CHAPTER 30
A strange humor possessed Carvel as he began the southward journey. Hedid not believe in omens, good or bad.
Superstition had played a small part in his life, but he possessed bothcuriosity and a love for adventure, and his years of lonely wanderinghad developed in him a wonderfully clear mental vision of things, whichin other words might be called a singularly active imagination. He knewthat some irresistible force was drawing Baree back into thesouth--that it was pulling him not only along a given line of thecompass, but to an exact point in that line.
For no reason in particular the situation began to interest him moreand more, and as his time was valueless, and he had no fixeddestination in view, he began to experiment. For the first two days hemarked the dog's course by compass. It was due southeast. On the thirdmorning Carvel purposely struck a course straight west. He notedquickly the change in Baree--his restlessness at first, and after thatthe dejected manner in which he followed at his heels. Toward noonCarvel swung sharply to the south and east again, and almostimmediately Baree regained his old eagerness, and ran ahead of hismaster.
After this, for many days, Carvel followed the trail of the dog.
"Mebby I'm an idiot, old chap," he apologized one evening. "But it's abit of fun, after all--an' I've got to hit the line of rail before Ican get over to the mountains, so what's the difference? I'm game--solong as you don't take me back to that chap at Lac Bain. Now--what thedevil! Are you hitting for his trap line, to get even? If that's thecase--"
He blew out a cloud of smoke from his pipe as he eyed Baree, and Baree,with his head between his forepaws, eyed him back.
A week later Baree answered Carvel's question by swinging westward togive a wide berth to Post Lac Bain. It was midafternoon when theycrossed the trail along which Bush McTaggart's traps and deadfalls hadbeen set. Baree did not even pause. He headed due south, traveling sofast that at times he was lost to Carvel's sight. A suppressed butintense excitement possessed him, and he whined whenever Carvel stoppedto rest--always with his nose sniffing the wind out of the south.Springtime, the flowers, the earth turning green, the singing of birds,and the sweet breaths in the air were bringing him back to that greatyesterday when he had belonged to Nepeese. In his unreasoning mindthere existed no longer a winter. The long months of cold and hungerwere gone; in the new visionings that filled his brain they wereforgotten. The birds and flowers and the blue skies had come back, andwith them the Willow must surely have returned, and she was waiting forhim now, just over there beyond that rim of green forest.
Something greater than mere curiosity began to take possession ofCarvel. A whimsical humor became a fixed and deeper thought, anunreasoning anticipation that was accompanied by a certain thrill ofsubdued excitement. By the time they reached the old beaver pond themystery of the strange adventure had a firm hold on him. From BeaverTooth's colony Baree led him to the creek along which Wakayoo, theblack bear, had fished, and thence straight to the Gray Loon.
It was early afternoon of a wonderful day. It was so still that therippling waters of spring, singing in a thousand rills and streamlets,filled the forests with a droning music. In the warm sun the crimsonbakneesh glowed like blood. In the open spaces the air was scented withthe perfume of blue flowers. In the trees and bushes mated birds werebuilding their nests. After the long sleep of winter nature was at workin all her glory. It was Unekepesim, the Mating Moon, the Home-buildingMoon--and Baree was going home. Not to matehood--but to Nepeese. Heknew that she was there now, perhaps at the very edge of the chasmwhere he had seen her last. They would be playing together again soon,as they had played yesterday, and the day before, and the day beforethat, and in his joy he barked up into Carvel's face, and urged him togreater speed.
Then they came to the clearing, and once more Baree stood like a rock.Carvel saw the charred ruins of the burned cabin, and a moment laterthe two graves under the tall spruce. He began to understand as hiseyes returned slowly to the waiting, listening dog. A great swellingrose in his throat, and after a moment or two he said softly, and withan effort,
"Boy, I guess you're home."
Baree did not hear. With his head up and his nose tilted to the bluesky he was sniffing the air. What was it that came to him with theperfumes of the forests and the green meadow? Why was it that hetrembled now as he stood there? What was there in the air? Carvel askedhimself, and his questing eyes tried to answer the questions. Nothing.There was death here--death and desertion, that was all. And then, allat once, there came from Baree a strange cry--almost a human cry--andhe was gone like the wind.
