CHAPTER IV.
A TRIO IN WITCHLAND.
The noon was passed when they reached the cabin on Scot's Mountain, andfound its owner on the point of leaving for the Maple range. But quicklyreplacing his gun on its pegs, he uncovered the fire, set on thecoffee-pot, and, with Rachel's help, in a very short time had asteaming-hot dinner of broiled bear steaks and "corn-dodgers," with theadditional delicacy of a bowl of honey from the wild bees' store.
"I have some laid by as a bit of a gift to Mr. Hardy's lady," heconfided to Rachel. "I found this fellow," tapping the steak, "in one o'the traps as I was a-comin' my way home; an' the fresh honey on his pawshelped me smell out where he had spied it, and a good lot o' it therewas that Mr. Grizzly had na reached."
"See here," said Stuart, noting that, because of their visit, the oldman had relinquished all idea of going to the woods, "we must notinterfere with your plans, for at best we have but a short time tostay." And then he explained the reason.
When the question of snow was taken into account, Davy agreed thatStuart's decision was perhaps wise; but "he was main sorry o' thenecessity."
"An' it's to Owens ye be taken' the trail?" he asked. "Eh, but that'scurious now. I have a rare an' good friend thereabouts that I would beright glad to send a word to; an' I was just about to take a look at histunnel an' the cabin, when ye come the day, just to see it was all as itshould be ere the snows set in."
"I should be delighted to be of any service to you," said Stuart warmly;"and to carry a message is a very slight one. Who is your friend?"
"It's just the man Genesee, who used to be my neighbor. But he's left mealone now these many months--about a year;" and he turned to Rachel forcorroboration.
"More than a year," she answered briefly.
"Well, it is now. I'm losin' track o' dates these late days; but you'reright, lass, an' the winter would ha' been ower lonely if it had na beenfor yourself. Think o' that, Charlie Stuart: this slim bit o' womankindsubstituting herself for a rugged build o' a man taller than you by ahalf-head, an' wi' no little success, either. But," he added teasingly,"ye owed me the debt o' your company for the sending o' him away; so yewere only honest after all, Rachel Hardy."
Rachel laughed, thinking it easier, perhaps, to dispose of the questionthus than by any disclaimer--especially with the eyes of Stuart on heras they were.
"You are growing to be a tease," she answered. "You will be saying Isent Kalitan and Talapa, next."
"But Talapa has na gone from the hills?"
"Hasn't she? Well, I saw her on the trail, going direct south, thismorning, as fast as she could get over the ground, with a warrior and apapoose as companions."
"Did ye now? Well, good riddance to them. They ha' been loafing aroundthe Kootenai village ever since I sent them from the cabin in thesummer. That Talapa was a sleepy-eyed bit o' old Nick. I told Geneseethat same from the first, when he was wasting his stock o' pity on her.Ye see," he said, turning his speech to Stuart, "a full-blooded Siwashhas some redeeming points, and a character o' their own; but thehalf-breeds are a part white an' a part red, with a good wheen o' thedevil's temper thrown in."
"She didn't appear to have much of the last this morning," observedRachel. "She looked pretty miserable."
"Ah, well, tak' the best o' them, an' they look that to the whites. An'so they're flittin' to the Reservation to live off the Government?Skulking Bob'll be too lazy to be even takin' the chance o' fightin'with his people against the Blackfeet, if trouble should come; andthere's been many a straggler from the rebels makin' their way north tothe Blackfeet, an' that is like to breed mischief."
"And your friend is at Owens?"
"Yes--or thereabouts. One o' the foremost o' their scouts, they tell me,an' a rare good one he is, with no prejudice on either side o' thequestion."
"I should think, being a white man, his sympathies would lean toward hisown race," observed Stuart.
"Well, that's as may chance. There's many the man who finds his bestfriends in strange blood. Genesee is thought no little of among theKootenais--more, most like, than he would be where he was born and bred.Folk o' the towns know but little how to weigh a man."
