The Heart of Unaga

by Ridgwell Cullum

  CHAPTER XXI

  THE GREAT REWARD

  Years ago Steve had drunk to the dregs a despair that left life shorn ofeverything but a desolate existence. The effect of that time hadremained in him. It would remain so long as he lived. But it was areverse of the picture which despairing human nature usually presents.It had deepened the reserve of a nature at all times undemonstrative. Ithad hardened a will that was already of an iron quality. It had deepenedand broadened a fine understanding of human nature, and finally it hadsucceeded in mellowing a tolerance that had always been his. For himthose bitter moments had proved to be the cleansing fires which hadproduced nothing but pure gold.

  Now the memory of those dread moments was stirring afresh. But despairhad no place in the emotions it provoked. It was all the other extreme.A world of glad hope had taken possession of him. A gladnessunspeakable, almost overpowering. A great impulse drove him now. It wasa sort of wild desire to yield to the amazing madness of it all, and cryfrom the house-tops of his little world all that was clamouring forunrestrained expression.

  But the man had no more power to yield to this wild surge of feelingthan he had had power to yield to the despair of former years. So, for awhile, his voice remained silent, and only his lighting eyes gave indexof the thought and feeling behind them.

  With the departure of Marcel and Keeko for the mother welcome of An-ina,Steve also returned to the store. He came to release the willingcreature, yearning for that moment when she could revel in the joy ofthe contemplation of her boy's happiness.

  Steve took his place in the traffic that was going on, and noddedsoberly to the eager, dusky woman.

  "Get right along, An-ina," he said kindly. "Guess they're needing you."

  "Oh, yes? Marcel--Keeko." An-ina's eyes lit.

  "Sure--and Keeko."

  And the man's smile as he turned to the waiting customers was somethingAn-ina, at least, was never likely to forget.

  Steve contemplated many things for that night. He contemplated unlockingthe doors of those hidden secrets of his life to which no one had beenadmitted. But disappointment awaited him.

  When the last of the Sleepers took their departure and the store wasclosed for the night he passed into the kitchen for his supper. Helooked to find Keeko. He looked to find Marcel. He looked to revel inthose moments of happiness which still seemed utterly unreal, evenimpossible. There were so many things he still had to learn before----

  But An-ina had all the wisdom of a great mother. And, in response to hisquestion, he received the final verdict from which there was no appeal.

  "Keeko all beat to death," she said, with quiet assurance. "She sleepplenty. Oh, yes. Marcel he much angry with An-ina."

  She glanced swiftly across at the great figure of Marcel, lounging overthe cook-stove, smoking with the happy content of a luxurious dreamer.The smile that responded to An-ina's sly glance was one of boyishshyness and held no threat of displeasure.

  "Guess An-ina packed her to bed, Uncle Steve," he explained. "Keekohadn't a notion that way, but it didn't signify with An-ina. Shereckoned Keeko ought to be plumb beat and needing her bed. So she justhanded her supper, and gave her her own bed to sleep in."

  Steve glanced from one to the other. Then, in his ready way he nodded.

  "Guess An-ina got these things better than you and me, boy," he said."Anyway where other folks are concerned. There's only herself she don'tknow about. Guess we can feed ourselves for once, while she finds theblankets she's mostly ready to pass on to other folks."

  A flicker of disappointment passed over the dusky face of the woman. Butthere was no demur. She understood. Steve wanted Marcel to himself forthis, his first evening. So she bowed to the man's will.

  With her going the two men sat in at the supper table. And of the two itwas only Marcel who did real justice to the plain fare An-ina's handshad set out for them. The lover in Marcel left him still a giant thatneeded bodily support. But with Steve there was a burden of thought andemotion that left food the last thing to be desired.

  For some moments there was a silence between them while the steaming teawas poured from the iron pot on the corner of the stove. Each man helpedhimself from the great dish of dry hash set for them. Steve helpedhimself from sheer habit. Marcel ate hungrily.

  It was Marcel who broke the silence. He was in no mood for silence.There were many things seeking outlet in his mind. But paramount was theall-dominating subject of Keeko.

  "Say, Uncle," he cried suddenly, "isn't she just great? Isn't she----?"

  Steve nodded.

  "She's greater," he said, with twinkling eyes.

  Marcel's eyes widened as he stared across at the man whose sympathy hemost desired.

  "You're laffing at me," he said quickly.

  Steve shook his head.

  "No," he said. "I just mean that."

  "You do?"

  "Yes. There isn't a thing you could say, boy, to make that girl greaterin my eyes." Steve laid down the fork on his enamelled plate, and dranksome tea. "Say, the story of it all's so queer I can't get the full gripof it. Maybe I will in time. When I've thought. Yes, it's queer. And thequeerest of it is you bringing her along to us the way you have."