Carvel had thrown off his pack. He dropped his rifle beside it now, andfollowed Baree. He ran swiftly, straight across the open, into thedwarf balsams, and into a grass-grown path that had once been worn bythe travel of feet. He ran until he was panting for breath, and thenstopped, and listened. He could hear nothing of Baree. But that oldworn trail led on under the forest trees, and he followed it.
Close to the deep, dark pool in which he and the Willow had disportedso often Baree, too, had stopped. He could hear the rippling of water,and his eyes shone with a gleaming fire as he searched for Nepeese. Heexpected to see her there, her slim white body shimmering in some darkshadow of overhanging spruce, or gleaming suddenly white as snow in oneof the warm plashes of sunlight. His eyes sought out their old hidingplaces; the great split rock on the other side, the shelving banksunder which they used to dive like otter, the spruce boughs that dippeddown to the surface, and in the midst of which the Willow loved topretend to hide while he searched the pool for her. And at last therealization was borne upon him that she was not there, that he hadstill farther to go.
He went on to the tepee. The little open space in which they had builttheir hidden wigwam was flooded with sunshine that came through a breakin the forest to the west. The tepee was still there. It did not seemvery much changed to Baree. And rising from the ground in front of thetepee was what had come to him faintly on the still air--the smoke of asmall fire. Over that fire was bending a person, and it did not strikeBaree as amazing, or at all unexpected, that this person should havetwo great shining braids down her back. He whined, and at his whine theperson grew a little rigid, and turned slowly.
Even then it seemed quite the most natural thing in the world that itshould be Nepeese, and none other. He had lost her yesterday. Today hehad found her. And in answer to his whine there came a sobbing crystraight out of the heart of the Willow.
Carvel found them there a few minutes later, the dog's head huggedclose up against the Willow's breast, and the Willow was crying--cryinglike a little child, her face hidden from him on Baree's neck. He didnot interrupt them, but waited; and as he waited something in thesobbing voice and the stillness of the forest seemed to whisper to hima bit of the story of the burned cabin and the two graves, and themeaning of the Call that had come to Baree from out of the south.
CHAPTER 31
That night there was a new campfire in the clearing. It was not a smallfire, built with the fear that other eyes might see it, but a fire thatsent its flames high. In the glow of it stood Carvel. And as the firehad changed from that small smoldering heap over which the Willow hadcooked her dinner, so Carvel, the officially dead outlaw, had changed.The beard was gone from his face. He had thrown off his caribou-skincoat. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, and there was a wildflush in his face that was not altogether the work of wind and sun andstorm, and a glow in his eyes that had not been there for five years,perhaps never before. His eyes were on Nepeese.
She sat in the firelight, leaning a little toward the blaze, herwonderful hair warmly reflecting its mellow light. Carvel did not movewhile she was in that attitude. He seemed scarcely to breathe. The glowin his eyes grew deeper--the worship of a man for a woman. SuddenlyNepeese turned and caught him before he could turn his gaze. There wasnothing to hide in her own eyes. Like her face, they were alight with anew hope and a new gladness. Carvel sat down beside her on the birchlog, and in hi
s hand he took one of her thick braids and crumpled it ashe talked. At their feet, watching them, lay Baree.
"Tomorrow or the next day I am going to Lac Bain," he said, a hard andbitter note back of the gentle worship in his voice. "I will not comeback until I have--killed him."
The Willow looked straight into the fire. For a time there was asilence broken only by the crackling of the flames, and in that silenceCarvel's fingers weaved in and out of the silken strands of theWillow's hair. His thoughts flashed back. What a chance he had missedthat day on Bush McTaggart's trap line--if he had only known! His jawsset hard as he saw in the red-hot heart of the fire the mental picturesof the day when the factor from Lac Bain had killed Pierrot. She hadtold him the whole story. Her flight. Her plunge to what she hadthought was certain death in the icy torrent of the chasm. Hermiraculous escape from the waters--and how she was discovered, nearlydead, by Tuboa, the toothless old Cree whom Pierrot out of pity hadallowed to hunt in part of his domain. He felt within himself thetragedy and the horror of the one terrible hour in which the sun hadgone out of the world for the Willow, and in the flames he could seefaithful old Tuboa as he called on his last strength to bear Nepeeseover the long miles that lay between the chasm and his cabin. He caughtshifting visions of the weeks that followed in that cabin, weeks ofhunger and of intense cold in which the Willow's life hung by a singlethread. And at last, when the snows were deepest, Tuboa had died.Carvel's fingers clenched in the strands of the Willow's braid. A deepbreath rose out of his chest, and he said, staring deep into the fire,
"Tomorrow I will go to Lac Bain."
