CHAPTER XI
As John Aldous stood hidden in the darkness, listening for the sound of afootstep, Joanne's words still rang in his ears. "I believe he is outthere--waiting for you," she had said; and, chuckling softly in the gloom,he told himself that nothing would give him more satisfaction than animmediate and material proof of her fear. In the present moment he felt akeen desire to confront Quade face to face out there in the lantern-glow,and settle with the mottled beast once for all. The fact that Quade hadseen Joanne as the guest of the Blacktons hardened him in hisdetermination. Quade could no longer be in possible error regarding her. Heknew that she had friends, and that she was not of the kind who could bemade or induced to play his game and Culver Rann's. If he followed herafter this----
Aldous gritted his teeth and stared up and down the black trail. Fiveminutes passed and he heard nothing that sounded like a footstep, and hesaw no moving shadow in the gloom. Slowly he continued along the road untilhe came to where a narrow pack-trail swung north and east through the thickspruce and balsam in the direction of Loon Lake. Remembering MacDonald'swarning, he kept his pistol in his hand. The moon was just beginning torise over the shoulder of a mountain, and after a little it lighted up themore open spaces ahead of him. Now and then he paused, and turned tolisten. As he progressed with slowness and caution, his mind workedswiftly. He knew that Donald MacDonald was the last man in the world towrite such a message as he had sent him through Blackton unless there hadbeen a tremendous reason for it. But why, he asked himself again and again,should Culver Rann want to kill him? Rann knew nothing of Joanne. He hadnot seen her. And surely Quade had not had time to formulate a plot withhis partner before MacDonald wrote his warning. Besides, an attempt hadbeen made to assassinate the old mountaineer! MacDonald had not warned himagainst Quade. He had told him to guard himself against Rann. And whatreason could this Culver Rann have for doing him injury? The more hethought of it the more puzzled he became. And then, in a flash, thepossible solution of it all came to him.
Had Culver Rann discovered the secret mission on which he and the oldmountaineer were going into the North? Had he learned of the gold--where itwas to be found? And was their assassination the first step in a plot tosecure possession of the treasure?
The blood in Aldous' veins ran faster. He gripped his pistol harder. Moreclosely he looked into the moonlit gloom of the trail ahead of him. Hebelieved that he had guessed the meaning of MacDonald's warning. It was thegold! More than once thought of the yellow treasure far up in the North hadthrilled him, but never as it thrilled him now. Was the old tragedy of itto be lived over again? Was it again to play its part in a terrible dramaof men's lives, as it had played it more than forty years ago? The gold!The gold that for nearly half a century had lain with the bones of itsdead, alone with its terrible secret, alone until Donald MacDonald hadfound it again! He had not told Joanne the story of it, the appalling andalmost unbelievable tragedy of it. He had meant to do so. But they hadtalked of other things. He had meant to tell her that it was not the golditself that was luring him far to the north--that it was not the gold alonethat was taking Donald MacDonald back to it.
And now, as he stood for a moment listening to the low sweep of the wind inthe spruce-tops, it seemed to him that the night was filled with whisperingvoices of that long-ago--and he shivered, and held his breath. A cloud haddrifted under the moon. For a few moments it was pitch dark. The fingers ofhis hand dug into the rough bark of a spruce. He did not move. It was thenthat he heard something above the caressing rustle of the wind in thespruce-tops.
It came to him faintly, from full half a mile deeper in the black forestthat reached down to the bank of the Frazer. It was the night call of anowl--one of the big gray owls that turned white as the snow in winter.Mentally he counted the notes in the call. One, two, three, _four_--and aflood of relief swept over him. It was MacDonald. They had used that signalin their hunting, when they had wished to locate each other withoutfrightening game. Always there were three notes in the big gray owl'squavering cry. The fourth was human. He put his hands to his mouth and sentback an answer, emphasizing the fourth note. The light breeze had died downfor a moment, and Aldous heard the old mountaineer's reply as it floatedfaintly back to him through the forest. Continuing to hold his pistol, hewent on, this time more swiftly.