  For a moment his reflective eyes gazed away into the distance. Thenalert and full of simple sincerity, they came back to the face of theyouth beyond the lamp which stood between them.

  "But I want to say right here that I'd sooner see you married to thisgirl, Keeko, than any other woman in the whole darn world. The day thatsees her your wife'll give me a happiness you can't just dream about.Does that make you feel right? I hope so, boy, I hope it bad."

  There was no need for the older man's question. The answer was lookingback at him out of Marcel's eyes, which were shining with a boyishdelight.

  "Thanks, Uncle," he returned for lack of better expression. Then, in amoment, it seemed as if he could contain himself no longer. And wordsliterally tumbled from his lips. They were hot, frank impulsive words,all unconsidered, all straight from an honest heart. "Say, you've justbeen everything to me. You and An-ina. And I've never had a chance tomake return or do a thing. Oh, I know. But for you An-ina and I wouldhave been left to chase the country with no better lot than the darnSleepers. I've thought and thought. And I know. You've helped me grow aman. You've taught me life. You've taught me just everything one man canteach another. Oh, I guess I'm grateful. I feel so I can't ever repayyou. I've wanted to. I want that way now. And, say, you can't ever stopme again. You're glad I'm going to marry Keeko. Why, it just means allthe world to me. Now I'm a man. I'm no fool kid any longer. The summertrail's over for me, and I'm going to take my place in the great fightyou've been making all these years. You can't deny me--now. I--I won'tstand for it----"

  Steve's smiling shake of the head brought the boy to a blank-eyed stop.

  "The fight's won," he said. "There's no more fight for us."

  "You mean----?"

  Steve jerked his dark head in the direction of the store-house.

  "It's full," he said. "Full, plumb up, of green weed. There's thousandsof the deadly lily blooms in there, packed and ready for Seal Bay.Lorson Harris has lost the dirty game he's playing, and now--now he'lljust have to pay us all we choose to ask."

  Marcel's food was forgotten. He stared across the table, blank amazementlooking out of his eyes.

  "You've found it? The growing weed? You've brought it home? Uncle!"

  "Yes." Never were Steve's eyes more sober. Never were they lessemotional. "You were full up to Keeko when you came along so I didn'ttell you. Two sled loads. As heavy as we could bank 'em up. I figure,according to your father's reckoning of the stuff, there's well-nigh afortune lying back in that place." He paused and drew a deep breath."Yes. I got the trail. We can help ourselves. It's right in the heart ofUnaga, where the world's afire, like hell opened up from below. Say,boy, I've seen wonders, the like I never dreamed about, and we beat allthis country could set up to keep safe its secrets. We passed throughone hell
only to reach a worse. But we got it. We found it. And--thefight's won."

  Marcel forgot everything in that concise narrative of Steve's success.All his lover's selfishness faded before the tremendous significance ofthat final great adventure. He even forgot his own disappointment thathe had not been permitted to share in it. This great thing had happened,the fulfilment of the dream that had been theirs. Then in a moment heremembered. A thought, an apprehension flashed swiftly through his mind.Lorson Harris! The man--Nicol!

  "Is it finished?" he cried, with a swift change of manner. "Or is itonly just beginning? Say, Uncle--you've forgot. Harris! This feller webrought you word of. Say----"

  Steve shook his head.

  "It's finished," he said, with a ring in his voice that carried absoluteconviction. "Oh, yes, it was like you to spare no effort to make homewith warning. I'm not blinded. Keeko made the journey to you with word,but it was you who forced that journey through the haf thaw to saveAn-ina and me. I can see you driving through as man never drove before,and I guess I get the feeling that made you pass the credit on to Keeko.But I allow she'll have a different yarn of that journey. Anyway,there's no worry to this thing. I care nothing for Lorson Harris, orthis scum--Nicol. We've the growing weed. And the battle's won."

  For moments Marcel had no answer in face of Steve's denial, so sternlyconfident and assured. Young and impulsive as he was the force of theolder man was still irresistible. He drew out his pipe and filled itthoughtfully, and finally disappointment took possession of him.

  "Then there's nothing--nothing more? It's done?"

  Just a shadow of eagerness crept into Marcel's final question. He felthe was being robbed of the last chance of making return and proving hismanhood to the man who had given up his life to him.

  Steve was swift to read the prompting of the other's words. He laughedsilently, gently, and his eyes were alight with deep affection.

