CHAPTER XVII
Hurley's Conspiracy is Unfolded
Nowhere else in the vast territories of the Dominion of Canada couldJoe and his two comrades have come upon a spot more suited to theirpurpose than was the tiny island which cropped out almost in the centreof the frozen and snow-covered surface of the vast lake they hadencountered during their prospecting tour in New Ontario.
"It aer a fair treat," observed Hank, rubbing his half-frozen handstogether, with a gusto there was no mistaking. "I allow that when wemade back to our camp this afternoon things was looking uncommonlyblack, and ef we had found that all our traps had been taken or burnedby them half-breeds, why, in course we should ha' been up a gum tree,as Australians is fond of saying. How do I know they're fond o' sayin'that, young feller?" he asked, with an appearance of severity he wasfar from feeling; for Joe had laughingly asked the question. "Jest ferthis reason: there's Australians comes to Canada--not 'cos they don'tlike their own country, for I never heard of one as didn't swear byAustralia; but, you see, things don't move quite as fast out there asthey do here. This Dominion aer the place for settlers above allothers for two good reasons. First, and it's a big 'un--the distancefrom the old country is so short, which makes the passage easy andcheap; and second, this here Government aer on the move all the time,more even than that over in Australia. Yer see, they've got the massespouring in, and huge preparations has to be made. But we was talkingof this island."
"Yes," agreed Joe, who long since had made a tour of the place. Notthat that was a journey of vast extent or of difficulty, for the littleheap of rock which cropped from the bed of the lake in such picturesquefashion was barely big enough to house three dozen men. That numberwould be uncomfortably squeezed together, as a matter of fact, and somewould be pressed from the edge. Then, again, its outer edge was raisedfor all the world like the rim of a saucer, while the centre wasdepressed into a number of irregular hollows. "A fine place," admittedJoe warmly. "Shouldn't wonder if in summertime there is fresh water inthese hollows. In any case, though, that wouldn't matter, for there isabundance of water in the lake. Seems to me we shall be able to make afort here that will bother those people."
"What'd you do?" asked Hank, eager to discover the plans that Joe mighthave made. "Here you are with a couple of young fellers, me and BeaverJack, to look after, and it aer up to you to protect us and lead us.What'll you do? No laughing matter, young feller--I'm serious."
It was hard to believe that, for never did hunter wear a more jovialexpression. To be precise, that exhilarating flight from before theenemy, the discovery of their camp equipment undamaged, and then thegaining of this unique position had lifted the spirits of all three ofthe party wonderfully.
"It aer a regular nest, this aer," grinned Hank. "Wall? What do youmake of it? Them critters is away over there talking things over, youkin guess. Havin' a bit of a pow-wow, as the sayin' is. They've seedus come away here, in course, for even now that the dusk are fallingyou kin follow the track we've left across the snow. It aer up to you,Joe, to fix a plan that'll save the lives of your two comrades."
There was a twinkle in the little man's eyes, and, looking at him, onewould have said that he didn't care the toss of a button for the enemy,though, like a sensible and cautious man, he would neglect nothingwhich would give him an advantage over them.
"I'd raise this edge all round, first of all," said Joe, "and I'd makedummies to draw their bullets. We ourselves don't want to be perchedhigh up, unless during the night, for when it's daytime one can seeacross the bare surface outside for a great distance; then I'd makeopenings close to the rock through which we could fire. It seems to methat by doing so we shall bother them, and make it difficult for themto pick us off as they advance."
"And how'd you raise the edge?" asked Hank, with interest. "Pile upsnow? That takes time."
"I'd cut bricks of snow," was Joe's answer; "then, when they were builtinto position, I'd break the ice, if that's possible, and throw wateron the outside face of the wall we've constructed. Talk aboutarmour-plate on a ship! That'll convert our fort into a regulardreadnought."
Hank turned on an expansive grin for our hero's special edification,while even the austere Redskin smiled. "And these here snow bricks,"said Hank, "you'd take 'em from where?"
