CHAPTER FIFTEEN
In a twist of Three Jackpine River, buried in the deep of the forestbetween the Shamattawa country and Hudson Bay, was the cabin in whichlived Jacques Le Beau, the trapper. There was not another man in allthat wilderness who was the equal of Le Beau in wickedness--unless itwas Durant, who hunted foxes a hundred miles north, and who wasJacques's rival in several things. A giant in size, with a heavy,sullen face and eyes which seemed but half-hidden greenish loopholesfor the pitiless soul within him--if he had a soul at all--Le Beau wasa "throw-back" of the worst sort. In their shacks and teepees theIndians whispered softly that all the devils of his forebears hadgathered in him.
It was a grim kind of fate that had given to Le Beau a wife. Had shebeen a witch, an evil-doer and an evil-thinker like himself, the thingwould not have been such an abortion of what should have been. But shewas not that. Sweet-faced, with something of unusual beauty still inher pale cheeks and starving eyes--trembling at his approach and aslave in his presence--she was, like his dogs, the PROPERTY of TheBrute. And the woman had a baby. One had already died; and it was thethought that this one might die, as the other had died, that brought attimes the new flash of fire into her dark eyes.
"Le bon Dieu--I pray to the Blessed Angels--I swear you SHALL live!"she would cry to it at times, hugging it close to her breast. And itwas at these times that the fire came into her eyes, and her palecheeks flushed with a smouldering bit of the flame that had once beenher beauty. "Some day--SOME DAY--"
But she never finished, even to the child, what was in her mind.Sometimes her dreams were filled with visions. The world was stillyoung, and SHE was not old. She was thinking of that as she stoodbefore the cracked bit of mirror in the cabin, brushing out her hair,that was black and shining and so long that it fell to her hips. Of herbeauty her hair had remained. It was defiant of The Brute. And deepback in her eyes, and in her face, there were still the living, hiddentraces of her girlhood heritage ready to bloom again if Fate, mendingits error at last, would only take away forever the crushing presenceof the Master. She stood a little longer before the bit of glass whenshe heard the crunching of footsteps in the snow outside.
Swiftly what had been in her face was gone. Le Beau had been away onhis trapline since yesterday, and his return filled her with the olddread. Twice he had caught her before the mirror and had called hervile names for wasting her time in admiring herself when she might havebeen scraping the fat from his pelts. The second time he had sent herreeling back against the wall, and had broken the mirror until the bitshe treasured now was not much larger than her two slim hands. Shewould not be caught again. She ran with the glass to the place whereshe kept it in hiding, and then quickly she wove the heavy strands ofher hair into a braid. The strange, dead look of fear and forebodingclosed like a veil over the secrets her eyes had disclosed to herself.She turned, as she always turned in her woman's hope and yearning, togreet him when he entered.
The Brute entered, a dark and surly monster. He was in a wicked humour.His freshly caught furs he flung to the floor. He pointed to them, andhis eyes were narrowed to menacing slits as they fell upon her.
"He was there again--that devil!" he growled. "See, he has spoiled thefisher, and he has cleaned out my baits and knocked down thetrap-houses. Par les mille cornes du diable, but I will kill him! Ihave sworn to cut him into bits with a knife when I catch him--andcatch him I will, to-morrow. See to it there--the skins--when you havegot me something to eat. Mend the fisher where he is torn in two, andcover the seam well with fat so that the agent over at the post willnot discover it is bad. Tonnerre de Dieu!--that brat! Why do you alwayskeep his squalling until I come in? Answer me, Bete!"
Such was his greeting. He flung his snowshoes into a corner, stampedthe snow off his feet, and got himself a fresh plug of black tobaccofrom a shelf over the stove. Then he went out again, leaving the womanwith a cold tremble in her heart and the wan desolation of hopelessnessin her face as she set about getting him food.
From the cabin Le Beau went to his dog-pit, a corral of saplings with ashelter-shack in the centre of it. It was The Brute's boast that he hadthe fiercest pack of sledge-dogs between Hudson Bay and the Athabasca.It was his chief quarrel with Durant, his rival farther north; and hisambition was to breed a pup that would kill the fighting husky whichDurant brought down to the Post with him each winter at New Year. Thisseason he had chosen Netah ("The Killer") for the big fight at God'sLake. On the day he would gamble his money and his reputation againstDurant's, his dog would be just one month under two years of age. Itwas Netah he called from out of the pack now.
The dog slunk to him with a low growl in his throat, and for the firsttime something like joy shone in Le Beau's face. He loved to hear thatgrowl. He loved to see the red and treacherous glow in Netah's eyes,and hear the menacing click of his jaws. Whatever of nobility mighthave been in Netah's blood had been clubbed out by the man. They werealike, in that their souls were dead. And Netah, for a dog, was adevil. For that reason Le Beau had chosen him to fight the big fight.
Le Beau looked down at him, and drew a deep breath of satisfaction.
"OW! but you are looking fine, Netah," he exulted. "I can almost seerunning blood in those devil-eyes of yours; OUI--red blood that smellsand runs, as the blood of Durant's POOS shall run when you sink thoseteeth in its jugular. And to-morrow we are going to give you thetest--such a beautiful test!--with the wild dog that is robbing mytraps and tearing my fishers into bits. For I will catch him, and youshall fight him until he is almost dead; and then I shall cut his heartout alive, as I have promised, and you will eat it while it is stillbeating, so that there will be no excuse for your losing to that POOSwhich M'sieu Durant will bring down. COMPRENEZ? It will be a beautifultest--to-morrow. And if you fail I will kill you. OUI; if you so muchas let a whimper out of you, I will kill you--dead."