CHAPTER XX
ON THE TRAIL OF PIERRE LAPIERRE
Bob MacNair drove a terrific trail. He was known throughout theNorthland as a hard man to follow at any time. His huge muscles weretireless at the paddle, and upon the rackets his long swinging strideate up the miles of the snow-trails. And when Bob MacNair was an ahurry the man who undertook to keep up with him had his work cut out.
When he headed northward after his release from the Fort SaskatchewanJail, MacNair was in very much of a hurry. From daylight until farinto the dark he urged his malamutes to their utmost. And CorporalRipley, who was by no means a _chechako_, found himself taxed to thelimit of his endurance, although never by word or sign did he indicatethat the pace was other than of his own choosing.
Fort McMurray, a ten- to fourteen-day trip under good conditions, wasreached in seven days. Fort Chippewayan in three days more, and FortResolution a week later--seventeen days from Athabasca Landing to FortResolution--a record trip for a dog-train!
MacNair was known as a man of few words, but Ripley wondered at theominous silence with which his every attempt at conversation was met.During the whole seventeen days of the snow-trail, MacNair scarcelyaddressed a word to him--seemed almost oblivious to his presence.
Upon the last day, with the log buildings of Fort Resolution in sight,MacNair suddenly halted the dogs and faced Corporal Ripley.
"Well, what's your program?" he asked shortly.
"My program," returned the other, "is to arrest Pierre Lapierre,"
"How are you going to do it?"
"I've got to locate him first, the details will work out later. I'vebeen counting a lot on your help and judgment in the matter."
"Don't do it!" snapped MacNair.
The other gazed at him in astonishment.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that I'm not going to help you arrest Lapierre. He's mine! Ihave sworn to get him, and, by God, I _will_ get him! From now on weare working against each other."
Ripley flushed, and his eyes narrowed. "You mean," he exclaimed, "thatyou defy the Mounted! That you refuse to help when you're called on?"
MacNair laughed. "You might put it that way, I suppose, but it don'tsound well. You know me, Ripley. You know when my word haspassed--when I've once started a thing--I'll see it through to thelimit. I've sworn to get Lapierre. And I tell you, he's mine! Unlessyou get him first. You're a good man, Ripley, and you may do it--butif you do, when you get back with him, you'll know you've beensomewhere."
The lines of Ripley's face softened; as a sporting proposition thesituation appealed to him. He thrust out his hand. "It's a go,MacNair," he said, "and let the best man win!"
MacNair wrung the officer's hand in a mighty grip, and then just as hewas on the point of starting his dogs, paused and gazed thoughtfullyafter the other who was making his way toward the little buildings ofFort Resolution.
"Oh, Ripley," he called. The officer turned and retraced his steps."You've heard of Lapierre's fort to the eastward. Have you ever beenthere?"
Ripley shook his head. "No, but I've heard he has one somewhere aroundthe east end of the lake."
MacNair laughed. "Yes, and if you hunted the east end of the lake forit you could hunt a year without finding it. If you really want toknow where it is, come along, I'll show you. I happen to be goingthere."
"What's the idea?" asked the officer, regarding MacNair quizzically.
"The idea is just this. Lapierre's no fool. He's got as good a chanceof getting me as I have of getting him. And if anything happens to meyou fellows will lose a lot of valuable time before you can locate thatfort. I don't know myself exactly why I'm taking you there, exceptthat--well, if anything should happen to me, Lapierre would--you see,he might--that is---- Damn it!" he broke out wrathfully. "Can't yousee he'll have things his own way with _her_?"
Ripley grinned broadly. "Oh! So that's it, eh? Well, a fellow oughtto look out for his friends. She seemed right anxious to have _you_put where nothing would hurt you."
"Shut up!" growled MacNair shortly. "And before we start there's onelittle condition you must agree to. If we find Lapierre at the fort,in return for my showing you the place, you've got to promise to makeno attempt to arrest him without first returning to Fort Resolution.If I can't get him in the meantime I ought to lose."
"You're on," grinned Ripley, "I promise. But man, if he's there hewon't be alone! What chance will you have single-handed against awhole gang of outlaws?"
MacNair smiled grimly. "That's my lookout. Remember, your word haspassed, and when we locate Lapierre, you head back for Fort Resolution."
The other nodded regretfully, and when MacNair turned away from thefort and headed eastward along the south shore of the lake, the officerfell silently in behind the dogs.
