CHAPTER XVI
THE LAST STAGE ON SWAN RIVER.
When Stonor's sense returned the first thing of which he was consciouswas Clare's soft hand on his head. He opened his eyes and saw her facebending over him, the nurse's face, serious, compassionate andself-forgetful. No one knows what reserves may be contained in a womanuntil another's wound draws on them. He found himself lying where he hadfallen; but there was a bag under his neck to hold his head up. Puttingup his hand he found that his head was tightly bandaged. There seemed tobe a mechanical hammer inside his skull.
"What happened?" he whispered.
She scarcely breathed her reply. "The woman shot you. She was hidden inthe bush."
Looking beyond her, Stonor saw Imbrie and the breed woman eating by thefire in high good humour. He observed that the woman was wearing therevolver he had given Clare.
"She disarmed me before I could fire," Clare went on. "Your wound is notserious. The bullet only ploughed the scalp above your ear."
"Who bandaged me?"
"I did. They didn't want to let me, but I made them. I sewed the woundfirst. I don't know how I did it, but I did."
Imbrie looked over and saw them talking. "Let him alone," he saidharshly. "Come over here and get your breakfast."
"Go," said Stonor with his eyes and lips. "If he attempted to ill-treatyou in my sight I----"
She understood, and went without demur. Imbrie motioned her to a placebeside him and put a plate before her. She went through the motions ofeating, but her eyes never left Stonor's face. Stonor closed his eyesand considered their situation. Frightful enough it was in good sooth,yet it might have been worse. For as he lay quiet he felt his powersreturning. Beyond a slight nausea he was himself again. He thanked Godfor a hard skull.
Meanwhile the breed woman was bragging of her exploit. She spoke inEnglish for the pleasure it gave her to triumph over the whites.
"He gave Mary his canoe and made for the bench."
"I know that," said Imbrie. "Go on."
"Well, as soon as Mary had bound up her leg she wanted to start. But herleg got worse on the way. When it came time to spell, she had to untieme and let me cook, while she kept watch over me with the gun--my gunthat Stonor gave her. It was at this place that we spelled. When we wenton, her leg kept getting worse, and soon she said we'd have to stop forthe night. So I made camp. Then she ordered me to come up to her and getmy hands tied, and patted the gun as a sort of hint. I went up to herall right, and when she put down the gun and took up the rope, Isnatched up the gun, and then I had her!"
The woman and Imbrie roared with laughter.
"Then I just took her knife and her food, and went," the woman said,callously.
"Damned inhuman--!" Stonor cried involuntarily.
"What's the matter with you!" she returned. "Do you think I was going tolet her take me in and turn me over for shooting at a policeman? Not ifI know it! I was charitable to her if it comes to that. I could havetaken her canoe, too, and then she would properly have starved. But Ileft her the canoe and a piece of bread, too. Mary Moosa is fat enough.I guess she can live off her fat long enough to get to Myengeen'svillage."
"What then?" asked Imbrie.
"I just walked off up the river. She couldn't follow me with her leg.She couldn't track the canoe up the rapids. All she can do is to go ondown."
"How did you know where I was?" asked Imbrie.
"I didn't know. I took a chance. I had the gun and a belt of cartridges.I can snare fool-hens and catch fish. It was a sight better than goingto jail. I knew if the policeman got you he'd bring you down river, andI figured I'd have another chance to get him. And if you got him Ifigured there wouldn't be any hurry, and you'd wait for awhile for me."
"You did well," said Imbrie with condescending approval.
"Nearly all night I walked along the shore looking for your camp. Atlast I saw the little tent and I knew I was all right. Then I waited fordaylight to shoot. The damned policeman turned his head as I fired, or Iwould have finished him."
Imbrie dropped into the Indian tongue that they ordinarily used. Fromhis knowledge of the Beaver language Stonor understood it pretty well,though a word escaped him here and there.
"What will we do with him?" he said.
"Be careful," she said. "They may understand."
"No fear of that. We know that Clare doesn't speak our tongue."
"Maybe the policeman speaks Beaver."
"He doesn't, though. He spoke English to them. I asked Shose Cardinal ifhe spoke Beaver, and he said no. And when I pushed off I insulted him inour tongue, and he paid no attention. Listen to this----"
Imbrie turned, and in the Indian tongue addressed an unrepeatable insultto the wounded trooper. Stonor, though almost suffocated with rage,contrived to maintain an unchanged face.
"You see?" said Imbrie to the woman, laughing. "No white man would takethat. We can say what we like to each other. Speak English now just totorment him, the swine! Ask me in English what I'm going to do withhim."
She did so.
"Oh, I don't know," he answered carelessly. "Just tie him up, I guess,and leave him sitting here."
"Tie him up?" she said with an evil smile.
"Sure! Give him leisure to prepare for his end."
They laughed together.
Stonor dreaded the effect of this on Clare. She, however, seemed to beupborne by some inner thought.
"I know something better than that," the woman said presently.
"What?"
"Don't tie him up. Leave him just as he is, without gun, axe or knife.Let him walk around until he goes off his nut or starves to death. Thenthere'll be no evidence. But if you leave him tied they'll find his bodywith the rope round it."
"That's a good idea. But he might possibly make his way to Myengeen'svillage."
"Just let him try it. It's a hundred and fifty miles round by land.Muskeg and down timber."
"But if he sticks to the river, Mary Moosa might bring him back help."
"She'll get no help from Myengeen. She's got to go to Enterprise forhelp. Two weeks. Even a redbreast couldn't last two weeks in the bush.And by that time we'll be----"
"Easy!" said Imbrie warningly.
"We'll be out of reach," she said, laughing.
