LAPIERRE PAYS A VISIT
Up on Snare Lake the men to whom Lapierre had passed the word had taken
possession of MacNair's burned and abandoned fort, and there the leader
had joined them after stopping at Fort McMurray to tip off to Ripley
and Craig the bit of evidence that he hoped would clinch the case
against MacNair. More men joined the Snare Lake stampede--flat-faced
breeds from the lower Mackenzie, evil-visaged rivermen from the country
of the Athabasca and the Slave, and the renegade white men who were
Lapierre's underlings.
By dog-train and on foot they came, dragging their outfits behind them,
and in the eyes of each was the gleam of the greed of gold. The few
cabins which had escaped the conflagration had been pre-empted by the
first-comers, while the later arrivals pitched their tents and shelter
tarps close against the logs of the unburned portion of MacNair's
stockade.
At the time of Lapierre's arrival the colony had assumed the aspect of
a typical gold camp. The drifted snow had been removed from MacNair's
diggings, and the night-fires that thawed out the gravel glared red and
illuminated the clearing with a ruddy glow in which the dumps loomed
black and ugly, like unclean wens upon the white surface of the
trampled snow.
Lapierre, a master of organization, saw almost at the moment of his
arrival that the gold-camp system of two-man partnerships could be
vastly improved upon. Therefore, he formed the men into shifts: eight
hours in the gravel and tending the fires, eight hours chopping
cord-wood and digging in the ruins of MacNair's storehouse for the
remains of unburned grub, and eight hours' rest. Always night and day,
the seemingly tireless leader moved about the camp encouraging,
cursing, bullying, urging; forcing the utmost atom of man-power into
the channels of greatest efficiency. For well the quarter-breed knew
that his tenure of the Snare Lake diggings was a tenure wholly by
sufferance of circumstances--over which he, Lapierre, had no control.
With MacNair safely lodged in the Fort Saskatchewan jail, he felt safe
from interference, at least until late in the spring. This would allow
plenty of time for the melting snows to furnish the water necessary for
the cleaning up of the dumps. After that the fate of his colony hung
upon the decision of a judge somewhere down in the provinces. Thus
Lapierre crowded his men to the utmost, and the increasing size of the
black dump-heaps bespoke a record-breaking clean-up when the waters of
the melting snow should be turned into sluices in the spring.
With his mind easy in his fancied security, and in order that every
moment of time and every ounce of man-power should be devoted to the
digging of gold, Lapierre had neglected to bring his rifles and
ammunition from the Lac du Mort rendezvous and from the storehouse of
Chloe Elliston's school. An omission for which he cursed himself
roundly upon an evening, early in February when an Indian, gaunt and
wide-eyed from the strain of a forced snow-trail, staggered from the
black shadow of the bush into the glare of the blazing night-fires, and
in a frenzied gibberish of jargon proclaimed that Bob MacNair had
returned to the Northland. And not only that he had returned, but had
visited Lac du Mort in company with a man of the Mounted.
At first Lapierre flatly refused to credit the Indian's yarn, but when
upon pain of death the man refused to alter his statement, and added
the information that he himself had fired at MacNair from the shelter
of a snow-ridden spruce, and that just as he pulled the trigger the man
of the soldier-police had intervened and stopped the speeding bullet,
Lapierre knew that the Indian spoke the truth.
In the twinkling of an eye the quarter-breed realized the extreme
danger of his position. His wrath knew no bounds. Up and down he
raged in his fury, cursing like a madman, while all about him--blaming,
reviling, advising--cursed the men of his ill-favoured crew. For not a
man among them but knew that somewhere someone had blundered. And for
some inexplicable reason their situation had suddenly shifted from
comparative security to extreme hazard. They needed not to be told
that with MacNair at large in the Northland their lives hung by a
slender thread. For at that very moment Brute MacNair was, in all
probability, upon the Yellow Knife leading his armed Indians toward
Snare Lake.