They camped late in a thicket on the shore of South Bay, and atdaylight headed straight across the vast snow-level, that stretched forsixty miles in an unbroken surface of white. That night they camped onthe ice, and toward noon of the following day drew into the scrubtimber directly north of the extremity of Peththenneh Island.
Long after dark they made a fireless camp directly opposite thestronghold of the outlaws on the shore of Lac du Mort. Circling thelake next morning, they reconnoitred the black spruce swamp, andworking their way, inch by inch, passed cautiously between the denseevergreens in the direction of the high promontory upon which Lapierrehad built his "Bastile du Mort."
Silence enveloped the swamp. An intense, all-pervading stillness,accentuated by the low-hung snow-weighted branches through which themen moved like dark phantoms in the grey half-light of the dawn. Theymoved not with the stealthy, gliding movement of the Indian, but withthe slow caution of trained woodsmen, pausing every few moments toscrutinize their surroundings, and to strain their ears for a soundthat would tell them that other lurking forms glided among the silentaisles and vistas of the snow-shrouded swamp. But no sounds came tothem through the motionless air, and after an hour of stealthy advance,they drew into the shelter of a huge spruce and peered through theinterstices of its snow-laden branches toward the log stockade thatLapierre had thrown across the neck of his lofty peninsula.
Silent and grey and deserted loomed the barrier so cunningly devised asto be almost indistinguishable at a distance of fifty yards. Snow layupon its top, and vertical ridges of snow clung to the crevices of theupstanding palings.
A half-hour passed, while the two men remained motionless, and then,satisfied that the fort was unoccupied, they stepped cautiously fromthe shelter of their tree. The next instant, loud and clear,shattering the intense silence with one sharp explosion of sound, ranga shot. And Corporal Ripley, who was following close at the heels ofMacNair, staggered, clawed wildly for the butt of his service revolverwhich protruded from its holster, and, with an imprecation on his lipsthat ended in an unintelligible snarl, crashed headlong into the snow.
MacNair whirled as if upon a pivot, and with hardly a glance at theprostrate form, dashed over the back-trail with the curious lumberingstrides of the man who would hurry on rackets. He had jerked off hisheavy mitten at the sound of the shot, and his bared hand clutchedfirmly the butt of a blue-black automatic. A spruce-branch, suddenlyrelieved of its snow, sprang upward with a swish, thirty yards away.MacNair fired three times in rapid succession.
There was no answering shot, and he leaped forward, charging directlytoward the tree that concealed the hidden foe before the man couldreload; for by the roar of its discharge, MacNair knew that the weaponwas an old Hudson Bay muzzle-loading smoothbore--a primitive weapon ofthe old North, but in the hands of an Indian, a weapon of terribleexecution at short range, where a roughly moulded bullet or a slugrudely hammered from the solder melted from old tin cans tears its waythrough the flesh, driven by three fingers of black powder.
Near the tree MacNair found the gun where its owner had hurled it intothe snow--found also the tracks of a pair of snowshoes, which headedinto the hea
rt of the black spruce swamp. The tracks showed at aglance that the lurking assassin was an Indian, that he was travellinglight, and that the chance of running him down was extremely remote.Whereupon MacNair returned his automatic to its holster and bethoughthimself of Ripley, who was lying back by the stockade with his faceburied in the snow.
Swiftly he retraced his steps, and, kneeling beside the wounded man,raised him from the snow. Blood oozed from the corners of theofficer's lips, and, mingling with the snow, formed a red slush whichclung to the boyish cheek. With his knife MacNair cut through theclothing and disclosed an ugly hole below the right shoulder-blade. Hebound up the wound, plugging the hole with suet chewed from a lumpwhich he carried in his pocket. Leaving Ripley upon his face toprevent strangulation from the blood in his throat, he hastened to thecamp on the shore of the lake, harnessed the dogs, and returned to theprostrate man; it was the work of a few moments to bind him securelyupon the sled. Skilfully MacNair guided his dogs through the maze ofthe black spruce swamp, and, throwing caution to the winds, crossed thelake, struck into the timber, and headed straight for Chloe Elliston'sschool.