  "No. There's things to do yet," he said. "Oh, yes. There's a whole heap.Your father didn't reckon to quit on the first load. He reckoned to helpthe world with all his knowledge and body. And that's what I figger todo--with your help."

  "Ah!"

  "Guess I see it this way. This summer sees you and Keeko in Seal Bay. Metoo. We've to trade our weed. And I guess, if it suits your fancy, we'llfind the passon feller, that can't kick religion into that township,ready to fix you and Keeko up. After that there's the winter trail forus both, for just as many seasons as you fancy. We've a mighty big workstill, before we strip the heart of Unaga of the treasure the worldneeds."

  In the reaction from his disappointment Marcel's generous natureasserted itself. He saw himself at last admitted to that which heconsidered the work of manhood. And he sought to embrace it all.

  "But you, Uncle," he cried earnestly. "Is there need? Why should youhave to go on? Think of all you've done. Why, say--pass the work to me,and take an easy."

  Steve's eyes promptly denied him.

  "Easy?" He shook his head. "Why should I? Guess the north country's minefor keeps, boy. And when my time gets around I hope it finds me beatingup the dogs at 40 deg. below, with a hell fire blizzard sweeping down offthe Arctic ice."

  * * * * *

  Steve was abroad early next morning. He had talked long and late withMarcel over-night, and their talk had been mostly of Keeko and her life,as the lover knew it. Never, to the moment they parted for the night,did Steve display weariness of the subject of their talk. To Marcel itseemed natural enough that this should be so. But then he was littlemore than twenty, and in love. Steve's urgency for detail must have beenpathetic to any onlooker. To Marcel it was only another exhibition ofhis goodness and sympathy for himself.

  Steve had little enough sleep after he left the boy. For once in a hardylifetime he lay under his blankets with a mind feverishly alert. He wasyearning for the passing of night. He was well-nigh crazy for the sun ofthe morrow. Yet withal a wonderful happiness robbed him of allirritation at his wakefulness.

  So it came in the chill dawn of a perfect spring morning, in which onlythe melting snow had reason to weep, he was moving abroad in heavy bootswading through the slush which would soon be past. He watched the sunrise from its nightly slumber, and its brilliant light amidst thepassing clouds of night was a sign to him. It was the dawn of his greatday. It was the passing of his years-long night.

  As the clouds dropped away and vanished below the horizon, leaving thesun safely enthroned, an amazing jewel set in the world's azure canopy,he passed again into the store. Even on this great day habit remained.He replenished the stoves, and set the boilers of water in place forAn-ina. After that he passed out again, and made his way to thestore-house that held his secret.

  He adjusted a mask upon his mouth and nostrils and tasted again thesickening drug he had learned to hate. He unfastened the door and passedwithin. For a long time he remained with the door closed behind him.Later he reappeared, and, removing his mask, passed out into the pureair of the morning. He secured the door behind him.

  Absorbed in thought, his eyes unsmiling, he was making his way back tothe main building. It was not until he had almost reached the door thathe became aware of An-ina's presence. It was her voice that caused himto look up.

  "Look," she cried in her soft tones, and pointed.

  Steve followed the direction of her lean brown finger. Marcel and Keekowere standing in the great gateway of the stockade.

  Steve's smile was good to see and An-ina responded in sympathy.

  "They love. Sure. Oh, yes," she said.

  Steve nodded. He was gazing at the tall, graceful figure of Keeko. Heseemed to have no eyes for the boy at all. Keeko, in her mannish clothesof buckskin, her beaded, fur-trimmed tunic which revealed theshapeliness of her youthful body. The vision of it all carried his mindback so many years.

  "Keeko for Marcel. Marcel for Keeko. Yes?"

  Steve drew a deep breath.

  "Yes. Thank God."

  He moved away. There was no ceremony between these two. Steve's love forAn-ina was built upon the unshakable foundations of perfectunderstanding. He strode out towards the gates, and the lovers heard thesplash of his boots as he waded the melting snow. They turned. And itwas Marcel who made half-shamefaced explanation.

  "I was telling Keeko of the weed," he said. "I was telling her of thefire country which I guess she got a peek at last summer--from adistance. She was asking to know the trade Lorson Harris was yearning tosteal, and the feller Nicol was ready to murder for. She guesses it'smost like a fairy yarn."

  Steve's eyes were steadily regarding the girl's smiling face. He notedthe beautiful, frank, wide eyes, the perfect lips that so reminded him--

  The fresh, clear, transparent cheeks forming so perfect an oval. Thenthere was her fair hair escaping from beneath the soft edges of her furcap. She was prettier even than he had first thought.

