THE WHISKEY RUNNERS
When Lapierre left Chloe Elliston's cottage after promising to
accompany her to Snare Lake, he immediately sought out LeFroy, who was
superintending the distribution of the last of the supplies in the
storehouse.
The two proceeded to LeFroy's room, and at the end of an hour sought
the camp of the canoemen. Ten minutes later, two lean-bodied scouts
took the trail for the Northward, with orders to report immediately the
whereabouts of MacNair. If luck favoured him, Lapierre knew that
MacNair accompanied by the pick of his hunters, would be far from Snare
Lake, upon his semi annual pilgrimage to intercept the fall migration
of the caribou herd, along the northernmost reaches of the barren
grounds.
If MacNair had not yet started upon the fall hunt, the journey to Snare
Lake must be delayed. For the crafty Lapierre had no intention
whatever of risking a meeting with MacNair in the heart of his own
domain. Neither had he any intention of journeying to Snare Lake for
the purpose of securing evidence against MacNair to be used in a court
of law. His plans for crushing MacNair's power included no aid from
constituted authority.
He noted with keen satisfaction that the girl's hatred for MacNair had
been greatly intensified, not so much by the attack upon her school, as
by the stories she heard from the lips of Indians who passed back and
forth upon the river. The posting of those Indians had been a happy
bit of forethought on the part of Lapierre; and their stories had lost
nothing in LeFroy's interpretation.
Lapierre contrived to make the succeeding days busy ones. By
arrangement with Chloe, a system of credits had been established, and
from daylight to dark he was busy about the storehouse, paying off and
outfitting his canoemen, who were to fare North upon the trap-lines
until the breaking up of the ice in the spring would call them once
more to the lakes and the rivers, to move Lapierre's freight, handle
his furs, and deliver his contraband whiskey.
Each evening Lapierre repaired to the cottage, and LeFroy at his post
in the storehouse nodded sagely to himself as the notes of the girl's
rich contralto floated loud and clear above the twang of the
accompanying guitar.
Always the quarter-breed spoke eagerly to Chloe of the proposed trip to
Snare Lake, and bitterly he regretted the enforced delay incident to
outfitting the trappers. And always, with the skill and finesse of the
born intriguer, by a smile, a suggestion, or an adroitly worded
question, he managed to foster and to intensify her hatred for Brute
MacNair.
On the sixth day after their departure, the scouts returned from the
Northward and reported that MacNair had travelled for many days across
the barrens, in search of the caribou herds. Followed, then, another
conference with LeFroy. The remaining canoemen were outfitted with
surprising celerity. And at midnight a big freight canoe, loaded to
the gunwale with an assortment of cheap knives and hatchets, bolts of
gay-coloured cloth, and cheaper whiskey broke through the ever
thickening skim of shore ice, and headed Northward under the personal
direction of that master of all whiskey runners, Louis LeFroy.
The next day Lapierre, with a great show of eagerness, informed Chloe
that he was ready to undertake the journey to Snare Lake.
Enthusiastically the girl set about her preparation, and the following
morning, accompanied by Big Lena and Lapierre, took her place in a
canoe manned by four lean-shouldered paddlers.
Just below "the narrows," on the northeastern shore of Snare Lake, and
almost upon the site of Old Fort Enterprise, erected and occupied by
Lieutenant, later Sir John Franklin during the second winter of his
first Arctic expedition, Bob MacNair had built his fort. The fort
itself differed in no important particular from many of the log trading
forts of the Hudson Bay Company. Grouped about the long, low building,
within the enclosure of the log stockade, were the cabins of Indians
who had forsaken the vicissitudes of the lean, barren grounds and
attached themselves permanently to MacNair's colony.
Under his tutelage, they learned to convert the work of their hands
into something more nearly approaching the comforts of existence than
anything they had ever known. Where, as trappers of fur, they had
succeeded, by dint of untold hardship and privation and suffering, in
obtaining the barest necessities of life from the great fur company,
they now found themselves housed in warm, comfortable cabins, eating
good food, and clothing their bodies, and the bodies of their wives and
children, in thick, warm clothing that defied the rigours of the Arctic
winters.
While to the credit of each man, upon MacNair's books, stood an amount
in tokens of "made beaver," which to any trapper in all the Northland
would have spelled wealth beyond wildest dreams. And so they came to
respect this stern, rugged man who dealt with them fairly--to love him,
and also to fear him. And upon Snare Lake his word became the law,
from which there was no appeal. Tender as a woman in sickness,
counting no cost or hardship too dear in the rendering of assistance to
the needy, he was at the same time hard and unbending toward wilful
offenders, and a very real terror to the enemies of his people.