In the living-room of the little cottage on the Yellow Knife, HarrietPenny and Mary, the Louchoux girl, sat sewing, while Chloe Elliston,with chair pulled close to the table, read by the light of an oil-lampfrom a year-old magazine. If the Louchoux girl failed to follow theintricacies of the plot, an observer would scarcely have known it. Norwould he have guessed that less than two short months before this girlhad been a skin-clad native of the North who had mushed for thirty daysunattended through the heart of the barren grounds. So marvellouslyhad the girl improved and so desirously had she applied her needle,that save for the beaded moccasins upon her feet, her clothing differedin no essential detail from that of Chloe Elliston or of Harriet Penny.
Chloe paused in her reading, and the three occupants of the little roomstared inquiringly into each other's faces as a rough-voiced "Whoa!"sounded from beyond the door. A moment of silence followed thecommand, and then came the sounds of a heavy footfall upon the veranda.The Louchoux girl sprang to the door, and as she wrenched it open theyellow lamplight threw into bold relief the huge figure of a man, who,bearing a blanket-wrapped form in his arms, staggered into the room,and, without a word deposited his burden upon the floor. The manlooked up, and Chloe Elliston started back with an exclamation of angryamazement. The man was Bob MacNair! And Chloe noticed that theLouchoux girl, after one terrified glance into his face, fledincontinently to the kitchen.
"You! You!" cried Chloe, groping for words.
The man interrupted her gruffly. "This is no time to talk. CorporalRipley has been shot. For three days I have burned up the snow gettinghim here. He's hard hit, but the bleeding has stopped, and a good bedand good nursing will pull him through."
As he snapped out the words, MacNair busied himself in removing thewounded man's blankets and outer garments. Chloe gave some hurriedorders to Big Lena, and followed MacNair into her own room, where helaid the wounded man upon her bed--the same he, himself, had onceoccupied while recovering from the effect of Lapierre's bullet. Thenhe straightened and faced Chloe, who stood regarding him with flashingeyes.
"So you did get away from him after all?" she said, "and when hefollowed you, you shot him! Just a boy--and you shot him in the back!"The voice trembled with the scorn of her words. MacNair pushed roughlypast her.
"Don't be a damn fool!" he growled, and called over his shoulder:"Better rest him up for three or four days, and send him down to FortResolution. He'll stand the trip all right by that time, and thedoctor may want to poke around for that bullet." Suddenly he whirledand faced her. "Where is Lapierre?" The words were a snarl.
"So you want to kill him, too? Do you think I would tell you if Iknew? You--you _murderer_! Oh, if I--" But the sentence was cutshort by the loud banging of the door. MacNair had returned into thenight.
An hour later, when she and Big Lena quitted the bedroom, CorporalRipley was breathing easily. Her thoughts turned at once to theLouchoux girl. She recalled the look of terror that had crept into thegirl's eyes as she gazed into the upturned face of MacNair. With theforce of a blow a thought flashed through her brain, and she clutchedat the edge of the table for support. What was it the girl had toldher about the man who had deceived her into believing she was his wife?He was a free-trader! MacNair was a free-trader! Could it be----
"No, no!" she gasped--"and yet----"
With an effort she crossed to the door of the girl's room and, pushingit open, entered to find her cowering, wide-eyed between her blankets.The sight of the beautiful, terrorized face did not need thecorroboration of the low, half-moaned words, "Oh, please, please, don'tlet him get me!" to tell Chloe that her worst fears were realized.
"Do not be afraid, my dear," she faltered. "He cannot harm you now,"and hurriedly closing the door, staggered across the living-room, threwherself into a chair beside the table, and buried her face in her arms.
Harriet Penny opened her door and glanced timidly at the still figureof the girl, and, deciding it were the better part of prudence not tointrude, noiselessly closed her door. Hours later, Big Lena, enteringfrom the kitchen, regarded her mistress with a long vacant-faced stare,and returned again to the kitchen. All through the night Chloe dozedfitfully beside the table, but for the most part she waswidely--painfully--awake. Bitterly she reproached herself. Only sheknew the pain the discovery of MacNair's treachery had caused her. Andonly she knew why the discovery had caused her pain.