"Just outside the island. That would leave a kind of trench all round,and so give the enemy a greater height to climb, supposing they got toclose quarters."
"Which aer likely enough, seeing as they're so many, and kin scatter soas to make shooting extry difficult. Shucks, lad! Guess you've putthe case nicely. To make good out here we've got to have protectionmore than rifles kin give us. We'll build that wall; seems to me itaer the first thing that's wanted."
Perhaps half an hour or more had passed since they reached the spotwhere they were now awaiting the enemy, and during that time the busyIndian had constructed a comfortable lean-to, while, as has beennarrated, Joe had built a fire and boiled the kettle. There being nosign yet of the half-breeds, the whole party sat down about the fire todiscuss Joe's suggestions, while that young fellow himself delved inone of the bags they always carried with them, brought to light a chunkof frozen meat which, in that condition, would have required agood-sized axe to cut, and placed it over the flames. Ten minuteslater, when the frost was driven from it, he cut a number of slices,thrust his cleaning rod through them, and poised the rod upon a coupleof forked sticks above the fire. As for the remainder of the piece offlesh, it was quickly frozen solid; for by this time the moon was upand the cold was intense.
"It aer nice to have a fire, and a hollow to sit in," admitted Hank,who, as a rule, seemed to be absolutely unaffected by extremes oftemperature. Joe had, in fact, seen the little man cool and collected,and not inconvenienced in the slightest, even when working on thehottest day, with a swarm of mosquitoes about him; while the icy breathof this winter had passed unnoticed. "We aer in fer a cold time," saidthe little hunter, staring into the embers, "and seems to me that that'ere wall aer wanted fer another reason besides fer keeping them skunksout. It'll make us as warm inside here as ef we was tucked in ourblankets on the cosiest feather bed you ever thought of."
"While these men outside will freeze," added Joe.
"Not they!" came the instant answer. "Them critters is used to life uphere. Wouldn't wonder ef they was 'way up by James Bay most wintertimes, and there the cold aer wuss perhaps. They've enlarged ourshelter already, and likely as not they've built a fire right inside.As soon as they've had a meal they'll turn right in, and the dogs alongwith 'em. That'll send up the warmth and keep an Arctic cold out. Butit's ten chances to one as they'll try to rush us before the morning.Now ef them steaks is done we'll tackle them, and then get to atbuilding."
There was a delightful odour of cooking about the little island, theoverhanging branches of the evergreen pines seeming to hem it in.Joe's mouth was watering before he declared that the meal was ready,and then, having handed a slice to each of his friends, together with aspecies of damper cake made from flour and water toasted on the embers,he fell upon the food himself with a gusto that told how fear had noplace with him. A pipe completed Hank's contentment, then, the moonbeing now full up, and the enemy out of sight, the trio set to work toerect the walls of their fortification. With their long-bladed knivesthey cut oblong chunks of frozen snow with the same ease as one wouldcut butter, and then, leaving Joe alone to do the building, sent blockafter block of the material sliding to the position he had taken.
"We'll get along quicker like that," said Hank. "It don't take more'na couple of seconds to lift a block into place, while it takes fiveperhaps to cut one. So ef one builds, t'others'll be able to keep himsupplied."
It was really remarkable how rapidly the wall rose. In an hour therewas a complete circle all round the rim of the island, which, beingnaturally raised, gave greater height to the artificial wall. Thesecond row of blocks was soon added, Joe leaving spaces here and therethrough
which a rifle could be fired. The third and fourth and othersswiftly followed, and when four hours had gone the task was completed.Then Hank attacked the ice with an axe which he always carried, and,having cut through a foot and more, came upon water. A tin potconstantly replenished supplied a means whereby the outer face of thewall was drenched, and so fierce was the cold that the liquid congealedalmost as soon as it had fallen on the surface at which it wasprojected.
