CHAPTER XXV
Following that first wild stare of uncertainty and disbelief in the bigSwede's eyes came a look of sudden and joyous recognition. He wasclutching at Philip's hand like a drowning man before he made an effortto speak, still with his eyes on the other's face as if he was notquite sure they had not betrayed him. Then he grinned. There was onlyone man in the world who could grin like Olaf Anderson. In spite ofblood and swollen features it transformed him. Men loved the red-headedSwede because of that grin. Not a man in the service who knew him butswore that Olaf would die with the grin on his face, because thetighter the hole he was in the more surely would the grin be there. Itwas the grin that answered Philip's question.
"Just in time--to the dot," said Olaf, still pumping Philip's hand, andgrinning hard. "All dead but me--Calkins, Harris, and that littleDutchman, O'Flynn, Cold and stiff, Phil, every one of them. I knew aninvestigating patrol would be coming up pretty soon. Been looking forit every day. How many men you got?"
He looked beyond Philip to the cabin and the sledge. The grin slowlywent out of his face, and Philip heard the sudden catch in his breath.A swift glance revealed the amazing truth to Olaf. He dropped Philip'shand and stepped back, taking him in suddenly from head to foot.
"Alone!"
"Yes, alone," nodded Philip. "With the exception of Celie Armin. Ibrought her back to her father. A fellow named Blake is back there alittle way with Upi's tribe. We beat them out, but I'm figuring itwon't be long before they show up."
The grin was fixed in Olaf's face again.
"Lord bless us, but it's funny," he grunted. "They're coming on thenext train, so to speak, and right over in that neck of woods is theother half of Upi's tribe chasing their short legs off to get me. Andthe comical part of it is you're ALONE!" His eyes were fixed suddenlyon the revolver. "Ammunition?" he demanded eagerly. "And--grub?"
"Thirty or forty rounds of rifle, a dozen Colt, and plenty of meat--"
"Then into the cabin, and the dogs with us," almost shouted the Swede.
From the edge of the forest came the report of a rifle and over theirheads went the humming drone of a bullet.
They were back at the cabin in a dozen seconds, tugging at the dogs. Itcost an effort to get them through the door, with the sledge afterthem. Half a dozen shots came from the forest. A bullet spatteredagainst the log wall, found a crevice, and something metallic jingledinside. As Olaf swung the door shut and dropped the wooden bar in placePhilip turned for a moment toward Celie. She went to him, her eyesshining in the semi-gloom of the cabin, and put her arms up about hisshoulders. The Swede, looking on, stood transfixed, and thewhite-bearded Armin stared incredulously. On her tip-toes Celie kissedPhilip, and then turning with her arms still about him said somethingto the older man that brought an audible gasp from Olaf. In anothermoment she had slipped away from Philip and back to her father. TheSwede was flattening his face against a two inch crevice between thelogs when Philip went to his side.
"What did she say, Olaf?" he entreated.
"That she's going to marry you if we ever get out of this hell of a fixwe're in," grunted Olaf. "Pretty lucky dog, I say, if it's true.Imagine Celie Armin marrying a dub like you! But it will never happen.If you don't believe it fill your eyes with that out there!"
Philip glued his eyes to the long crevice between the logs and foundthe forest and the little finger of plain between straight in hisvision. The edge of the timber was alive with men. There must have beenhalf a hundred of them, and they were making no effort to concealthemselves. For the first time Olaf began to give him an understandingof the situation.
"This is the fortieth day we've held them off," he said, in thequick-cut, business-like voice he might have used in rendering a reportto a superior. "Eighty cartridges to begin with and a month's ration ofgrub for two. All but the three last cartridges went day beforeyesterday. Yesterday everything quiet. On the edge of starvation thismorning when I went out on scout duty and to take a chance at game.Surprised a couple of them carrying meat and had a tall fight. Othershove into action and I had to use two of my cartridges. One left--andthey're showing themselves because they know we don't dare to useammunition at long range. My caliber is thirty-five. What's yours?"
"The same," replied Philip quickly, his blood beginning to thrill withthe anticipation of battle. "I'll give you half. I'm on duty from FortChurchill, off on a tangent of my own." He did not take his eyes fromthe slit in the wall as he told Anderson in a hundred words what hadhappened since his meeting with Bram Johnson. "And with fortycartridges we'll give 'em a taste of hell," he added.
He caught his breath, and the last word half choked itself from hislips. He knew that Anderson was staring as hard as he. Up from theriver and over the level sweep of plain between it and the timber camea sledge, followed by a second, a third, and a fourth. In the trailbehind the sledges trotted a score and a half of fur-clad figures.