For a moment Nepeese did not answer. She, too, was looking into thefire. Then she said:
"Tuboa meant to kill him when the spring came, and he could travel.When Tuboa died I knew that it was I who must kill him. So I came, withTuboa's gun. It was fresh loaded--yesterday. And--M'sieu Jeem"--shelooked up at him, a triumphant glow in her eyes as she added, almost ina whisper--"You will not go to Lac Bain. I HAVE SENT A MESSENGER."
"A messenger?"
"Yes, Ookimow Jeem--a messenger. Two days ago. I sent word that I hadnot died, but was here--waiting for him--and that I would be Iskwaonow, his wife. Oo-oo, he will come, Ookimow Jeem--he will come fast.And you shall not kill him. Non!" She smiled into his face, and thethrob of Carvel's heart was like a drum. "The gun is loaded," she saidsoftly. "I will shoot."
"Two days ago," said Carvel. "And from Lac Bain it is--"
"He will be here tomorrow," Nepeese answered him.
"Tomorrow, as the sun goes down, he will enter the clearing. I know. Myblood has been singing it all day. Tomorrow--tomorrow--for he willtravel fast, Ookimow Jeem. Yes, he will come fast."
Carvel had bent his head. The soft tresses gripped in his fingers werecrushed to his lips. The Willow, looking again into the fire, did notsee. But she FELT--and her soul was beating like the wings of a bird.
"Ookimow Jeem," she whispered--a breath, a flutter of the lips so softthat Carvel heard no sound.
If old Tuboa had been there that night it is possible he would haveread strange warnings in the winds that whispered now and then softlyin the treetops. It was such a night; a night when the Red Gods whisperlow among themselves, a carnival of glory in which even the dippingshadows and the high stars seemed to quiver with the life of a potentlanguage. It is barely possible that old Tuboa, with his ninety yearsbehind him, would have learned something, or that at least he wouldhave SUSPECTED a thing which Carvel in his youth and confidence did notsee. Tomorrow--he will come tomorrow! The Willow, exultant, had saidthat. But to old Tuboa the trees might have whispered, WHY NOT TONIGHT?
It was midnight when the big moon stood full above the little openingin the forest. In the tepee the Willow was sleeping. In a balsam shadowback from the fire slept Baree, and still farther back in the edge of aspruce thicket slept Carvel. Dog and man were tired. They had traveledfar and fast that day, and they heard no sound.
But they had traveled neither so far nor so fast as Bush McTaggart.Between sunrise and midnight he had come forty miles when he strode outinto the clearing where Pierrot's cabin had stood. Twice from the edgeof the forest he had called; and now, when he found no answer, he stoodunder the light of the moon and listened. Nepeese was to behere--waiting. He was tired, but exhaustion could not still the firethat burned in his blood. It had been blazing all day, and now--so nearits realization and its triumph--the old passion was like a rich winein his veins. Somewhere, near where he stood, Nepeese was waiting forhim, WAITING FOR HIM. Once again he called, his heart beating in afierce anticipation as he listened. There was no answer. And then for athrilling instant his breath stopped. He sniffed the air--and therecame to him faintly the smell of smoke.
With the first instinct of the forest man he fronted the wind that wasbut a faint breath under the starlit skies. He did not call again, buthastened across the clearing. Nepeese was offthere--somewhere--sleeping beside her fire, and out of him there rose alow cry of exultation. He came to the edge of the forest; chancedirected his steps to the overgrown trail. He followed it, and thesmoke smell came stronger to his nostrils.