"And is he from the cities?"
For the first time Davy MacDougall looked up quickly.
"I know not," he answered briefly, "an', not giving to you a shortanswer, I care not. Few questions make long friends in the hills."
Stuart was somewhat nonplussed at the bluntness of the hint, and Rachelwas delighted.
"You see," she reminded him wickedly, "one can be an M. D., an L. S. D.,or any of the annexations, without Kootenai people considering hiseducation finished. But look here, Davy MacDougall, we only ran up tosay 'klahowya,' and have got to get back to-night; so, if you aregoing over to Tamahnous cabin, don't stop on our account; we can gopart of the way with you."
"But ye can go all the way, instead o' but a part, an' then no be out o'your road either," he said, with eagerness that showed how loath he wasto part from his young companions. "Ye know," he added, turning toRachel, "it is but three miles by the cross-cut to Genesee's, while bythe valley ye would cover eight on the way. Now, the path o'er the hillsis no fit for the feet o' a horse, except it be at the best o' seasons;but this is an ower good one, with neither the rain nor the ice; an' ifye will risk it--"
Of course they would risk it; and with a draught apiece from an odorous,dark-brown jug, and the gift of a flask that found its way to Stuart'spocket, they started.
They needed that swallow of brandy as a brace against the cold wind ofthe hills. It hustled through the pines like winged fiends let loosefrom the north. Dried berries from the bushes and cones from the treeswere sent pattering to sleep for the winter, and the sighs through thegreen roofing, and the moans from twisted limbs, told of the hardihoodneeded for life up there. The idea impressed Stuart so much that he gavevoice to it, and was laughed at grimly by the old mountaineer.
"Oh, well, it just takes man to be man, an' that's all when all's said,"he answered "To be sure, there be times when one canna stir for the snowwreaths, but that's to be allowed for; an' then ye may ha' took notethat my cabin is in shelter o' all but the south wind, an' that's agreat matter. Men who live in the mountain maun get used to its frolics;but it's an ugly bit," he acknowledged, as they stopped to rest and lookup over the seemingly pathless way they had come; "but I've beenthankful for it many's the time, when, unlooked for, Genesee and Mowitzawould show their faces at my door, an' she got so she could make thatclimb in the dark--think o' that! Ah, but she was the wise one!"
Stuart glanced at Rachel, who was more likely than himself to understandwhat was meant by the "wise one;" but he did not again venture aquestion. Mowitza was another squaw, he supposed, and one of thecompanions of the man Genesee. And the other one they had passed in themorning?--her name also was connected with the scout whom the white girlseemed to champion or condemn as the fancy pleased her. And Stuart, as astranger to the social system of the wilderness, had his curiositywidely awakened. A good deal of it was directed to Rachel herself.Hearing MacDougall speak of the man to her, he could understand that shehad no lack of knowledge in that direction--and the direction was one ofwhich the right sort of a girl was supposed to be ignorant; or, if notignorant, at least to conceal her wisdom in the wise way of her sisters.
This one did nothing of the sort; and the series of new impressionsreceived made him observe the girl with a scrutiny not so admiring as hehad always, until now, given her. He was irritated with himself that itwas so, yet his ideas of what a woman should be were getting some hardknocks at her hands.
Suddenly the glisten of the little lake came to them through the graytrunks of the trees, and a little later they had descended the series ofsmall circular ridges that terraced the cove from the timber to thewaters, that was really not much more than an immense spring thathappened to bubble up where there was a little depression to spreaditself in and show to advantage.
"But a mill would be turned easily by t
hat same bit o' water," observedMacDougall; "an' there's where Genesee showed the level head in locatinghis claim where he did."
"It looks like wasted power, placed up here," observed Stuart, "for itseems about the last place in Christendom for a mill."
"Well, so it may look to many a pair o' eyes," returned the old man,with a wink and a shrug that was indescribable, but suggested a vastdeal of unuttered knowledge; "but the lad who set store by it because o'the water-power was a long ways from a fool, I can tell ye."
