PLANS AND SPECIFICATIONS
At the mouth of the Slave River the outfit was transferred to twelve
large freight canoes, each carrying three tons, and manned by six
lean-shouldered canoemen, in charge of one Louis LeFroy, Lapierre's boss
canoeman. Straight across the vast expanse of Great Slave Lake they
headed, and skirting the shore of the north arm, upon the evening of the
second day, entered the Yellow Knife River.
The site selected by Pierre Lapierre for Chloe Elliston's school was, in
point of location, as the quarter-breed had said, an excellent one. Upon
a level plateau at the top of the high bank that slants steeply to the
water of the Yellow Knife River, a short distance above its mouth,
Lapierre set the canoemen to cutting the timber and brush from a wide
area. The girl had come into the North fully prepared for a long
sojourn, and in her thirty-odd tons of outfit were found all tools
necessary for the clearing of land and the erection of buildings.
Brushwood and trees fell before the axes of the half-breeds and Indians,
who worked in a sort of frenzy under the lashing drive of Lapierre's
tongue; and the night skies glowed red in the flare of the flames where
the brush and tree-tops burned in the clearing.
Two days later a rectangular clearing, three hundred by five hundred
feet, was completed, and early in the morning of the third day Chloe
stood beside Lapierre and looked over the cleared oblong with its piles
of smoking grey ashes, and its groups of logs that lay ready to be rolled
into place to form the walls of her buildings.
Lapierre seemed ill at ease. Immediately upon the arrival of the outfit
he had dispatched two of his own Indians northward to spy upon the
movements of MacNair, for the man made no secret of his desire to be well
upon his way before the trader should learn of the building of the fort
on the river.
It had been Chloe's idea to lay out her "village," as she called it, upon
a rather elaborate scheme, the plans for which had been drawn by an
architect whose clients' tastes ran to million-dollar "summer cottages"
at Seashore-by-the-Sea.
First, there was to be the school itself, an ornate building of crossed
rafters and overhanging eaves. Then the dormitories, two long, parallel
buildings with halls, individual rooms, and baths--one for the women and
one for men--the two to be connected by a common dining-hall in such a
manner as to form three sides of a hollow square. Connected to the
dining-hall was to be a commodious kitchen, and back of that a fully
equipped carpenter-shop and a laundry.
There were also to be a trading-post, where the Indians could purchase
supplies at cost; a six-room cottage for the accommodation of Big Lena,
Miss Penny, and Chloe; and numerous three-room cabins for the housing of
whole families of Indians, which the girl fondly pictured as flocking in
from the wilderness to have the errors of their heathenish religion
pointed out to them upon a brand-new blackboard, and the discomforts of
their nomadic lives assuaged by an introduction to collapsible bath-tubs
and the multiplication table. For hers was to be a mission as well as a
school. Truly the souls north of sixty were destined to owe her much.
For they borrow cheerfully, and repay--never.
So much for Chloe Elliston's plan. Lapierre, however, had his own
eminently more practical, if less Utopian, ideas concerning the erection
of a trading-post; for in the quarter-breed's mind the planting of an
independent trading-post upon the very threshold of MacNair's wilderness
empire was of far greater importance than the establishment of a school,
or mission, or any other institution--especially when the post was one
which he himself had set about to control. The man's eyes gleamed and
the thin lips smiled as his glance rested momentarily upon the figure of
the girl--the unwitting, and therefore the more powerful, weapon that
chance had placed in his hands in his battle against MacNair.
His idea of a post was simplicity itself: One long, log trading-room
with an ell for a storehouse, and a room--two at the most--in the rear
for the accommodation of the three women. The whole to be erected in the
centre of the clearing, and surrounded by a fifteen-foot log stockade.
Boldly he broached his plan.
"But this is _not_ a trading-post!" objected the girl. "The store is a
side issue and is to be conducted merely to permit those who take
advantage of my school to obtain the necessities of life at a fair and
reasonable price."
"Your words were well chosen, Miss Elliston. For if you begin to
undersell the H.B.C., and more especially the independents, every Indian
in the North will proceed to 'take advantage' of your school and of you
also."
"But they are being robbed!"
Lapierre smiled. "They do not know it; they are used to it. Let me warn
you that to tamper with existing trade schedules, except by one
experienced in the commerce of the North, is to invite disaster. You
will lose money!"
"But you told me that you yourself gave the Indians better bargains than
either the Hudson Bay Company or MacNair."