Always she had believed she had hated this man. By all standards, sheshould hate him. This great, elemental brute of the North who hadfirst attempted to ignore, and later to ridicule and to bully her.This man who ruled his Indians with a rod of iron, who allowed themfull license in their debauchery, and then shot them down in coldblood, who shot a boy in the back while in the act of doing his duty,and who had called her a "damn fool" in her own house, and was eventhen off on the trail of another man he had sworn to kill on sight. Byall the laws of justice, equity, and decency, she should hate this man!She was conscious of no other feeling toward him than a burning,unquenchable hate. And yet, deep down in her heart she knew--by thepain of her discovery of his treachery--she knew she loved him, andutterly she despised herself that this could be so.
Daylight softly dimmed the yellow lamplight of the room. The girlarose, and, after a hurried glance at the sleeping Ripley, bathed hereyes in cold water and passed into the kitchen, where Big Lena was busyin the preparation of breakfast.
"Send LeFroy to me at once!" she ordered, and five minutes later, whenthe man stood before her, she ordered him to summon all of MacNair'sIndians.
The man shifted his weight uneasily from one foot to the other as hefaced her upon the tiny veranda. "MacNair Injuns," he answered, "demgon' las' night. Dem gon' 'long wit' MacNair. Heem gon' for huntPierre Lapierre!"
CHAPTER XXI
LAPIERRE PAYS A VISIT
Up on Snare Lake the men to whom Lapierre had passed the word had takenpossession of MacNair's burned and abandoned fort, and there the leaderhad joined them after stopping at Fort McMurray to tip off to Ripleyand Craig the bit of evidence that he hoped would clinch the caseagainst MacNair. More men joined the Snare Lake stampede--flat-facedbreeds from the lower Mackenzie, evil-visaged rivermen from the countryof the Athabasca and the Slave, and the renegade white men who wereLapierre's underlings.
By dog-train and on foot they came, dragging their outfits behind them,and in the eyes of each was the gleam of the greed of gold. The fewcabins which had escaped the conflagration had been pre-empted by thefirst-comers, while the later arrivals pitched their tents and sheltertarps close against the logs of the unburned portion of MacNair'sstockade.
At the time of Lapierre's arrival the colony had assumed the aspect ofa typical gold camp. The drifted snow had been removed from MacNair'sdiggings, and the night-fires that thawed out the gravel glared red andilluminated the clearing
with a ruddy glow in which the dumps loomedblack and ugly, like unclean wens upon the white surface of thetrampled snow.
Lapierre, a master of organization, saw almost at the moment of hisarrival that the gold-camp system of two-man partnerships could bevastly improved upon. Therefore, he formed the men into shifts: eighthours in the gravel and tending the fires, eight hours choppingcord-wood and digging in the ruins of MacNair's storehouse for theremains of unburned grub, and eight hours' rest. Always night and day,the seemingly tireless leader moved about the camp encouraging,cursing, bullying, urging; forcing the utmost atom of man-power intothe channels of greatest efficiency. For well the quarter-breed knewthat his tenure of the Snare Lake diggings was a tenure wholly bysufferance of circumstances--over which he, Lapierre, had no control.
With MacNair safely lodged in the Fort Saskatchewan jail, he felt safefrom interference, at least until late in the spring. This would allowplenty of time for the melting snows to furnish the water necessary forthe cleaning up of the dumps. After that the fate of his colony hungupon the decision of a judge somewhere down in the provinces. ThusLapierre crowded his men to the utmost, and the increasing size of theblack dump-heaps bespoke a record-breaking clean-up when the waters ofthe melting snow should be turned into sluices in the spring.
With his mind easy in his fancied security, and in order that everymoment of time and every ounce of man-power should be devoted to thedigging of gold, Lapierre had neglected to bring his rifles andammunition from the Lac du Mort rendezvous and from the storehouse ofChloe Elliston's school. An omission for which he cursed himselfroundly upon an evening, early in February when an Indian, gaunt andwide-eyed from the strain of a forced snow-trail, staggered from theblack shadow of the bush into the glare of the blazing night-fires, andin a frenzied gibberish of jargon proclaimed that Bob MacNair hadreturned to the Northland. And not only that he had returned, but hadvisited Lac du Mort in company with a man of the Mounted.
At first Lapierre flatly refused to credit the Indian's yarn, but whenupon pain of death the man refused to alter his statement, and addedthe information that he himself had fired at MacNair from the shelterof a snow-ridden spruce, and that just as he pulled the trigger the manof the soldier-police had intervened and stopped the speeding bullet,Lapierre knew that the Indian spoke the truth.
