CHAPTER XI
WHERE THE PATH LED
By daylight next morning every man and most of the women among the newarrivals had disappeared into the hills--the women in spite of theby-laws of Lee's Creek, which discriminated against their sex. When astampede starts it does not end with the location of one stream-bed,nor of two; every foot of valley ground for miles on every hand ispre-empted, in the hope that more gold will be found; each creek formsa new district, and its discoverers adopt laws to suit their whims. Thewomen, therefore, hastened to participate in the discovery of newterritory and in the shaping of its government, leaving but few ofeither sex to guard the tents and piles of provisions standing by theriver-bank. In two days they began to return, and straggled in atintervals for a week thereafter, for many had gone far.
And now began a new era for Flambeau--an era of industry such as thefrontier town had never known. The woods behind rang with theresounding discords of axes and saws and crashing timber, and newcabins appeared on every hand, rising in a day. The sluggish air wasnoisy with voices, and the edge of the forest receded gradually beforethe busy pioneers, replacing the tall timbers with little, high-bankedhomes of spruce and white-papered birch. From dawn till dark arose therhythmic rasp of men whip-sawing floor lumber to the tune of twohundred dollars per thousand; and with the second steamer came a littlesteam sawmill, which raised its shrill complaint within a week,punctuating the busy day with its piping whistle.
The trail along the Flambeau, was dotted continuously with toilinghuman beasts of burden, that floundered laboriously beneath great packsof provisions and tools and other baggage, winding like an endlessstream of ants through the hills to "No Creek" Lee Creek, where theyre-enacted the scenes that were occurring in the town. Tents and cabinswere scattered throughout the length of the valley, lumber was sawedfor sluice-boxes, and the virginal breezes that had sucked through thisseam in the mountains since days primeval came to smell of spruce firesand echo with the sounds of life.
A dozen tents were pitched on Lee's discovery claim, for the owner hadbeen besieged by men who clamored to lease a part of his ground, and,yielding finally, he had allotted to each of them a hundred feet.Forth-with they set about opening their portions, for the ground wasshallow, and the gold so near the surface that winter would interferewith its extraction; wherefore, they made haste. The owner oversaw themall, complacent in the certainty of a steady royalty accruing from theworking of his allotments.
Every day there came into Flambeau exaggerated reports of new strikesin other spots, of strong indications and of rich prospects elsewhere.Stories grew out of nothing, until the camp took an hysterical pleasurein exciting itself and deceiving every stranger who came from north orsouth, for the wine of discovery was in them all, and it pleased themto distort and enlarge upon every rumor that came their way, such beingthe temper of new gold-fields. They knew they were lying, and that allother men were lying also, and yet they hearkened to each tale andalmost deceived themselves.
Burrell sought Necia at an early day and, in presence of her father,told her that he had been approached by men who wished to lease theclaims he held for her. It would prove an inexpensive way to developher holdings, he said, and she would run no risk; moreover, it would berapid, and insure a quick return, for a lease so near to proventerritory was in great demand. After some discussion this was arranged,and Meade, as trustee, allotted her ground in tracts, as Lee had done.Poleon followed suit; but the trader chose to prospect his own claims,and to that end called in a train of stiff-backed Indian packers, moveda substantial outfit to the creek, and thereafter spent much of histime in the hills, leaving the store to Doret. He seemed anxious to getaway from the camp and hide himself in the woods. Stark was almostconstantly occupied at his saloon, for it was a mint, and ran day andnight. Runnion was busy with the erection of a substantial structure ofsquared logs, larger than the trading-post, destined as a dance-hall,theatre, and gambling-house. Flambeau, the slumbrous, had indeedaroused itself, stretched its limbs, and sprung into vigorous, virile,feverish being, and the wise prophets were predicting another Dawsonfor it, notwithstanding that many blank spots had been found as thecreek of Lee's finding bared its bedrock to the miners. These butenhanced the value of the rich finds, however, for a single stroke ofgood-fortune will more than offset a dozen disappointments. The truthis, the stream was very spotted, and Leo had by chance hit upon one ofthe bars where the metal had lodged, while others above and belowuncovered a bed-rock as barren as a clean-swept floor. In places theycross-cut from rim to rim, drove tunnels and drains and drifts, sunkshafts and opened trenches without finding a color that would ring whendropped in the pan; but that was an old, old story, and they were usedto it.