"All right, it's a go," said Imbrie. "We'll leave him just as he is.Pack up now."
Stonor glanced anxiously at Clare. Her face was deathly pale, but shekept her head up.
"Do you think I'm going to go and leave him here?" she said firmly toImbrie.
"Don't see how you're going to help yourself," said he, without meetingher eyes.
"If you put me in the dug-out I'll overturn it," she said promptly.
Imbrie was taken aback. "I'll tie you up," he muttered, scowling.
"You cannot tie me so tight that I can't overturn that cranky boat."
"You'll be the first to drown."
She smiled. "Do you think I value the life you offer me?" She held outher hands to him. "Tie me and see."
There could be no mistaking the firmness of her resolve. Imbriehesitated and weakened. He turned to the breed woman questioningly.
She said in the Indian tongue: "What do you look at me for? I've toldyou before that you're risking both our necks by taking her. The worldis full of skinny little pale-faced women, but you've only got one neck.Better leave her with the man."
Imbrie shook his head slowly.
The woman shrugged. "Well, if you got to have her, fix it to suityourself." She ostentatiously went on with the packing.
Imbrie looked sidewise at Clare with a kind of hungry pain in his sulleneyes. "I won't leave her," he muttered. "I'll take them both."
The woman flung up her hands in a passionate gesture. "Foolishness!" shecried.
A new idea seemed to occur to Imbrie; he said in English: "I'll take theredbreast for my servant. Upstream work is no cinch. I'll make him trackus. It'll be a novelty to have a redbreast for a servant."
Clare g
lanced anxiously at Stonor as if expecting an outbreak.
Imbrie asked with intolerable insolence: "Will you be my servant,Redbreast?"
Clare's hands clenched, and she scowled at Imbrie like a littlefire-eater.
Stonor answered calmly: "If I have to be."
Clare's eyes darted to him full of relief and gratitude; she had notexpected so great a sacrifice. The brave lip trembled.
Imbrie laughed. "Good!" he cried. "Redbreasts don't relish starving inthe bush any better than ordinary men!"
The breed woman, on the verge of an angry outburst, checked herself, andmerely shrugged again. She said quietly in her own tongue: "He thinkshe's going to escape."
"Sure he does!" answered Imbrie, "and I'm the man who will prevent him.I'll keep the weapons in my own hands."
True to his word he collected all the weapons in the outfit; three guns,the revolver and three knives. He gave the breed woman her own gun andher ammunition-belt, which she strapped round her; he kept his gun, andthe other two fire-arms he disabled by removing parts of the mechanism,which he put in his pocket. He stuck two knives in his belt, and gavethe woman the third, which she slipped into its customary resting-placein the top of her moccasin. Imbrie ordered Stonor to get up and strikeClare's tent.
"He must be fed," said Clare quickly.
"Sure, I don't mind feeding him as long as he's going to earn it," saidImbrie.
Clare hastened to carry Stonor her untasted plate, but Imbrieintercepted her. "No more whispering," he said, scowling. "Eat your ownbreakfast. The woman will feed him."
In half an hour they were on their way back up the river. They allowedStonor to rest and recuperate in the dug-out until they came to thefirst rapid. Later, the policeman bent to the tracking-line with a goodwill. This was better luck than he had hoped for. His principal fear wasthat he might not be able to dissemble sufficiently to keep theirsuspicions lulled. He knew, of course, that if they should guess of whathe was thinking his life would not be worth a copper penny. Hisintuition told him that even though he was a prisoner, Clare was safefrom Imbrie while he was present, and he had determined to submitcheerfully to anything in order to keep alive. He only needed three orfour more days!
So, with a loop of the tracking-line over his shoulder, he ploddedthrough the ooze of the shore, and over the stones; waded out roundreefs, and plunged headlong through overhanging willows. Imbrie walkedbehind him with his gun over his arm. Clare lay on the baggage in thedug-out wistfully watching Stonor's back, and the breed woman steered.In the more sluggish reaches of the river, the men went aboard andpaddled.
When they spelled in mid-morning Imbrie and the woman became involved ina discussion of which Stonor understood almost every word. They hadfinished eating, and all four were sitting in a row on a beach withgreat stones sticking up through the sand. Clare was at one end, Stonorat the other. They were giving Stonor a rest as they might have rested ahorse before putting him in harness again.
The woman said impatiently: "How long are you going to keep up thisfoolishness?"
"What foolishness?" Imbrie said sullenly.
"Letting this man live. He's your enemy and mine. He's not going toforget that I shot at him twice. He's got some scheme in his head rightnow. He's much too willing to work."
"That's just women's talk. I know what I'm doing. I've got him justright because he's scared of losing the girl."
"All right. Many times you ask me what to do. Sometimes you don't dowhat I say, and then you're sorry afterwards. I tell you this isfoolishness. You want the white-face girl and you let the man live toplease her! What sense is there in that? She won't take you as long ashe lives."
"If I kill him she'll kill herself."
"Wah! That's just a threat. She'll hold it over you as long as he lives.When he's dead she'll have to make the best of it. You'll have to killhim in the end. Why not do it now?"
"I know what I'm doing," repeated Imbrie stubbornly. "I'm the masternow. Women turn naturally to the master. In a few days I'll put thiswhite man so low she'll despise him."
The woman laughed. "You don't know much about women. The worse you treathim the crazier she'll be about him. And if she gets a knife, look out!"
"She won't get a knife. And if my way doesn't work I can always killhim. He's useful. We're getting up-stream faster than we would withouthim."
"He's too willing to go up the river, I think."
"There's no help for him up there, is there?"
"I don't know. You'd better do what I say."