"It's Blake!" exclaimed Philip.
Anderson drew himself away from the wall. In his eyes burned a curiousgreenish flame, and his face was set with the hardness of iron. In thatiron was molded indistinctly the terrible smile with which he alwayswent into battle or fronted "his man." Slowly he turned, pointing along arm at each of the four walls of the cabin.
"That's the lay of the fight," he said, making his words short and tothe point. "They can come at us on all sides, and so I've made asix-foot gun-crevice in each wall. We can't count on Armin for anythingbut the use of a club if it comes to close quarters. The walls arebuilt of saplings and they've got guns out there that get through.Outside of that we've got one big advantage. The little devils aresuperstitious about fighting at night, and even Blake can't force theminto it. Blake is the man I was after when I ran across Armin and hispeople. GAD!"
There was an unpleasant snap in his voice as he peered through thegun-hole again. Philip looked across the room to Celie and her fatheras he divided the cartridges. They were both listening, yet he knewthey did not understand what he and Olaf were saying. He dropped a halfof the cartridges into the right hand pocket of the Swede's servicecoat, and advanced then toward Armin with both his hands held out ingreeting. Even in that tense moment he saw the sudden flash of pleasurein Celie's eyes. Her lips trembled, and she spoke softly and swiftly toher father, looking at Philip. Armin advanced a step, and their handsmet. At first Philip had taken him for an old man. Hair and beard werewhite, his shoulders were bent, his hands were long and thin. But hiseyes, sunken deep in their sockets, had not aged with the rest of him.They were filled with the piercing scrutiny of a hawk's as they lookedinto his own, measuring him in that moment so far as man can measureman. Then he spoke, and it was the light in Celie's eyes, her partedlips, and the flush that came swiftly into her face that gave him anunderstanding of what Armin was saying.
From the end of the cabin Olaf's voice broke in. With it came themetallic working of his rifle as he filled the chamber with cartridges.He spoke first to Celie and Armin in their own language, then to Philip.
"It's a pretty safe gamble we'd better get ready for them," he said."They'll soon begin. Did you split even on the cartridges?"
"Seventeen apiece."
Philip examined his rifle, and looked through the gun-crevice towardthe forest. He heard Olaf tugging at the dogs as he tied them to thebunk posts; he heard Armin say something in a strained voice, and theSwede's unintelligible reply, followed by a quick, low-voicedinterrogation from Celie. In the same moment his heart gave a suddenjump. In the fringe of the forest he saw a long, thin line of movingfigures--ADVANCING. He did not call out a warning instantly. For aspace in which he might have taken a long breath or two his eyes andbrain were centered on the moving figures and the significance of theirdrawn-out formation. Like a camera-flash his eyes ran over thebattleground. Half way between the cabin and that fringe of forest fourhundred yards away was a "hogback" in the snow, running a curvingparallel with the plain. It formed scarcely more than a three or fourfoot rise in the surface, and he had giv
en it no special significanceuntil now. His lips formed words as the thrill of understanding leaptupon him.
"They're moving!" he called to Olaf. "They're going to make a rush forthe little ridge between us and the timber. Good God, Anderson, there'san army of them!"
"Not more'n a hundred," replied the Swede calmly, taking his place atthe gun-crevice. "Take it easy, Phil. This will be good targetpractice. We've got to make an eighty percent kill as they come acrossthe open. This is mighty comfortable compared with the trick theyturned on us when they got Calkins, Harris and O'Flynn. I got away inthe night."
The moving line had paused just within the last straggling growth oftrees, as if inviting the fire of the defenders.
Olaf grunted as he looked along the barrel of his rifle.
"Strategy," he mumbled. "They know we're shy of ammunition."