He had killed men for selling whiskey to his Indians. And those of his
own people who drank the whiskey, he had flogged with
dog-whips--floggings that had been administered in no half-hearted or
uncertain manner, and that had ceased only upon the tiring of his arm.
And many there were among his Indians who could testify that the arm
was slow to tire.
To this little colony, upon the fourth day after his departure from
Chloe Elliston's school on the Yellow Knife, came LeFroy with his
freighted canoe. And because it was not his first trip among them, all
knew his mission.
It so happened that at the time MacNair left for the barren grounds,
Sotenah, the leader of the young men, the orator who had lauded MacNair
to the skies and counselled a summary wiping out of Chloe Elliston's
school, chanced to be laid up with an injury to his foot. And, as he
could not accompany the hunters, MacNair placed him in charge of the
fort during his absence. Upon his back Sotenah carried scars of many
floggings. And the memory of these remained with him long after the
deadly effects of the cheap whiskey that begot them had passed away.
And now, as he stood upon the shore of the lake surrounded by the old
men, and the boys who were not yet permitted to take the caribou trail,
his face was sullen and black as he greeted LeFroy. For the feel of
the bite of the gut-lash was strong upon him.
"_B'jo'_! _B'jo'_! _Nitchi_!" greeted LeFroy, smiling into the
scowling face.
"_B'jo'_!" grunted the younger man with evident lack of enthusiasm.
"_Kah_ MacNair?"
The Indian returned a noncommittal shrug.
LeFroy repeated his question, at the same time taking from his pocket a
cheap clasp-knife which he extended toward the Indian. The other
regarded the knife in silence; then, reaching out his hand, took it
from LeFroy and examined it gravely.
"How much?" he asked. LeFroy laughed.
"You ke'p," he said, and stepping to the canoe, threw back the blanket,
exposing to the covetous eyes of the assembled Indians the huge pile of
similar knives, and the hatchets, and the bolts of gay-coloured goods.
A few moments of adroit questioning sufficed to acquaint LeFroy with
MacNair's prices for similar goods; and the barter began.
Where MacNair and the Hudson Bay Company charged ten "skins," or "made
beaver," for an article, LeFroy charged five, or four, or even three,
until the crowding Indians became half-crazed with the excitement of
barter. And while this excitement was at its height, with scarcely
half of his goods disposed of, LeFroy suddenly declared he would sell
no more, and stepping into the canoe pushed out from the bank.
He turned a deaf ear to the frantic clamourings of those who had been
unable to secure the wonderful bargains, and ordering his canoemen to
paddle down the lake some two or three hundred yards, deliberately
prepared to camp. Hardly had his canoe touched the shore before he was
again surrounded by the clamouring mob. Whereupon he faced them and,
striking an attitude, harangued them in their own tongue.
He had come, he said, hoping to find MacNair and to plead with him to
deal fairly with his people. It is true that MacNair pays more for the
labour of their hands than the company does for their furs, and in
doing so he has proved himself a friend of the Indians. But he can
well afford to pay more. Is not the _pil chickimin_--the gold--worth
more even than the finest of skins?
He reached beneath the blankets and, drawing forth one of the cheap
knives, held it aloft. For years, he told them, the great fur company
has been robbing the Indians. Has been charging them two, three, four,
and even ten times the real value of the goods they offer in barter.
But the Indians have not known this. Even he, LeFroy, did not know it
until the _kloshe kloochman_--the good white woman--came into the North
and built a school at the mouth of the Yellow Knife. She is the real
friend of the Indians. For she brought goods, even more goods than are
found in the largest of the Hudson Bay posts, and she sells them at
prices unheard of--at their real value in the land of the white man.
"See now!" he cried, holding the knife aloft, "in the store of MacNair,
for this knife you will pay eight skins. Who will buy it for two?"
A dozen Indians crowded forward, and the knife passed into the hands of
an old squaw. Other knives and hatchets changed hands, and yards of
bolt goods were sold at prices that caused the black eyes of the
purchasers to glitter with greed.
"Why do you stay here?" cried LeFroy suddenly. "Oh! my people, why do
you remain to toil all your lives in the mines--to be robbed of the
work of your hands? Come to the Yellow Knife and join those who are
already enjoying the fruits of their labours! Where all have plenty,
and none are asked to toil and dig in the dirt of the mines. Where all
that is required is to sit in the school and learn from books, and
become wise in the ways of the white man."