"Oh, shut up. Go and pack the grub. We'll start soon."
The woman went to obey with her customary shrug.
Stonor had much food for thought in this conversation. He marked withhigh satisfaction that the way the woman spoke did not for a momentsuggest that Imbrie had any rights over Clare, nor that he had everpossessed her in the past. Listen as he might, he could gain no clue tothe relationship between the two speakers. He hoped they might betraythemselves further later on. Meanwhile the situation was hazardous inthe extreme. There was no doubt the woman would soon wear Imbrie down.If he, Stonor, could only communicate with Clare it would help.
Imbrie turned to Clare with what he meant for an ingratiating smile. "Isyour memory coming back at all?" he asked.
In itself there was nothing offensive in the question, and Clare had thewit to see that nothing was to be gained by unnecessarily snubbing theman. "No," she said simply.
"But you're all right in every other way. There's nothing the matterwith you?"
She let it go at that.
"You don't remember the days when I was courting you?"
"No," she said with an idle air, "where was that?"
He saw the trap. "I'll tell you some other time.--Redbreast has longears."
While Imbrie's attention was occupied by Clare a possible way of sendingher a message occurred to Stonor. The woman was busy at some paces'distance. Stonor was sitting on a flat stone with his feet in the sand.Carelessly picking up a stick, he commenced to make letters in the sand.Clare, whose eyes never left him for long, instantly became aware ofwhat he was doing; but so well did she cover her glances that Imbrietook no alarm.
Stonor, printing a word at a time, and instantly rubbing it out with hisfoot, wrote: "Make out to scorn me."
Meanwhile Imbrie was making agreeable conversation and Clare was leadinghim on sufficiently to keep him interested. Small as his success was, hewas charmed with it. Finally he rose regretfully.
"Time to go," he said. "Go get in your harness, Stonor."
The trooper arose and slouched to the tracking-line with a hang-dog air.Clare's eyes followed him in well-assumed indignation at his supineness.
"He'll make a good pack-horse yet," said Imbrie with a laugh.
"So it seems," she said bitterly.
They started. Imbrie, much encouraged by this little passage, continuedto bait Stonor at intervals during the afternoon. The policeman, fearfulof appearing to submit too suddenly, sometimes rebelled, but alwayssullenly gave in when Imbrie raised his gun. Stonor saw that, so far asthe man was concerned, he need have little fear of overdoing his part.Imbrie in his vanity was quite ready to believe that Clare was turningfrom Stonor to him. On the other hand, the breed woman was not at alldeceived. Her lip curled scornfully at all this by-play.
Clare's glance at Stonor, keeping up what she had begun, progressed fromsurprise through indignation to open scorn. Meanwhile in the same ratioshe held herself less and less aloof from Imbrie. She, too, was carefulnot to overdo it. She made it clear to Imbrie that it would be a goodlong time yet before he could expect any positive favours from her. Shedid it so well that Stonor, though he had himself told her to act inthat manner, was tormented by the sight. After all, he was human.
Once and once only during the day did Stonor's and Clare's glances meetunobserved by the others. It happened as the trooper was embarking inthe dug-out preparatory to paddling up a smooth reach. Imbrie and thewoman were both behind Clare, and she g
ave Stonor a deep look imploringhis forgiveness for the wrong she seemed to do him. It heartened himamazingly. Bending low as he laid the coiled rope in the bow, his lipsmerely shaped the words:
"Keep it up!"
So long and so hard did they work that day that they were able to campfor the night only a few miles short of the highest point they had yetreached on the river. The camping-place was a pleasant opening up on topof the bank, carpeted with pine-needles. The murmur of the pinesreminded Clare and Stonor of nights on the lower river--nights bothhappy and terrible, which now seemed years past.
While supper was preparing Clare appeared out of her tent with some longstrips of cotton. She went unhesitatingly to where Stonor sat.
Imbrie sprang up. "Keep away from him!" he snarled.
Clare calmly sat down by Stonor. "I'm going to dress his wound," shesaid. "I'd do the same for a dog. I don't want to speak to him. You cansit beside me while I work."
Imbrie sullenly submitted.
After supper it appeared from Imbrie's evil grin that he was promisinghimself a bit of fun with the policeman. But this time he was taking nochances.
"I'm tired of toting this gun around; tie his hands," he ordered thewoman.
The night was chilly and they had a good fire on the edge of the bank.It lighted them weirdly as they sat in a semi-circle about it, the fourstrangely-assorted figures backed by the brown trunks of the pines, androofed by the high branches. Stonor safely tied up, Imbrie put down hisgun and lighted his pipe. He studied the policeman maliciously. He wasnot quite satisfied; even in Stonor's submission he felt a spirit thathe had not yet broken.
"You policemen think pretty well of yourselves, don't you?" he said.
Stonor, clearly perceiving the man's intention, was neverthelessundisturbed. This vermin was beneath him. His difficulty was to curb thesly desire to answer back. Imbrie gave him such priceless openings. Butthe part he had imposed on himself required that he seemed to be cowedby the man's crude attempts at wit. A seeming sullen silence was hisonly safe line. It required no little self-control.
Imbrie went on: "The government sets you fellows up as a kind of bogey.For years they've been teaching the natives that a red-coat is a kind ofsacred monkey that all must bow down to. And you forget you're only aman like the rest of us. When you meet a man who isn't scared off by allthis hocus-pocus it comes pretty hard on you. You have to sing small,don't you, Redbreast?"
Silence from Stonor.
"I say you have to sing small, Redbreast."
"Just as you like."
"I've heard ugly tales about the police," Imbrie went on. "It seemsthey're not above turning a bit of profit out of their jobs when it'ssafe. Is that so, Stonor?"