"We kin make our dummies any time now," said Hank. "Two of 'em'll beenough, and the one who's going to take the first watch'll find theywill help to pass the time in making. It's nigh midnight now; I'lltake a spell. Joe'll relieve when three hours have gone, and BeaverJack later. Let's get to and make the most of the time before us."
In a short time silence fell upon this little isolated camp. Down inthe depths of the lowest hollow, huddled in their blankets, and as warmas toast, lay Joe and the Redskin, packed close together; for an Arcticwinter needs to be treated with consideration. No warmth that can beretained can be allowed to escape, and as two bodies huddled closetogether generate a temperature which is greater than that generated byone, it follows that campers sleep pressed close together. We haveseen the plan put into operation elsewhere. On the high veldt in SouthAfrica, when nightly frosts are keen, and when tents and propercovering are not obtainable, your campaigners soon lose all feelings offoolish pride. Officers divide into couples and bed down beneath thecombined allowance of blankets, while we have seen as many as four ofthe rank and file snug beneath their covering, snoring blissfully,grateful for the warmth of their comrades.
Perched above this tranquil camp, his keen eyes surveying thesurroundings with as much ease as a watchman can keep guard from atower built for that special purpose, Hank looked out across thesurface of the lake to the shore where the enemy was lying. His pipewas clenched between his teeth, his hands sunk deep into his pockets,while he himself was immovable. But every now and again the glow inthe bowl of his pipe brightened, showing that he was drawing on theweed, while a puff of smoke issued from his lips.
"The critters!" was a favourite exclamation with him; "Them skunks!"another; "Ef I only knew what they was after," an oft-repeated sentence.
"Yer see," Hank was saying to himself, "there don't seem to be anyreason in all this business; but there's something behind it all thatwe can't even guess at. Somehow I can't help thinkin' that this hereJoe ha' an importance in the matter."
What would the little hunter have given to be able to peer into thecamp of the enemy at that particular moment? He could see the glare ofa huge fire, and could imagine men and dogs sleeping together under ashelter. But Hank was an exceedingly practical fellow, not one giftedwith an unusual stock of imagination. He could not, therefore, guessthat the number of the enemy was divided, that there was one who was aleader. And yet that was the case. Half-breeds formed the backbone ofthe party--half-breeds of the lowest character, idle vagabonds to befound round and about the forts in the north of Canada. Not, let ussay at once, that all half-breeds are idle and worthless; by no meansis that the case. There are, of course, black sheep in every flock,and here a number were gathered together, and at that moment huddledfast asleep in the shelter of the lean-to which Joe and his friends haderected. Some ten paces away a second shelter had been constructed, ofrather ample proportions, while a fire blazed at the entrance, warmingthe interior. One side of this structure was filled by a sleigh, whichhad been put there for a special purpose, the blankets lying upon itshowing that it was meant to serve as a couch. On this same sleigh sata man, a bulky fellow, muffled in furs, bearded, and almostunrecognizable because of the skin cap drawn down over his ears. Heleaned over a wooden box which did duty for a table, and at the precisemoment when Hank was pulling at his pipe and wondering who theseenemies might be, the leader of the band of rascals had his thoughtsattracted to one at least of Hank's little party. A long envelope laybeside him, while a document was spread out on the improvised table.As for illumination, some was supplied by the fire, some by the clearmoon overhead, and most by a torch of birch bark, the resinous materialin which caused it to splutter and burn brilliantly.
Let us take a look at this individual and, lifting his cap, endeavourto recognize him. But time brings changes in all directions, and putsits stamp on the majority of faces. Anxiety may hasten this inevitablechange, while ill health, worry, an ill-conditioned mind, grasping andavarice are all capable of imprinting their own particular marks on thefeatures. In the case of the individual in question, a brutal mind wasdisplayed by a face that had never been handsome, and was now heavilyseamed and lined, boasting overhung brows, and a mouth which was set insomething approaching a permanent snarl. It was a face which hadchanged vastly in the past few months. For this was Hurley, this wasthe criminal who had so nearly killed our hero after committing murder,and who had made his escape into the forest, bearing Joe's riches andthat all-important envelope with him. We have learned how the man wascaptured, and how he made good his escape again. We recollect that Joehad recovered his dollars, but that the envelope was still missing.Missing? No. It was there on that improvised table. Right away inthe wilds of Canada, in the depths of an Arctic winter, it had come toview again, though now the seal was broken.