  "I allow it maybe sounds that way," he said. Then he shook his head."But there's nothing unreal to it. No. There's no more unreal to Adresolthan there is to the hell fires raging away out there in the heart ofUnaga, where the whole place is white like a lake of pure milk with thebloom of the plant that breathes certain death, but which holds in itsheart the greatest benefit the world's ever known. It's all queer, Iallow. But--say--" He turned and pointed at the store-house. "It's allthere. It's baled ready for Lorson Harris to buy. You can get a peek atit, at the stuff these folks reckoned to steal. Will you----?"

  The invitation stirred Marcel to prompt anxiety. He laid a hand onKeeko's soft shoulder as she prepared to move away.

  "Is it safe, Uncle Steve?" he demanded hastily. "You see, Keeko's notlike----"

  "Safe? Sure." Steve produced two masks. "I've worked in there for weeks,boy, with these things set on my face. I've worked all day and haf thenight--baling. Sure it's safe. You go, too. There's a mask for each, andI guess they aren't just things of beauty. We'll go along over, and I'llfix 'em for you. I kind of fancy Keeko should see what's hid up in thatstore-house."<
br />
  Steve led the way, and, hand in hand, like two children, the othersfollowed him. At the door of the store-house he paused and turned. Hestepped up to Marcel and adjusted his mask. And while he adjusted it hiseyes remained unsmiling. He was careful, infinitely careful, in theadjustment, and in reply to the youth's protest at the nauseating tasteof the drug he was forced to inhale his retort was briefly to the point.

  "Sure it's no bouquet," he said. "But it's that or a--halo, and wingsand things."

  Keeko offered no protest at all. She was impressed far more than sheknew. It seemed to her that the simple trust which prompted the man'saction in revealing his secret to her, the secret Lorson Harris waswilling to pay a hundred thousand dollars for, was something too simplywonderful for words.

  With the adjustment of the masks Steve removed the fastenings thatbarred the door. He held it closed a moment and turned to Marcel.

  "You'll go first, boy. You'll go right in. I guess you've got the masksso I can't come with you. I want you to take Keeko, and show it all.Maybe you'll find things there you don't understand. That don't matter.Maybe you can figger them out between you."

  Then he turned to Keeko and his steady eyes regarded her seriously underthe disfiguring mask.

  "Get a look at it all, my dear. All. But say, as you value yourlife--and Marcel's and my peace of mind--don't shift that mask a hair'sbreadth, no matter how you feel--looking around. When you come out youcan tell me about things."

  He set the door ajar, and leading the girl by the hand Marcel passedinto the house of death.

  * * * * *

  Steve stood guard. He listened with straining ears. There came the faintsound of muffled voices from within, and the sound of movement. Themoments dragged slowly. Once he thought he heard a series of sharpexclamations. But he could not be sure. He expected them. That was all.

  After awhile the voices ceased, and there only remained the shuffling offeet whose sound drew nearer. The visit was short, as he expected itwould be. He understood. A moment later he felt pressure against thedoor.

  He opened it, and Keeko and Marcel returned to the open air. Without aword Steve re-fastened the door. Marcel dragged the mask from histroubled face and Keeko followed his example.

  Steve turned from the door and stood confronting them. His eyes werehard. They were almost fierce as he looked into the startled facesbefore him.

  "Well?" he demanded. Then his gaze rested on the girl. "You saw--it?"

  Keeko inclined her head. She hesitated. A curious parching of throat andtongue left her striving to moisten her trembling lips.

  "Yes," she said, at last.

  "And it was--Nicol?"

  "Yes."

  Quite suddenly Steve laughed. It was a mere expression of relief, but itsucceeded in robbing his eyes of a light which so rarely found place inthem. He pointed at the closed door.

  "He came here in the night," he said. "I don't know how he came. I neversaw a sign of his outfit. Maybe they left him, as he didn't get back."

  He shrugged indifference.

  "It don't matter anyway. I was at work. Same as I'd been at work nights.I'd a lamp burning. Maybe he saw me through the window. I guess that wasso. The door was shut, but unfastened. I didn't dare keep it fast,working in there. Well, I heard a sound. The door was pushed wide and hejumped in on me with a loaded gun at my vitals. He'd got me plumb set.Sure. But the dope. It didn't give him a chance. It got a strangle-holtright away, and he dropped dead at my feet. He's--he's your step-father?The man you came to warn me of?"

  "Yes."

  Steve nodded.

  "Here, let's quit this place. Guess it's not wholesome standing around.Pass me the masks. We'll get right over to the sheds. There, where it'sdry, and we can sit. There's things I need to tell you right away. Bothof you."

