The Heart of Unaga

by Ridgwell Cullum

  CHAPTER XI

  STEVE LISTENS

  "We've got 'em beat."

  The man of healing recovered the sick man's feet with the blanket, androlled the old dressings he had just removed into a bundle ready for thecamp-fire outside.

  "You mean----"

  Steve was lying in his blankets propped into a half-sitting position. Acandle, stuck in the neck of a bottle, lit the tent sufficiently for IanRoss to complete his work.

  "Why, the evil spirits of Unaga, I guess," he replied, with a forcedlightness. Then he shook his head. "They did their best--sure. Anotherweek or so and you'd have moved about on stumps the rest of your life.And I'm reckoning that would have been the best you could have hoped.It's been a darned near thing."

  Steve nodded. His manner was curiously indifferent.

  "How's the boy?" he demanded abruptly.

  Ross put his instruments away and set the water bowl aside. Then he setthe stoppered bottles back into his case.

  "He'll be 'whooping' it up with the boys in a couple of days," he said.

  "An-ina?"

  "Beating the 'reaper' out of sight."

  Steve drew a deep breath.

  "Oolak was all to pieces," he said doubtfully.

  "He was about as broken as he could be and still hang together. He'sbeen a tough case." It was the doctor's turn to take a deep breath."He'll be a man again. But I wouldn't gamble on his shape. Say, Steve,it's the biggest bluff I've seen put up against death. Those darnniggers who toted your boats, they're tickled to death with the food theboys hand out to them. And as for Julyman he's as near cast ironas--as--you."

  "Yes, it was pretty tough."

  "Tough? Gee!"

  The doctor's final exclamation was one of genuine amazement.

  "It's near three weeks since we hauled the remains of you from thatskitter-ridden river," he went on, "and a deal's happened in that time.Jack Belton's gone in for stores, and to report. We've shifted campwhere the flies, and bugs, and things'll let you folks forget the darnriver, and the nightmare I guess you dreamt on it. You're all beatingthe game, some of you by yards, and others by inches. But you're beatingit. And I'm still guessing at those things you all know like you wereborn to 'em. When are you going to hand me the yarn, Steve? When are yougoing to feel like thinking about the things that two weeks ago lookedlike leaving you plumb crazed?"

  Steve knitted his brows. To the man watching him it seemed as if thesudden recalling of the past was still a thing to be avoided. But hisdiagnosis was in error. Steve became impatient.

  "Oh hell!" he exclaimed. "Do you need me to hand it you? Do you need meto tell you the fool stunt I played to beat schedule, and get back toNita and the kiddie? Do you need to know about a darn territory thatevery Indian north of 60 deg. is scared to death of? A territory only fitfor devils and such folk, like the neches reckon it's peopled with? Doyou want to hear about an outfit that found everything Nature ever setfor the world's biggest fools? Do you want to know about storms thatleave the worst Northern trails a summer picnic, and muskegs and tundrathat leave you searching for something bigger than miles to measurewith, and barren, fly-ridden territory without a leaf or blade of grassand scored every way at once with rifts and water canyons so you can'ttell the north from the Desert of Sahara? If you do, read the old reportI've been writing. I'll hand you a story that won't shout credit for thefeller who designed it. But it'll tell you of the guts of the folk whostood behind him every darn step of the way, and made him crazy to getthem through alive. If you'd asked me that two weeks ago I'd have criedlike a babe. Now it's different. You've got a sick woman under yourhands now, Doc, and two copper coloured neches. And when I say they'rethe world's best, why--I just mean it."

  A deep flush of emotion underlaid the toughened skin of Steve's face. Hewas deeply stirred by the thoughts and feelings which the other's demandhad conjured.

  The doctor glanced down at the sheets of paper on which Steve hadwritten his report. But he made no attempt to accept the invitation toread it. The moment had come to tell this man of that disaster which yetawaited him. So he had sought to test him in the only fashion that layto his hand. The break which had so sorely threatened in the reactionfollowing upon Steve's rescue had been completely averted, and theScotsman felt that now, at last, he was strong enough to bear the truthwhich he had denied him on his first enquiry after his wife and child.

  The flush died out of Steve's cheeks. The steady eyes were never moresteady as they looked into the strong face before them. He ran hisfingers through his long dark hair, and resettled his shoulders againstthe pile of blankets supporting them.

