious gleam of joy shone in Nadu's eyes as
she turned away and left the woman and the child together.
Donnie was much refreshed by his sleep. He was standing the ordeal far
better than Madeline. He chatted incessantly while she washed his face,
and smoothed out his tousled curly locks with her fingers.
Madeline could barely taste the food, and she stood silently by watching
Donnie enjoying the few morsels which were given to him. She leaned
against a large tree to support her tired and overtaxed form. Every bone
in her body ached, for she was so sore and stiff after her long walk of
the day before.
Although very early in the morning the moon made the whole land almost
as bright as day. The hastily prepared breakfast was soon eaten, the
small fire extinguished, and preparations made for a speedy departure.
Madeline and Donnie were standing on the bank near where the canoe was
floating. The Indian woman stood by the bow with her hand upon the
moosehide thong, while the men conversed together for a few minutes
several yards away. Presently they came close to the canoe and began to
talk with the woman. What they said Madeline could not tell, but they
seemed to be disputing over some question. Ere long one beckoned to the
white woman, and pointed to the canoe. With her hand firmly grasping the
child's Madeline slipped down the bank and stood close to the craft.
"Git in," commanded Nadu, as she hesitated a moment, "me hand in
bah-bee."
Had she at that moment glanced at the Indian woman's malignant,
triumphant face she would have shrunk back in terror. But her eyes were
upon the rocking canoe, and carefully she stepped over the side, and was
about to turn around to receive Donnie, when she felt the craft shoot
swiftly out from the shore. The sudden motion caused her to sink upon
her knees with a cry of fright. Quickly she turned her eyes to the
shore, and there standing close to the water was Donnie with his little
arms stretched out appealingly toward her, while his pathetic cry urging
her to return smote upon her ears. Nadu was close by his side, one hand
fiercely clutching the child's arm, with her eyes full fixed upon the
departing canoe. The men were wildly gesticulating, and talking rapidly
to her in their own tongue. She heeded them not, but stood like a statue
staring out over the swiftly flowing water.
Then the truth flashed across Madeline's mind with a horrible stabbing
intensity. It was the Indian woman's devilish plot to get rid of her, to
send her to a speedy death into the swirling rapids below. Already their
roar sounded in her ears like the knell of doom. Swifter flowed the
stream, and the canoe trembled convulsively in its onward rush. Madeline
glanced about for a paddle. She would make a struggle for life; she
would die fighting. But alas, even that final hope vanished, for the
paddles had been carefully removed, by whose hand she could easily
guess. But what avail would be a pair of frail arms against that sinuous
overmastering current? It was a monster, cruel and relentless, sweeping
her onward into the very jaws of death. What earthly hand could break
its grip, or what human voice could bid it hold back, and it would obey?
Only one Hand could reach out, but there was no sign; only one Voice
could give the all-powerful command, and It was silent.
Nearer now were those white foaming waters. Their angry snarl as they
dashed and broke over some hidden rock sounded louder and louder.
Madeline crouched in the bottom of the canoe, her eyes fascinated by
that gleaming, grinning line ahead. She felt the craft quiver, dip, and
then with a bound it plunged into that flume of destruction. Instantly
Hell opened its horrid jaws to engulf her. She heard the jeering,
maddening roar of demons. She felt the white froth spuming her body, and
beheld ghostly, merciless claws reaching out to grip and drag her down
to their horrid abode. Trees, rocks and sky were blotted out as the
craft tore and staggered through that cloud of foam. The canoe was
rapidly filling now, and the water was pouring over Madeline's body. It
was blinding and deafening her. She rose to her knees; she staggered to
her feet; she tried to stand. Her brain reeled. She felt she was going
mad. Suddenly the mist cleared. She saw the blue sky above, and lifting
up her hands she gave one wild, imploring cry for help. And even as she
cried the canoe rushed with a sickening crash upon the edge of a
concealed, jagged boulder, hurling Madeline like a rocket, out into the
midst of that hissing, seething death.