The half-breed paused, swaying his body to and fro as he gazed intently
into the eyes of the greed-crazed horde. Suddenly his voice arose
almost to a shriek. "You are free men--dwellers in a free land! Who
is MacNair, that he should hold you in servitude? Why should you toil
to enrich him? Why should you bow down beneath his tyranny? Who is
_he_ to make laws that you shall obey?" He shifted his gaze to the
upturned face of Sotenah. "Who is he to say: 'You shall drink no
firewater'? And who is he to flog you when you break that law? I tell
you in the great storehouse on the Yellow Knife is firewater for all!
The white man's drink! The drink that makes men strong--and happy--and
wise as gods!"
He called loudly. Two of his canoemen rolled a cask to his feet, and,
upending it, broached in the head. Seizing a tin cup, LeFroy plunged
it into the cask and drank with a great smacking of lips. Then,
refilling the cup, he passed it to Sotenah.
"See!" he cried, "it is a present from the _kloshe kloochman_ to the
people of MacNair! The people who are down-trodden and oppressed!"
Under the spell of the man's words, all fear of the wrath of MacNair
vanished, and Sotenah greedily seized the cup and drank, while about
him crowded the others rendering the night hideous with their frenzied
cries of exultation.
The cask was quickly emptied, and another broached. Old men, women,
and children, all drank--and fighting, and leaping, and dancing, and
yelling, returned to drink again. For, never within the memory of the
oldest, had any Indian drunk the white man's whiskey for which he had
not paid.
Darkness fell. Fires were lighted upon the beach, and the wild orgy
continued. Other casks were opened, and the drink-crazed Indians
yelled and fought and sang in a perfect frenzy of delirium.
Fire-brands were hurled high into the air, to fall whirling among the
cabins. And it was these whirling brands that riveted the attention of
the occupants of the big canoe that approached swiftly along the shore
from the direction of the Yellow Knife. LeFroy had timed his work
well. In the bow, Lapierre, with a grim smile upon his thin lips,
watched the arcs of the whirling brands, while from their position
amidship, Chloe and Big Lena stared fascinated upon the scene.
"What are they doing?" cried the girl in amazement. Lapierre turned
and smiled into her eyes.
"We have come," he answered, "at a most opportune time. You are about
to see MacNair's Indians at their worst. For they seem to be even more
drunk than usual. It is MacNair's way--to make them drunk while he
looks on and laughs."
"Do you mean," cried the girl in horror, "that they are drunk?"
Lapierre smiled. "Very drunk," he answered dryly. "It is the only way
MacNair can hold them--by allowing them free license at frequent
intervals. For well the Indians know that nowhere else in all the
North would this thing be permitted. Therefore, they remain with
MacNair."
The canoe had drawn close now, and the figures of the Indians were
plainly discernible. Many were lying sprawled upon the ground, while
others leaped and danced in the red flare of the flames. At frequent
intervals, above the sound of the frenzied shouts and weird chants,
arose the sharp rattle of shots, as the Indians fired recklessly into
the air.
At a signal from Lapierre the canoemen ceased paddling. Chloe's eyes
flashed an inquiry, and Lapierre shook his head.
"We can venture no closer," he explained. "At such times their
deviltry knows no bounds. They would make short shrift of anyone who
would venture among them this night."
Chloe nodded. "I have no wish to go farther!" she cried. "I have seen
enough, and more than enough! When this night's work shall become
known in Ottawa, its echo shall ring from Labrador to the Yukon until
throughout all Canada the name of MacNair shall be hated and despised!"
At the words, Lapierre glanced into her flushed face, and, removing his
hat, bowed reverently. "God grant that your prophecy may be fulfilled.
And I speak, not because of any hatred for MacNair, but from a heart
overflowing with love and compassion for my people. For their welfare,
it is my earnest prayer that this man's just punishment shall not long
be delayed."
While he was yet speaking, from the midst of the turmoil red flames
shot high into the air. The yelling increased tenfold, and the
frenzied horde surged toward the walls of the stockade. The cabins of
the Indians were burning! Wider and higher flared the fire, and louder
and fiercer swelled the sounds of yelling and the firing of rifles.