In the twinkling of an eye the quarter-breed realized the extremedanger of his position. His wrath knew no bounds. Up and down heraged in his fury, cursing like a madman, while all about him--blaming,reviling, advising--cursed the men of his ill-favoured crew. For not aman among them but knew that somewhere someone had blundered. And forsome inexplicable reason their situation had suddenly shifted fromcomparative security to extreme hazard. They needed not to be toldthat with MacNair at large in the Northland their lives hung by aslender thread. For at that very moment Brute MacNair was, in allprobability, upon the Yellow Knife leading his armed Indians towardSnare Lake.
In addition to this was the certain knowledge that the vengeance of theMounted would fall in full measure upon the heads of all who were inany way associated with Pierre Lapierre. An officer had been shot, andthe men of Lapierre were outlawed from Ungava to the Western sea. Theintricate system had crumbled in the batting of an eye. Else whyshould a man of the Mounted have been found before the barricade of theBastile du Mort in company with Brute MacNair?
The quick-witted Lapierre was the first to recover from the shock ofthe stunning blow. Leaping onto the charred logs of MacNair'sstorehouse, he called loudly to his men, who in a panic were wildlythrowing their outfits onto sleds. Despite their mad haste theycrowded close and listened to the words of the man upon whose judgmentthey had learned to rely, and from whose dreaded "dismissal fromservice" they had cowered in fear. They swarmed about Lapierre ahundred strong, and his voice rang harsh.
"You dogs! You _canaille_!" he cried, and they shrank from the balefulglare of his black eyes. "What would you do? Where would you go? Doyou think that, single-handed, you can escape from MacNair's Indians,who will follow your trails like hounds and kill you as they would killa snared rabbit? I tell you your trails will be short. A dead manwill lie at the end of each. But even if you succeed in escaping theIndians, what, then, of the Mounted? One by one, upon the rivers andlakes of the Northland, upon wide snow-steeps of the barren grounds,even to the shores of the frozen sea, you will be hunted and gatheredin. Or you will be shot like dogs, and your bones left to crunch inthe jaws of the wolf-pack. We are outlaws, all! Not a man of us willdare show his face in any post or settlement or city in all Canada."
The men shrank before the words, for they knew them to be true. Againthe leader was speaking, and hope gleamed in fear-strained eyes.
"We have yet one chance; I, Pierre Lapierre, have not played my lastcard. We will stand or fall together! In the Bastile du Mort are manyrifles, and ammunition and provisions for half a year. Once behind thebarricade, we shall be safe from any attack. We can defy MacNair'sIndians and stand off the Mounted until such time as we are in aposition to dictate our own terms. If we stand man to man together, wehave everything to gain and nothing to lose. We are outlawed, everyone. There is no turning back!"
Lapierre's bold assurance averted the threatened panic, and with a yellthe men fell to work packing their outfits for the journey to Lac duMort. The quarter-breed despatched scouts to the southward toascertain the whereabouts of MacNair, and, if possible, to find outwhether or not the officer of the Mounted had been killed by the shotof the Indian.
At early dawn the outfit crossed Snare Lake and headed for Lac du Mortby way of Grizzly Bear, Lake Mackay, and Du Rocher. Upon the eveningof the fourth day, when they threaded the black-spruce swamp and pulledwearily into the fort on Lac du Mort, Lapierre found a scout awaitinghim with the news that MacNair had headed northward with his Indians,and that LeFroy was soon to start for Fort Resolution with the woundedman of the Mounted. Whereupon he selected the fastest and freshestdog-team available and, accompanied by a half-dozen of his most trustedlieutenants, took the trail for Chloe Elliston's school on-the YellowKnife, after issuing orders as to the conduct of defence in case of anattack by MacNair's Indians.
Affairs at the school were at a standstill. From a busy hive ofactivity, with the women and children showing marked improvement attheir tasks, and the men happy in the felling of logs and thewhip-sawing of lumber, the settlement had suddenly slumped into adisorganized hodge-podge of unrest and anxiety. MacNair's Indians hadfollowed him into the North; their women and children brooded sullenly,and a feeling of unrest and expectancy pervaded the entire colony.
Among the inmates of the cottage the condition was even worse. WithHarriet Penny hysterical and excited, Big Lena more glum and taciturnthan usual, the Louchoux girl cowering in mortal dread of impendingdisaster, and Chloe herself disgusted, discouraged, nursing in herheart a consuming rage against Brute MacNair, the man who had wroughtthe harm, and who had been her evil genius since she had first set footinto the North.
