CHAPTER V
THE FIRST STAGE
For two days Stonor went about his preparations with an air of doggeddetermination. It seemed to him that all the light had gone out of hislife, and hope was dead. He told himself that the proposed trip couldnot be otherwise than the stiffest kind of an ordeal to a man in hisposition, an ordeal calling for well-nigh superhuman self-control. Howgladly would he have given it up, had he not given his word.
And then on the third day his spirits unaccountably began to rise. As amatter of fact youthful spirits must seek their natural level no lesssurely than water, but Stonor was angry with himself, accusing himselfof lightheadedness, inconstancy and what not. His spirits continued torise just the same. There was a delight in providing everything possiblefor her comfort. The mere thought of going away with her, under anycircumstances whatsoever, made his heart sing.
John Gaviller was astonished by the size and variety of his requisitionfor supplies. Besides the customary rations Stonor included all theluxuries the store afforded: viz., tinned fish, vegetables and fruit;condensed milk, marmalade and cocoa. And in quantities double what hewould ordinarily have taken.
"Getting luxurious in your old age, aren't you?" said the trader.
"Oh, I'm tired of an unrelieved diet of bannock and beans," said Stonor,with a carelessness so apparent, they ought to have been warned; but ofcourse they never dreamed of anything so preposterous as the truth.
Stonor had two horses of his own. He engaged three more from SimonGrampierre, horses that he knew, and from Tole Grampierre purchased afine rabbit-skin robe for Clare's bed on the trail. Tole, who hadsecretly hoped to be taken on this expedition, was much disappointedwhen no invitation was forthcoming. Stonor arranged with Tole to ride tomeet him with additional supplies on the date when he might expect to bereturning. Tole was to leave Enterprise on July 12th.
From Father Goussard Stonor borrowed a mosquito tent on the plea thathis own was torn. He smuggled a folding camp-cot into his outfit. Clarefortunately had brought suitable clothes for the most part. How wellStonor was to know that little suit cut like a boy's with Norfolk jacketand divided skirt! What additional articles she needed Miss Pringlebought at the store for a mythical destitute Indian boy. They had soonfound it necessary to take Miss Pringle into their confidence. She wentabout charged with the secret like a soda-water-bottle with the corkwired down.
Beside Gordon Strange, the only person around the post who could speakthe Kakisa tongue was a woman, Mary Moosa, herself a Kakisa who hadmarried a Cree. Her husband was a deck-hand on the steamboat. Stonor hadalready engaged Mary Moosa to take this trip with him as interpreter,and Mary, who had her own notions of propriety, had stipulated that heroldest boy be taken along. Mary herself promised to be a godsend on thetrip; for she was just the comfortable dependable soul to look afterClare, but the boy now became a problem, for the dug-out that Stonordesigned to use on the Swan River would only carry three personscomfortably, with the necessary outfit. Yet Stonor could not speak toMary in advance about leaving the boy at home.
Such was Stonor's assiduity that everything was ready for the start twodays ahead of time--an unheard-of thing up North. Everybody at the postgave up a morning to seeing the steamboat off. She carried with her areport from Stonor to his inspector, telling of the proposed trip. Clarewas among those who waved to her from the shore. No surprise had beenoccasioned by the announcement of her decision to remain over a trip.Gaviller was already planning further entertainments. She had by thistime moved down to the Mission with the Pringles.
On the afternoon of that day Stonor transported his goods and swam hishorses across the river, to be ready for the start from the other side.Mary Moosa and her son met him there, and camped beside the outfit forthe night. Stonor returned to Enterprise House for dinner. He had triedto get out of it, knowing that the fact of this dinner would rankle inthe trader's breast afterwards, but Gaviller had insisted on giving hima send-off. It was not a happy affair, for three of the guests werewretchedly nervous. They could not help but see in their mind's eyeGaviller's expression of indignant astonishment when the news should bebrought him next day.
Gaviller further insisted on taking everybody down to the shore to seeStonor off, thus obliging the trooper to make an extra trip across theriver and back in order to maintain the fiction. Stonor slept in his owncamp for an hour, and then rowed down-stream and across, to land infront of the Mission.
It is never perfectly dark at this season, and already day was beginningto break. Stonor climbed the bank, and showed himself at the top,knowing that they would be on the watch from within. The little grey logmission-house crouched in its neglected garden behind a fence of brokenpalings. But a touch of regeneration was already visible in MissPringle's geranium slips in the windows, and her bits of white curtain.