"To my son, Joe Bradley," the ruffian leaning over the box read aloud,as if he had an audience, picking up the envelope and holding itcloser. "The contents of this letter will explain to you many thingswhich I have never cared to refer to; but I beg of you never to open ittill you are in direst need or have earned the right to do so. Makeyour way in the world, gather riches--then you can open and read."
Hurley sneered at the words. He threw the envelope down with a gestureof impatience. "Of course the fool obeyed," he growled; "waited tillhe'd come out to Canada--in fact, till it was too late. And think whathe was losing. It makes me fair chuckle. There was a home ready-madefor him in England; there was gold to fill his pockets and keep 'emfilled; and there was servants all round about, so that he needn't havedone a hand's turn. Instead the young fool comes out to Canada andslaves on a farm. Well, some people are born idiots!"
Evidently with the reassuring reflection that he, Hurley, was no fool,the rascal turned to the contemplation of the document. He spread itout smoothly, leaned his elbows on either side, and perhaps for thehundredth time read the story enclosed, a tale, let it be remembered,meant only for the eyes of our hero; for therein set down, by the handof a man now dead, was a history of importance. Hurley gloated overthe contents of this document, weighing every word within it; then hesat back on the sleigh and gave himself up to dreaming. His savage,careworn face took on something approaching a pleasant expression, forHurley's were pleasant dreams. In them he imagined himself entirelysuccessful. He built castles for himself in the frosty air of thelean-to, forgetful that the best of schemes here and there come to asudden and disappointing ending.
"It can be done," he said aloud; "there is nothing to prevent me, for Ihave considered the plan from every side. I kill the boy; that is thefirst move. I take copies of the certificate of death when I leave thecountry, and when I reach Great Britain I am Bradley--Mr. Bradley,senior. Ha!"
A grin of triumph overspread his features, while he pushed his cap backas if the very thought of success made him hot. Looking at Hurley atthat moment, one realized that he was one of Canada's bad bargains andan unscrupulous ruffian. As for the tale which he had gathered fromthe document which had been stolen from our hero, we will not set itdown in full, as had been done by Joe's father. Suffice it to say thatthe narrative was somewhat unusual. It carried the history of twolives back some fifty years, and told of the birth of Joe's father.Son of a man of wealth, his mother had died soon after his appearance.Then a stepmother had appeared upon the scene, while in due time he waspresented with a stepbrother. At that point the tale took on someparticular interest, for by the machinations of his stepmother, Joe'sfather had at an early age found himself almost penniless. To
beprecise, when six years of age he was banished from the establishmentand sent to live with a schoolmaster at the other end of the country.Never once did he return home. Sums for his maintenance wereforthcoming, while he drifted unhappily from school to school. He thenfound himself placed in an office, and hardly was he self-supportingwhen all allowances ceased. In place he gathered the fact that hisstepbrother was now of age and had succeeded to his father's property.
"Succeeded to every penny of it," declared Hurley aloud, "and this herenatural son done out of it. But he got to learn that he was the nextin succession. He's too hurt with all this kind of treatment, and tooproud to go back to the home. He loses himself in some provincialtown, and don't say anything. But the chap who gets all the goodsdon't marry. This Bradley knows that well. Then what does he do?Writes this here, and sends every proof he's got of his own birth andsuchlike to solicitors in London. He don't see 'em hisself. Not abit. He sends the documents, and encloses the receipt which was sentfor them in this letter. This here matter can be worked as easy aseating."
The reasoning of this rascal could be followed now with some ease,while it is merely necessary to mention one more item in Mr. Bradley'sletter to our hero. He related that his stepbrother, realizing theinjustice done to the elder son, had, as the years passed, made effortsto discover him. He had advertised, and put the matter in the hands ofsearchers.