Upon the afternoon of the day she despatched LeFroy to Fort Resolutionwith the wounded officer of the Mounted, Chloe stood at her littlewindow gazing out over the wide sweep of the river and wondering how itall would end. Would MacNair find Lapierre, and would he kill him? Orwould the Mounted heed the urgent appeal she despatched in care ofLeFroy and arrive in time to recapture MacNair before he came upon hisvictim?
"If I only knew where to find him," she muttered, "I could warn him ofhis danger."
The next moment her eyes widened with amazement, and she pressed herface close against the glass; across the clearing from the direction ofthe river dashed a dog-team, with three men running before and threebehind, while upon the sled, jaunty and smiling, and debonair as ever,sat Pierre Lapierre himself. With a flourish he swung the dogs up tothe tiny veranda and stepped from the sled, and the next moment Chloefound herself standing in the little living-room with Lapierre bowinglow over her hand. Harriet Penny was in the schoolhouse;
the Louchouxgirl was helping Big Lena in the kitchen, and for the first time inmany moons Chloe Elliston felt glad that she was alone with Lapierre.
When at length she removed her hand from his grasp she stood for somemoments regarding the clean-cut lines of his features, and then shesmiled as she noted the trivial fact that he had removed his hat, andthat he stood humbly before her with bared head. A great surge offeeling rushed over her as she realized how clean and good--how perfectthis man seemed in comparison with the hulking brutality of MacNair.She motioned him to a seat beside the table, and drawing her chairclose to his side, poured into his attentive and sympathetic ears allthat she knew of MacNair's escape, of the shooting of Corporal Ripley,and his departure in the night with his Indians.
Lapierre listened, smiling inwardly at her version of the affair, andat the conclusion of her words leaned forward and took one of the slimbrown hands in his. For a long, long time the girl listened in silenceto the pleading of his lips; and the little room was filled with thepassion of his low-voiced eloquence.
Neither was aware of the noiseless opening of a door, nor of thewide-eyed, girlish face that stared at them through the aperture, norwas either aware that the man's words were borne distinctly to the earsof the Louchoux girl. Nor could they note the change from anexpression of startled surprise to slitlike, venomous points of firethat took place in the eyes of the listening girl--nor the clenchingfists. Nor did they hear the soft, catlike tread with which the girlquit the door and crossed to the kitchen table. Nor could they see thecruel snarl of her lips as her fingers closed tightly about the haft ofthe huge butcher-knife, whose point was sharp and whose blade was keen.Nor did they hear the noiseless tread with which the girl againapproached the door, swung wider now to admit the passage of her tense,lithe body. Nor did they see her crouch for a spring with thetight-clutched knife upraised and the gleaming slitlike eyes focusedupon a point mid-way between Lapierre's shoulder-blades as his armunconsciously came to rest upon the back of Chloe Elliston's chair.
For a long moment the girl poised, gloating--enjoying in its fulnessthe measure of her revenge. Before her, leaning in just the rightattitude to receive upon his defenceless back the full force of theblow, sat the man who had deceived her. For not until she had listenedto the low-voiced, impassioned words had she realized there had beenany deception. With the realization came the hot, fierce flame ofanger that seared her very soul. An anger engendered by her own wrong,and fanned to its fiercest by the knowledge that the man was at thatmoment seeking to deceive the white woman--the woman who had taught hermuch, and who with the keenest interest and gentleness had treated heras an equal.
She had come to love this white woman with the love that was greaterthan the love of life. And the words to which this woman was nowlistening were the same words, from the same lips, to which she herselfhad listened beside the cold waters of the far-off Mackenzie. Thus theLouchoux girl faced suddenly her first great problem. And to thehalf-savage mind of her the solution of the problem seemed very simple,very direct, and, had Big Lena not entered by way of the outer door atthe precise moment that the girl crouched with uplifted knife, it woulddoubtless have been very effective.