"I hear you say it."
"You yourself only took me up in the first place because you thoughtthere was a bit of a bribe in it, or a jug of whisky maybe. You thoughtI was a whisky-runner, but you couldn't prove it. I guess you're sorrynow that you ever fooled with me, aren't you, Redbreast?"
Stonor said nothing.
"Answer me when I speak to you. Aren't you sorry now that you interferedwith me?"
This was a hard one. A vein stood out on Stonor's forehead. He thought:"I wouldn't say it for myself, but for her----!" Aloud he muttered:"Yes!"
Imbrie roared with laughter. "I'm putting the police in their place!" hecried. "I'm teaching them manners! I'll have him eating out of my handbefore I'm through with him!"
Clare, seeing the swollen vein, bled for Stonor, yet she gave him aglance of scorn, and the look she gave Imbrie caused him to rise as ifmoved by a spring, and cross to her.
As he passed the breed woman he said in the Indian tongue: "Well, whowas right, old woman?"
He sat down beside Clare.
The woman answered: "You fool! She's playing with you to save her lover.Any woman would do the same."
"You lie!" said Imbrie, with a fatuous side-glance at Clare. "She'sbeginning to like me now."
"Beginning to like you!" cried the woman scornfully. "Fool! Watch me!I'll show you how much she likes you!"
Springing to her feet, and stooping over, she drew the knife from hermoccasin. She turned on Stonor. "Redbreast!" she cried in English. "I'msick of looking at your ugly face. Here's where I spoil it!"
She raised the knife. Her eyes blazed. Stonor really thought his hourhad come. He scrambled to his feet. Clare, with a scream, ran betweenthem, and flung her arms around Stonor's neck.
"You beast!" she cried over her shoulder to the woman. "A bound man!You'll have to strike him through me!"
The woman threw back her head and uttered a great, coarse laugh. Shecoolly returned the knife to her moccasin. "You see how much she likesyou," she said to Imbrie.
Clare, seeing how she had been tricked, unwound her arms from Stonor'sneck, and covered her face. It seemed too cruel that all their pains thelivelong day should go for nothing in a moment. Imbrie was scowling atthem hatefully.
"Don't distress yourself," whispered Stonor. "It couldn't be helped. Wegained a whole day by it anyway. I'll think of something else forto-morrow."
"Keep clear of him!" cried Imbrie. "Go to your tent!"
"I won't!" Clare said.
"Better go!" whispered Stonor. "I am safe for the present."
She went slowly to her tent and disappeared.
Stonor sat down again. Across the fire Imbrie scowled and pulled at hislip. The breed woman, returning to her place, had the good sense to holdher tongue.
After a long while Imbrie said sullenly in the Indian tongue: "Well,you've got your way. You can kill him to-morrow."
Stonor was a brave man, but a chill struck to his breast.
"I kill him?" said the woman. "Why have I got to do all the dirty work?"
"What do you care? You've already tried twice."
"Why don't you kill him yourself?"
"I'm not afraid of him."
"Maybe not. With his hands tied."
Imbrie's fist clenched. "Do you want me to beat you?"
The woman shrugged.
"You know very well why I don't want to do it," Imbrie went on. "It'snothing to you if the girl hates you."
"Oh, that's why, eh? You're scared she'd turn from bloody hands! She'smade a fool of you, all right!"
"Never mind that. You do it to-morrow."
"Why not to-night?"
"I won't have it done in her sight. To-morrow morning when we spell youmake some excuse to take him into the bush. There you shoot him or sticka knife in his back. I don't care so long as you make a job of it. Youcome back alone and make a story of how he tried to run away, see? ThenI'll beat you----"
"Beat me!" she cried indignantly.
"Fool! I won't hurt you. I'll just act rough to you for a while, tillshe gets better."
"That girl has made me plenty trouble these last two years. I wish I'dnever set eyes on her!"
"Forget it! Tie his feet together so he can't wander and go to bed now!"
* * * * *
Mary Moosa's little mosquito-tent was still in Imbrie's outfit, but thewoman preferred to roll up in her blanket by the fire like a man. Soonthe two of them were sleeping as calmly as two children, and Stonor wasleft to his own thoughts.
* * * * *
It was a silent quartette that took to the river next day. Imbrie wassulky; it appeared that he no longer found any relish in gibing atStonor. Clare was pale and downcast. After an hour or so they came tothe rapids where Stonor had intercepted Imbrie and Clare, and thereafterthe river was new to them. Stonor gathered from their talk that theriver was new, too, to Imbrie and the woman, but that they had receivedinformation as to its course from Kakisa sources.
For many miles after that the current ran smooth and slow, and theypaddled the dug-out; Stonor in the bow, Imbrie guarding him with thegun, Clare behind Imbrie, and the breed woman with the stern-paddle. Allwith their backs to each other and all silent. About ten o'clock theycame to the mouth o
f a little creek coming in at the left, and hereImbrie indicated they would spell.
"So this is the spot designed for my murder," thought Stonor, lookingover the ground with a natural interest.
The little brook was deep and sluggish; its surface was powdered withtiny lilies and, at its edges, long grass trailed in the water. A clean,grassy bank sloped up gradually. Further back were white-stemmedaspen-trees gradually thickening into the forest proper.
"Ideal place for a picnic," thought Stonor grimly. As they went ashorehe perceived that the breed woman was somewhat agitated. She continuallywiped her forehead on her sleeve. This was somehow more reassuring thanher usual inhuman stolidity. Imbrie clearly was anxious, too, but notabout Stonor or what was going to happen to him. His eyes continuallysought Clare's face.