The door was silently opened, and the two women kissed in the entry.Stonor was never to forget that picture in the still grey light. Clare,clad in the little Norfolk suit and the boy's stout boots and hat,crossed the yard with the little mincing steps so characteristic of her,and therefore so charming to the man who waited. Her face was pale, hereyes bright. Miss Pringle stood in the doorway, massive and tearful, ahand pressed to her mouth.
Stonor's breast received a surprising wrench. "It's like an elopement!"he thought. "Ah, if she _were_ coming to me!"
She smiled at him without speaking, and handed over her bag. Stonorclosed the gate softly, and they made their way down the bank, and gotin the boat.
It was a good, stiff pull back against the current. They spoke little.Clare studied his grim face with some concern.
"Regrets?" she asked.
He rested on his oars for a moment and his face softened. He smiled ather frankly--and ruefully. "No regrets," he said, "but a certain amountof anxiety."
His glance conveyed a good deal more than that--in spite of him. "I loveyou with all my heart. Of course I clearly understand that you havenothing for me. I am prepared to see this thing through, no matter whatthe end means to me.--But be merciful!" All this was in his look.Whether she got it or not, no man could have told. She looked away anddabbled her hand in the water.
Mary Moosa was a self-respecting squaw who lived in a house with tablesand chairs and went to church and washed her children with soap. In herplain black cotton dress, the skirt cut very full to allow her to rideastride, her new moccasins and her black straw hat she made a figure ofmatronly tidiness if not of beauty. She was cooking when they arrived.Her inward astonishment, at beholding Stonor returning with the whitegirl who had created such a sensation at the post, can be guessed; but,true to her traditions, she betrayed nothing of it to the whites. Aftera single glance in their direction her gaze returned to the frying-pan.
It was Stonor who was put out of countenance, "Miss Starling is goingwith us," he said, with a heavy scowl.
Mary made no comment on the situation, but continued gravely frying theflap-jacks to a delicate golden shade. Her son, aged about fourteen, whohad less command over his countenance, stood in the background staring,with open eyes and mouth. It was a trying moment for Stonor and Clare.They discussed the prospects of a good day for the journey in ratherstrained voices.
However, it proved that Mary's silence had neither an unfriendly nor acensorious intention. She merely required time to get her breath, so tospeak. She transferred the flap-jacks from the pan to a plate, and,putting them in the ashes to keep hot, arose and came to Clare withextended hand.
"How," she said, as she had been taught was manners to all.
Clare took her hand with a right good will.
It suddenly occurred to Mary that there was now no occasion for the boyto accompany them. Mary was a woman of few words. "You go home," shesaid calmly.
The boy broke into a howl of grief, proving that the delights of theroad are much the same to boys, red or white.
"Poor little fellow!" said Clare.
"Too young for travel," said Mary, impassively. "More trouble th
anhelp."
Clare wished to intercede for him with Stonor, but the trooper shook hishead.
"No room in the dug-out," he said.
Toma Moosa departed along the shore with his arm over his eyes.
Mary was as good as a man on a trip. While Stonor and Clare ate shepacked the horses, and Stonor had only to throw the hitch and draw ittaut. Clare watched this operation with interest.
"They swell up just like babies when you're putting their bands on," sheremarked.
They were on the move shortly after sunrise, that is to say half-pastthree. As they rode away over the flat, each took a last look at thebuildings of the post across the river, gilded by the horizontal rays,each wondering privately what fortune had in store for them before theyshould see the spot again.
They passed the last little shack and the last patch of grain beforeanybody was astir. When they rode out into the open country everybody'sspirits rose. There is nothing like taking the trail to lift up theheart--and on a June morning in the north! Troubles, heart-aches andanxieties were left behind with the houses. Even Mary Moosa beamed inher inscrutable way.
Stonor experienced a fresh access of confidence, and proceeded todeceive himself all over again. "I'm cured!" he thought. "There'snothing to mope about. She's my friend. Anything else is out of thequestion, and I will not think of it again. We'll just be good pals liketwo fellows. You can be a pal with the right kind of girl, and she isthat.--But better than any fellow, she's so damn good to look at!"
It was a lovely park-like country with graceful, white-stemmed poplarsstanding about on the sward, and dark spruces in the hollows. The grasswas starred with flowers. When Nature sets out to make a park her stylehas a charming abandon that no landscape-gardener can ever hope tocapture. After they mounted the low bench the country rolled shallowly,flat in the prospect, with a single, long, low eminence, blue athwartthe horizon ahead.
"That's the divide between the Spirit and the Swan," said Stonor. "We'llcross it to-morrow. From here it looks like quite a mountain, but theascent is so gradual we won't know we're over it until we see the waterflowing the other way."