Again Stuart found himself trying to count the spokes of some shadowywheels within wheels that had a trick of eluding him; and he feltirritatingly confident that the girl looking at him with quizzical,non-committal eyes could have enlightened him much as to the absentruler of this domain, who, according to her own words, was utterlydegraded, yet had a trick of keeping his personality such a living thingafter a year's absence.
The cabin was cold with the chill dreariness of any house that is leftlong without the warmth of an embodied human soul. Only the wandering,homeless spirits of the air had passed in and out, in and out of itschinks, sighing through them for months, until, on entrance, one felt anintuitive, sympathetic shiver for their loneliness.
A fire was soon crackling on the hearth; but the red gleams did notdance so merrily on the rafters as they had the first time she had beenwarmed at the fire-place--the daylight was too merciless a rival. Itpenetrated the corners and showed up the rude bunk and some miningimplements; from a rafter hung a roll of skins done up in bands of somepliable withes.
Evidently Genesee's injunction had been obeyed, for even the pottery,and reed baskets, and bowls still shone from the box of shelves.
"It's a mystery to me those things are not stolen by the Indians,"observed Stuart, noticing the lack of any fastening on the door, excepta bar on the inside.
"There's no much danger o' that," said the old man grimly, "unless it beby a Siwash who knows naught o' the country. The Kootenai people woulddo no ill to Genesee, nor would any Injun when he lives in theTamahnous ground."
"What territory is that?"
"Just the territory o' witchcraft--no less. The old mine and the spring,with the circle o' steps down to it, they let well alone, I can tell ye;and as for stealin', they'd no take the worth o' a tenpenny nail frombetween the two hills that face each other, an' the rocks o' them 'givesqueer echoes that they canna explain. Oh, yes, they have their witches,an' their warlocks, an' enchanted places, an' will no go against theirbelief, either."
"But," said Rachel, with a slight hesitation, "Talapa was not afraid tolive here."
"An' did ye not know, then, that she was not o' Kootenai stock?" askedthe old man. "Well, she was not a bit o' it; Genesee bought her of abeast of a Blackfoot."
"Bought her?" asked Stuart, and even Rachel opened her eyes inattention--perhaps, after all, not knowing so much as the younger manhad angrily given her credit for.
"Just that; an' dear she would ha' been at most any price. But she was abraw thing to look at, an' young enough to be sorry o'er. An' so when hecome across her takin' a beating like a mule he could na stand it; an'the only way he could be sure o' putting an end to it was by maken' abargain; an' that's just what he did, an' a'most afore he had time totake thought, the girl was his, an' he had to tek her with him. Well,"and the old man laughed comically at the remembrance, "you should ha'seen him at the comin' home!--tried to get her off his hands by leavin'her an' a quitclaim at my cabin; but I'd have none o' that--nohalf-breed woman could stay under a roof o' mine; an' the finish o' itwas he hed to bring her here to keep house for him, an' a ruefulcommencement it was. Then it was but a short while 'til he got hurt oneday in the tunnel, an' took a deal o' care before he was on his feetagain. Well, ye know womankind make natural nurses, an' by the time shehad him on the right trail again he had got o' the mind that Talapa wasa necessity o' the cabin; an' so ye may know she stayed."
"In what tunnel was he injured?" asked Stuart.
"Why, just--"
"There's your horse ranging calmly up toward the timber," observedRachel, turning from the window to Stuart. "Do you want to walk to theranch?"
"Well, not to-day;" and a moment later he was out of the door andrunning across the terraced meadow.
"Don't tell him too much about the tunnel," suggested the girl, when sheand the old man were alone.
"Why, lass,"--he began; but she cut him short brusquely, keeping her eyeon the form on the hill-side.
"Oh, he may be all right; but it isn't like you, Davy MacDougall, totell all you know to strangers, even if they do happen to have Scotchnames--you clannish old goose!"
"But the lad's all right."