In addition to this was the certain knowledge that the vengeance of the
Mounted would fall in full measure upon the heads of all who were in
any way associated with Pierre Lapierre. An officer had been shot, and
the men of Lapierre were outlawed from Ungava to the Western sea. The
intricate system had crumbled in the batting of an eye. Else why
should a man of the Mounted have been found before the barricade of the
Bastile du Mort in company with Brute MacNair?
The quick-witted Lapierre was the first to recover from the shock of
the stunning blow. Leaping onto the charred logs of MacNair's
storehouse, he called loudly to his men, who in a panic were wildly
throwing their outfits onto sleds. Despite their mad haste they
crowded close and listened to the words of the man upon whose judgment
they had learned to rely, and from whose dreaded "dismissal from
service" they had cowered in fear. They swarmed about Lapierre a
hundred strong, and his voice rang harsh.
"You dogs! You _canaille_!" he cried, and they shrank from the baleful
glare of his black eyes. "What would you do? Where would you go? Do
you think that, single-handed, you can escape from MacNair's Indians,
who will follow your trails like hounds and kill you as they would kill
a snared rabbit? I tell you your trails will be short. A dead man
will lie at the end of each. But even if you succeed in escaping the
Indians, what, then, of the Mounted? One by one, upon the rivers and
lakes of the Northland, upon wide snow-steeps of the barren grounds,
even to the shores of the frozen sea, you will be hunted and gathered
in. Or you will be shot like dogs, and your bones left to crunch in
the jaws of the wolf-pack. We are outlaws, all! Not a man of us will
dare show his face in any post or settlement or city in all Canada."
The men shrank before the words, for they knew them to be true. Again
the leader was speaking, and hope gleamed in fear-strained eyes.
"We have yet one chance; I, Pierre Lapierre, have not played my last
card. We will stand or fall together! In the Bastile du Mort are many
rifles, and ammunition and provisions for half a year. Once behind the
barricade, we shall be safe from any attack. We can defy MacNair's
Indians and stand off the Mounted until such time as we are in a
position to dictate our own terms. If we stand man to man together, we
have everything to gain and nothing to lose. We are outlawed, every
one. There is no turning back!"
Lapierre's bold assurance averted the threatened panic, and with a yell
the men fell to work packing their outfits for the journey to Lac du
Mort. The quarter-breed despatched scouts to the southward to
ascertain the whereabouts of MacNair, and, if possible, to find out
whether or not the officer of the Mounted had been killed by the shot
of the Indian.
At early dawn the outfit crossed Snare Lake and headed for Lac du Mort
by way of Grizzly Bear, Lake Mackay, and Du Rocher. Upon the evening
of the fourth day, when they threaded the black-spruce swamp and pulled
wearily into the fort on Lac du Mort, Lapierre found a scout awaiting
him with the news that MacNair had headed northward with his Indians,
and that LeFroy was soon to start for Fort Resolution with the wounded
man of the Mounted. Whereupon he selected the fastest and freshest
dog-team available and, accompanied by a half-dozen of his most trusted
lieutenants, took the trail for Chloe Elliston's school on-the Yellow
Knife, after issuing orders as to the conduct of defence in case of an
attack by MacNair's Indians.
Affairs at the school were at a standstill. From a busy hive of
activity, with the women and children showing marked improvement at
their tasks, and the men happy in the felling of logs and the
whip-sawing of lumber, the settlement had suddenly slumped into a
disorganized hodge-podge of unrest and anxiety. MacNair's Indians had
followed him into the North; their women and children brooded sullenly,
and a feeling of unrest and expectancy pervaded the entire colony.
Among the inmates of the cottage the condition was even worse. With
Harriet Penny hysterical and excited, Big Lena more glum and taciturn
than usual, the Louchoux girl cowering in mortal dread of impending
disaster, and Chloe herself disgusted, discouraged, nursing in her
heart a consuming rage against Brute MacNair, the man who had wrought
the harm, and who had been her evil genius since she had first set foot
into the North.
Upon the afternoon of the day she despatched LeFroy to Fort Resolution
with the wounded officer of the Mounted, Chloe stood at her little
window gazing out over the wide sweep of the river and wondering how it
all would end. Would MacNair find Lapierre, and would he kill him? Or
would the Mounted heed the urgent appeal she despatched in care of
LeFroy and arrive in time to recapture MacNair before he came upon his
victim?