It was the forest man's instinct, too, that added the element ofcaution to his advance. That, and the utter stillness of the night. Hebroke no sticks under his feet. He disturbed the brush so quietly thatit made no sound. When he came at last to the little open whereCarvel's fire was still sending a spiral of spruce-scented smoke upinto the air it was with a stealth that failed even to rouse Baree.Perhaps, deep down in him, there smoldered an old suspicion; perhaps itwas because he wanted to come to her while she was sleeping. The sightof the tepee made his heart throb faster. It was light as day where itstood in the moonlight, and he saw hanging outside it a few bits ofwoman's apparel. He advanced soft-footed as a fox and stood a momentlater with his hand on the cloth flap at the wigwam door, his head bentforward to catch the merest breath of sound. He could hear herbreathing. For an instant his face turned so that the moonlight struckhis eyes. They were aflame with a mad fire. Then, still very quietly,he drew aside the flap at the door.
It could not have been sound that roused Baree, hidden in the blackbalsam shadow a dozen paces away. Perhaps it was scent. His nostrilstwitched first; then he awoke. For a few seconds his eyes glared at thebent figure in the tepee door. He knew that it was not Carvel. The oldsmell--the man-beast's smell, filled his nostrils like a hated poison.He sprang to his feet and stood with his lips snarling back slowly fromhis long fangs. McTaggart had disappeared. From inside the tepee therecame a sound; a sudden movement of bodies, a startled ejaculation ofone awakening from sleep--and then a cry, a low, half-smothered,frightened cry, and in response to that cry Baree shot out from underthe balsam with a sound in his throat that had in it the note of death.
In the edge of the spruce thicket Carvel rolled uneasily. Strangesounds were rousing him, cries that in his exhaustion came to him as ifin a dream. At last he sat up, and then in sudden horror leaped to hisfeet and rushed toward the tepee. Nepeese was in the open, crying thename she had given him--"OOKIMOW JEEM--OOKIMOW--JEEM--OOKIMOW JEEM--"She was standing there white and slim, her eyes with the blaze of thestars in them, and when she saw Carvel she flung out her arms to him,still crying:
"Ookimow Jeem--Oo-oo, Ookimow Jeem--"
In the tepee he heard the rage of a beast, the moaning cries of a man.He forgot that it was only last night he had come, and with a cry heswept the Willow to his breast, and the Willow's arms tightened roundhis neck as she moaned:
"Ookimow Jeem--it is the man-beast--in there! It is the man-beast fromLac Bain--and Baree--"
Truth flashed upon Carvel, and he caught Nepeese up in his arms and ranaway with her from the sounds that had grown sickening and horrible. Inthe spruce thicket he put her feet once more to the ground. Her armswere still tight around his neck. He felt the wild terror of her bodyas it throbbed against him. Her breath was sobbing, and her eyes wereon his face. He drew her closer, and suddenly he crushed his face downclose against he
rs and felt for an instant the warm thrill of her lipsagainst his own. And he heard the whisper, soft and trembling.
"Ooo-oo, OOKIMOW JEEM--"
When Carvel returned to the fire, alone, his Colt in his hand, Bareewas in front of the tepee waiting for him.
Carvel picked up a burning brand and entered the wigwam. When he cameout his face was white. He tossed the brand in the fire, and went backto Nepeese. He had wrapped her in his blankets, and now he knelt downbeside her and put his arms about her.
"He is dead, Nepeese."
"Dead, Ookimow Jeem?"
"Yes. Baree killed him."
She did not seem to breathe. Gently, with his lips in her hair. Carvelwhispered his plans for their paradise.
"No one will know, my sweetheart. Tonight I will bury him and burn thetepee. Tomorrow we will start for Nelson House, where there is amissioner. And after that--we will come back--and I will build a newcabin where the old one burned. DO YOU LOVE ME, KA SAKAHET?"
"OM'--yes--Ookimow Jeem--I love you--"
Suddenly there came an interruption. Baree at last was giving his cryof triumph. It rose to the stars; it wailed over the roofs of theforests and filled the quiet skies--a wolfish howl of exultation, ofachievement, of vengeance fulfilled. Its echoes died slowly away, andsilence came again. A great peace whispered in the soft breath of thetreetops. Out of the north came the mating call of a loon. AboutCarvel's shoulders the Willow's arms crept closer. And Carvel, out ofhis heart, thanked God.
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