  "It kind of startles you to find guts in folks when you're up againstit. You can't help it. Maybe it's conceit makes you feel that way," hewent on quietly. "Those two boys of mine, and An-ina. You couldn't beat'em. Nothing could. When Oolak dropped over the side of a canyon, withmost of the outfit the reindeer went with him. You see, we'd ridourselves of the dogs. We couldn't feed 'em. Well, I guessed the end hadcome. But it hadn't. Julyman and An-ina took up the work of hauling,while I carried Marcel. Only they hauled Oolak instead of the outfit.They hauled him for nigh on a month, and we lived on dog meat till itgot putrid, and even then didn't feel like giving it up. I didn't haveto worry a thing except for their sanity. You see, they were Indian forall their grit, and--I just didn't know. It was tough, Doc! Oh, gee! itwas tough! And when you've read the stuff I've doped out forheadquarters you won't need me to talk if you've two cents ofimagination about you. If you'd asked me awhile back, when I asked youabout Nita, and my little girl, and you told me they were good andhappy, and crazy to have me back, as I said, I'd have cried like a kid.Yes, and I guess you'd have needed a gun to hold me here while youhacked those slabs off my feet. But it's right now. My head was neverclearer, and there's just one thought in it. It's to get back toDeadwater."

  The doctor listened with a surge of feeling driving through his heart.His own words, the words he had told to the man whom he knew at the timeto be floundering on the edge of a complete mental breakdown, wereringing through his brain. He had lied. He had had to lie. And now----

  He took refuge in his pipe. He knew he would need it. He filled it fromthe pouch which had become common between them and urged Steve to do thesame. In a few moments both men were smoking in an atmosphere of perfectcalm.

  "You were pretty bad that time," Ross said steadily. "Yes, I don't guessyou know how bad you were."

  "I think I do--now."

  The doctor seemed to be absorbed in pressing down the tobacco in hispipe. He struck another match.

  "The strain had been so big the break must have come if you'd had to goon," he said, blowing smoke till it partly obscured his patient'sunflinching eyes. "You were weak--physically. There was nothing tosupport your nerve and brain. It was in your eyes. You scarcelyrecognized us. You hardly knew what our presence meant to you. And,later, the reaction made things even worse for you. A shock, and thebalance would have gone hopelessly. So--I lied to you!"

  "You--lied to me?"

  The pipe had been suddenly jerked from Steve's lips. He was sitting up.A sudden fierce light had leapt to his eyes.

  The Scotsman, too, had removed his pipe. His eyes were squarelyconfronting the other. All his mental force and bodily energy weresummoned to his aid.

  "Yes. I had to lie," he said firmly. "It was that or carry you back toDeadwater a crazy man. I was the doctor then. Guess I'm a man now. Maybeyou won't reckon there's a difference. But there surely is. You see, I'mnot going to lie. I don't need to. Nita isn't at my shanty. She isn't atDeadwater. Neither is Garstaing. And they've taken your little girl withthem."

  "They?"

  The man on the blankets had moved again. His knees were drawn up asthough he were about to spring from the sick bed he was still condemnedto.

  Ross nodded.

  "Yes." Then he pointed at the attitude of the other. "Say, straightenout, Steve. Push those feet down under the blankets. You're a big man upagainst disaste
r most times. Well, don't forget it. You're up againstdisaster now. Sit back, boy, and get a grip on yourself. It's the onlyway. I've got to tell you the whole rotten story, and when I've doneI'll ask you to forget the way I had to lie to you. If you can't,why--it's up to you. My duty was to heal you first, and I don't guessthere's any rules in the game."

  Ross was talking for time. He had to be sure. He was ready at a sign tolaunch into his story, but he was looking for that sign.

  And Steve gave it. It was the only sign the other would accept. Ross wasa powerful man, and Steve was still sick and weak. These things are aswell when a man knows that his purpose means the breaking of a strongheart. Steve slid his injured feet down under the blankets. His legsstraightened out, and he leant his back against the pillow. But his pipewas laid aside, and a quickening of his breathing warned the other ofthe immense effort for restraint he was putting forth.

  "Tell me," he said. Then he added with a sudden note of sharpness,"Quick!"

  The Scotsman nodded.

  "It's best that way. Garstaing and Nita bolted. They took your littlegirl with them. It's six months ago. When the Indian Treaty Money cameup. Hervey Garstaing waited for that. The Indians never saw it. Hepouched it, and beat the trail, as I said, with Nita and the kiddie.Say, I needn't tell you more than that. I don't know any more except thepolice have been chasing his trail since."

  He fumbled in a pocket, and drew out a sealed envelope addressed in awoman's handwriting, and another that was opened. The sealed envelope hepassed across to Steve. The other he retained.

  "She left these two letters in her room," he went on. "That's for you,and this one was for Millie. Maybe you'll read yours later. This oneyou'd best read now. It's just a line as you'll see."

  He held the letter out and Steve accepted it. And Ross watched him allthe time as he drew the note from its cover and perused it. The momentof shock had passed, and the fierce light in Steve's eyes had died out,leaving in its place a stony frigidity which gave the other a feeling ofunutterable regret. He would have been thankful for some passionateoutburst, some violent display. He felt it would have been more natural,and he would have known better how to deal with it. But there was none.Steve returned the letter to its envelope and remained silentlyregarding the superscription.