"I know the North! And you may be assured the concessions are more
nominal than real."
"Very well, then," flashed the girl. "My concessions will be more real
than nominal, and of that you may be assured. If my store pays expenses,
well and good!" And by the tone of the girl's voice, and the slight,
unconscious out-thrust of her chin, Pierre Lapierre knew that the time
was unpropitious for a further discussion of trade principles.
Chloe was speaking again: "But to return to the buildings----"
Lapierre interrupted her, speaking earnestly: "My dear Miss Elliston,
consider the circumstances, the limitations." He tapped lightly the roll
of blue-prints the girl held in her hand. "Those plans were made by a
man who had not the slightest knowledge of conditions as they exist here."
"The buildings are to be very simple."
"Undoubtedly. But simplicity is relative. A building that would be
considered simplicity itself in the States, might well be intricate
beyond the possibility of construction here in the wilderness. Do you
realize that among our men is not one who can read a blue-print, or has
ever seen one? Do you realize that to erect buildings in accordance with
these plans would require a force of skilled mechanics under the
supervision of a master builder? And do you realize that time is a most
important factor in our present undertaking? Who can tell at what moment
Brute MacNair may swoop down, upon us like Attila of old, and strike a
fatal blow to our little outpost of civilization? And if he finds _me_
here--" His voice trailed into silence and his eyes swept gloomily the
northern reach of the river.
Chloe appeared unimpressed. "I hardly think he will resort to violence.
There is the law--even here in the wilderness. Slow to act, perhaps,
because of the inaccessibility of the wild country; but once its
machinery is in motion, as unbending and as indomitable as justice
itself. You see, I have read of your Mounted Police."
"The Mounted!" Lapierre laughed. "Yes--I see you have _read_ of them!
Had you derived your information in a more direct manner--had you lived
among them--if you _knew_ them--your childlike trust in them would seem
as absurd, perhaps, as it does to me!"
"What do you mean?" cried the girl, regarding the quarter-breed with a
searching glance. "That the men of the Mounted are--that they may
be--influenced?"
Again Lapierre laughed--harshly. "Just that, Miss Elliston! They
are--crooked. They may be influenced!"
"I cannot believe that!"
"You will--later."
"You mean that MacNair has----"
The man interrupted with a wave of his hand. "What I have told you of
MacNair is the truth. I shall prove this to your own satisfaction, at
the proper time. Until then, I ask you to believe me. Admitting, then,
that I have spoken the truth, do you suppose for an instant that these
facts are not known to the Mounted? If not, then the officers are
inefficient fools. If they are known, why don't the Mounted remedy
matters? Because MacNair is rich! Because he buys them, body and soul!
Because he owns them, like he owns the Indians! That's why!
"Just stop and consider what is ahead of a dollar-a-day policeman. When
his five-year term of enlistment has expired, he has his choice of
enlisting for another term, or making his living some other way. At the
end of the five years he has learned to hate the service with a hatred
that is soul-searing. It is the hardest, strictest, most exacting, and
most ill-paid service in the world; and the five years of the man's
enlistment have practically rendered him unfit for earning a living.
"He has lived in the wild country. He knows the wild country. And
civilization, with its rapid advance, has left him five years behind the
times. Our ex-man of the Mounted is fit for only the commonest labour.
And, because there are almost no employers in the North, he cannot turn
his knowledge of the wilds to profitable account, unless he turns
smuggler, whiskey-runner, or fur-poisoner. The men know this.
Therefore, when an officer whose patrol takes him into the far 'back
blocks' is approached by a man like MacNair, with his pockets bulging
with gold, what report goes down to Regina, and on to Ottawa?
"Yes, Miss Elliston, in the Northland there is law. But the law is a
fundamental law--the primitive law of savage might. The strong devour
the weak. Only the fit survive--survive to be ruled, to be trampled, to
be _owned_ by the strongest. And the law is the measure of might!
Primal instincts--pristine passions--primordial brutishness permeate the
whole North--rule it.
"The wolf and savage _carcajo_ drag down the hunger-weakened caribou and
the deer, and rip the warm, red flesh from their bones before their eyes
have glazed. And, in turn, the wolf and the _carcajo_, the unoffending
beaver and musquash, the mink, the fisher, the fox, and the otter are
trapped by savage man and the pelts ripped from their twitching bodies
while life and sensibility remain. They are harder to skin when cold.