MacDonald did not signal again. The moon was climbing rapidly into the sky,and with each passing minute the night was becoming lighter. He had gonehalf a mile when he stopped again and signalled softly. MacDonald's voiceanswered, so near that for an instant the automatic flashed in themoonlight. Aldous stepped out where the trail had widened into a small openspot. Half a dozen paces from him, in the bright flood of the moon, stoodDonald MacDonald.
The night, the moon-glow, the tense attitude of his waiting added to theweirdness of the picture which the old wanderer of the mountains made asAldous faced him. MacDonald was tall; some trick of the night made himappear almost unhumanly tall as he stood in the centre of that tiny moonlitamphitheatre. His head was bowed a little, and his shoulders drooped alittle, for he was old. A thick, shaggy beard fell in a silvery sheen overhis breast. His hair, gray as the underwing of the owl whose note heforged, straggled in uncut disarray from under the drooping rim of abattered and weatherworn hat. His coat was of buckskin, and it was short atthe sleeves--four inches too short; and the legs of his trousers were cutoff between the knees and the ankles, giving him a still greater appearanceof height.
In the crook of his arm MacDonald held a rifle, a strange-looking,long-barrelled rifle of a type a quarter of a century old. And DonaldMacDonald, in the picture he made, was like his gun, old and gray andghostly, as if he had risen out of some graveyard of the past to warmhimself in the yellow splendour of the moon. But in the grayness andgauntness of him there was something that was mightier than the strength ofyouth. He was alert. In the crook of his arm there was caution. His eyeswere as keen as the eyes of an animal. His shoulders spoke of a strengthbut little impaired by the years. Ghostly gray beard, ghostly gray hair,haunting eyes that gleamed, all added to the strange and weirdimpressiveness of the man as he stood before Aldous. And when he spoke, hisvoice had in it the deep, low, cavernous note of a partridge's drumming.
"I'm glad you've come, Aldous," he said. "I've been waiting ever since thetrain come in. I was afraid you'd go to the cabin!"
Aldous stepped forth and gripped the old mountaineer's outstretched hand.There was intense relief in Donald's eyes.
"I got a little camp back here in the bush," he went on, nodding riverward."It's safer 'n the shack these days. Yo're sure--there ain't no onefollowing?"
"Quite certain," assured Aldous. "Look here, MacDonald--what in thunder hashappened? Don't continue my suspense! Who shot you? Why did you warn me?"
Deep in his beard the old hunter laughed.
"Same fellow as would have shot you, I guess," he answered. "They made abad job of it, Johnny, an awful bad job, an' mebby there'd been a betterman layin' for you!"
He was pulling Aldous in the bush as he spoke. For ten minutes he dived onahead through a jungle in which there was no trail. Suddenly he turned,led the way around the edge of a huge mass of rock, and paused a momentlater before a small smouldering fire. Against the face of a giganticboulder was a balsam shelter. A few cooking utensils were scattered about.It was evident that MacDonald had been living here for several days.
"Looks as though I'd run away, don't it, Johnny?" he asked, laughing in hiscurious, chuckling way again. "An' so I did, boy. From the mountain upthere I've been watching things through my telescope--been keepin' quietsince Doc pulled the bullet out. I've been layin' for the Breed. I wantedhim to think I'd vamoosed. I'm goin' to kill him!"
He had squatted down before the fire, his long rifle across his knees, andspoke as quietly as though he was talking of a partridge or a squirrelinstead of a human being. He wormed a hand into one of his pockets andproduced a small dark object which he handed to Aldous The other felt anuncanny chil
l as it touched his fingers. It was a mis-shapened bullet.
"Doc gave me the lead," continued MacDonald coolly, beginning to slice apipeful of tobacco from a tar-black plug. "It come from Joe's gun. I'vehunted with him enough to know his bullet. He fired through the window ofthe cabin. If it hadn't been for the broom handle--just the end of itstickin' up"--he shrugged his gaunt shoulders as he stuffed the tobaccointo the bowl of his pipe--"I'd been dead!" he finished tersely.