"May be he is; but you've told him enough of the hills now to send himaway thinking we are all a rather mixed and objectionable lot. Oh, yes,he does too!" as Davy tried to remonstrate. "I don't care how much youtell him about the Indians; but that tunnel may have something in itthat Genesee wouldn't want Eastern speculators spying into while he'saway--do you see?"
Evidently he did, and the view was not one flattering to his judgment,for, in order to see more clearly, he took off his fur cap, scratchedhis head, and then replacing the covering with a great deal of energy,he burst out:
"Well, damn a fool, say I."
Rachel paid not the slightest attention to this profane plea.
"I suppose he's all right," she continued; "only when somebody'sinterest is at stake, especially a friend's, we oughtn't to take thingsfor granted, and keeping quiet hurts no one, unless it be a stranger'scuriosity."
The old man looked at her sharply. "Ye dinna like him, then?"
She hesitated, her eyes on the tall form leading back the horse. Justthen there seemed a strange likeness to Mowitza and Genesee in theirmanner, for the beast was tossing its head impatiently, and he waslaughing, evidently teasing it with the fact of its capture.
"Yes, I do like him," she said at last; "there is much about him tolike. But we must not give away other people's affairs because of that."
"Right you are, my lass," answered Davy; "an' it's rare good sense yeshow in remindin' me o' the same. It escapes me many's the time thathe's a bit of a stranger when all's said; an' do ye know, e'en at thefirst he had no the ways of a stranger to me. I used to fancy thatsomething in his build, or it may ha' been but the voice, was like to--"
"You are either too old or not old enough to have fancies, DavyMacDougall," interrupted the girl briskly, as Stuart re-entered. "Well,is it time to be moving?"
He looked at his watch.
"Almost; but come to the fire and get well warmed before we start. Ibelieve it grows colder; here, take this seat."
"Well, I will not," she answered, looking about her; "don't let yourgallantry interfere with your comfort, for I've a chair of my own when Ivisit this witchy quarter of the earth--yes, there it is."
And from the corner by the bunk she drew forward the identical chair onwhich she had sat through the night at her only other visit. But fromher speech Stuart inferred that this time was but one of the many.
"What are you going to do here, Davy MacDougall?" she asked, drawing herchair close beside him and glancing comprehensively about the cabin;"weather-board it up for winter?"
"Naw, scarcely that," he answered good-humoredly; "but just to gather upthe blankets or skins or aught that the weather or the rats would layhold of, and carry them across the hills to my own camp till the springcomes; mayhaps he may come with it."
The hope in his voice was not very strong, and the plaintiveness in itwas stronger than he knew. The other two felt it, and were silent.
"An' will ye be tellin' him for me," he continued, after a little, toStuart, "that all is snug an' safe, an' that I'll keep them so, an' awelcome with them, against his return? An' just mention, too, that hisfather, Grey Eagle, thinks the time is long since he left, an' that theenemy--Time--is close on his trail. An'--an' that the day he comes backwill be holiday in the hills."
"The last from Grey Eagle or
yourself?" asked Stuart teasingly. But thegirl spoke up, covering the old man's momentary hesitation.
"From me," she said coolly; "if any name is needed to give color to sogeneral a desire, you can use mine."
His face flushed; he looked as if about to speak to her, but, instead,his words were to MacDougall.
"I will be very glad to carry the word to your friend," he said; "it isbut a light weight."
"Yes, I doubt na it seems so to the carrier, but I would no think it solight a thing to ha' word o' the lad. We ha' been neighbors, ye see,this five year, with but little else that was civilized to come near us.An' there's a wide difference atween neighbors o' stone pavements an'neighbors o' the hills--a fine difference."
"Yes, there is," agreed the girl; and from their tones one would gatherthe impression that all the splendors of a metropolis were as nothingwhen compared with the luxuries of "shack" life in the "bush."
"Can ye hit the trail down at the forks without me along?" askedMacDougall, with a sudden remembrance of the fact that Rachel did notknow the way so well from the "Place of the Tamahnous" as she did fromScot's Mountain. She nodded her head independently.