And with the thermometer at forty or sixty below zero, the little bodies
chill almost instantly if mercifully killed--therefore, they are not
killed, but flayed alive and their bleeding bodies tossed upon the snow.
They die quickly--then. But--they have lived through the skinning! And
that is the North!"
Chloe Elliston shuddered and drew away in horror. "Is--is this
possible?" she faltered. "Do they----"
"They do. The fur business is not a pretty business, Miss Elliston. But
neither is the North pretty--nor are its inhabitants. But the traffic in
fur is inherently the business of the North--and its history is written
in blood--the blood and the suffering of thousands of men and millions of
animals. But the profits are great. Fashion has decreed that My Lady
shall be swathed in fur--therefore, men go mad and die in the barrens,
and the quivering red bodies of small animals bleed, and curl up, and
stiffen upon the hard crust of the snow! No, the North is not gentle,
Miss Elliston----"
"Don't! Don't!" faltered the girl. "It is all too--too horrible--too
sickeningly brutal--too--too unbelievable!" She covered her eyes with
her hand.
Lapierre answered, dryly. "Yes. The North is that way. It has always
been so--and it always will----"
Chloe's hand dropped from her eyes and, she faced him in a sudden burst
of passion. Her sensitive lips quivered and her eyes narrowed to the
rapier-blade eyes that were the eyes of Tiger Elliston. She tore the
roll of blue-prints to bits and ground them into the mould with the heel
of her boot.
"_It will not!_" Her voice cut sharply, and hard. "What do you know of
what the North _will_ be? You know it only as it has been--as it is,
perhaps. But, of its future you know nothing. I tell you the North will
change! It is a hard land--cruel--elemental--raw! But it is _big_!
And, when it awakens, its very bigness, the virile force and strength of
it, will turn against its savagery, its cruelty, its brutishness; and
above all other lands it will stand for the protection of the weak and
for the right of things to live!"
The quarter-breed gazed into her face with a look of undisguised
admiration. "Ah, Miss Elliston, you are beautiful, now--beautiful
always--but, at this moment--radiant--divine--" Chloe seemed not to hear
him.
"And that is to be _my_ work--to awaken the North! To bring to its
people the comforts--the advantages of civilization!"
"The North is too big for you, Miss Elliston. It is too big for _men_.
Pardon, but it is not a woman's land."
The girl's eyes flashed. "Suppose we leave sex out of it, Mr. Lapierre.
They said of my grandfather that 'the harder they fought him, the better
he liked 'em,' and that 'he never knew when he was licked.' Maybe that
is the reason he never was licked, but lived to carry civilization into a
land that was a thousand years deeper in savagery than this land is. And
today civilization--education--Christianity exist where seventy-five
years ago the chance visitor was tortured first and eaten afterward."
Lapierre shrugged. "It is useless to argue. I am in sympathy with your
undertaking. I admire your courage, and the high ideals of your mission.
But, permit me to remind you that your grandfather, whoever he was, was
_not_ a woman. Also, that here, in the North, Christianity and education
have failed to civilize--the educated ones and the converts are worse
than the others."
The girl's eyes darkened and the man noticed the peculiar out-thrust of
the chin. He hastened to change the subject.
"I am glad you have abandoned those plans. They were useless. May I now
proceed with the building?"
Chloe smiled. "Yes," she answered, "by all means. But, as this is to be
_my_ undertaking, I think I shall have it _my_ way. Build the store
first, if you please----"
"And the stockade?"
"There will be no stockade."
"No stockade! Are you crazy? If MacNair----"
"I will attend to MacNair, Mr. Lapierre."
"Do you imagine MacNair will stand quietly by and allow you to build a
trading-post here on the Yellow Knife? Do you think he will listen to
our explanation that this is a school and that the store is merely a
plaything? I tell you he will countenance neither the school nor the
post. Education for the natives is the last thing MacNair will stand
for."
"As I told you, I will attend to MacNair. My people will not be armed.
The stockade would be silly."
Lapierre smiled; drew closer, and dropped his voice to a confidential
whisper. "I can put one hundred rifles and ten thousand cartridges in
the hands of your people in ten days' time."
"Thank you, Mr. Lapierre. I don't need your guns."
The man made a gesture of impatience. "If you choose to ignore MacNair,
you must, at least, be prepared to handle the Indians who will crowd your
counter like wolves when they hear you are underselling the H.B.C. When
you explain that only those who are members of your school may trade at
your post, you will be swamped with enrolments. You cannot teach the
whole North.