During these stirring weeks of unsleeping activity Burrell saw littleof Necia, for he had many things to occupy him, and she was detainedmuch in the store, now that her father was away. When they met for amoment they were sure to be interrupted, while in and around the houseAlluna seemed to be always near her. Even so, she was very happy; forshe was sustained by the constant hectic excitement that was in the airand by her brief moments with Meade, which served to gladden her andmake of the days one long, delicious, hopeful procession of undisturbeddreams and fancies. He was the same fond lover as on that adventurousjourney up Black Bear Creek, and wooed her with a reckless fire thatset her aglow. And so she hummed and laughed and dreamed the days away,her happiness matching the peace and gladness of the season.
With Burrell, on the contrary, it was a season of penance andflagellations of spirit, lightened only by the moments when he was withher, and when she made him forget all else. This damnable indecisiongoaded him to self-contempt; he despised himself for his weakness; hissocial instincts and training, his sense of duty, and the amenities oflife that proud men hold dear tugged steadily, untiringly at hisreason, while the little imp of impulse sat grinning wickedly, ready topop out and upset all his high resolutions. It raised such a tumult inhis ears that he could not hear the other voices; it stirred his bloodtill it leaped and pounded, and then ran off with him to find this tinybrown and beaming witch who was at the bottom of it all.
No months in any clime can compare with an Arctic summer when Nature iskind, for she crowds into this short epoch all the warmth andbrightness and splendor that is spread over longer periods in otherlands, and every growing thing rejoices riotously in scent and colorand profusion. It was on one of these heavenly days, spiced with thefaintest hint of autumn, that Necia received the news of hergood-fortune. One of her leasers came into the post to show her andPoleon a bag of dust. He and his partner had found the pay-streakfinally, and he had come to notify her that it gave promise of beingvery rich, and now that its location was demonstrated, no doubt theother "laymen" would have it within a fortnight. As all of them wereready to begin sluicing as soon as the ground could be stripped,undoubtedly they would be able to take out a substantial stake beforewinter settled and the first frost closed them down.
She took the news quietly but with shining eyes, though her pleasurewas no greater or more genuine than Poleon's, who grasped both herhands in his and shouted, gleefully:
"Bien! I'm glad! You'll be riche gal for sure now, an' wear plainteefine dress lak' I fetch you. Jus' t'ink, you fin' gol' on your placemore queecker dan your fader, an' he's good miner, too. Ha! Dat'sbully!"
"Oh, Poleon! I'll be a fine lady, after all," she cried--"just as I'vedreamed about! Wasn't it beautiful, that pile of yellow grains andnuggets? Dear, dear! And part of it is mine! You know I've never hadmoney. I wonder what it is like to be rich!"
"How I'm goin' tell you dat?"
"Oh, well, they will find it on your claims very soon."
He shook his head. "You better knock wood w'en you say dat. Mebbe Idraw de blank again; nobody can't tell. I've do de sam' t'ing before,an' dose men w'at been workin' my groun' dey're gettin' purty blue."
"It's impossible. You're sure to strike it, or if you don't, you canhave half of what I make--I'll be
too wealthy, anyhow, so you might aswell."
He laughed again, at which she suddenly remembered that he had notlaughed very much of late, or else she had been too deeply absorbed inher own happiness to mark the lack of his songs and merriment.
"When you do become a Flambeau king," she continued, "what will you dowith yourself? Surely you won't continue that search for your farcountry. It could never be so beautiful as this." She pointed to theriver that never changed, and yet was never the same, and to theforests, slightly tinged with the signs of the coming season. "Justlook at the mountains," she mused, in a hushed voice; "see the hazethat hangs over them--the veil that God uses to cover up histreasures." She drew a deep breath. "The breeze fairly tastes withclean things, doesn't it? Do you know, I've often wanted to be ananimal, to have my senses sharpened--one of those wild things with afunny, sharp, cold nose. I'd like to live in the trees and run alongthe branches like a squirrel, and drink in the perfume that comes onthe wind, and eat the tender, growing things. The sun is bright enoughand the world is good enough, but I can't feel enough. I'm incomplete."
"It's very fine," agreed the Canadian. "I don' see w'y anybody wouldcare for livin' on dem cities w'en dere's so much nice place outside."
"Oh, but the cities must be fine also," said she, "though, of course,they can't be as lovely as this. Won't I be glad to see them!"
"Are you goin' away?" he inquired, quickly.
"Of course." Then glimpsing his downcast face, she hastened to add,"That is, when my claims turn out rich enough to afford it."
"Oh," he said, with relief. "Dat's different. I s'pose it mus' be purtydull on dem beeg town; now'ere to go, not'in' to see 'cept lot ofhouses."