"I can, Davy MacDougall. And you are paying me a poor compliment whenyou ask me so doubtfully. I've been prowling through the bush enough forthis past year to know it for fifty miles around, instead of twenty. Andnow if your highness thinks we've had our share of this fire, let us'move our freight,' 'hit the breeze,' or any other term of the woollyWest that means action, and get up and git."
"I am at your service," answered Stuart, with a graciousness of mannerthat made her own bravado more glaring by contrast. He could see sheassumed much for the sake of mischief and irritation to himself; and histone in reply took an added intonation of refinement; but the hint waslost on her--she only laughed.
"I tell you what it is, Davy MacDougall," she remarked to thatgentleman, "this slip of your nation has been planted in the wrongcentury. He belongs to the age of lily-like damsels in sad-coloredfrocks, and knights of high degree on bended knee and their armor hungto the rafters. I get a little mixed in my dates sometimes, but believeit was the age when caps and bells were also in fashion."
"Dinna mind her at all," advised the old man; "she'd be doin' ye a goodturn wi' just as ready a will as she would mak' sport o' ye. Do I notknow her?--ah, but I do!"
"So does the Stuart," said Rachel; "and as for doing him a good turn, Iproved my devotion in that line this morning, when I saved him from alonely, monotonous ride--didn't I?" she added, glancing up at him.
"You look positively impish," was the only reply he made; and returningher gaze with one that was half amusement, half vexation, he went outfor the horses.
"You see, he didn't want me at all, Davy MacDougall," confided the girl,and if she felt any chagrin she concealed it admirably. "But they'vebeen talking some about Genesee down at the ranch, and--and Stuart'sinterest was aroused. I didn't know how curious he might be--Easternfolks are powerful so"--and in the statement and adoption of vernacularshe seemed to forget how lately she was of the East herself; "and Iconcluded he might ask questions, or encourage you to talk about--well,about the tunnel, you know; so I just came along to keep the trail freeof snags--see?"
The old man nodded, and watched her in a queer, dubious way; as sheturned, a moment later, to speak to Stuart at the door, she noticed it,and laughed.
"You think I'm a bit loony, don't you, Davy MacDougall? Well, I forgiveyou. May be, some day, you'll see I'm not on a blind trail. Come and seeus soon, and give me a chance to prove my sanity."
"Strange that any mind could doubt it," murmured Stuart. "Come, wehaven't time for proofs of the question now. Good-bye, MacDougall; takecare of yourself for the winter. Perhaps I'll get back in the summer tosee how well you have done so."
A hearty promise of welcome, a hand-clasp, a few more words ofadmonition and farewell, and then the two young people rode away acrossthe ground deemed uncanny by the natives; and the old man went back tohis lonely task.
On reaching the ranch at dusk, it was Rachel who was mildly hilarious,seeming to have changed places with the gay chanter of the dawn. He wasnot sulky, but something pretty near it was in his manner, and ratherintensified under Miss Hardy's badinage.
She told the rest how he divided his whisky with the squaw; hinted at afear that he intended adopting the papoose; gave them an account of theconversation between himself and Skulking Brave; and otherwise madetheir trip a subject for ridicule.
"Did you meet with Indians?" asked Tillie, trying to get the girl downto authentic statements.
"Yes, my dear, we did, and I sent them home to you--or told them tocome; but they evidently had not time for morning calls."
"Were they friendly?"
"Pretty much--enough so to ask for powder and shot. None of the mensighted them?"
"No."
"And no other Indians?"
"No--why?"
"Only that I would not like Talapa to be roughly unhorsed."
"Talapa! Why, Rachel, that's--"
"Yes, of course it is--with a very promising family in tow. Say, supposeyou hustle Aunty up about that supper, won't you? And have her give theStuart something extra nice; he has had a hard day of it."
Told in the Hills: A Novel Page 13
