CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
It was late the night of the big feast at Post Fort O' God thatMacDonnell, the factor, sent for Challoner. Challoner was preparing forbed when an Indian boy pounded on the door of his shack and a momentlater gave him the message. He looked at his watch. It was eleveno'clock. What could the Factor want of him at that hour, he wondered?Flat on his belly near the warm box stove Miki watched his new-foundmaster speculatively as he pulled on his boots. His eyes were wide opennow. Challoner had washed from him the blood of the terrific fight ofthat afternoon.
"Something to do with that devil of a Durant," growled Challoner,looking at the battle-scarred dog. "Well, if he hopes to get YOU again,Miki, he's barking up the wrong tree. You're MINE!"
Miki thumped his hard tail on the floor and wriggled toward his masterin mute adoration. Together they went out into the night.
It was a night of white moonlight and a multitude of stars. The fourgreat fires over which the caribou had roasted for the savage barbecuethat day were still burning brightly. In the edge of the forest thatringed in the Post were the smouldering embers of a score of smallerfires. Back of these fires were faintly outlined the gray shadows ofteepees and tents. In these shelters the three hundred halfbreeds andIndians who had come in from the forest trails to the New Year carnivalat the Post were sleeping. Only here and there was there a movement oflife. Even the dogs were quiet after the earlier hours of excitementand gluttony.
Past the big fires, with their huge spits still standing, Challonerpassed toward the Factor's quarters. Miki sniffed at the freshly pickedbones. Beyond these bones there was no sign of the two thousand poundsof flesh that had roasted that day on the spits. Men, women, children,and dogs had stuffed themselves until there was nothing left. It wasthe silence of Mutai--the "belly god"--the god who eats himself tosleep each night--that hovered strangely over this Post of Fort O' God,three hundred miles from civilization.
There was a light in the Factor's room, and Challoner entered with Mikiat his heels. MacDonnell, the Scotchman, was puffing moodily on hispipe. There was a worried look in his ruddy face as the younger manseated himself, and his eyes were on Miki.
"Durant has been here," he said. "He's ugly. I'm afraid of trouble. Ifyou hadn't struck him--"
Challoner shrugged his shoulders as he filled his own pipe from theFactor's tobacco.
"You see--you don't just understand the situation at Fort 0' God," wenton MacDonnell. "There's been a big dog fight here at New Year for thelast fifty years. It's become a part of history, a part of Fort O' Goditself, and that's why in my own fifteen years here I haven't tried tostop it. I believe it would bring on a sort of--revolution. I'd wager ahalf of my people would go to another post with their furs. That's whyall the sympathy seems to be with Durant. Even Grouse Piet, his rival,tells him he's a fool to let you get away with him that way. Durantsays that dog is HIS."
MacDonnell nodded at Miki, lying at Challoner's feet.
"Then he lies," said Challoner quietly.
"He says he bought him of Jacques Le Beau."
"Then Le Beau sold a dog that didn't belong to him."
For a moment MacDonnell was silent. Then he said:
"But that wasn't what I had you come over for, Challoner. Durant toldme something that froze my blood to-night. Your outfit starts for yourpost up in the Reindeer Lake county to-morrow, doesn't it?"
"In the morning."
"Then could you, with one of my Indians and a team, arrange to swingaround by way of the Jackson's Knee? You'd lose a week, but you couldovertake your outfit before it reached the Reindeer--and it would be amighty big favour to me. There's a--a HELL of a thing happened overthere."
Again he looked at Miki.
"GAWD!" he breathed.
Challoner waited. He thought he saw a shudder pass through the Factor'sshoulders.
"I'd go myself--I ought to, but this frosted lung of mine has made mesit tight this winter, Challoner. I OUGHT to go. Why--(a sudden glowshot into his eyes)--I knew this Nanette Le Beau when she was SO HIGH,fifteen years ago. I watched her grow up, Challoner. If I hadn't beenmarried--then--I'd have fallen in love with her. Do you know her,Challoner? Did you ever see Nanette Le Beau?"
Challoner shook his head.