"Yes," said Necia, "I've no doubt one would get tired of it soon, andlong for something to do and something really worth while, but I shouldlike to try it once, and I shall as soon as I'm rich enough. Won't youcome along?"
"I don' know," he said, thoughtfully; "mebbe so I stay here, mebbe so Itak' my canoe an' go away. For long tam' I t'ink dis Flambeau she's depromis' lan' I hear callin' to me, but I don' know yet for w'ile."
"What kind of place is that land of yours, Poleon?"
"Ha! I never see 'im, but she's been cryin' to me ever since I'm littleboy. It's a place w'ere I don' get too hot on de summer an' too col' onde winter; it's place w'ere birds sing an' flowers blossom an' de sunshine, an' w'ere I can sleep widout dreamin' 'bout it all de tam'."
"Why, it's the land of content--you'll never discover it by travel.I'll tell you a secret, Poleon. I've found it--yes, I have. It lieshere." She laid her hand on her breast. "Father Barnum told me thestory of your people, and how it lives in your blood--that hunger tofind the far places; it's what drove the voyageurs and coureur du boisfrom Quebec to Vancouver, and from the Mississippi to Hudson's Bay. Thewanderlust was their heritage, and they pushed on and on without rest,like the salmon in the spring, but they were different in this: thatthey never came back to die."
"Dat's me! I never see no place yet w'at I care for die on, an' I neversee no place yet w'at I care for see again 'cept dis Flambeau. I lak'it, dis one, purty good so far, but I ain' know w'en I'm goin' gettire'. Dat depen's." There was a look of great tenderness in his eyesas he bent towards her and searched her face, but she was not thinkingof him, and at length he continued:
"Fader Barnum, he's goin' be here nex' Sonday for cheer up dem Injun.Constantine she's got de letter."
"Why, that's the day after to-morrow!" cried Necia. "Oh, won't I beglad to see him!"
"You don' get dem kin' of mans on de beeg cities," said Poleon. "I ain'never care for preachin' much, an' dese feller w'at all de tam' prayan' sing t'rough de nose, dey mak' me seeck. But Fader Barnum--Ba Gar!She's the swell man."
"Do you know," said Necia, wistfully, "I've always wanted him to marryme."
"You t'inkin' 'bout marry on some feller, eh?" said the other, with anodd grin. "Wal! w'y not? He'll be here all day an' night. S'pose you doit. Mos' anybody w'at ain' got some wife already will be glad for marryon you--an' mebbe some feller w'at has got wife, too! If you don' lak'dem, an' if you're goin' marry on SOMEBODY, you can be wife to me."
Necia laughed lightly. "I believe you WOULD marry me if I wanted youto; you've done everything else I've ever asked. But you needn't beafraid; I won't take you up." In all her life this man had never spokenof love to her, and she had no hint of the dream he cherished. He hadsung his songs to her and told her stories till his frank and boyishmind was like an open page to her; she knew the romance that was thevery fibre of him, and loved his exaggerated chivalry, for it mindedher of old tales she had read; but that he could care for her save as afriend, as a brother--such a thought had never dawned upon her.
While they were talking a boat had drawn inshore and made fast to thebank in front of them. An Indian landed and, approaching, entered intotalk with the Frenchman.
By-and-by Poleon turned to the girl, and said:
"Dere's'hondred marten-skin come in; you min' de store w'ile I mak'trade wit' dis man."
Together the two went down to the boat, leaving Necia behind, and notlong after Runnion sauntered up to the store and addressed herfamiliarly.
"Hello, Necia! I just heard about the strike on your claim. That's fineand dandy."
She acknowledged his congratulations curtly, for although it wascustomary for most of the old-timers to call her by her Christian name,she resented it from this man. She chose to let it pass, however.
"I had some good news last night myself," he continued. "One of my menhas hit some good dirt, and we'll know what it means in a day or so.I'll gamble we're into the money big, though, for I always was a luckycuss. Say, where's your father?"
"He's out at the mine."
"We've used up all of our bar sugar at the saloon, and I want to buywhat you've got."
"Very well, I'll get it for you."
He followed her inside, watching her graceful movements, andattempting, with his free-and-easy insolence, to make friendlyadvances, but, seeing that she refused to notice him, he became piqued,and grew bolder.
"Look here, Necia, you're a mighty pretty girl. I've had my eye on youever since I landed, and the more I see of you the better I like you."
"It isn't necessary to tell me that," she replied. "The price of thesugar will be just the same."
