CHAPTER XIV
SPURLING MAKES A REQUEST
There had been a time when Granger had desired to kill Spurling, and,though latterly he had not consciously wished that he were dead, yethe resented his reappearance; his presence broke in as astorm-influence on the stoical quiet which he had attained. This manstood for so many things which had been sinful and passionate in thepast--things which it had cost him so much even to attempt to forget;things which he had promised himself that he would forget for Peggy'ssake. And now, because he had chosen to return, it seemed necessarythat he should call to mind the entire tragedy by asking the question,"When you shot that woman in the Klondike, did you know that she wasnot a man? And was she clothed in a woman's dress?"
Even though he kept silence, any hour Spurling himself might reopenthe subject by inquiring after Strangeways, as to whether he hadpursued farther, as to how he had fared, as to where he was atpresent. Granger was by no means certain that he did not already knowthat the corporal was dead. He shrank from the discomfort of playingthe accuser again; he shrank still more from making the uglyconfession that he himself was likely to be suspected of havingcommitted a kindred crime,--a confession which would tend to degradehim to the level of this man whom he affected to despise. So, fromday to day, he postponed his questions and, in the meanwhile, watchedSpurling narrowly.
His conduct had been very curious since that morning of his arrival,when he had announced himself by playing the spy, through the windowof Bachelors' Hall, on the inhabitants of the Point. How long he hadbeen there, and how much he had heard of what the Man with the DeadSoul had had to say, kneeling outside in the semi-darkness with hisear pressed against the pane, Granger had no means of discovering. Butfrom the first it was clear to him that Spurling and Eyelids werepossessed of a common knowledge, which made them enemies. Perhaps theyhad met before near the Forbidden River, and this had been the causeof Eyelids' delay.
Under ordinary circumstances, the mystery would soon have been sweptaside by the putting of a single interrogation; but men on the LastChance River get out of the habit of asking leading questions; intheir parsimony over words, they prefer to watch and to wait thereading of the minds of their fellows, and the secreting of their ownmotives, is almost their only pastime. So Granger watched and waited.
In Spurling, so soon as he had been fed and cared for, he was quick todiscover a change. He had become manlier and braver--more like his oldself. He carried himself with a kind of timid pride, as though he knewhimself to be of a greater value than he was likely to be reckoned atby others; almost as though he were confident that he was possessed ofa claim to merit which, once stated, could not fail to be recognised.At the same time, there was a distressful hesitancy in his manner, notunnatural under the circumstances, of a man not sure of hisacceptability. He seemed forever on the point of declaring himself,and forever thinking better of his decision--postponing hisdeclaration to a later time. His bearing was an irritating combinationof false humility and suppressed self-assertion.
Beorn, when he had recovered from his debauch, was as silent,absorbed, and uncompanionable as ever. He appeared to have retained nomemory of what he had said, and to be quite unconscious of Spurling'sarrival--he had become again in all things the Man with the Dead Soul.
But with Peggy and Eyelids it was different. Half-breeds as they were,and, by reason of their Indian blood, instinctive disguisers ofemotion, their aversion for Spurling was plain. Sometimes, when hisback was turned and they thought that they were unobserved, they wouldglance swiftly up at one another, and an expression would come intotheir eyes, a small pin-point of angry fire, which betokened dangerfor the man they hated. Very strangely to Granger, since Spurling'sarrival, they had manifested a great fondness for being in his owncompany; one or other of them was never far from his side. Though heturned upon them angrily, telling them that he wished to be byhimself, they continually disobeyed and, next minute, like faithfuldogs, with apologetic faces, were to be found watching near by. Whatwas the motive of their conduct? Did they think that he was in danger,and required protecting?
But there was a graver happening which he had noticed. With Spurling'sreturn, he had thought that now certainly he had solved the mystery ofthe signalling to the bend. On the first day, however, he had foundhimself mistaken. Sitting in the doorway of his store, he had watchedthe undesired one go down to the pier, push off in a canoe, and paddledown-river for a bathe. Quarter of a mile from the bend, he had seenhim back-water, rise to his knees, gaze straight ahead in a startledmanner, and then, turning quickly about, come racing back like onepursued for his life. Looking round, he had seen that Peggy andEyelids were also witnessing these tactics, with expressions whichbetrayed their consternation. As he watched, they had raised theirhands and waved. When Spurling had landed, he had been waiting for himat the pier-head. "What was it that you saw over there?" he askedsternly.
Spurling, being panic-stricken, had at first found difficulty inrecovering his voice. Then, "Where? What do you mean?" he had panted.
Granger, in silence, had pointed northeasterly towards the bend.
With a nervous laugh, though his face was bloodless, Spurling hadreplied, "Nothing. I saw nothing. I just thought that it looked a bitlonesome, . . . so I turned back."