"In fact, he aer anxious for this here Bradley to turn up, and it aerclear from the letter that when he does, or his son, there's money anda comfortable living. An heir's wanted, that's truth, and seein' asI'm too old to act the son, and am only a trifle younger than this hereMr. Bradley would ha' been, why, here's the heir. Hurley'll fill thebill as well as any other."
There was the diabolical plot in its entirety. That document just wentto show that Joe's father was a man possessed of a proud spirit and ofgood ideas, for he laid it down on the outside of the envelope that hewished his son to earn his place in the world before he opened and readthe contents. He would rather see Joe fighting his own battles thancoddling in luxury and spending the money of an uncle. He preachedindependence and energy, and our hero had shown it. It was the fortuneof war, perhaps, that the document had come into the hands of such ascoundrel, and, reviewing it and all the circumstances together, onenow saw the reason for this extraordinary and unprovoked assault uponthe little party. Hurley had gathered means by some dishonest method;he had traced Joe's movements; and now he had rounded him up, and withthe rascals he had hired had him almost within the net.
"To-morrow or next day, don't matter which," he told himself; "but killhim I will, then away for England."
For Hurley it was a fascinating conspiracy; for Joe, had he known theins and outs of the story, it was likely to prove more thandisconcerting. But forewarned is forearmed, and there is this to besaid for our hero. The first shots had missed him. He was now behindcover, while two of the stanchest friends were there to protect him.
"P'raps them critters will have had enough already and will sheer off,"said Hank, still sitting motionless on the top of the snow wall whenthe watch he had been keeping came to its end. "Ef not, then it provesas there's something deep behind all this here business. Hi, Joe! Itaer your turn now, and jest you keep movin'. It's all right fer me asis an old hand at the game to sit tight and look about me. Young chapsfeels the cold wuss and soon gets sleepy. Move all the time, and takea fill of 'bacca."
It was a habit into which Joe had fallen, and with very good reason,too, seeing the open-air life he was leading and the companions heassociated with; for your Canadian backwoodsman loves his smoke. Ashort clay dangles from his teeth on most occasions. Joe thereforeroused himself swiftly from his blanket; and here again was somethingmore which camping had taught him, namely, to be a light sleeper. Hankmight be said to sleep always with one eye open, for he heard theslightest movement. Beaver Jack might often enough appear to be sunkin the deepest slumber, and yet, if one happened to peer into his face,one discovered that both of those deep-sunk brilliant orbs wereactually twinkling. Our hero, too, would sit up with a jerk on thesmallest occasion, so that Hank's call had brought him to his feetpromptly. And now he watched the little man shake himself like a dogand toss a blanket about him. Then Joe crammed weed into his pipethoughtfully, lifted a glowing ash from the fire, and puffed longflames into the bowl. With a trail of smoke about his head, he beganto march the round of this strange fortification.
"Hard as a brick," he told himself, running his hand along the outsideof the snowy wall. "Wouldn't turn a bullet, perhaps, but almost, Ireckon. Ah! there's the fire the enemy are burning. Jolly cheekthey've got to make use of our old camp! Wonder what they're up to?Planning an attack for the early hours of the morning, if I ain'tmistaken."
Joe tramped round and round, halting every few minutes to stare abouthim, a comprehensive look, in fact, which took in his entiresurroundings. From his perch on the wall he could appreciate thecommanding situation. The countryside seemed to be cut off by thatwide-spreading smooth surface, with its soft covering of white snow,unbroken in all directions save for the track which he and his friendshad made in gaining the island. The edge of the lake, where the bankrose from the frozen water, was now so merged with the vast sheet ofice itself, that even from the island, the best point of vantage forobservation, one could not say where ice ended and solid earth began.Over all the wintry moon threw its own particular magnificence, bathingthe scene in brilliant rays which accentuated the pure whiteness ofeverything.