"An angel--if God ever made one," declared MacDonnell through his redbeard. "She lived over beyond the Jackson's Knee with her father. Andhe died, froze to death crossing Red Eye Lake one night. I've alwaysthought Jacques Le Beau MADE her marry him after that. Or else shedidn't know, or was crazed, or frightened at being alone. Anyway, shemarried him. It was five years ago I saw her last. Now and then I'veheard things, but I didn't believe--not all of them. I didn't believethat Le Beau beat her, and knocked her down when he wanted to. I didn'tbelieve he dragged her through the snow by her hair one day until shewas nearly dead. They were just rumours, and he was seventy miles away.But I believe them now. Durant came from their place, and I guess hetold me a whole lot of the truth--to save that dog."
Again he looked at Miki.
"You see, Durant tells me that Le Beau caught the dog in one of histraps, took him to his cabin, and tortured him into shape for the bigfight. When Durant came he was so taken with the dog that he boughthim, and it was while Le Beau was driving the dog mad in his cage toshow his temper that Nanette interfered. Le Beau knocked her down, andthen jumped on her and was pulling her hair and choking her when thedog went for him and killed him. That's the story. Durant told me thetruth through fear that I'd have the dog shot if he was an out-and-outmurderer. And that's why I want you to go by way of the Jackson's Knee.I want you to investigate, and I want you to do what you can forNanette Le Beau. My Indian will bring her back to Port O' God."
With Scotch stoicism MacDonnell had repressed whatever excitement hemay have felt. He spoke quietly. But the curious shudder went throughhis shoulders again. Challoner stared at him in blank amazement.
"You mean to say that Miki--this dog--has killed a man?"
"Yes. He killed him, Durant says, just as he killed Grouse Piet'swolf-dog in the big fight to-day. UGH!" As Challoner's eyes fell slowlyupon Miki, the Factor added: "But Grouse Piet's dog was better than theman. If what I hear about Le Beau was true he's better dead than alive.Challoner, if you didn't think it too much trouble, and could go thatway--and see Nanette--"
"I'll go," said Challoner, dropping a hand to Miki's head.
For half an hour after that MacDonnell told him the things he knewabout Nanette Le Beau. When Challoner rose to go the Factor followedhim to the door.
"Keep your eyes open for Durant," he warned. "That dog is worth more tohim than all his winnings to-day, and they say his stakes were big. Hewon heavily from Grouse Piet, but the halfbreed is thick with him now.I know it. So watch out."
Out in the open space, in the light of the moon and stars, Challonerstood far a moment with Miki's forepaws resting against his breast. Thedog's head was almost on a level with his shoulders.
"D'ye remember when you fell out of the canoe, Boy?" he asked softly."Remember how you 'n' the cub were tied in the bow, an' you got toscrapping and fell overboard just above the rapids? Remember? By Jove!those rapids pretty near got ME, too. I thought you were dead,sure--both of you. I wonder what happened to the cub?"
Miki whined in response, and his whole body trembled.
"And since then you've killed a man," added Challoner, as if he stillcould not quite believe. "And I'm to take you back to the woman. That'sthe funny thing about it. You're going back to HER, and if she sayskill you--"
He dropped Miki's forefeet and went on to the cabin. At the threshold alow growl rose in Miki's throat. Challoner laughed, and opened thedoor. They went in, and the dog's growl was a menacing snarl. Challonerhad left his lamp burning low, and in the light of it he saw HenriDurant and Grouse Piet waiting for him. He turned up the wick, andnodded.
"Good evening. Pretty late for a call, isn't it?"
Grouse Piet's stolid face did not change its expression. It struckChallon
er, as he glanced at him, that in head and shoulders he bore agrotesque resemblance to a walrus. Durant's eyes were dully ablaze. Hisface was swollen where Challoner had struck him. Miki, stiffened to thehardness of a knot, and still snarling under his breath, had crawledunder Challoner's bunk. Durant pointed to him.
"We've come after that dog," he said.
"You can't have him, Durant," replied Challoner, trying hard to makehimself appear at ease in a situation that sent a chill up his back. Ashe spoke he was making up his mind why Grouse Piet had come withDurant. They were giants, both of them: more than that--monsters.Instinctively he had faced them with the small table between them. "I'msorry I lost my temper out there," he continued. "I shouldn't havestruck you, Durant. It wasn't your fault--and I apologize. But the dogis mine. I lost him over in the Jackson's Knee country, and if JacquesLe Beau caught him in a trap, and sold him to you, he sold a dog thatdidn't belong to him. I'm willing to pay you back what you gave forhim, just to be fair. How much was it?"