Gazing at him attentively, and seeing how he trembled, Granger knewthat he had not answered truly. With a shrug of his shoulders,twisting round on his heel, he had said sneeringly, "On the LastChance River we don't run away from loneliness as though the hangmanwere behind us. If we did, we should be running all the time."
He had not stayed to see the effect of his words, but long afterwards,when he looked down to the water's edge, Spurling was still sittingthere, with his head between his hands and his body shaking.
Early one evening, some days later, he came to him and said, "Mr.Granger," and it sounded oddly from those lips--in the old days, evenin the beginning of their acquaintance, they had never mistered oneanother, "Mr. Granger, is there anywhere we can go to be quiet? I havesomething very private which I want to say."
"O yes, there's the whole of Keewatin."
"But isn't there some place where we shan't be overheard?"
"We can paddle down to the bend. There's only one man who can hear usthere--and he's in his grave."
"Not there. Not there," Spurling had cried, trembling with fear andexcitement.
"Well, then, if you're so particular, you can speak with me here."
Spurling looked round to where, at a short distance, Eyelids wasdiligently idling above a broken net. "Somewhere where we can't beoverheard," he reiterated. At that moment Eyelids turned his head.
This continual spying on all that he did, the reason for which hecould not comprehend, was getting on Granger's nerves; he felt that itwould be a relief to be alone, even though it meant being alone withthe man whom he had most cause to hate. However, somehow he pitied himjust now; perhaps because of the manner of his address, which hadbrought into sharp contrast their present relations with those ofother days.
"There's the island up-river to the westward, where I keep my dogs insummer-time; if that will suit your purpose."
Spurling showed his pleasure at the suggestion, and, hurrying hissteps, led the way down to the river-bank. Getting into a canoe, theyset out towards the west. They had not gone half a mile before theycaught the sound of paddle-strokes behind them. Turning about, theysaw that Eyelids was following. He attempted to loiter, and threw in aline as if his only intention were to fish. Granger flushed withanger. Without a word, he commenced to paddle back till they drewnearly level with the intruder, who pretended to be so engaged in hispastime as not to notice their approach. Then he cried in a voice thatwas choking with rage, "Get back to the Point, you half-breed spy. Ifyou dare to follow me again, I'll turn you out to-morrow, and you cantake your trade elsewhere." Nor would he proceed farther on hisjourney till he had watched his brother-in-law get safe to land; then,with a twist of the paddle, he brought his own craft
round, andcontinued towards the sunset. Two miles up-river, in themiddle-stream, stood a rocky island; as yet it was only a dull greyspeck in a pathway of red.
They pushed on in silence up the straight, dark grove of mysteriousforest. Water-birds were calling in the rushes; at one point, as theypassed, a great bull caribou lifted up his head from drinking, andregarded them with a look of curiosity, totally void of fear; a herondrifted slowly over the tree-tops, and disappeared. To Granger, witheven this short distance placed between himself and his customaryassociates, there came a sense of release, and with it an instinct forkindness. As they neared the shore of the island, the huskiescommenced to howl; soon they could see them bunched together on theshore awaiting their arrival. A dog in the north, even though he hasbeen imported, is never heard to bark. To hear them at first, astranger might suppose that a woman was wearily weeping herself todeath in the forest, because of a grief which was inconsolable. Thewail of the huskies, reaching him at intervals across the expanse ofwater, seemed the voice of his own desolation, coming out to meet him.
The whole world was empty, and he began to feel the need offriendship. He let his eyes linger on the head and shoulders of theman in front of him, and remembered with what eagerness long ago, whenawaiting his arrival at some appointed rendezvous, he had striven tocatch sight of him approaching, towering above the littler people ofthe London crowd. And now, instead of brief and chance-snatchedmoments, they were allowed to pass whole days together; yet, becauseof what had happened, they could find no pleasure in one another.Pleasure! The only sensation which he derived from Spurling's companywas one of intense annoyance. And there had been a time when, ifanyone had dared to tell him that that could ever happen, he wouldhave denied it with an oath.
Could it be that the fault was his own, and that he had misjudged thisman? He recalled how, when he had discovered Strangeways' body at thebend, and had thought it Spurling's, he had bitterly accused himselfof all manner of unkindness. He smiled grimly at the remembrance--itwas human nature to do that. He could quite well imagine that at somefuture time, when Spurling was truly dead, he might blame himselfafresh, with an equal bitterness and an equal sincerity. It would beeasy to judge charitably of him then, for he would be beyond power ofworking any further mischief to the living. It is fear, not cruelty,which lies at the root of all uncharitableness. If apprehension wereremoved from our lives, it would be possible for the weakest man tolive well. It was the fact that, trusting in God, he took no thoughtfor the morrow, which enabled Jesus to become Christ.