"You mean that Joe----"
"Has sold himself to Culver Rann!" exclaimed MacDonald. He sprang to hisfeet. For the first time he showed excitement. His eyes blazed withrepressed rage. A hand gripped the barrel of his rifle as if to crush it."He's sold himself to Culver Rann!" he repeated. "He's sold him our secret.He's told him where the gold is, Johnny! He's bargained to guide Rann an'his crowd to it! An' first--they're goin' to kill _us!_"
With a low whistle Aldous took off his hat. He ran a hand through hisblond-gray hair. Then he replaced his hat and drew two cigars from hispocket. MacDonald accepted one. Aldous' eyes were glittering; his lips weresmiling.
"They are, are they, Donald? They're going to kill us?"
"They're goin' to try," amended the old hunter, with another curiouschuckle in his ghostly beard. "They're goin' to try, Johnny. That's why Itold you not to go to the cabin. I wasn't expecting you for a week.To-morrow I was goin' to start on a hike for Miette. I been watchingthrough my telescope from the mountain up there. I see Quade come in thismorning on a hand-car. Twice I see him and Rann together. Then I sawBlackton hike out into the bush. I was worrying about you an' wondered ifhe had any word. So I laid for him on the trail--an' I guess it was lucky.I ain't been able to set my eyes on Joe. I looked for hours through thetelescope--an' I couldn't find him. He's gone, or Culver Rann is keepinghim out of sight."
For several moments Aldous looked at his companion in silence. Then hesaid:
"You're sure of all this, are you, Donald? You have good proof--that Joehas turned traitor?"
"I've been suspicious of him ever since we come down from the North,"spoke MacDonald slowly. "I watched him--night an' day. I was afraid he'dget a grubstake an' start back alone. Then I saw him with Culver Rann. Itwas late. I heard 'im leave the shack, an' I followed. He went to Rann'shouse--an' Rann was expecting him. Three times I followed him to CulverRann's house. I knew what was happening then, an' I planned to get him backin the mountains on a hunt, an' kill him. But I was too late. The shot camethrough the window. Then he disappeared. An'--Culver Rann is getting anoutfit together! Twenty head of horses, with grub for three months!"
"The deuce! And our outfit? Is it ready?"
"To the last can o' beans!"
"And your plan, Donald?"
All at once the old mountaineer's eyes were aflame with eagerness as hecame nearer to Aldous.
"Get out of Tete Jaune to-night!" he cried in a low, hissing voice thatquivered with excitement. "Hit the trail before dawn! Strike into themountains with our outfit--far enough back--and then wait!"
"Wait?"
"Yes--wait. If they follow us--_fight!_"
Slowly Aldous held out a hand. The old mountaineer's met it. Steadily theylooked into each other's eyes.
Then John Aldous spoke:
"If this had been two days ago I would have said yes. But to-night--it isimpossible."
The fingers that had tightened about his own relaxed. Slowly a droop cameinto MacDonald's shoulders. Disappointment, a look that was almost despairsettled in his eyes. Seeing the change, Aldous held the old hunter's handmore firmly.
"That doesn't mean we're not going to fight," he said quickly. "Only we'vegot to plan differently. Sit down, Donald. Something has been happening tome. And I'm going to tell you about it."
A little back from the fire they seated themselves, and Aldous told DonaldMacDonald about Joanne.
He began at the beginning, from the moment his eyes first saw her as sheentered Quade's place. He left nothing out. He told how she had come intohis life, and how he intended to fight to keep her from going out of it. Hetold of his fears, his hopes, the mystery of their coming to Tete Jaune,and how Quade had preceded them to plot the destruction of the woman heloved. He described her as she had stood that morning, like a radiantgoddess in the sun; and when he came to that he leaned nearer, and saidsoftly:
"And when I saw her there, Donald, with her hair streaming about her likethat, I thought of the time you told me of that other woman--the woman ofyears and years ago--and how you, Donald, used to look upon her in the sun,and rejoice in your possession. Her spirit has been with you always. Youhave told me how for nearly fifty years you have followed it over thesemountains. And this woman means as much to me. If she should die to-nighther spirit would live with me in that same way. You understand, Donald. Ican't go into the mountains to-night. God knows when I can go--now. Butyou----"
MacDonald had risen. He turned his face to the black wall of the forest.Aldous thought he saw a sudden quiver pass through the great, bentshoulders.
"And I," said MacDonald slowly, "will have the horses ready for you atdawn. We will fight this other fight--later."