  "It's a bad letter," Ross went on. "If I thought Nita had written itherself I'd say you're well rid of something that would have cursed therest of your life. But the stuff that's written there is the stuff thatcomes out of Garstaing's rotten head. I'd bet my soul on it. She saysher marriage with you was a mistake. She didn't know. She had noexperience when she married you. She needs the things the world can showher. The North is driving her crazy. All that muck. It's the sort ofstuff that hasn't a gasp of truth in it. If there was you need to thankGod you're quit of her. No. That hound of hell told her what to say.Poor little fool. He's got her where he wants her, and she's as muchchance as an angel in hell. She went in the night, and they took astorming night for it. There was two feet of snow on the ground, andmore falling. How she went we can't guess. There wasn't a track or asign in the morning, and it went on storming for days, so even thepolice couldn't follow them up. The whole thing was well planned, andGarstaing took no sort of chances. He got away with nearly fiftythousand dollars of Indian money, and, so far, hasn't left a trace. Wedon't know to this day if he made north, south, east, or west. All weknow are these two letters, that they got away in a 'jumper' and team,and that Nita and the kiddie were with him."

  "Say, Steve," Ross went on after a moment's pause, his voice deepeningwith an emotion he could no longer deny. "I handed you a big talk ofseeing your Nita and the little kid safe till you got back. We did allwe knew. Millie and the gals did all they knew. Nita wanted for nothing.The things that were good enough for my two we didn't reckon good enoughfor her, and we saw she had one better all the time. Happy? Gee, sheseemed happy all the time, right up to the night she went. And as forCoqueline she was the greatest ever. But he'd got her, that skunk hadher, and the thing must have been going on all the time. Still, we neversaw a sign. Not a sign. Millie never liked Garstaing, and he wasn't everencouraged to get around our shanty. And we had him there less afterNita came. There's times I'm guessing it didn't begin after you went.There's times I think there was a beginning earlier. Millie feels thatway, too. I know it don't make things better talking this way. But it'swhat I feel, and think, and it's best to say it right out. I can't tellyou how I feel about it. And anyway it wouldn't make things easier foryou. I promised you, and all I said is not just hot air. I'm sick todeath--just sick to death."

  Ross's voice died away, and the silence it left was heavy with disaster.Steve had no reply. No questions. He seemed utterly and completelybeyond words. His strong eyes were expressionless. He lay there still,quite still, with his unopened letter lying on the blankets before him.

  Ross was no longer observing. His distress was pitiful. It was there inhis kindly eyes, in the purposeless fashion in which he fingered hispipe. He was torn between two desires. One was to continue talking atall costs. The other was precipitate, ignominious flight from the sightof the other's voiceless despair. He knew Steve, and well enough herealized what the strong wall the man had set up in defence concealed.But he was held there silent by a force he had no power to deny, so hesat and lit, and re-lit a pipe in which the tobacco was entirelyconsumed.

  How long it was before the silence was finally broken he never knew. Itseemed ages. Ages of intolerable suspense and waiting before Stevedisplayed any sign beyond the deep rise and fall of his broad chest.Then, quite suddenly, he reached out for the collected sheets of hisofficial report. These he laid on the blankets beside the unopenedletter his erring wife had addressed to him. Then he looked into theface of the man whose blow had crushed the very soul of him. Their eyesmet, and, to the doctor, it seemed that mind had triumphed over thehavoc wrought. Steve's voice came harshly.

  "When'll I be fit to move?" he demanded.

  "A week--if Belton gets back."

  Ross was startled and wondering.

  "Belton don't cut any ice."

  "But we need the wagon."

  The protest, however, was promptly swept aside.

  "I tell you it don't cut any ice. I move in a week That's fixed!"

  For some moments Steve became deeply absorbed again. Then the watchingman saw the decision in his eyes waver, and his lean hand move up to hishead, and its fingers pass wearily through his long hair.

  Then, quite suddenly, a harsh exclamation broke from him.

  "Tchah!" he cried. "What's the use?"

  With a great effort he seemed to pull himself together. He raised hiseyes, and the pitiful half smile in them wrung the Scotsman's heart.

  "Say, Doc, I'm--kind of glad it was you handed me--this. It's hurt you,too. Hurt you pretty bad. Yes," he went on wearily, hopelessly, "prettybad. But I got to thank you. Oh, yes. I want to thank you. I mean that.For all you've done to help me. But I can't talk about it. I just can't.That's all. I don't guess you need to read the stuff I've written now.You see I'll need to make another report."

  "Why?"

  Ross's interrogation broke from him almost before he was aware of it.

  "Why?" Steve's eyes widened. Then they dropped before the questioner'ssearching gaze. "Yes," he went on dully. "I'll need to make a fresh one.There's things--Say," he cried, with sudden, almost volcanic passion."For God's sake, why did you get around? Why didn't you leave me to thedog's death that was yearning for me?" He laughed harshly, mirthlessly."Death? There was better than that. I'd have been crazy in days. Plumb,stark crazy. And I wouldn't have known or cared a thing."