In the moments of tense waiting Philip found his first opportunity toquestion the man at his side. First, he said:
"I guess mebby you understand, Olaf. We've gone through a helltogether, and I love her. If we get out of this she's going to be mywife. She's promised me that, and yet I swear to Heaven I don't knowmore than a dozen words of her language. What has happened? Who is she?Why was she with Bram Johnson? You know their language, and have beenwith them--"
"They're taking final orders," interrupted Olaf, as if he had notheard. "There's something more on foot than a rush to the ridge. It'sBlake's scheming. See those little groups forming? They're going tobring battering-rams, and make a second rush from the ridge." He drewin a deep breath, and without a change in the even tone of his voice,went on: "Calkins, Harris and O'Flynn went down in a good fight. Tellyou about that later. Hit seven days' west, and run on the camp ofArmin, his girl, and two white men--Russians--guided by two Kogmollocksfrom Coronation Gulf. You can guess some of the rest. The little devilshad Blake and his gang about us two days after I struck them. BramJohnson and his wolves came along then--from nowhere--going nowhere.The Kogmollocks think Bram is a great Devil, and that each of hiswolves is a Devil. If it hadn't been for that they would have murderedus in a hurry, and Blake would have taken the girl. They were queeredby the way Bram would squat on his haunches, and stare at her. Thesecond day I saw him mumbling over something, and looked sharp. He hadone of Celie's long hairs, and when he saw me he snarled like ananimal, as though he feared I would take it from him. I knew what wascoming. I knew Blake was only waiting for Bram to get away from hisKogmollocks--so I told Celie to give Bram a strand of her hair. Shedid--with her own hands, and from that minute the madman watched herlike a dog. I tried to talk with him, but couldn't. I didn't seem to beable to make him understand. And then--"
The Swede cut himself short.
"They're moving, Phil! Take the men with the battering rams--and letthem get half way before you fire! ... You see, Bram and his wolves hadto have meat. Blake attacked while he was gone. Russians killed--Arminand I cornered, fighting for the girl behind us, when Bram came backlike a burst of thunder. He didn't fight. He grabbed the girl, and wasoff with her like the wind with his wolf-team. Armin and I got intothis cabin, and here--forty days and nights--"
His voice stopped ominously. A fraction of a second later it wasfollowed by the roar of his rifle, and at the first shot one of Blake'sKogmollocks crumpled up with a grunt half way between the snow-ridgeand the forest.
CHAPTER XXVI
The Eskimos were advancing at a trot now over the open space. Philipwas amazed at their number. There were at least a hundred, and hisheart choked with a feeling of despair even as he pulled the triggerfor his first shot. He had seen the effect of Olaf's shot, andfollowing the Swede's instructions aimed for his man in the nearestgroup behind the main line. He did not instantly see the result, as apuff of smoke shut out his vision, but a moment later, aiming again, hesaw a dark blotch left in the snow. From his end of the crevice Olafhad seen the man go down, and he grunted his approbation. There werefive of the groups bearing tree trunks for battering-rams, and on oneof these Philip concentrated the six shots in his rifle. Four of thetree-bearers went down, and the two that were left dropped their burdenand joined those ahead of them. Until Philip stepped back to reload hisgun he had not noticed Celie. She was close at his side, peeringthrough the gun-hole at the tragedy out on the plain. Once before hehad been astounded by the look in her face when they had beenconfronted by great danger, and as his fingers worked swiftly inrefilling the magazine of his rifle he saw it there again. It was notfear, even now. It was a more wonderful thing than that. Her wide-openeyes glowed with a strange, dark luster; in the center of each of hercheeks was a vivid spot of color, and her lips were parted slightly, sothat he caught the faintest gleam of her teeth. Wonderful as a fragileflower she stood there with her eyes upon him, her splendid courage andher faith in him flaming within her like a fire.
And then he heard Anderson's voice:
"They're behind the ridge. We got eight of them."
In half a dozen places Philip had seen where bullets had bored the waythrough the cabin, and leaning his gun against the wall, he sprang toCelie and almost carried her behind the bunk that was built against thelogs.
"You must stay here," he cried. "Do you understand! HERE!"
She nodded, and smiled. It was a wonderful smile--a flash of tendernesstelling him that she knew what he was saying, and that she would obeyhim. She made no effort to detain him with her hands, but in thatmoment--if life had been the forfeit--Philip would have stolen theprecious time in which to take her in his arms. For a space he held herclose to him, his lips crushed to hers, and faced the wall again withthe throb of her soft breast still beating against his heart. Henoticed Armin standing near the door, his hand resting on a huge clubwhich, in turn, rested on the floor. Calmly he was waiting for thefinal rush. Olaf was peering through the gun-hole again. And then camewhat he had expected--a rattle of fire from the snow-ridge. ThePIT-PIT-PIT of bullets rained against the cabin in a dull tattoo.Through the door came a bullet, sending a splinter close to Armin'sface. Almost in the same instant a second followed it, and a third camethrough the crevice so close to Philip that he felt the hissing breathof it in his face. One of the dogs emitted a wailing howl and floppedamong its comrades in uncanny convulsions.
Olaf staggered back, and faced Philip. There was no trace of thefighting grin in his face now. It was set like an iron mask.
"GET DOWN!" he shouted. "Do you hear, GET DOWN!" He dropped on hisknees, crying out the warning to Armin in the other's language."They've got enough guns to make a sieve of this kennel if theirammunition holds out--and the lower logs are heaviest. Flatten yourselfout until they stop firing, with your feet toward 'em, like this," andhe stretched himself out on the floor, parallel with the direction offire.