"Those that you will be forced to turn away--what will they do? They
will not understand. Instead of returning to their teepees, their nets,
and their traplines, they will hang about your post, growing gaunter and
hungrier with the passing of the days. And the hunger that gnaws at
their bellies will arouse the latent lawlessness of their hearts, and
then--if MacNair has not already struck, he will strike then. For
MacNair knows Indians and the workings of the Indian mind. He knows how
the sullen hatred of their souls may be fanned into a mighty flame. His
Indians will circulate among the hungry horde, and the banks of the
Yellow Knife will be swept bare. MacNair will have struck. And with
such consummate skill will his hand be disguised, that not the faintest
breath of suspicion will point toward himself."
"I shall sell to all alike, while my goods last, whether they are members
of my school or not----"
"That will be even worse than----"
"It seems you always think of the worst thing that could possibly
happen," smiled the girl.
"'To fear the worst, oft cures the worst,'" quoted Lapierre.
"'Don't cross a bridge 'til you get to it' is not so classic, perhaps,
but it saves a lot of needless worry."
"'Foresight is better than hindsight' is equally unclassic, and
infinitely better generalship. Bridges crossed at the last moment are
generally crossed from the wrong end, I have noticed." The man leaned
toward her and looked straight into her eyes. "Oh, Miss Elliston--can't
you see--I am thinking of your welfare--of your safety; I have known you
but a short time, as acquaintance is reckoned, but already you have
become more to me than----"
Chloe interrupted him with a gesture.
"Don't--please--I----"
Lapierre ignored the protest, and, seizing her hand in both his own,
spoke rapidly. "I will say it! I have known it from the moment of our
first meeting. I love you! And I shall win you--and together we
will----"
"Oh, don't--don't--not--now--please!"
The man bowed and released the hand. "I can wait," he said gravely.
"But please--for your own good--take my advice. I know the North. I was
born in the North, and am of the North. I have sought only to help you.
Why do you refuse to profit by my experience? Must you endure what I
have endured to learn what I offer freely to tell you? I shudder to
think of It. The knowledge gleaned by experience may be the most
lasting, but it is dearly purchased, and at a great loss--always." The
man's voice was very earnest, and Chloe detected a note of mild reproach.
She hastened to reply.
"I _have_ profited by your advice--have learned much from what you have
told me. I am under obligation to you. I appreciate your interest
in--in my work, and am indeed grateful for what you have done to further
it. But there are some things, I suppose, one _must_ learn by
experience. I may be silly and headstrong. I may be wrong. But I stand
ready to pay the price. The loss will be mine. See!" she cried
excitedly, "they are rolling up the logs for the store."
"Yes," answered the man gravely, "I bow to your wishes in the matter of
your buildings. If you refuse to build a stockade we may erect a few
more buildings--but as few as you can possibly manage with, Miss
Elliston. I must hasten southward."
Chloe studied for some moments. "The store"--she checked them off upon
her fingers--"the schoolhouse, two bunkhouses, we can leave off the
bathrooms, the river and the lake will serve until winter."
Lapierre nodded, and the girl continued. "We can do without the laundry
and the carpenter-shop, and the individual cabins. The Indians can set
up their teepees in the clearing, and build the cabins and the other
buildings later. But I _would_ like a little cottage for myself, and
Miss Penny, and Lena. We _could_ make three rooms do. Can we have three
rooms?"
Lapierre bowed low. "It shall be as you say," he replied. "And now, if
you will excuse me, I shall see to it that these _canaille_ work. LeFroy
they do not fear."
He turned to go, and at that moment Chloe Elliston saw a look of terror
flash into his eyes. Saw his fingers clutch and grope uncertainly at the
gay scarf at his throat. Saw the muscles of his face work painfully.
Saw his colour fade from rich tan to sickly yellow. An inarticulate,
gurgling sound escaped his lips, and his eyes stared in horror toward a
point beyond and behind her.
She turned swiftly and gazed into the face of a man who had approached
unnoticed from the direction of the river, and stood a few paces distant
with his eyes fixed upon her. As their glances met the man's gaze
continued unflinching, and the soft-brimmed Stetson remained on his head.
Her slender fingers clenched into her palms and, unconsciously, her chin
thrust forward--for she knew intuitively that the man was "Brute" MacNair.