"If I only knew where to find him," she muttered, "I could warn him of
his danger."
The next moment her eyes widened with amazement, and she pressed her
face close against the glass; across the clearing from the direction of
the river dashed a dog-team, with three men running before and three
behind, while upon the sled, jaunty and smiling, and debonair as ever,
sat Pierre Lapierre himself. With a flourish he swung the dogs up to
the tiny veranda and stepped from the sled, and the next moment Chloe
found herself standing in the little living-room with Lapierre bowing
low over her hand. Harriet Penny was in the schoolhouse; the Louchoux
girl was helping Big Lena in the kitchen, and for the first time in
many moons Chloe Elliston felt glad that she was alone with Lapierre.
When at length she removed her hand from his grasp she stood for some
moments regarding the clean-cut lines of his features, and then she
smiled as she noted the trivial fact that he had removed his hat, and
that he stood humbly before her with bared head. A great surge of
feeling rushed over her as she realized how clean and good--how perfect
this man seemed in comparison with the hulking brutality of MacNair.
She motioned him to a seat beside the table, and drawing her chair
close to his side, poured into his attentive and sympathetic ears all
that she knew of MacNair's escape, of the shooting of Corporal Ripley,
and his departure in the night with his Indians.
Lapierre listened, smiling inwardly at her version of the affair, and
at the conclusion of her words leaned forward and took one of the slim
brown hands in his. For a long, long time the girl listened in silence
to the pleading of his lips; and the little room was filled with the
passion of his low-voiced eloquence.
Neither was aware of the noiseless opening of a door, nor of the
wide-eyed, girlish face that stared at them through the aperture, nor
was either aware that the man's words were borne distinctly to the ears
of the Louchoux girl. Nor could they note the change from an
expression of startled surprise to slitlike, venomous points of fire
that took place in the eyes of the listening girl--nor the clenching
fists. Nor did they hear the soft, catlike tread with which the girl
quit the door and crossed to the kitchen table. Nor could they see the
cruel snarl of her lips as her fingers closed tightly about the haft of
the huge butcher-knife, whose point was sharp and whose blade was keen.
Nor did they hear the noiseless tread with which the girl again
approached the door, swung wider now to admit the passage of her tense,
lithe body. Nor did they see her crouch for a spring with the
tight-clutched knife upraised and the gleaming slitlike eyes focused
upon a point mid-way between Lapierre's shoulder-blades as his arm
unconsciously came to rest upon the back of Chloe Elliston's chair.
For a long moment the girl poised, gloating--enjoying in its fulness
the measure of her revenge. Before her, leaning in just the right
attitude to receive upon his defenceless back the full force of the
blow, sat the man who had deceived her. For not until she had listened
to the low-voiced, impassioned words had she realized there had been
any deception. With the realization came the hot, fierce flame of
anger that seared her very soul. An anger engendered by her own wrong,
and fanned to its fiercest by the knowledge that the man was at that
moment seeking to deceive the white woman--the woman who had taught her
much, and who with the keenest interest and gentleness had treated her
as an equal.
She had come to love this white woman with the love that was greater
than the love of life. And the words to which this woman was now
listening were the same words, from the same lips, to which she herself
had listened beside the cold waters of the far-off Mackenzie. Thus the
Louchoux girl faced suddenly her first great problem. And to the
half-savage mind of her the solution of the problem seemed very simple,
very direct, and, had Big Lena not entered by way of the outer door at
the precise moment that the girl crouched with uplifted knife, it would
doubtless have been very effective.
But Big Lena did enter, and, with a swiftness of perception that belied
the vacuous stare of the fishlike eyes, took in the situation at a
glance; for LeFroy had already hinted to her of the relation which
existed between his erstwhile superior and this girl from the land of
the midnight sun. Whereupon Big Lena had kept her own counsel and had
patiently bided her time, and now her time had come, and she was in no
wise minded that the fulness of her vengeance should be marred by the
untimely taking off of Lapierre. Swiftly she crossed the room, and as
her strong fingers closed about the wrist of the Indian girl's upraised
knife-arm, the other hand reached beyond and noiselessly closed the
door between the two rooms.
