CHAPTER XVIII
THE VIGIL
Marcel flung the fuel upon the fire, and gravely watched the flames lickabout the fresh-hewn timber, and the pillar of smoke rolling heavilyupwards on the breath of an almost imperceptible breeze.
It was cold--beyond the reach of the great fire--bitterly cold. For allApril was near its close the signs of thaw had again given way to anArctic temperature. It was only another example of the freakishness ofthe Northland seasons. His journey had been accomplished at a speed thatwas an expression of his desire. He had taken risks, he had daredchances amidst the rotting, melting snows, only to find at the river,where the old moose head stood guard, that Nature's opening channels hadsealed again under a breath that carried with it a return to the depthof winter.
He had not been unprepared. He knew the Northland moods all too well.Besides, his practised eyes had sought in vain the real signs of thepassing of winter. The migratory creatures of the feathered world hadgiven no sign. The geese and ducks were still waiting in the shelter ofwarmer climates. Those wonderful flights, moving like clouds across thesky, had put in no appearance, while the furry world still hugged theshelter and sparse feeding grounds of the aged woods.
His disappointment was none the less at the sight of the solid,ice-bound river, lying in the depths of the earth's foundations. It wasimpossible as yet for the girl with the smiling blue eyes, who had givenhim that message of her love at the moment of her going, to approach thetryst, and he was left with the negative consolation that when shearrived she would find him awaiting her.
His purpose, however, was simple. He was at the appointed spot, and heintended to remain there until Keeko came to him. It was a matter of nosignificance at all if he had to wait till the summer came and passed,or if he must set out to search the ends of the earth for her. Hispersistent, dogged mood was an expression of the passionate youth inhim. He loved as only early youth knows how to love, and nothing elsemattered. He was there alone with Nature in her wildest mood, a fitsetting for the primal passions sweeping through his soul.
So, in the time of waiting, he had lit a great fire. It was a beaconfire. And in his simple fancy it was sending out a message which thevoiceless old moose was powerless to convey. It was a message carryingwith it the story of the love burning deep in his heart. And he hopedthat distant, searching eyes might see and interpret his signs. Thethought of it all pleased him mightily.
For ten days he had carried on his giant's work of feeding theinsatiable thing he had created. He laboured throughout the daylighthours. At night he sat about, where his dogs were secured, gazing deepinto its ruddy heart, dreaming his dreams till bodily weariness overcamehim, and he sank into slumbers that yielded him still more preciousvisions.
It was all so simple. It was all so real and human. The cares of lifeleft Marcel untouched. The bitter conditions of the outlands passed himby without one thought to mar his enjoyment of being. Life was a perfectthing that held no shadows, and for him it was lit by the sunshine ofeyes the thought of which sent the hot blood surging through his veinstill the madness of his longing found him yearning to embrace the wholewide world in his powerful arms.
It was with all these undimmed feelings stirring that he took up hiscustomary position before his great signal fire at the close of alaborious day. He had eaten. He had fed his vicious trail dogs and leftthem for the night. His blankets and his sleeping-bag lay spread outready to receive him. And the old, sightless moose gazed out in itssilent, never-ceasing vigil.
Night shut down with a stillness that must have been maddening to a lesspreoccupied mind. The perfect night sky shone coldly with the burnish ofits million stars. The blazing northern lights plodded their ghostlymeasure with the sedateness of the ages through which they had endured,while the youth sat on unstirring, smoking his pipe of perfect peace.They were moments such as Marcel would never know again. For all thewaiting his happiness was well-nigh perfect.
His pipe went out. It was re-lit in the contemplative fashion of habit.A whimper from the slumbering dogs left him indifferent. Only when theflames of his fire grew less did he bestir himself. A greatreplenishment and his final task was completed.
Again he returned to his seat. But it was not for long. Tired nature wasmaking herself felt. She was claiming him in the drooping eyelids, inthe nodding head. And her final demand came in the fall of his pipe fromthe grip of his powerful jaws. He passed across to his blankets.
* * * * *
A thunderous crash from the depths below and Marcel was wide awakeagain. He was sitting up in the shelter of his fur bag with eyes alightwith question. He was alert, with the ready wakefulness which is thehabit of the trail. That crash! It was----
But he quickly returned to his rest. It was the splitting of the solidbed of ice into which the river that came up out of the south had beentransformed.
But somehow he did not readily sleep again. He was weary enough. Hismind was at rest. But sleep--sleep was reluctant, and the old thread ofhis waking dreams came again as he gazed across at the beacon fire.
Hours passed. He had no idea of time. He had no care. He lay therewatching the dancing firelight, building for the hundredth time thosepriceless castles of the night which the daylight loves to shatter.Never were they more resplendent. Never was their lure moreirresistible.
But a drowsy fancy began to distort them. He had no knowledge of it. Henever realized the change. He passed to the realms of sleep like a tiredchild, striving to follow the course of the flying sparks from the firetill his final memory was of a hundred pairs of blazing eyes peering athim out of the darkness.
He awoke with the grey of dawn. And as his eyes opened he heard a voice,a gentle, low voice in which rang a world of gladness and tenderfeeling.
"Why I just knew no one but Marcel could have lit that fire."
"Keeko!"
Every joyous emotion was thrilling in the man's exclamation. He leaptfrom his blankets, and stood staring, in utter and complete amazement,at the vision of the girl's smiling beauty.
* * * * *
Neither knew how it came about. It simply happened. Neither questioned,or had thought to question. The long months of parting had completedthat which the summer had brought about. It was the spontaneousconfession of all that which had lain deep in the heart of each.