Clare rode Miles Aroon, Stonor's sorrel gelding, and Stonor rode theother police horse, a fine dark bay. These two animals fretted a gooddeal at the necessity of accommodating their pace to the humble packanimals. These latter had a stolid inscrutable look like their nativemasters. One in particular looked so respectable and matter-of-fact thatClare promptly christened her Lizzie.
Lizzie proved to be a horse of a strong, bourgeois character. If herpack was not adjusted exactly to her liking, she calmly sat on herhaunches in the trail until it was fixed. Furthermore, she insisted onbringing up the rear of the cavalcade. If she was put in the middle, shesimply fell out until the others had passed. In her chosen place sheproceeded to fall asleep, with her head hanging ever lower and feetdragging, while the others went on. Stonor, who knew the horse, let herhave her way. There was no danger of losing her. When she awoke andfound herself alone, she would come tearing down the trail, screamingfor her beloved companions.
Stonor rode at the head of his little company with a leg athwart hissaddle, so he could hold converse with Clare behind.
Pointing to the trail stretching ahead of them like an endless brownribbon over prairie and through bush, he said: "I suppose trails are theoldest things in America. Once thoroughly made they can never beeffaced--except by the plough. You see, they never can run quitestraight, though the country may be as flat as your hand, but the widthnever varies; three and a half hands."
Travelling with horses is not all picnicking. Three times a day theyhave to be unpacked and turned out to _graze_, and three times _caught_and _packed again_; this in addition to the regular camp routine ofpitching tents, rustling wood, cooking, etc. Clare announced herintention of taking over the cooking, but she found that baking biscuitsover an open fire in a drizzle of rain, offered a new set of problems tothe civilized cook, and Mary had to come to her rescue.
During this, their first spell by the trail, Stonor was highly amused towatch Clare's way with Mary. She simply ignored Mary's discouragingred-skin stolidity, and assumed that they were sisters under theirskins. She pretended that it was necessary for them to take sidesagainst Stonor in order to keep the man in his place. It was not longbefore Mary was grinning broadly. Finally at some low-voiced sally ofClare's she laughed outright. Stonor had never heard her laugh before.Thereafter she was Clare's. Realizing that the wonderful white girlreally wished to make friends, Mary offered her a doglike devotion thatnever faltered throughout the difficult days that followed.
They slept throughout the middle part of the day, and later, the skyclearing, they rode until near sun-down in order to make a goodwater-hole that Mary knew of. When they had supped and made all snug forthe night, Stonor let fall the piece of information that Mary was wellknown as a teller of tales at the Post. Clare gave her no peace thentill she consented to tell a story. They sat in a row behind Stonor'slittle mosquito-bar, for the insects were abroad, with the fire burningbefore them, and Mary began.
"I tell you now how the people got the first medicine-pipe. This storyis about Thunder. Thunder is everywhere. He roar in the mountains, heshout far out on the prairie. He strike the high rocks and they fall. Hehit a tree and split it like with a big axe. He strike people and theydie. He is bad. He like to strike down the tall things that stand. He isver' powerful. He is the most strong one. Sometimes he steals women.
"Long tam ago, almost in the beginning, a man and his wife sit in theirlodge when Thunder come and strike them. The man was not killed. Atfirst he is lak dead, but bam-bye he rise up again and look around him.His wife not there. He say: 'Oh well, she gone to get wood or water,'and he sit awhile. But when the sun had gone under, he go out and askthe people where she go. Nobody see her. He look all over camp, but notfind her. Then he know Thunder steal her, and he go out alone on thehills and mak' sorrow.
"When morning come he get up and go far away, and he ask all the animalshe meet where Thunder live. They laugh and not tell him. Wolf say: 'W'atyou think! We want go look for the one we fear? He is our danger. Fromothers we can run away. From him there is no running. He strike andthere we lie! Turn back! Go home! Do not look for the place of thefeared one.'
"But the man travel on. Travel very far. Now he come to a lodge, a funnylodge, all made of stone. Here live the raven chief. The man go in.
"Raven chief say: 'Welcome, friend. Sit down. Sit down.' And food wasput before him.
"When he finish eating, Raven say: 'Why you come here?'
"Man say: 'Thunder steal my wife away. I want find his place so I gether back.'
"Raven say: 'I think you be too scare to go in the lodge of that fearedone. It is close by here. His lodge is made of stone like this, andhanging up inside are eyes--all the eyes of those he kill or steal away.He take out their eyes and hang them in his lodge. Now, will you enter?'
"Man say: 'No. I am afraid. What man could look on such things of fearand live?'