But Big Lena did enter, and, with a swiftness of perception that beliedthe vacuous stare of the fishlike eyes, took in the situation at aglance; for LeFroy had already hinted to her of the relation whichexisted between his erstwhile superior and this girl from the land ofthe midnight sun. Whereupon Big Lena had kept her own counsel and hadpatiently bided her time, and now her time had come, and she was in nowise minded that the fulness of her vengeance should be marred by theuntimely taking off of Lapierre. Swiftly she crossed the room, and asher strong fingers closed about the wrist of the Indian girl's upraisedknife-arm, the other hand reached beyond and noiselessly closed thedoor between the two rooms.
The Louchoux girl whirled like a flash and sank her strong, white teethdeep in the rolled-sleeved forearm of the huge Swedish woman. But athumb, inserted dextrously and with pressure in the little hollowbehind the girl's ear, caused her jaws instantly to relax, and shestood trembling before the big woman, who regarded her with a tolerantgrin, and the next moment laid a friendly hand upon her shoulder and,turning her gently about, guided her to a chair at the farther side ofthe room.
Followed then a quarter of an hour of earnest conversation, in whichthe older woman managed to convey, through the medium of her brokenEnglish, a realization that Lapierre's discomfiture could beencompassed much more effectively and in a thoroughly orthodox and lesssanguinary manner.
The ethics of Big Lena's argument were undoubtedly beyond the Louchouxgirl's comprehension; but because this woman had been good to her, andbecause she seemed greatly to desire this thing, the girl consented toabstain from violence, at least for the time being. A few minuteslater, when Chloe Elliston opened the door and announced that Mr.Lapierre would join them at supper, she found the two women busilyengaged in the final preparation of the meal.
Big Lena passed into the dining-room, which was also the living-room,and without deigning to notice Lapierre's presence, proceeded to laythe table for supper. Returning to the kitchen, she despatched theIndian girl to the storehouse upon an errand which would insure herabsence until after Chloe and Lapierre and Harriet Penny had takentheir places at the table.
Since her arrival at the school the Louchoux girl had been treated as"one of the family," and it was with a look of inquiry toward thegirl's empty chair that Chloe seated herself with the others.Interpreting the look, Big Lena assured her that the girl would returnin a few moments; and Chloe had just launched into an impassionedaccount of the virtues and the accomplishments of her ward, when thedoor opened and the girl herself entered the room and crossed swiftlyto her accustomed place. As she stood with her hand on the back of herchair, Lapierre for the first time glanced into her face.
The quarter-breed was a man trained as few men are trained to meetemergencies, to face crises with an impassiveness of countenance thatwould shame the Sphinx. He had lost thousands across the green clothof gambling-tables without batting an eye. He had faced death and hadkilled men with a face absolutely devoid of expression, and uponnumerous occasions his nerve--the consummate _sang-froid_ of him--hadalone thrown off the suspicion that would have meant arrest uponcharges which would have taken more than a lifetime to expiate. And ashe sat at the little table beside Chloe Elliston, his eyes metunflinchingly the flashing, accusing gaze of the black eyes of the girlfrom the Northland--the girl who was his wife.
For a long moment their glances held, while the atmosphere of thelittle room became surcharged with the terrible portent of this silentbattle of eyes. Harriet Penny gasped audibly; and as Chloe stared fromone to the other of the white, tense faces before her, her brain seemedsuddenly to numb, and the breath came short and quick between herparted lips to the rapid heaving of her bosom. The Louchoux girl'seyes seemed fairly to blaze with hate. The fingers of her hand duginto the wooden back of her chair until the knuckles whitened. Sheleaned far forward and, pointing directly into the face of the man,opened her lips to speak. It was then Lapierre's gaze wavered, for inthat moment he realized that for him the game was lost.
With a half-smothered curse he leaped to his feet, overturning hischair, which banged sharply upon the plank floor. He glanced wildlyabout the little room as if seeking means of escape, and his eyesencountered the form of Big Lena, who stood stolidly in the doorway,blocking the exit. In a flash he noted the huge, bared forearm; noted,too, that one thick hand gripped tightly the helve of a chopping ax,with which she toyed lightly as if it were a little thing, while thethumb of her other hand played smoothly, but with a certain terriblesignificance, along the keen edge of its blade. Lapierre's glanceflashed to her face and encountered the fishlike stare of thechina-blue eyes, as he had encountered it once before. The eyes, asbefore, were expressionless upon their surface, but deep down--far intotheir depths--Lapierre caught a cold gleam of mockery. And then t
heLouchoux girl was speaking, and he turned upon her with a snarl.
The Gun-Brand Page 20