The walls of the stockade ignited. The fire was eating its way toward
the long, log storehouse. Instantly through the girl's mind flashed
the memory of that other night when the sky glowed red, and the crash
of rifles mingled with the hoarse roar of flames. She gazed in
fascination as the fire licked and curled above the roof of the
storehouse. Upon the shore, even the canoes were burning.
Suddenly a wild shriek was borne to her ears. The firing of guns
ceased abruptly, and around the corner of the burning storehouse dashed
a figure of terror, hatless and coatless, with long hair streaming
wildly in the firelight. Tall, broad, and gaunt it appeared in the
light of the flaring flames, and instantly Chloe recognized the form of
Bob MacNair. Lapierre also recognized it, and gasped audibly. For at
that moment he knew MacNair should have been far across the barrens on
the trail of the caribou herd.
"Look! Look!" cried the girl. "What is he doing?" And watched in
horror as the big man charged among the Indians, smashing, driving and
kicking his way through the howling, rum-crazed horde. At every
lashing blow of his fist, every kick of his high-laced boot, men went
down. Others reeled drunkenly from his path screaming aloud in their
fright; while across the open space in the foreground four or five men
could be seen dashing frantically for the protection of the timber.
MacNair ripped the gun from the hand of a reeling Indian and, throwing
it to his shoulder, fired. Of those who ran, one dropped, rose to his
knees, and sank backward. MacNair fired again, and another crashed
forward, and rolled over and over upon the ground.
Lapierre watched with breathless interest while the others gained the
shelter of the timber. He wondered whether one of the two men who fell
was LeFroy.
"Oh!" cried Chloe in horror. "He's killing them!"
Lapierre made a swift sign to his paddlers, and the canoe shot behind a
low sand-point where, in response to a tense command, the canoemen
turned its bow southward; and, for the second time, Chloe Elliston
found herself being driven by willing hands southward upon Snare Lake.
"He pounded--and kicked--and beat them!" sobbed the girl hysterically.
"And two of them he killed!"
Lapierre nodded. "Yes," he answered sadly, "and he will kill more of
them. It seems that this time they got beyond even his control. For
the destruction of his buildings and his goods, he will take his toll
in lives and in the sufferings of his Indians."
While the canoe shot southward through the darkness, Chloe sat huddled
upon her blankets. And as she watched the dull-red glow fade from the
sky above MacNair's burning fort, her heart cried out for vengeance
against this brute of the North.
One hour, two hours, the canoe plowed the black waters of the lake, and
then, because men must rest, Lapierre reluctantly gave the order to
camp, and the tired canoemen turned the bow shoreward.
Hardly had they taken a dozen strokes when the canoe ground sharply
against the thin, shore ice. There was the sound of ripping bark,
where the knifelike edge of the ice tore through the side of the frail
craft. Water gushed in, and Lapierre, stifling a curse that rose to
his lips, seized a paddle, and leaning over the bow began to chop
frantically at the ice. Two of the canoemen with their paddles held
her head on, while the other two, with the help of Chloe and Big Lena
endeavoured to stay the inrush of water with blankets and fragments of
clothing.
Progress was slow. The ice thickened as they neared the shore, and
Lapierre's paddle-blade, battered upon its point and edges to a soft,
fibrous pulp, thudded softly upon the ice without breaking it. He
threw the paddle overboard and seized another. A few more yards were
won, but the shore loomed black and forbidding, and many yards away.
Despite the utmost efforts of the women and the two canoemen, the water
gained rapidly. Lapierre redoubled his exertion, chopping and stabbing
at the ever thickening shore-ice. And then suddenly his paddle crashed
through, and with a short cry of relief he rose to his feet, and leaped
into the black water, where he sank only to his middle. The canoemen
followed. And the canoe, relieved of the bulk of its burden, floated
more easily.
Slowly they pushed shoreward through the shallow water, the men
breaking the ice before them. And a few minutes later, wet and chilled
to the bone, they stepped onto the gravel.
Within the shelter of a small thicket a fire was built, and while the
men returned to examine the damaged canoe, the two women wrung out
their dripping garments and, returning them wet, huddled close to the
tiny blaze. The men returned to the fire, where a meal was prepared
and eaten in silence. As he ate, Chloe noticed that Lapierre seemed
ill at ease.
"Did you repair the canoe?" she asked. The man shook his head.
"No. It is damaged beyond any thought of repair. We removed the food
and such of its contents as are necessary, and, loading it with rocks,
sank it in the lake."
"Sank it in the lake!" cried the girl in amazement.