Gliding round the island, they came to a sandy cove, which faced thesunset. There they landed. Lifting the canoe a dozen paces up theshore and placing it in the scrub, where it might be out of sight,they struck into the brushwood by a narrow trail, which at oncecommenced to climb. After three minutes of travelling, they came outon to a tall bare rock, to one side of which grew a solitary pine.From there they could command a view of the river on every side.
Granger settled himself down, with his back toward his companion,propping himself against the pine-trunk, with his face towards thefading light. The huskies gathered hungrily round in a semicircle,squatting on their haunches, wondering whether the coming of these menmeant that they were going to be fed. The frogs croaked in the river;the mosquitoes trumpetted about their heads; save for these sounds,and the continual low murmur of the river, there was absolute quiet.In this environment, his eyes upon the faery domes and fiery spires ofthe western sky, into the inmost mystery of which the Last ChanceRiver led, that torturing and old desire, which had always made itimpossible for him to enjoy the moment in its flight, again possessedhis mind: he had known it from a child, the ambition to follow,follow, follow, in the hope that somewhere, perhaps behind the settingsun, he might arrive at the land of perfectness for which he craved.
His thoughts were disturbed somewhat brutally by a voice behind."Still careless of your life! I see you hav'n't brought your gun withyou. How did you know that it wasn't 'Die,' that I wanted to say?"
He turned lazily round, and was surprised at the altered expressionwhich had come into Spurling's face. It was frank and self-reliant,and, oddly enough, had a look that was almost tender.
"What made you say that?" Granger inquired.
Spurling drew nearer. "Well, a fellow had to say something to breakthe ice," he replied; "so I thought I might as well give you yourchance of taking the worst impression of me." He paused; then he askedin a low voice, "You were thinking of London and the old times?"
Granger nodded his head.
"I've often done that; I can understand. It was torture to me in theYukon, and it was madness to me over there," pointing with his hand tothe northward, where the Forbidden River lay. "What would you say," headded, "if I were to tell you that it could all come back again?"
Granger's reply was quiet and calculated, so that it seemed to bequite within the bounds of courteous conversation. "I think I shouldtell you that you lied," he said.
"But if I should give you proof that not only the old things werepossible, but that El Dorado might come true, and that within a yearwe could seek it out together, as we have always planned to do?"
For answer Granger jerked out his foot, and sent a gaunt grey huskyflying, which had come within his range. It was one of those whichSpurling had left behind over two months ago at Murder Point, when hehad exchanged teams with Granger in his endeavour to escapeStrangeways. Spurling, when he saw it, recognised the meaning whichGranger's action implied. It was as if he had said, "So the old thingsare possible, are they, you villain? What about that man whom you saythat you killed, whose body was washed up near Forty-Mile?" He openedhis lips to explain, and then fell silent. It was impossible to excusehimself in the presence of those wolfish beasts, who had beenwitnesses to all the degradation of mind and body which had overtakenhim in that terrible escape. No man could estimate the penalty whichhe had had to pay for his moment's folly, except one who had enduredit. When he allowed his memory to dwell upon it, that frenzied rushacross half a continent seemed to have occupied all his life. Thethought of it made him afraid.
"Good God! And my mother meant me for a minister!" he exclaimed,burying his face in his hands.
Granger looked up suspiciously, but he said nothing.
"No, I never told you that," he continued fiercely, "and I suppose youdon't believe me now. Seems somehow odd to you, I daresay, that DruceSpurling should ever have thought himself worthy to talk to men abouttheir souls and Christ. You'd have thought it a good joke if I'd toldyou even when you knew me at my best. _When you knew me!_ Bah! Younever knew me; you were always a harsh judge when it came to setting avalue on things which you didn't understand."
When Granger still kept silent and gave no sign of interest, Spurlingbroke out afresh: "Damnation! I tell you you never knew anything aboutme. You were always too selfish to take the trouble to get into otherfolks' insides; yet you went about complaining that people wereunsympathetic. Here's the difference between us; I may be a scoundrel,but whatever I've done I've played the man and never blamed anyoneelse for my crimes, while you--! You were always a weak dreamer,depending on others for your strength. You were discontented, but younever raised your littlest finger in an attempt to make men better.All you could think of was yourself, and your own ambition to escape.So though, perhaps, I've sunk to a lower level than you have evertouched, I want you to know there was once a time when I did reach upto a nobler and a better."
Gradually, as he had spoken, there had grown into his voice aconcentrated fury. He was giving utterance to an old grievance overwhich he had brooded for many years; as happens frequently in suchcases, only a portion of his complaint could be proved by facts, theremainder being an overgrowth of embittered imagination.
His eyes sought out the face of the man whom he accused, but it toldhim nothing; he sat there silent, with his head thrown back a little,unemotional as the distant stretch of cold grey river up which hegazed.