The breed woman glanced inquiringly at Imbrie. He said in the Indiantongue: "We'll eat first."
"So I have an hour's respite," thought Stonor.
None of them displayed much appetite. Stonor forced himself to eat.Imbrie glanced at him oddly from time to time. "He's sorry to see goodfood wasted," thought the trooper. "Well, it won't be, if I can helpit!"
When they had finished the woman said in English with a very carelessair: "I'm going to see if I can get some fresh meat."
"She means me," thought Stonor.
She got her gun and departed. Stonor was aware likewise of the knifesticking out of the top of her moccasin. Both Imbrie and the woman had aself-conscious air. A child could have seen that something was afoot.The woman walked off through the grass and was presently lost among thetrees.
Imbrie commanded Stonor to wash the dishes.
Stonor reflected that since they meant to kill him anyhow if they could,there was nothing to be gained by putting up with further indignities.
"Wash them yourself," he said coolly.
Imbrie shrugged, but said no more.
Pretty soon they heard a shot at no great distance.
Stonor thought: "Now she'll come back and say she's got a bear or amoose, and they'll order me to go back with her and bring in the meat.Shall I go, or shall I refuse to go? If I refuse they're almost sure tosuspect that I understand their lingo; but if I go I may be able todisarm her. I'll go."
Presently they saw her returning. "I've got a moose," she said stolidly.
Stonor smiled a grim inward smile. It was too simple to ask him tobelieve that she had walked into the bush and brought down a moosewithin five minutes with one shot. He knew very well that if there was afeast in prospect her face would be wreathed in smiles. He was carefulto betray nothing in his own face.
Imbrie was a better actor. "Good work!" he cried. "Now we'll havesomething fit to eat."
She said: "I want help to bring in the meat."
"Stonor, go help her," said Imbrie carelessly.
The trooper got up with an indifferent air.
"Martin, don't go!" Clare said involuntarily.
"I'm not afraid of her," Stonor said.
The woman forced him to walk in advance of her across the grass. Thethought of her behind him with the gun ready made Stonor's skin prickleuncomfortably, but he reflected that she would certainly not shoot untilthey were hidden in the bush.
* * * * *
When they reached the edge of the bush he stopped and looked at her."Which way?" he asked, with an innocent air.
"You can follow the tracks, can't you?" said she.
He saw that she was pale and perspiring freely. She moistened her lipsbefore she spoke.
Half a dozen paces further on he stopped again.
"Go on!" she said harshly.
"Got to tie my moccasin," he said, dropping on one knee and turning halfround, so that he could keep an eye on her. She gave a swift glance overher shoulder. They were not yet fully out of sight of the others.
"Your moccasin is not untied," she said suddenly.
At the same moment Stonor, still crouching, sprang at her, taking careto keep under the gun. Grasping her knees, he flung her to the ground.He got the gun, but before he could raise it, she sprang at him from allfours like a cat, and clung to him with a passionate fury no man couldhave been capable of. Stonor was unable to shake her off withoutdropping the gun. Meanwhile she screamed for aid.
Both Imbrie and Clare came running. Imbrie, circling round thestruggling pair, clubbed his gun and brought it down on Stonor's head.The trooper went to earth. He did not altogether lose consciousness. Thewoman, maddened, recovered her gun, and was for dispatching him on thespot, but Imbrie, thinking of Clare, prevented her.
Stonor was soon able to rise, and to make his way back, albeit somewhatgroggily, to the creek. Clare wished to support him, but he stopped herwith a look.
When they got back to their camp Imbrie demanded with seemingindignation: "What was the matter with you? What did you expect to gainby jumping on her?"
"What did she take me into the bush for?" countered Stonor. "To put abullet through me?"
Imbrie made a great parade of surprise. "What makes you think that?"
"She's tried twice already, hasn't she? I saw it in her eye. She saw it,too----" pointing to Clare. "You heard her warn me. She never shot amoose. That was too simple a trick."
"I did shoot a moose," said the woman sullenly.
"Then why don't you bring some of it in and let's see it. You have yourknife to cut off as much as we can carry."
She turned away with a discomposed face.
"Oh, well, if you won't take the trouble to bring in the meat we'll gowithout it," said Imbrie quickly. Stonor laughed.
As they were making ready to start Stonor heard Imbrie say bitterly tothe woman, in their own tongue: "You made a pretty mess of that!"
"Well, do it yourself, then," she snarled back.
"Very well, I will. When I see a good chance."
"This is only the 25th," thought Stonor. "By hook or by crook I mustcontrive to keep alive a couple of days longer."
Above this camping-place the character of the river changed again. Thebanks became steep and stony, and the rapids succeeded each other withonly a few hundred yards of smooth water between. Stonor became afixture in the tracking-line. He worked with a right good will, hopingto make himself so useful that they would not feel inclined to get ridof him. It was a slim chance, but the best that offered at the moment.Moreover, every mile that he put behind him brought him so much nearersuccour.
That night in camp he had the satisfaction of hearing Imbrie say inanswer to a question from the woman:
"No, not to-night. All day he's been working like a slave to try and geton the good side of me. Well, let him work. I've no mind to break myback while I have him to work for me. According to the Kakisas we'llhave rapids now for a long way up. Let him pull us."
So Stonor could allow himself to sleep with an easy mind for that night,anyway.
The next two days were without special incident. Stonor lived frommoment to moment, his fate hanging on Imbrie's savage and irresponsibleimpulses. Fortunately for him, he was still able to inform himself fromthe talk of the two. Each day they broke camp, tracked up-stream,tracked and poled up the rapids, spelled and tracked again. In therapids it was the breed woman who had to help Stonor. Imbrie would standby smoking, with his gun over his arm. Stonor wondered at the woman'spatience.