In place of following the Swede's example Philip ran to Celie. Half waya bullet almost got him, flipping the collar of his shirt. He droppedbeside her and gathered her up completely in his arms, with his ownbody between her and the fire. A moment later he thanked God for theprotection of the bunk. He heard the ripping of a bullet through thesaplings and caught distinctly the thud of it as the spent lead droppedto the floor. Celie's head was close on his breast, her eyes were onhis face, her soft lips so near he could feel their breath. He kissedher, unbelieving even then that the end was near for her. It wasmonstrous--impossible. Lead was finding its way into the cabin likeraindrops. He heard the Swede's voice again, crying thickly from thefloor:
"Hug below the lower log. You've got eight inches. If you rise abovethat they'll get you." He repeated the warning to Armin.
As if to emphasize his words there came a howl of agony from another ofthe dogs.
Still closer Philip held the girl to him. Her hands had creptconvulsively to his neck. He crushed his face down against hers, andwaited. It came to him suddenly that Blake must be reckoning on thisvery protection which he was giving Celie. He was gambling on thechance that while the male defenders of the cabin would be wounded orkilled Celie would be sheltered until the
last moment from their fire.If that was so, the firing would soon cease until Blake learned results.
Scarcely had he made this guess when the fusillade ended. Instead ofrifle-fire there came a sudden strange howl of voices and Olaf sprangto his feet. Philip had risen, when the Swede's voice came to him in achoking cry. Prepared for the rush he had expected, Olaf was making anobservation through the gun-crevice. Suddenly, without turning hishead, he yelled back at them:
"Good God--it's Bram--Bram Johnson!"
Even Celie realized the thrilling import of the Swede's excited words.BRAM JOHNSON! She was only a step behind Philip when he reached thewall. With him she looked out. Out of that finger of forest they werecoming--Bram and his wolves! The pack was free, spreading outfan-shape, coming like the wind! Behind them was Bram--a wild andmonstrous figure against the whiteness of the plain, bearing in hishand a giant club. His yell came to them. It rose above all othersound, like the cry of a great beast. The wolves came faster, and then--
The truth fell upon those in the cabin with a suddenness that stoppedthe beating of their hearts.
Bram Johnson and his wolves were attacking the Eskimos!
From the thrilling spectacle of the giant mad-man charging over theplain behind his ravenous beasts Philip shifted his amazed gaze to theEskimos. They were no longer concealing themselves. Palsied by astrange terror, they were staring at the onrushing horde and theshrieking wolf-man. In those first appalling moments of horror andstupefaction not a gun was raised or a shot fired. Then there rose fromthe ranks of the Kogmollocks a strange and terrible cry, and in anothermoment the plain between the forest and the snow-ridge was alive withfleeing creatures in whose heavy brains surged the monstrous thoughtthat they were attacked not by man and beast, but by devils. And inthat same moment it seemed that Bram Johnson and his wolves were amongthem. From man to man the beasts leapt, driven on by the shriekingvoice of their master; and now Philip saw the giant mad-man overtakeone after another of the running figures, and saw the crushing force ofhis club as it fell. Celie swayed back from the wall and stood with herhands to her face. The Swede sprang past her, flung back the bar to thedoor, and opened it. Philip was a step behind him. Prom the front ofthe cabin they began firing, and man after man crumpled down undertheir shots. If Bram and his wolves sensed the shooting in the ferocityof their blood-lust they paid no more attention to it than to the criesfor mercy that rose chokingly out of the throats of their enemies. Inanother sixty seconds the visible part of it was over. The last of theKogmollocks disappeared into the edge of the forest. After them wentthe wolf-man and his pack.
Philip faced his companion. His gun was hot--and empty. The old grinwas in Olaf's face. In spite of it he shuddered.
"We won't follow," he said. "Bram and his wolves will attend to thetrimmings, and he'll come back when the job is finished. Meanwhilewe'll get a little start for home, eh? I'm tired of this cabin. Fortydays and nights--UGH! it was HELL. Have you a spare pipeful of tobacco,Phil? If you have--let's see, where did I leave off in that story aboutPrincess Celie and the Duke of Rugni?"
"The--the--WHAT?"
"Your tobaeco, Phil!"
In a dazed fashion Philip handed his tobacco pouch to the Swede.
"You said--Princess Celie--the Duke of Rugni--"
Olaf nodded as he stuffed his pipe bowl.