Grouse Piet had risen to his feet. Durant came to the opposite edge ofthe table, and leaned over it. Challoner wondered how a single blow hadknocked him down.
"Non, he is not for sale." Durant's voice was low; so low that itseemed to choke him to get it out. It was filled with a repressedhatred. Challoner saw the great cords of his knotted hands bulgingunder the skin as he gripped the edge of the table. "M'sieu, we havecome for that dog. Will you let us take him?"
"I will pay you back what you gave for him, Durant. I will add to theprice."
"Non. He is mine. Will you give him back--NOW?"
"No!"
Scarcely was the word out of his mouth when Durant flung his wholeweight and strength against the table. Challoner had not expected themove--just yet. With a bellow of rage and hatred Durant was upon him,and under the weight of the giant he crashed to the floor. With themwent the table and lamp. There was a vivid splutter of flame and thecabin was in darkness, except where the moon-light flooded through theone window. Challoner had looked for something different. He hadexpected Durant to threaten before he acted, and, sizing up the two ofthem, he had decided to reach the edge of his bunk during thediscussion. Under the pillow was his revolver. It was too late now.Durant was on him, fumbling in the darkness for his throat, and as heflung one arm upward to get a hook around the Frenchman's neck he heardGrouse Piet throw the table back. The next instant they were rolling inthe moonlight on the floor, and Challoner caught a glimpse of GrousePiet's huge bulk bending over them. Durant's head was twisted under hisarm, but one of the giant's hands had reached his throat. The halfbreedsaw this, and he cried out something in a guttural voice. With atremendous effort Challoner rolled himself and his adversary out of thepatch of light into darkness again. Durant's thick neck cracked. AgainGrouse Piet called out in that guttural, questioning voice. Challonerput every ounce of his energy into the crook of his arm, and Durant didnot answer.
Then the weight of Grouse Piet fell upon them, and his great handsgroped for Challoner's neck. His thick fingers found Durant's beardfirst, then fumbled for Challoner, and got their hold. Ten seconds oftheir terrific grip would have broken his neck. But the fingers neverclosed. A savage cry of agony burst from Grouse Piet's lips, and withthat cry, ending almost in a scream, came the snap of great jaws andthe rending snarl of fangs in the darkness. Durant heard, and with agreat heave of his massive body he broke free from Challoner's grip,and leapt to his feet. In a flash Challoner was at his bunk, facing hisenemies with the revolver in his hand.
Everything had happened quickly. Scarcely more than a minute had passedsince the overturning of the table, and now, in the moment when thesituation had turned in his favour, a sudden swift and sickening horrorseized upon Challoner. Bloody and terrible there rose before him theone scene he had witnessed that day in the big cage where Miki and thewolf-dog had fought. And there--in that darkness of the cabin--
He heard a moaning cry and the crash of a body to the floor.
"Miki, Miki," he cried. "Here! Here!"
He dropped his revolver and sprang to the door, flinging it wide open.
"For God's sake get out!" he cried. "GET OUT!"
A bulk dashed past him into the night. He knew it was Durant. Then heleapt to the dark shadows on the floor and dug his two hands into theloose hide at the back of Miki's neck, dragging him back, and shoutinghis name. He saw Grouse Piet crawling toward the door. He saw him riseto his feet, silhouetted for a moment against the starlight, andstagger out into the night. And then he felt Miki's weight slinkingdown to the floor, and under his hands the dog's muscles grew limp andsaggy. For two or three minutes he continued to kneel beside him beforehe closed the cabin door and lighted another lamp. He set up theoverturned table and placed the lamp on it. Miki had not moved. He layflat on his belly, his head between his forepaws, looking up atChalloner with a mute appeal in his eyes.
Challoner reached out his two arms.
"Miki!"
In an instant Miki was up against him, his forefeet against his breast,and with his arms about the dog's shoulders Challoner's eyes took inthe floor. On it were wet splashes and bits of torn clothing.
His arms closed more tightly.
"Miki, old boy, I'm much obliged," he said.