The sun had vanished, and the prolo
nged dusk of the northland wasstealing from out the forest. At length Granger answered him: "It maybe true, and if so, what follows?"
"Oh, nothing: only I thought I'd tell you this so that one man mightnot think too badly of me, if before long I should be called upon todie. I must have looked a horrid beast when I came to you last April."
Whether consciously or not, Granger nodded his head, as much as tosay, "You did. Most certainly you did."
His companion broke into a harsh laugh. "The Reverend Druce Spurling!How d'you like the sound of it? That's what I might have been to-day,and a fat lot you care about it."
To Granger, as he listened, there had come the painful knowledge,bearing out the accusation that he had never cared for the inwardthings of men, that this was the first scrap of confession whichSpurling had ever let fall in his presence. Why, up to that moment hehad not heard a word about his mother, and had certainly nevercredited him with a pronounced religious instinct.
Yes, perhaps that statement, which had sounded so exaggerated atfirst, was true; and he was a hard and selfish man. Up to now he'dexcused himself on the score of his superior sensitiveness andideality. Probably it was this same error which Pere Antoine, ingentler manner, had tried to point out, when he said, "You will neverhelp yourself, or the world, by merely being sad. No man ever has. Itis because of your flight from sadness that you have met with all yourdangers. All your life you have spent in striving to escape fromthings which are sad." His thoughts travelled back to those earlierdays, when he'd poured out his troubles to Spurling, and told him allabout himself; and always with the assurance that he would beunderstood and would gain sympathy. John Granger as he had been then,now seemed like a complaining child to himself. He was certain that,were he to be met by that old self to-day, he would have no patiencewith him. But Spurling had had patience.
So, when all was said and done, he must consider himself a prettyworthless fellow; and, after all, Spurling, despite his blood-stainedhands, was probably the better man.
"Why Spurling failed to become a parson"--a strange topic for thoughtand conversation this, on the Last Chance River at nightfall!
But Spurling was speaking again, timidly and half to himself. "SupposeGod should brand a mark on our foreheads for every crime which we haveperpetrated, I wonder what kind of beasts we should appear to oneanother then?"
Turning his head, in order that his face might not be seen, Grangerreplied, "Much the same kind of beasts, I suspect, as we appear to oneanother now." Then, speaking more hurriedly, "It wasn't to talk ofthese things, and to ask me that question, that you required me tocome with you to some place where we might be by ourselves. Tell me,what is it that you want me to do for you? You were good to me once,and I'm willing to help you in any way that is honourable, and thatisn't too dangerous."
Spurling laughed shortly, and said, "It isn't your help that I'masking; it's you that I'm trying to help. Here, look at that." Hepassed something to him. "I didn't act squarely by you in theKlondike, and I want to make up for it now. When we made that strikein Drunkman's Shallows, the success of it turned my head; even then,if you'd not been so impatient, I think I should have come to myselfand have behaved decently. You put my back up with your suspicions,and by seeming to claim a part of my wealth as though it were yours byright. But I'm anxious to forget that now."
In the meanwhile, Granger had been examining the thing which had beenplaced in his hands. It was wrapped up carefully in several rags,which were knotted and tedious to untie. When he had stript them off,he found that they contained a nugget, somewhat bigger than the onewhich Eyelids had shown him, but of the same rounded formation, asthough it had been taken from a river-bed. "Where did you get it?" heasked excitedly.
"Where the half-breed got his--from the Forbidden River. Does ElDorado seem more possible to you now?"
But Granger was thinking, and he did not answer the question. Suddenlythe dream of his life had become recoverable. He had forgotten Peggy,and Murder Point, and even Spurling himself. Once more in imaginationhe was sailing up the Great Amana, following in his father's track.Once more he saw, as in Raleigh's day, the deer come down to thewater's side, as if they were used to the keeper's call; and hewatched anxiously ahead lest, in the rounding of the latest bend, theshining city should meet his sight and the salt expanse of Parima,from whose shores its towers are said to rise. In his eyes was thevision of the island near Puna, which Lopez wrote about, with itssilver herb-gardens, and its flowers of gold, and its trees of goldand of silver; and in his ears was the tinkling music, which thesea-wind was wont to make as it swept through the metal forest,causing its branches to clang and its leaves to shake. He was far awayfrom Keewatin now, making the phantom journey to the land of hisdesire.
"Does El Dorado seem more possible to you now?"
He turned to Spurling a face which had grown thin with earnestness,"Druce, tell me quickly," he said, "how long will it take us to getthere?"
"To get to El Dorado? The answer to that you should know best. But toget to the place on the Forbidden River where this gold was found? Oh,about five days."
"Let us go there at once, then, before Beorn finds us out."
"Ah, Beorn! The old trapper who put that half-breed on my track!"
"Did he do that? Tell me about it."