"That's it. Armin is the Duke of Rugni, whatever Rugni is. He waschased off to Siberia a good many years ago, when Celie was a kid, thatsomebody else could get hold of the Dukedom. Understand? Millions init, I suppose. He says some of Rasputin's old friends were behind it,and that for a long time he was kept in the dungeons of the fortress ofSt. Peter and St. Paul, with the Neva River running over his head. Thefriends he had, most of them in exile or chased out of the country,thought he was dead, and some of these friends were caring for Celie.Just after Rasputin was killed, and before the Revolution broke out,they learned Armin was alive and dying by inches somewhere up on theSiberian coast. Celie's mother was Danish--died almost before Celiecould remember; but some of her relatives and a bunch of Russian exilesin London framed up a scheme to get Armin back, chartered a ship,sailed with Celie on board, and--"
Olaf paused to light his pipe.
"And they found the Duke," he added. "They escaped with him before theylearned of the Revolution, or Armin could have gone home with the restof the Siberian exiles and claimed his rights. For a lot of reasonsthey put him aboard an American whaler, and the whaler missed its plansby getting stuck in the ice for the winter up in Coronation Gulf. Afterthat they started out with dogs and sledge and guides. There's a lotmore, but that's the meat of it, Phil. I'm going to leave it to you tolearn Celie's language and get the details first-hand from her. Butshe's a right enough princess, old man. And her Dad's a duke. It's upto you to Americanize 'em. Eh, what's that?"
Celie had come from the cabin and was standing at Philip's side,looking up into his face, and the light which Olaf saw unhidden in hereyes made him laugh softly:
"And you've got the job half done, Phil. The Duke may go back and raisethe devil with the people who put him in cold storage, but Lady Celieis going to like America. Yessir, she's going to like it better'n anyother place on the face of the earth!"
It was late that afternoon, traveling slowly southward over the trailof the Coppermine, when they heard far behind them the wailing cry ofBram Johnson's wolves. The sound came only once, like the swellingsurge of a sudden sweep of wind, yet when they camped at the beginningof darkness Philip was confident the madman and his pack were closebehind them. Utter exhaustion blotted out the hours for Celie andhimself, while Olaf, buried in two heavy Eskimo coats he had foragedfrom the field of battle, sat on guard through the night. Twice in thestillness of his long vigil he heard strange cries. Once it was the cryof a beast. The second time it was that of a man.
The second day, with dogs refreshed, they traveled faster, and it wasthis night that they camped in the edge of timber and built a hugefire. It was such a fire as illumined the space about them for fiftypaces or more, and it was into this light that Bram Johnson stalked, sosuddenly and so noiselessly that a sharp little cry sprang from Celie'slips, and Olaf and Philip and the Duke of Rugni stared in wide-eyedamazement. In his right hand the wolf-man bore a strange object. It wasan Eskimo coat, tied into the form of a bag, and in the bottom of thisimprovision was a lump half the size of a water pail. Bram seemedoblivious of all presence but that of Celie. His eyes were on her aloneas he advanced and with a weird sound in his throat deposited thebundle at her feet. In another moment he was gone. The Swede roseslowly from where he was sitting, and speaking casually to Celie, tookthe wolf-man's gift up in his hands. Philip observed the strange lookin his face as he turned his back to Celie in the firelight and openedthe bag sufficiently to get a look inside. Then he walked out into thedarkness, and a moment later returned without the bundle, and with alaugh apologized to Celie for his action.
"No need of telling her what it was," he said to Philip then. "Iexplained that it was foul meat Bram had brought in as a present. As amatter of fact it was Blake's head. You know the Kogmollocks have apretty habit of pleasing a friend by presenting him with the head of adead enemy. Nice little package for her to have opened, eh?"
After all, there are some very strange happenings in life, and theadventurers of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police come upon theirshare. The case of Bram Johnson, the mad wolf-man of the Upper Country,happened to be one of them, and filed away in the archives of theDepartment is a big envelope filled with official and personaldocuments, signed and sworn to by various people. There is, forinstance, the brief and straightforward deposition of Corporal OlafAnderson, of the Fort Churchill Division, and there is the longer andmore detailed testimony of Mr. and Mrs. Philip Raine and the Duke ofRugni; and attached to these depositions is a copy of an officialdecision pardoning Bram Johnson and making of him a ward of the greatDominion instead of a criminal. He is no longer hunted. "Let BramJohnson alone" is the word that had gone forth
to the man-hunters ofthe Service. It is a wise and human judgment. Bram's country is big andwild. And he and his wolves still hunt there under the light of themoon and the stars.
THE END
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