At the end of the second day they found another soft sandy beach to campon. Stonor was so weary he could scarcely remain awake long enough toeat. They all turned in immediately afterwards. Latterly Imbrie had beenforcing Stonor to lie close to him at night, and the end of the linethat bound Stonor's wrists was tied around Imbrie's arm. The breed womanlay on the other side of the fire, and Clare's tent was pitched beyondher.
Stonor was awakened by a soft touch on his cheek. Having his nervesunder good control, he gave no start. Opening his eyes, he saw Clare'sface smiling adorably, not a foot from his own. At first he thought hewas dreaming, and lay scarcely daring to breathe, for fear ofdissipating the charming
phantom.
But the phantom spoke: "Martin, you looked so tired to-night it made mecry. I could not sleep. I had to come and speak to you. Did I do wrong?"
He feasted his tired eyes on her. How could he blame her? "Dangerous,"he whispered. "These breeds sleep like cats."
"What's the difference? It's as bad as it can be already."
He shook his head. "They have not ill-treated you."
"I wouldn't mind if they did. It is terrible to see you work so hard,while I do nothing. Why do you work so hard for them?"
"I have hope of meeting help up the river."
She smiled incredulously. Stonor, seeing her resigned to the worst, saidno more about his hopes. After all they might fail, and it would bebetter not to raise her hopes only to dash them.
"Better go," he urged. "Every little while through the night one or theother of these breeds wakes, sits up, looks around, and goes back tosleep again."
"Are you glad I came, Martin?"
"Very glad. Go back to your tent, and we'll talk in fancy until we fallasleep again."
* * * * *
Stonor was awakened the next time by a loud, jeering laugh. It was fulldaylight. The breed woman was standing at his feet, pointing mockinglyto the tell-tale print of Clare's little body in the sand beside him. Ablinding rage filled Stonor at the implication of that coarse laugh--buthe was helpless. Imbrie started up, and Stonor attempted to roll over onthe depression--but Imbrie saw it, saw also the little tracks leadingaround behind the sleepers to Clare's tent.
No sound escaped from Imbrie, but his smooth face turned hideous withrage; the lips everted over the clenched teeth, the ruddy skin livid andblotchy. He quickly untied the bond between him and Stonor. The woman,with a wicked smile, drew the knife out of her moccasin, and offered itto him. He eagerly snatched it up. Stonor's eyes were fixedunflinchingly on his face. He thought: "It has come!"
But at that moment Clare came out of her tent. Imbrie hid the knife andturned away. As he passed the breed woman Stonor heard him mutter:
"I'll fix him to-night!"
* * * * *
That day as he trod the shore, bent under the tracking-line, Stonor hadplenty to occupy his mind. Over and over he made his calculations oftime and distance:
"This is the twenty-seventh. It was the fifteenth when I sent ToleGrampierre back to Enterprise. If he rode hard he'd get there about noonon the seventeenth. The steamboat isn't due to start up-stream untilthe twentieth, but Gaviller would surely let her go at once when he gotmy message. She'd only need to get wood aboard and steam up. She couldsteam night and day too, at this stage of water; she's done itbefore--that is, if they had anybody to relieve Mathews at the engine.There are plenty of pilots. Surely Gaviller would order her to steamnight and day when he read my letter! Even suppose they didn't get awayuntil the morning of the eighteenth: that would bring them to theCrossing by the twenty-second.
"Lambert, I know, would not lose an hour in setting out over theprairie--just long enough to get horses together and swim them across. Ican depend on him. Nobody knows how far it is overland from the Crossingto the Swan River. Nobody's been that way. But the chances are it'sprairie land, and easy going. Say the rivers are about the same distanceapart up there, Lambert ought to reach the Swan on the twenty-fifth, orat the latest the twenty-sixth. That's only yesterday. But we must havemade two hundred or two hundred and fifty miles up-stream. The Swancertainly makes a straighter course than the Spirit. It must be lessthan a hundred miles from here to the spot where Lambert would hit thisstream. He could make seventy-five miles or more a day down-stream. Hewould work. If everything has gone well I might meet him to-day.
"But things never go just the way you want them to. I must not count onit. Gaviller may have delayed. He's so careful of his precioussteamboat. Or she may have run on a bar. Or Lambert may have metunexpected difficulties. I must know what I'm going to do. Once my handsare tied to-night my goose is cooked. Shall I resist the woman when shetries to tie my hands? But Imbrie always stands beside her with the gun;that would simply mean being shot down before Clare's eyes. Shall I letthem bind me and take what comes?--No! I must put up a fight somehow!Suppose I make a break for it as soon as we land? If there happens to becover I may get away with it. Better be shot on the wing than sittingdown with my hands tied. And if I got clean away, Clare would know therewas still a chance. I'll make a break for it!"
He looked at the sky, the shining river and the shapely trees. "This maybe my last day on the old ball! Good old world too! You don't think whatit means until the time comes to say ta-ta to it all; sunny mornings,and starry nights, with the double trail of the Milky Way moseyingacross the sky. I've scarcely tasted life yet--mustn't think of that!Twenty-seven years old, and nothing done! If I could feel that I hadleft something solid behind me it would be easier to go."
Pictures of his boyhood in the old Canadian city presented themselvesunasked; the maple-foliage, incredibly dense and verdant, the shabby,comfortable houses behind the trees, and the homely, happy-go-luckypeople who lived in the houses and sprayed their lawns on summerevenings; friendly people, like people everywhere prone to laughter andaverse to thought. "People are so foolish and likeable, it's amazing!"thought Stonor, visualizing his kind for the first.