The Louchoux girl whirled like a flash and sank her strong, white teeth
deep in the rolled-sleeved forearm of the huge Swedish woman. But a
thumb, inserted dextrously and with pressure in the little hollow
behind the girl's ear, caused her jaws instantly to relax, and she
stood trembling before the big woman, who regarded her with a tolerant
grin, and the next moment laid a friendly hand upon her shoulder and,
turning her gently about, guided her to a chair at the farther side of
the room.
Followed then a quarter of an hour of earnest conversation, in which
the older woman managed to convey, through the medium of her broken
English, a realization that Lapierre's discomfiture could be
encompassed much more effectively and in a thoroughly orthodox and less
sanguinary manner.
The ethics of Big Lena's argument were undoubtedly beyond the Louchoux
girl's comprehension; but because this woman had been good to her, and
because she seemed greatly to desire this thing, the girl consented to
abstain from violence, at least for the time being. A few minutes
later, when Chloe Elliston opened the door and announced that Mr.
Lapierre would join them at supper, she found the two women busily
engaged in the final preparation of the meal.
Big Lena passed into the dining-room, which was also the living-room,
and without deigning to notice Lapierre's presence, proceeded to lay
the table for supper. Returning to the kitchen, she despatched the
Indian girl to the storehouse upon an errand which would insure her
absence until after Chloe and Lapierre and Harriet Penny had taken
their places at the table.
Since her arrival at the school the Louchoux girl had been treated as
"one of the family," and it was with a look of inquiry toward the
girl's empty chair that Chloe seated herself with the others.
Interpreting the look, Big Lena assured her that the girl would return
in a few moments; and Chloe had just launched into an impassioned
account of the virtues and the accomplishments of her ward, when the
door opened and the girl herself entered the room and crossed swiftly
to her accustomed place. As she stood with her hand on the back of her
chair, Lapierre for the first time glanced into her face.
The quarter-breed was a man trained as few men are trained to meet
emergencies, to face crises with an impassiveness of countenance that
would shame the Sphinx. He had lost thousands across the green cloth
of gambling-tables without batting an eye. He had faced death and had
killed men with a face absolutely devoid of expression, and upon
numerous occasions his nerve--the consummate _sang-froid_ of him--had
alone thrown off the suspicion that would have meant arrest upon
charges which would have taken more than a lifetime to expiate. And as
he sat at the little table beside Chloe Elliston, his eyes met
unflinchingly the flashing, accusing gaze of the black eyes of the girl
from the Northland--the girl who was his wife.
For a long moment their glances held, while the atmosphere of the
little room became surcharged with the terrible portent of this silent
battle of eyes. Harriet Penny gasped audibly; and as Chloe stared from
one to the other of the white, tense faces before her, her brain seemed
suddenly to numb, and the breath came short and quick between her
parted lips to the rapid heaving of her bosom. The Louchoux girl's
eyes seemed fairly to blaze with hate. The fingers of her hand dug
into the wooden back of her chair until the knuckles whitened. She
leaned far forward and, pointing directly into the face of the man,
opened her lips to speak. It was then Lapierre's gaze wavered, for in
that moment he realized that for him the game was lost.
With a half-smothered curse he leaped to his feet, overturning his
chair, which banged sharply upon the plank floor. He glanced wildly
about the little room as if seeking means of escape, and his eyes
encountered the form of Big Lena, who stood stolidly in the doorway,
blocking the exit. In a flash he noted the huge, bared forearm; noted,
too, that one thick hand gripped tightly the helve of a chopping ax,
with which she toyed lightly as if it were a little thing, while the
thumb of her other hand played smoothly, but with a certain terrible
significance, along the keen edge of its blade. Lapierre's glance
flashed to her face and encountered the fishlike stare of the
china-blue eyes, as he had encountered it once before. The eyes, as
before, were expressionless upon their surface, but deep down--far into
their depths--Lapierre caught a cold gleam of mockery. And then the
Louchoux girl was speaking, and he turned upon her with a snarl.