Half an hour later Bush McTaggart's fire was burning brightly again. Inthe glow of it Baree lay trussed up like an Indian papoose, tied into aballoon-shaped ball with babiche thong, his head alone showing wherehis captor had cut a hole for it in the blanket. He was hopelesslycaught--so closely imprisoned in the blanket that he could scarcelymove a muscle of his body. A few feet away from him McTaggart wasbathing a bleeding hand in a basin of water. There was also a redstreak down the side of McTaggart's bullish neck.
"You little devil!" he snarled at Baree. "You little devil!"
He reached over suddenly and gave Baree's head a vicious blow with hisheavy hand.
"I ought to beat your brains out, and--I believe I will!"
Baree watched him as he picked up a stick close at his side--a bit offirewood. Pierrot had chased him, but this was the first time he hadbeen near enough to the man-monster to see the red glow in his eyes.They were not like the eyes of the wonderful creature who had almostcaught him in the web of her hair, and who had crawled after him underthe rock. They were the eyes of a beast. They made him shrink and tryto draw his head back into the blanket as the stick was raised. At thesame time he snarled. His white fangs gleamed in the firelight. Hisears were flat. He wanted to sink his teeth in the red throat where hehad already drawn blood.
The stick fell. It fell again and again, and when McTaggart was done,Baree lay half stunned, his eyes partly closed by the blows, and hismouth bleeding.
"That's the way we take the devil out of a wild dog," snarledMcTaggart. "I guess you won't try the biting game again, eh, youngster?A thousand devils--but you went almost to the bone of this hand!"
He began washing the wound again. Baree's teeth had sunk deep, andthere was a troubled look in the factor's face. It was July--a badmonth for bites. From his kit he got a small flask of whisky and turneda bit of the raw liquor on the wound, cursing Baree as it burned intohis flesh.
Baree's half-shut eyes were fixed on him steadily. He knew that at lasthe had met the deadliest of all his enemies. And yet he was not afraid.The club in Bush McTaggart's hand had not killed his spirit. It hadkilled his fear. It had roused in him a hatred such as he had neverknown--not even when he was fighting Oohoomisew, the outlaw owl. Thevengeful animosity of the wolf was burning in him now, along with thesavage courage of the dog. He did not flinch when McTaggart approachedhim again. He made an effort to raise himself, that he might spring atthis man-monster. In the effort, swaddled as he was in the blanket, herolled over in a helpless and ludicrous heap.
The sight of it touched McTaggart's risibilities, and he laughed. Hesat down with his back to the tree again and filled his pipe.
Baree did not take his eyes from McTaggart as he smoked. He watched theman when the latter stretched himself out on the bare ground and wentto sleep. He listened, still later, to the man-monster's heinoussnoring. Again and again during the long night he struggled to freehimself. He would never forget that night. It was terrible. In thethick, hot folds of the blanket his limbs and body were suffocateduntil the blood almost stood still in his veins. Yet he did not whine.
They began to journey before the sun was up, for if Baree's blood wasalmost dead within him, Bush McTaggart's was scorching his body. Hemade his last plans as he walked swiftly through the forest with Bareeunder his arm. He would send Pierrot at once for Father Grotin at hismission seventy miles to the west. He would marry Nepeese--yes, marryher! That would tickle Pierrot. And he would be alone with Nepeesewhile Pierrot was gone for the missioner.
This thought flamed McTaggart's blood like strong whisky. There was nothought in his hot and unreasoning brain of what Nepeese might say--ofwhat she might think. His hand clenched, and he laughed harshly asthere flashed on him for an instant the thought that perhaps Pierrotwould not want to give her up. Pierrot! Bah! It would not be the firsttime he had killed a man--or the second.
McTaggart laughed again, and he walked still faster. There was nochance of his losing--no chance for Nepeese to get away from him.He--Bush McTaggart--was lord of this wilderness, master of its people,arbiter of their destinies. He was power--and the law.
The sun was well up when Pierrot, standing in front of his cabin withNepeese, pointed to a rise in the trail three or four hundred yardsaway, over which McTaggart had just appeared.
"He is coming."
With a face which had aged since last night he looked at Nepeese. Againhe saw the dark glow in her eyes and the deepening red of her partedlips, and his heart was sick again with dread. Was it possible--
She turned on him, her eyes shining, her voice trembling.
"Remember, Nootawe--you must send him to me for his answer," she criedquickly, and she darted into the cabin. With a cold, gray face Pierrotfaced Bush McTaggart.