"Yes," answered Lapierre. "For even if it were not damaged, it would
be of no further use to us. Tonight the lake will freeze."
"What are we going to do?" cried the girl.
"There is only one thing to do," answered Lapierre quickly. "Walk to
the school. It is not such a long trail--a hundred miles or so. And
you can take it easy. You have plenty of provisions."
"I!" cried the girl. "And what will you do?"
"It is necessary," answered the man, "that I should make a forced
march."
"You are going to leave me?"
Lapierre smiled at the evident note of alarm in her voice. "I am going
to take two of the canoemen and return in all haste to your school. Do
you realize that MacNair, now that he has lost his winter provisions,
will stop at nothing to obtain more?"
"He would not dare!" cried the girl, her eyes flashing.
Lapierre laughed. "You do not know MacNair. You, personally, he would
not venture to molest. He will doubtless try to buy supplies from you
or from the Hudson Bay Company. But, in the meantime, while he is upon
this errand, his Indians, with no one to hold them in check, and
knowing that the supplies are in your storehouse, will swoop down upon
it, and your own Indians, without a leader, will fall an easy prey to
the hungry horde."
"But surely," cried the girl, "LeFroy is capable----"
"Possibly, if he were at the school," interrupted Lapierre. "But
unfortunately the day before we ourselves departed, I sent LeFroy upon
an important mission to the eastward. I think you will agree with me
upon the importance of the mission when I tell you that, as I swung out
of the mouth of Slave River at the head of the canoe brigade, I saw a
fast canoe slipping stealthily along the shore to the eastward. In
that canoe, with the aid of my binoculars, I made out two men whom I
have long suspected of being engaged in the nefarious and hellish
business of peddling whiskey among the Indians. I knew it was useless
to try to overtake them with my heavily loaded canoe, and so upon my
arrival at the school, as soon as we had concluded the outfitting of
the trappers, I dispatched LeFroy to hunt these men down, to destroy
any liquor found in their possession, and to deal with them as he saw
fit."
He paused and gazed steadily into the girl's face. "This may seem to
you a lawless and high-handed proceeding, Miss Elliston," he went on;
"but you have just witnessed one exhibition of the tragedy that whiskey
can work among my people. In my opinion, the end justifies the means."
The girl regarded him with shining eyes. "Indeed it does!" she cried.
"Oh, there is nothing--no punishment--too severe for such brutes, such
devils, as these! I--I hope LeFroy will catch them. I
hope--almost--he will kill them."
Lapierre nodded. "Yes, Miss Elliston," he answered gravely, "one could
sometimes almost wish so, but I have forbidden it. The taking of a
human life is a serious matter; and in the North the exigencies of the
moment all too frequently make this imperative. As a last resort only
should we kill."
"You are right," echoed the girl. "Only after the scene we have just
witnessed, it seemed that I myself could kill deliberately, and be glad
I killed. Truly the North breeds savagery. For I, too, have killed on
the spur of the moment!" The words fell rapidly from her lips, and she
cried out as in physical pain. "And to think that I killed in defence
of _him_! Oh, if I had let the Indian shoot that night, all this"--she
waved her hand to the northward--"would never have happened."
"Very true, Miss Elliston," answered Lapierre softly. "But do not
blame yourself. Under the circumstances, you could not have done
otherwise."
As he talked, two of the canoemen made up light packs from the outfit
of the wrecked canoe. Seeing that they had concluded, Lapierre arose,
and taking Chloe's hand in both of his, looked straight into her eyes.
"Good-by," he said simply. "These Indians will conduct you in safety
to your school." And, without waiting for a reply, turned and followed
the two canoemen into the brush.
Chloe sat for a long time staring into the flames of the tiny fire
before creeping between her damp blankets. Despite the utter
body-weariness of her long canoe-trip, the girl slept but fitfully in
her cold bed.
In the early grey of the morning she started up nervously. Surely a
sound had awakened her. She heard it distinctly now, the sound of
approaching footsteps. She strained to locate the sound, and instantly
realized it was not the tread of moccasined feet. She threw off the
frost-stiffened blankets and leaped to her feet, shivering in the keen
air of the biting dawn.
The sounds of the footsteps grew louder, plainer, as though someone had
turned suddenly from the shore and approached the thicket with long,
heavy strides. With muscles tense and heart bounding wildly the girl
waited. Then, scarce ten feet from her side, the thick scrub parted
with a vicious swish, and a man, hatless, glaring, and white-faced,
stood before her. The man was MacNair.