"Ripping!" Joe exclaimed. "Just fancy if we had such scenes inEngland! And people grumble at a Canadian winter. I dare say thereare lots of reasons for wishing the weather were milder, for a wintersuch as this is stops a heap of work. You can't sow or plough orharrow. You can't build even a simple shack such as is wanted on thefarms. You can't ride a horse, as a general rule, while there isn'tfeed for cattle. But it's glorious for all that. Give me a bright,sunny winter's day in the Dominion."
"You aer sure as there ain't no movement?" asked Hank, suddenly sittingup. "Seemed to me as ef I heard a sound."
"A dog yelped yonder," answered Joe, who was alert and taking notice ofeverything.
"A dog?"
"Yes; there's the sound again. I think, too, that it was a differentanimal."
"Then it aer a case of all hands on deck," whispered the littletrapper, become suddenly cautious. "Ef dogs is barking, it stands toreason that they has been disturbed. As a general rule, they'll sleepa night like this through without moving; so, young feller, you kinlook to see them critters afore very long. I'll rouse Beaver Jack andthen get a kettle o' tea boiling. What's the hour, lad?"
"Five o'clock or thereabouts. Ah! there's another dog, and----"
"You kin see them skunks?" asked the little hunter.
"No--yes! Two sleighs have just shot out from behind the trees wherewe were camping last night, but I can't make out how many men areaboard them.'
"Wall? Aer they heading straight along here?" came the request in afew moments, while Hank stirred the fire, and, thrusting handfuls ofsnow into the wide-mouthed kettle, put the latter upon its hook abovethe flames.
"No; they've run on to the lake surface, and are making a tour round.It appears to me as if they were hunting for an opening."
There came a gurgle of amusement from the little hunter. He presenteda grinning face to our hero, and then climbed up beside him.
"That 'ere wall fair bothers 'em," he laughed. "Guess when you look atthis island from 'way outside, there's jest a smooth white surfacewithout so much as a break. Now, where aer them critters? Ah! overthere, going along easy. I make it that there's two men aboard eachsleigh, and that this here's merely a kind of scouting. Keep welldown, me lad. We ain't goin' to help them by even a little."
In ghostly silence the two sleighs circled round the island. They keptat a respectful distance, then dividing, ran in opposite directions.After some ten minutes had passed they
met again, and, swerving so asto take the same path, went off in the direction of the camp which theenemy were occupying. It was perhaps half an hour later, when thelittle garrison had fortified themselves with a steaming cup of tea,and pipes were comfortably going, that Joe again gave a warning.
"Coming in full force," he said. "There's four men at least on each ofthe sleighs. They're making directly for the island."
It was a true report, for when Hank and Beaver Jack joined Joe, therewere the two sleighs, their teams spread out in front, tearing alongtowards the island, while each one of the rascals on the sleighs bentdown, hoping thereby to decrease the wind resistance.
"I could plump a shot clear into 'em now," observed Hank, nursing hisrifle. "But guess it's better to give 'em what they've been axing forfrom the beginning. Ef we're goin' to get out of this bother with ourscalps, as you might say, we aer got to read them critters a badlesson. Shootin' at them from a distance won't do it. We've got torun the chance of 'em getting at us, and wait till they're at closequarters."
So they watched the two crews advance, till a sudden shout caused thedrivers to draw rein. Then eight figures leaped from the sleighs and,dividing at once, came racing forward.
Joe and his friends watched them quietly and with determination.Ignorant of the cause of the attack, they were naturally incensed,while such a thing as surrender had not occurred to them. But alooker-on must have had serious doubts as to their success; indeed, itmay be said that their danger was great and pressing. As for thescheme which the ruffian Hurley had originated, his chances of riddinghimself of a rival may truthfully be described as rosy. With JoeBradley slain in this outlandish situation, there seemed littledifficulty in carrying out the remainder of a disgraceful and cowardlyconspiracy. Hurley would present himself in England. He would demandthose documents and proof of origin. A fine fortune and positionseemed to be awaiting him.