"Raven say: 'No common man can. There is only one old Thunder fears.There is only one he cannot kill. It is I, the Raven. Now I will giveyou medicine and he can't harm you. You go enter there, and look amongthose eyes for your wife's eyes, and if you find them, tell that Thunderwhy you come, and make him give them to you. Here now is a raven's wing.You point it to him, and he jomp back quick. But if that is not strongenough, take this. It is an arrow, and the stick is made of elk-horn.Take it, I say, and shoot it through his lodge.'
"Man say: 'Why make a fool of me? My heart is sad. I am crying.' And hecover up his head with his blanket and cry.
"Raven say: 'Wah! You do not believe me! Come out, come out, and I makeyou believe!' When they stand outside Raven ask: 'Is the home of yourpeople far?'
"Man say: 'Very far!'
"'How many days' journey?'
"Man say: 'My heart is sad. I not count the days. The berries grow andget ripe since I leave my lodge.'
"Raven say:
'Can you see your camp from here?'
"Man think that is foolish question and say nothing.
"Then the Raven rub some medicine on his eyes and say: 'Look!' The manlook and see his own camp. It was close. He see the people. He see thesmoke rising from the lodges. And at that wonderful thing the manbelieve in the Raven's medicine.
"Then Raven say: 'Now take the wing and the arrow and go get yourwife.'
"So the man take those things and go to Thunder's lodge. He go in andsit down by the door. Thunder sit inside and look at him with eyes oflightning. But the man look up and see those many pairs of eyes hangingup. And the eyes of his wife look at him, and he know them among allthose others.
"Thunder ask in a voice that shake the ground: 'Why you come here?'
"Man say: 'I looking for my wife that you steal from me. There hang hereyes!'
"Thunder say: 'No man can enter my lodge and live!' He get up to strikehim. But the man point the raven's wing at him, and Thunder fall back onhis bed and shiver. But soon he is better, and get up again. Then theman put the elk-horn arrow to his bow, and shoot it through the lodge ofrock. Right through that lodge of rock it make a crooked hole and letthe sunlight in.
"Thunder cry out: 'Stop! You are stronger! You have the great medicine.You can have your wife. Take down her eyes.' So the man cut the stringthat held them, and right away his wife stand beside him.
"Thunder say: 'Now you know me. I have great power. I live here insummer, but when winter come I go far south where there is no winter.Here is my pipe. It is medicine. Take it and keep it. When I come inspring you fill and light this pipe, and you pray to me, you and all thepeople. Because I bring the rain which make the berries big and ripe. Ibring the rain which make all things grow. So you must pray to me, youand all the people.'
"That is how the people got the first medicine-pipe. It was long ago."
* * * * *
Mary went to her own little tent, and presently they heard her peacefulsnoring. The sound had the effect of giving body to the immensity ofstillness that surrounded them and held them. Sitting beside Clare,looking out at the fire through the netting, Stonor felt his safeguardsslipping fast. There they were, the two of them, to all intents alone inthe world! How natural for them to draw close, and, while her headdropped on his shoulder, for his arm to slip around her slender form andhold her tight! He trembled a little, and his mouth went dry. If he hadbeen visiting her he could have got out, but he couldn't put her out.There was nothing to do but sit tight and fight the thing. Moisteninghis lips, he said:
"It's been a good day on the whole."
"Ah, splendid!" she said. "If one could only hit the trail for everwithout being obliged to arrive at a destination, and take up theburdens of a stationary life!"
Stonor pondered on this answer. It sounded almost as if she dreadedcoming to the end of her journey.
Out of the breathless dusk came a long-drawn and inexpressibly mournfulululation. Clare involuntarily drew a little closer to Stonor. Ah, butit was hard to keep from seizing her then!
"Wolves?" she asked in an awe-struck tone.
He shook his head. "Only the wolf's little mongrel brother, coyote," hesaid.
"All my travelling has been done in the mountains," she explained. Sheshivered delicately. "The first night out is always a little terrible,isn't it?"
"You're not afraid?" he asked anxiously.
"Not exactly afraid. Just a little quivery."
She got up, and he held up the mosquito-netting for her to pass. Outsidethey instinctively lifted up their faces to the pale stars.
"It's safer and cleaner than a city," said Stonor simply.
"I know." She still lingered for a moment. "What's your name?" she askedabruptly.
"Martin."
"Good-night, Martin."
"Good-night!"
Later, rolling on his hard bed, he thought: "She might have given me herhand when she said it.--No, you fool! She did right not to! You've gotto get a grip on yourself. This is only the first day! If you begin likethis----!"
The Woman from Outside Page 5