The sights and sounds and smells of the old town came thronging back;the school-bell with its flat clangour, exactly like no other bell onearth--it rang until five minutes before the hour, stopping with amuttering complaint, and you ran the rest of the way. There was theDominion Hotel, with a tar pavement in front that became semi-liquid onhot days; no resident of that town ever forgot the pungent smellcompounded of tar, stale beer, sawdust, and cabbage that greeted you inpassing. And the candy-store was next door; the butterscotch they soldthere!
How he used to get up early on summer mornings and, with his faithfulmongrel Jack, with the ridiculous curly tail, walk and run a mile to therailway-station to see the Transcontinental stop and pass on. How thesun shone down the empty streets before any one was up! Strange how hiswhole life seemed to be coloured by the newly-risen sun! And the longtrain with the mysterious, luxurious sleeping-cars, an occasionaltousled head at the window; lucky head, bound on a long journey!
"Well, I've journeyed some myself since then," thought Stonor, "and Ihave a longer journey before me!"
They spelled at ten o'clock, and again at three. "The last lap!" thoughtStonor, as they took to the river after the second stop. All depended onthe spot Imbrie should choose for their next camp. Stonor studied thenature of the ground anxiously. The banks continued to rise steep andhigh almost from the water's edge. These slopes for the most part werewooded, but a wood on a steep stony slope does not offer good cover.
"Small chance of scrambling over the top in such a place withoutstopping a bullet," thought Stonor. "If we come to a more favourablespot should I suggest camping? No! for Imbrie would be sure to keep onout of pure obstinacy. I might have a chance if I zig-zagged up thehill. The worst part will be running away from Clare. Suppose she criesout or tries to follow. If I could warn her!"
But Imbrie was taking very good care that no communications passedbetween the two to-day.
They came to a place where a limestone ridge made a rapid wilder thanany they had passed on the upper river, almost a cataract. Much time wasconsumed in dragging the dug-out over the shelves of rock alongside. Theridge made a sort of dam in the river; and above there was a longreach, smooth and sluggish. Imbrie ordered Stonor aboard to paddle, andthe trooper was not sorry for the change of exercise.
The sun was dropping low now, and Stonor little by little gave up hopeof meeting help that day. In the course of the smooth reach they cameupon an island, quaintly shaped like a woman's hat, with a stony beachall round for a brim, a high green crown, and a clump of pines for anaigrette. In its greatest diameter it was less than a hundred feet.
Coming abreast of the island, Imbrie, without saying anything i
n advanceof his intention, steered the dug-out so that she grounded on the beach.The others looked round at him in surprise.
"We'll camp here," he said curtly.
Stonor's heart sank. An island! "It's early yet," he said, with acareless air.
"The dug-out's leaking," said Imbrie. "I want to fix her before dark."
"There's no gum on the island."
"I have it with me."
Imbrie said this with a meaning grin, and Stonor could not be sure butthat the man suspected his design of escaping. There was nothing for itbut to submit for the moment. If they attempted to bind him he would putup the best fight he could. If they left him free until dark he mightstill escape by swimming.
They landed. The breed woman, as a matter of course, prepared to do allthe work, while Imbrie sat down with his pipe and his gun. He orderedStonor to sit near. The policeman obeyed, keeping himself on the _quivive_ for the first hostile move. Clare, merely to be doing something,put up her own little tent. The breed woman started preparing supper,and then, taking everything out of the dug-out, pulled it up on thestones, and turning it over applied the gum to the little crack that hadopened in the bottom.
They supped as usual, Stonor being guarded by the woman while Imbrieate. Stonor and Clare were kept at a little distance from each other.There was nothing that they cared to say to each other within hearing oftheir jailors. Soon afterwards Clare went to her tent. Stonor watchedher disappear with a gripping pain at his heart, wondering if he wouldever see her again. "She might have looked her good-night," he thoughtresentfully, even while better sense told him she had refrained fromlooking at him only because such indications of an understanding alwaysinfuriated Imbrie.
The dusk was beginning to gather. Imbrie waited a little while, thensaid carelessly:
"Tie him up now."
The woman went to get the piece of line she used for the purpose. Stonorgot warily to his feet.
"What do you want to tie me up for?" he said, seeking to gain time. "I'mhelpless without weapons. You might let me have one night's comfortablesleep. I work hard enough for it."
Imbrie's suspicions were instantly aroused by this changed attitude ofStonor's, who had always before indifferently submitted. He raised thegun threateningly. "Shut up!" he said. "Hold your hands behind you."
The woman was approaching with the line. Stonor moved so as to bringhimself in a line between Imbrie and the woman. Out of the tail of hiseye he saw Clare at the door of her tent, anxiously watching. He countedon the fact that Imbrie would not shoot while she was looking on withoutstrong provocation. They were all down on the stony beach. Stonor keptedging closer to the water.
Stonor still sought to parley. "What are you afraid of? You're botharmed. What could I do? And you sleep like cats. I couldn't move hand orfoot without waking you. I can't work all day, and sleep without beingable to stretch myself."
While he talked he manoeuvred to keep himself between Imbrie and thewoman. Imbrie, to avoid the danger of hitting her, was obliged to keepcircling round Stonor. Finally Stonor got him between him and the water.This was the moment he was waiting for. His muscles were braced likesteel springs. Plunging at Imbrie, he got under the gun-barrel and borethe man back into the river. The gun was discharged harmlessly into theair. The beach sloped away sharply, and the force of his rush carriedthem both into three feet of water. They went under. Imbrie dropped hisgun, and clung to Stonor with the desperate, instinctive grip of thenon-swimmer. Like a ray of light the thought flashed through Stonor'sbrain: "I have him on equal terms now!"