"Yes, and you're bright, too," he declared. "That's what I like in awoman--good looks and brains. I believe in strong methods and straighttalk, too; none of this serenading and moonlight mush for me. When Isee a girl I like, I go and get her. That's me. I make love like a manought to--"
"Are you making love to me?" she inquired, curiously.
"It's a little bit sudden, I know, but a man has to begin some time. Ithink you'd just about suit me. We'll both have money before long, andI'll be good to you."
The girl laughed derisively in his face.
"Now don't get sore. I mean business. I don't wear a blue coat and usea lot of fancy words, and then throw you down when I've had my fun, andI don't hang around and spoil your chances with other men either."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I'm no soft-talking Southerner with gold buttons andhighfalutin' ways. I don't care if you are a squaw, I'll take you--"
"Don't talk to me!" she cried, in disgust, her voice hot with anger andresentment.
But he continued, unheeding: "Now, cut out these airs and get down tocases. I mean what I say. I know you've been casting sheep's eyes atBurrell, but, Lord! he wouldn't have you, no matter how rich you get.Of course, you acted careless in going off alone with him, but I don'tmind what they're saying around camp, for I've made little slips likethat myself, and we'd get along--"
"I'll have you killed!" she hissed, through her clinched teeth, whileher whole body vibrated with passion. "I'll call Poleon and have himshoot you!" She pointed to the river-bank a hundred yards away, wherethe Canadian was busy assorting skins.
But he only laughed at her show of temper, and shrugged his shoulde
rsas he answered her, roughly:
"Understand me, I'm on the square. So think it over, and don't go up inthe air like a sky-rocket."
She cried out at him to "Go--go--go!" and finally he took up hisbundle, saying, as he stepped out slowly:
"All right! But I'm coming back, and you'll have to listen to me. Idon't mind being called a squaw-man. You're pretty near white, andyou're good enough for me. I'll treat you right--why, I'll even marryyou if you're dead set on it. Sure!"
She could scarcely breathe, but checked her first inclination to callPoleon, knowing that it needed only a word from her to set thatnut-brown savage at Runnion's throat. Other thoughts began to crowd herbrain and to stifle her. The fellow's words had stabbed herconsciousness, and done something for her that gentler means would nothave accomplished; they had opened her eyes to a thing that she hadforgotten--a hideous thing that had reared its fangs once before tostrike, but which her dreams of happiness had driven out of her Eden.All at once she saw the wrong that had been done her, and realized fromthis brute's insult that those early fears had been well grounded. Itsuddenly occurred to her that in all the hours she had spent with herlover, in all those unspeakably sweet and intimate hours, there hadnever been one word of marriage. He had looked into her eyes and vowedhe could not live without her, and yet he had never said the words heshould have said, the words that would bind her to him. His arms andhis lips had comforted her and stilled her fears, but after all he hadmerely made love. A cold fear crept over the girl. She recalled the oldCorporal's words of a few weeks ago, and her conversation with Starkcame back to her. What if it were true--that which Runnion implied?What if he did not intend to ask her, after all? What if he had onlybeen amusing himself? She cried out sharply at this, and when Doretstaggered in beneath a great load of skins he found her in a strangeexcitement. When he had finished his accounting with the Indian anddismissed him, she turned an agitated face to the Frenchman.
"Poleon," she said, "I'm in trouble. Oh, I'm in such awful trouble!"
"It's dat Runnion! I seen 'im pass on de store w'ile I'm down below."His brows knit in a black scowl, and his voice slid off a pitch intone. "Wat he say, eh?"
"No, no, it's not that. He paid me a great compliment." She laughedharshly. "Why, he asked me to marry him." The man beside her cursed atthis, but she continued: "Don't blame him for liking me--I'm the onlywoman for five hundred miles around--or I was until this crowd came--sohow could he help himself? No, he merely showed me what a fool I'vebeen."
"I guess you better tell me all 'bout dis t'ing," said Poleon, gravely."You know I'm all tam' ready for help you, Necia. Wen you was littlefeller an' got bust your finger you run to me queeck, an' I feex it."
"Yes, I know, dear Poleon," she assented, gratefully. "You've been abrother to me, and I need you now more than I ever needed you before. Ican't go to father; he wouldn't understand, or else he would understandtoo much, and spoil it all, his temper is so quick."
"I'm not w'at you call easy-goin' mese'f," the Canadian said, darkly,and it was plain that he was deeply agitated, which added to the girl'sdistress; but she began to speak rapidly, incoherently, herimpulsiveness giving significance to her words, so that the man had nodifficulty in following her drift. With quick insight he caught hermeaning, and punctuated her broken sentences with a series of gravenods, assuring her that he knew and understood. He had always known, hehad always understood, it seemed.