It was the girl who sought release from those caressing moments. Herarms reaching up, clasped about the boy's muscular shoulders, parted,and her warm woman's body stirred under the crushing embrace holdingher. Her lips were withdrawn from his, and, gazing up into thepassionate eyes above her, she spoke the desperate fears of her woman'sheart which had been submerged in the passion of the moment.
"But there's no time to lose!" she cried urgently. "Oh, Marcel, I camebecause I just didn't dare to wait. It's you--you and those you love.They mean to murder you. You--and those others. And so I came to bringyou warning."
The ardent light in the man's eyes changed. But the change seemed slow,as though with difficulty only he was able to return to the things whichlay outside their love. But with the change came a look of incredulousamazement that was almost derision.
"Murder?"
He echoed the word blankly. Then he laughed. It was the laugh ofreckless confidence engendered of the wild happiness of holding the girlof his dreams in his arms, and feeling the soft, warm pressure of herlips upon his.
For all Keeko's urgency Marcel refused to be robbed of his joy at theirreunion. His embrace relaxed in response to her movement, but he tookpossession of her hands. Deliberately he moved towards the fallentree-trunk where the lichen-covered cache of their token lay. He sathimself down, and drew her down beside him.
"Tell me," he said smilingly. "Tell it me all. You came to hand mewarning. They guess they're going to murder me, and Uncle Steve, andAn-ina. Tell me how you came, and all that happened. And the things thathappened to you, I reckon, interest me a heap more than this talk ofmurder."
The easy assurance of Marcel's manner sobered the girl's alarm. Sheyielded herself at his bidding, and sat beside him with her clasped handresting in one of his.
Just for a moment she turned wistful eyes upon the ice of the riverbelow them, and her gaze wandered on southwards.
"Oh, it's a bad story," she cried. "I guess it's as bad as I everfeared--worse. Maybe I best tell it you all. But, oh, Marcel, just don'tfigger it's nothing. I know you. There's nothing I can say to scare you.We've just got to get right away to your home, and hand the warning, andpass them our help."
The girl's appeal had a different effect from that she hoped. The man'seyes lit afresh. He drew a sharp breath. His arm tightened about herbody, and the hand clasping hers crushed them with unconscious force.
"You'll come right back with me to our home?" he cried in a thrillingtone. "You?" Then in a moment the great joy of it all broke forth. "Say,I could just thank God for these--murderers."
But the woman in Keeko left her unsharing in his mood. She turned. Andher eyes were startled.
"You could--! Say," she cried with a sudden vehemence in sharp contrastto her appealing manner. "Do you think I made trail from Fort Duggan fora fancy, after months of winter to Seal Bay and back, on the day I'djust made home? Do you think I wouldn't have waited for the river? Doyou think I'd have done this if it wasn't all--real? Oh, man, man," shecried in protest, "I'm no fool girl to see things that just aren't. Iguess David Nicol has located your post, and he's right on his way therenow--for murder. There's----"
"On his way there now?" Marcel broke in sharply, fiercely. "How? Howd'you mean? He's located--Who's--this David Nicol? God! An-ina alone!Tell me! Tell me quick. An-ina, my second mother, she's alone at thepost. A woman! God in heaven! Tell me quick."
The change was supreme. No tone the girl had used could compare with theforce of Marcel's demand. There was no laugh on his lips now, no smilein his eyes. A deadly fear, such as Keeko had never beheld in thembefore, had taken possession of them. He was stirred to the depths ofhis very soul.
Keeko's reply came at once.
"Yes. Nicol's the man I believed my step-father. He's a murderer. He'sthe man who sent my mother to her grave before I made home last summer.He's the man who Lorson Harris is going to hand a hundred thousanddollars for the murder of your outfit, and to steal your trade. He's theman who asked me to share with him the price of his crime, and wouldhave held me prisoner to obey his will if I hadn't just had the meansright there to help myself. Oh, my dear, my dear. I'm scared. I'm scaredto death now for the folks you love. That's why I struck out on a chancefor this old moose head, with my boys and dogs. I hoped, I prayed--oh,God, how I prayed!--that I could get around and find you, and hand youwarning."
Marcel was no longer seated. He was standing, his great height toweringover the girl who was gazing up at him with tears of emotion shining inher pretty eyes. He did not realize them. He was no longer thinking ofher. He was no longer thinking of his love, and the happiness that wasso newly born. His thought was far back over the trail of ice and snowover which he had so recently passed. He was contemplating a dusky facewith eyes of velvet softness, carrying out her patient labours for themen she loved. He was contemplating the stealing approach of thewould-be murderer. He saw in fancy the dawn of horror in the motherwoman's eyes as she awoke to realization----
Suddenly he flung out his clenched fists in a gesture of superlativedetermination and threat.
"Say!" he cried, his eyes hot with a fire such as Keeko had neverthought to see in them. "It's two hundred miles of hell's own territorywith the thaw coming. I'm going right back--now. I'm going just as quickas I can load my outfit. She's alone--do you get it? An-ina! She raisedme--she's my Indian mother woman. God help the swine that harms herbody!"
He turned and moved abruptly away. Keeko had come to him with her love.She had faced everything the north country could show her to bring himthe warning. He had forgotten her. He had forgotten everything, but thegentle creature whose dark-eyed terror haunted him.
Keeko understood. She had no feeling other than a great, unvoiced joy inthe splendid manhood of it all. She stood up. She moved after the man ashe made towards his camp. She overtook him.
"They're all down there, Marcel dear. They're down there on the river,"she said, as she came to his side and her two hands clasped themselvesabout his swinging arm. "There's Little One Man, Snake Foot, andMed'cine Charlie. They're good boys, and the dogs are fresh, and ready.I saw to that. We can start right away, and I guess you can't just setthe gait too hot."
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