  * * * * *

  Marcel and Keeko were sitting side by side on one of the sleds which hadnot yet been completely unloaded. Steve was squatting on an up-turnedbox that had been used to contain food stores for the trail. He wasfacing them, and his back was towards the building of the store. It wasrather the picture of two children listening to some wonderful fairystory, told in the staid tones of a well-loved parent. Never for amoment was attention diverted. Never was interruption permitted. Eventhe approach of An-ina passed unremarked.

  And as Steve talked a beam of sunlight fell athwart his sturdy figure,lightening its rough clothing, and surrounding him with a penetratinglight that revealed the sprinkling of grey beginning to mar the dark hueof his ample hair. The lines, too, in his strong face, fine-drawn andscarcely noticeable ordinarily, the searching sun of spring had no mercyupon.

  "Oh, it's a heap long way back," he said, "and I guess it all belongs tome. Anyway it did till Keeko got around. Say, you need to think of acrazy sort of feller who guessed that most all there was in life was tomake good for the woman he loved, and the poor girl kiddie she'd bornehim. You need to figger on a feller who didn't know a thing else, andthought he was acting square and right by his wife the whole darn time.He was a fool, a crazy fool. But he did all he knew, and the way he knewit. His duty was the law and order of a wide enough territory aroundAthabasca, which is just one hell of a piece of country from here. Whenyou've thought of that you want to think of a real good woman, allpretty, and bright, with blue eyes and fair hair, and her baby girl thesame. You want to reckon she was just about your ages, and was plumbfull of life, and ready for all the play going. When you've got that youwant to think of her man being away from their home months and months,winter and summer. It was his work. And all the time there's a feller, amean, low, skunk of a feller with a good-looker face, and the mannersand talk of a swell white man, hanging around on that home doorstep. Soit goes on. How long I don't know. Then comes a time when this p'liceofficer gets out on a mission to Unaga. And it's the other feller thathas to hand him his orders. Do you see? That trip's a two years' trip,and the pore gal is just left around home with her baby the whole time.Oh, she's got her food, and home, and money. That's so. Well, at the endof that trip the feller gets back. He's found up there a white kiddie,and an Indian nurse woman, and the hell of a tragedy of the boy'sparents. So he brings the kiddie back, a little brother to his babygirl."

  Steve drew a deep breath and stirred. When he went on his eyes weregazing out at the sunlight beyond the shed.

  "When he made home with the life well-nigh beat out of him, his outfit awreck, and the nurse woman and the kiddie no better, his wife and hisbaby girl were gone. They'd been gone a great while. So had the man.They had gone together, and the man was wanted for stealing the TreatyMoney of the Indians he was the government agent for. Do you get that?"

  Keeko nodded. She was listening with breathless interest for she feltthe story was addressed to her. Marcel, too, was absorbed. But theultimate drift of the story was scarcely as clear to him yet.

  "Well, it don't need telling you the things that happened after that,"Steve went on with a half-smile that was something desperately grim."Maybe that feller went nigh mad. I don't know. Anyway, when he gotbetter of things he hit out after that skunk of an agent in the hope ofcoming up with him, and killing him."

  "But he was saved that. Maybe it was meant he should be. We can't reckonthese things. Anyway he never saw his wife again. He never saw his babygirl. And--he never saw Hervey Garstaing till weeks ago he came underthe label of Nicol--right along here to set the story of murder into hisbook of life. He's there in that store-house and he's been dead weeks.Only the rottenness in him hasn't broke out because of the weed. Anywayhe's dead. He was a scum that had no place in this world, and I guessProvidence handed it to him in its own fashion and time. He robbed me ofNita. He robbed me of----"

  "Nita--my mother's name." Keeko's voice was choked. A world of emotionseemed to be striving to overwhelm her. Marcel in bewilderment wasregarding only the strong face of the man seated in the sunlight.

  Steve inclined his head.

&nbs
p; "Yes. Nita was your mother."

  An uncontrollable impulse urged the girl. She had no power to resist it.Why should she? This man--this man to whom Marcel had brought her, withhis steady eyes and strong face. He--he----

  She sprang from her seat beside her lover, the great creature staring soamazedly at the man, who, for a moment, had permitted a glance intothose close-hidden secrets of his heart. In a moment she was on herknees at Steve's side, and the man's hands were grasping hers in theirstrong embrace.

  "And you--you are my--father!" she cried.

  Steve crushed the hands in his with a power that told of the feelingstirring.

  "Yes," he said simply. Then he added very gently, very tenderly. "Andyou--you are my little baby girl Coqueline."

  And in the silence that followed there reached them from close behindthe sound of the low, soft voice of the mother woman.

  "So. An-ina glad. Oh, yes."

  THE END