"Don't think I'm unwomanly, Poleon, for I'm not. I may be foolish andfaithful and too trusting, but I'm not--unmaidenly. You see, I've neverbeen like other girls--and he was so fine, so different, he made melove him--it's part of a soldier's training, I suppose. It was so sweetto be near him, and to hear him tell of himself and all the world heknows--I just let myself drift. I'm afraid--I'm afraid I listened toowell, and my ears heard more than he said--my head is so full of books,you know."
"He should have know' dat, too," said Poleon.
"Yes," she flared up. "He knew I was only an Indian girl."
The only color in Doret's face lay now in his cheeks, where the sun hadput it; but he smiled at her--his warm, engaging smile--and laid hisgreat brown hand upon her shoulder softly.
"I've look' in hees eye an' I'm always t'ink he's good man. I don'never t'ink he'll mak' fun of poor little gal."
"But he has, Poleon; that's just what he has done." She came near tobreaking down, and finished, pathetically, "They're telling the storyon the street, so Runnion says."
"Dat's easy t'ing for feex," he said. "Runnion, she don' spread no morestory lak' dat."
"I don't care what they say. I want the truth. I want to know what hemeans, what his intentions are. He swears he loves me, and yet he hasnever asked me to marry him. He has gone too far; he has made a fool ofme to amuse himself, and--and I couldn't see it until to-day. He'slaughing at me, Poleon, he's laughing at me now! Oh, I can't bear it!"
The Frenchman took up his wide hat from the counter and placed itcarefully upon his head, but she stopped him as he moved towards thedoor, for she read the meaning of the glare in his eyes.
"Wait till you understand--wait, I say! He hasn't done anything yet."
"Dat's de trouble. I'm goin' mak' 'im do somet'ing."
"No, no! It isn't that; it's these doubts that are killing me--I'm notsure--"
"I hear plaintee," he said. "Dere's no tam' for monkey roun'."
"I tell you he may be honest," she declared. "He may mean to marry me,but I've got to know. That's why I came to you; that's what you mustfind out for me."
"I'm good trader, Necia," said the Canadian, after a moment. "I'll mak'bargain wit' you now. If he say yes, he'll marry you, I don' ask nomore; but if he say no, you geeve 'im to me. Is it go?"
She hesitated, while he continued, musingly, "I don' see how no man onall dis worl' could lef' you go." Then to her, "Wal, is it bargain?"
"Yes," she said, the Indian blood speaking now; "but you must learn thetruth, there must be no mistake--that would be terrible."
"Dere ain' goin' be no mistak'."
"If he should refuse, I--I'll marry SOME one, quick. I won't be laughedat by this camp; I won't be a joke. Oh, Poleon! I've given myself tohim just as truly as if--well, he--he has taken my first kiss."
Doret smote his hands together at this and began to roll his headbackward from side to side, as if in some great pain, but his lips weredry and silent. After a moment the spell left him, the fire died down,leaving only a dumb agony in its place. She came closer and continued:
"I'll never let them point at me and say, 'There goes the squawthat--he threw away.'"
"You mak' dis very hard t'ing for me," he said, wearily.
"Listen," she went on, lashing herself with pity and scorn. "You sayFather Barnum will be here on Sunday. Well--I'll marry some one, Idon't care who!" Then, with a sudden inspiration, she cried, "I'llmarry you--you said I could be a wife to you."
He uttered a sharp cry. "You mean dat, Necia?"
"Yes," she declared. "Why not? You'll do it for my sake, won't you?"
"Would you stan' up wit' me 'longside of de pries', lovin' dat oderfeller all de tam'?" he asked, queerly.
"Yes, YES! I'd rather it was you than anybody, but married I'll be onSunday. I'll never let them laugh at me."
Doret held his silence for a moment, then he looked up and said, inlevel tones:
"It's easy t'ing for go an' ask 'im, but you mus' hear hees answer wit'your own ears--den you can't t'ink I'm lyin'. I'll fetch 'im 'ere ondis place if you feex it for hide you'se'f behin' dose post." Heindicated a bundle of furs that were suspended against a pillar, andwhich offered ample room for concealment. "Dere's goin' be no liesto-day."
He pulled himself together and went out, with the tired gait of an oldman, his great shock head bowed low. A few moments later he returned.
"I've sent li'l' Jean for 'im. You get in dere out of sight--an' wait."