As they went under he was aware of the woman rushing into the waterafter him with the knife raised. He twisted his body so that Imbrie cameuppermost and she was unable to strike. Stonor saw Clare running to thewater's edge.
"Get her gun!" he cried.
Clare swerved to where it stood leaning against the overturned dug-out.The woman turned back, but Clare secured the gun before she was out ofthe water, and dashed into the thick bushes with it. Meanwhile Stonordragged the struggling Imbrie into deeper water. They lost their footingand went under again. The woman, after a pause of agonized indecision,ran to the dug-out, and, righting it, pushed it into the water.
Stonor, striking out as he could, carried his burden out beyond a man'sdepth. The current carried them slowly down. They were as much under thewater as on top, but Stonor cannily held his breath, while Imbriestruggled insanely. Stonor, with his knee against the other's chest,broke his strangle-hold, and got him turned over on his back. Imbrie'sstruggles began to weaken.
Meanwhile the dug-out was bearing down on them. Stonor waited until itcame abreast and the woman swung her paddle to strike. Then letting goof Imbrie, he sank, and swimming under water, rose to the surface someyards distant. He saw that the woman had Imbrie by the hair. In thisposition it was impossible for her to wield her paddle, and the currentwas carrying her down. Stonor turned about and swam blithely back to theisland.
Clare, still carrying the gun, came out of the bushes to meet him. Theyclasped hands.
"I knew there was only one bullet," she said. "I was afraid to fire atthe woman for fear of missing her."
"You did right," he said.
Stonor found the gun that Imbrie had dropped in the water. From thebeach they watched to see what the breed woman would do.
"When she gets near the rapids she'll either have to let go Imbrie or becarried over," Stonor said grimly.
But the woman proved to be not without her resources. Still with onehand clutched in Imbrie's hair, she contrived to wriggle out of theupper part of her dress. Out of this she made a sling, passing it underthe unconscious man's arms, and tying it to the thwart of the dug-out.She then paddled ashore and dragged the man out on the beach. There theysaw her stand looking at him helplessly. Save for the dug-out she wasabsolutely empty-handed, without so much as a match to start a firewith.
Presently she loaded the inert body in the dug-out, and, getting inherself, came paddling back towards the island. Stonor grimly awaitedher, with the gun over his arm. The dusk was thickening, and Clare builtup the fire.
When she came near, Stonor said, raising the gun: "Come no closer till Igive you leave."
She raised her hands. "I give up," she said apathetically. "I've got tohave fire for him, blankets. Maybe he is dead."
"He's only half-drowned," said Stonor. "I can bring him to if you dowhat I tell you."
"What do you want?"
"Throw your ammunition-belt ashore, then your knife, and the two knivesthat Imbrie carries in his belt."
She obeyed. Stonor gratefully buckled on the belt. She landed, andpermitted her hands to be bound. Stonor then pulled the dug-out out onthe stones, and turning it over rolled Imbrie on the bottom of it untilhe got most of the water out of him. Then, laying him on his back, afterhalf an hour's unremitting work, he succeeded in inducing respiration. Alittle colour returned to Imbrie's face, and in the end he opened hiseyes and looked stupidly around him. At these signs of returninganimation the enigma of a woman suddenly lowered her head and broke intoa dry hard sobbing.
So intent were they upon the matter in hand they never thought oflooking out on the river. It was as dark now as it would be, and anywaythe glow of the fire blinded them to what lay outside its radius.Suddenly out of the murk came with stunning effect a deep-throated hail:
"Stonor, is that you?"
The policeman straightened like a man who received an electric shock. Agreat light broke in his face.
"Lambert! Thank God!" he cried.
Two clumsy little pot-bellied collapsible boats grounded on the stonesbelow their fire and, as it seemed to their confused senses, they wereimmediately surrounded by a whole crowd of friendly faces. Stonor wasaware, not of one red coat, but of three, and two natives besides. Therubicund face of his commanding officer, Major Egerton, "Patch-pants"Egerton, the best-loved man in the North, swam before his eyes. Somehowor other he contrived to salute.
"I have the honour to turn over two prison
ers, sir. This man who claimsto be Doctor Ernest Imbrie, and this woman, name unknown to me."
"Good work, Sergeant!" Having returned his salute, the little Majorunbent, and offered Stonor his hand.
"This is a surprise, sir, to see you," said the latter.
"I had just got to the Crossing on my rounds when your note came toLambert. So I came right on with him." Major Egerton's glance took inStonor's bandaged skull and dripping clothes, the woman's bound hands,and Imbrie just returning to consciousness. "I judge you've been havinga strenuous time," he remarked drily.
"Somewhat, sir."
"You shall tell me all about it, when we've settled down a bit. We hadalready camped for the night, when we saw the reflection of your fire,and came down to investigate. Introduce me to the lady."
The little Major bowed to Clare in his best style. His face betrayed noconsciousness of the strangeness of the situation, in that while Dr.Imbrie was a prisoner, Mrs. Imbrie was obviously under Stonor'sprotection. He engaged her in conversation about the weather as if theyhad just met at a lawn fete. It was exactly what the shaken Clareneeded.
Meanwhile Stonor slipped aside to his friends. "Lambert!" he cried,gripping his brother-sergeant's hand, "God knows your ugly phiz is abeautiful sight to my eyes! I knew I could depend on you! I knew it!"
Lambert silently clapped him on the back. He saw from Stonor's face whathe must have been through.
Beyond Lambert Stonor caught sight of a gleaming smile on a dark face."Tole!" he cried. "They brought you! How good it is to find one'sfriends!"