The Snowshoe Trail

by Edison Marshall

  XXX

  Harold caught the note of scorn in Virginia's voice, and he had aninstant of sobriety. He looked at her with eager eyes. The poison inhis veins had enhanced her beauty to him; his eyes leapt quickly over herslender form. It would pay to be careful, he thought. He didn't wantto lose her now. But in an instant his reckless mood returned.

  "Where I lived? What do you care, as long as I'm here? I suppose Billhas already told you, the dirty----"

  "Don't say it," Virginia cautioned quickly. "I wouldn't answer for theconsequences."

  But for all her brave words, terror swept her. She remembered that Billwas helpless and blind. "Bill has told me nothing. It wouldn't be likehim to tell me things--that might make me unhappy."

  "Sing another little song about him, why don't you?" Harold scorned."I haven't heard you talk anything else for a month. But what do Icare?" He tried to steady himself, to control his erring tongue. "But,Virginia--that's all right, if he's one of your friends. He's goodenough according to his lights--but you can't expect much from someone who's never been outside these tall woods! No wonder he couldn'tsee a joke, or take a drink with a gentleman. He hasn't the chances,the environment--that's it, environment--that you and I have had.And speaking of drinks----"

  He went to the table again and poured his cup half full. Then withunsteady hand he poured an equal portion for the two Indians. They tooktheir cups with burning eyes, and Harold raised his own drink aloft.

  "A little toast--and everybody stand up," he cried. "We're going todrink to Virginia! To my future wife, gentleman--the lady who'spromised me her hand! Look at her there, you breeds--the mostbeautiful woman that ever came to the North! Drink her down!"

  The burning poison poured into their throats. Virginia glanced again ather pistol, but Joe still stood, half-covering it with his arm. Herface was no longer merely anxious. All color had swept from it; hereyes were wide and pleading. But there was no one to give aid to-night.Bill sat, helpless and blind, against the wall.

  She had not dared to resent aloud the bandying of her name, the insultof their searching eyes upon her beauty. It seemed to her that sheheard a half-muttered exclamation from Bill, but his face belied it.And in reality the man's thoughts were as busy as never before.

  He opened his eyes, struggling for vision. But he could not make outthe forms of the men at all, except when they crossed in front of thecandles. The candles themselves were mere points of yellow between hislids. One of the candles was sitting just beside him, on a shelf; theother was on the table. He tried to locate the position of all four ofhis fellow-occupants of the cabin,--Virginia at one end of the table,Joe at the other, Pete opposite him on the other side of the stove,Harold standing in the middle of the room, babbling in his drunkenness.

  But the first exhilaration of the drink was dying now, giving way to amore dangerous mood. Even Harold was less talkative: the tones of hisvoice had harshened. The two Indians, when they spoke at all, weresurly and threatening.

  The moments passed. For a breath the cabin was still. Only too wellBill knew that matters were approaching the explosive stage. A singleword might invoke murderous passions that would turn the cabin intoshambles. The men drank the third time, emptying the first quart andbeginning upon the second.

  "You're a pretty little witch," Harold addressed Virginia. "You're hardto kiss, but your kisses are worth having. What you think about that,Joe? Aren't I tellin' you the truth?"

  Joe! Bill's first impression had been right, after all. His face madeno sign, but he shifted in his chair. For all the ease and almostinertness with which he sat, his muscles were wholly ready for suchcommand as his mind might give them,--to spring instantly to theirfull power for a fight to the death. Virginia heard the name too, andher fears increased.

  "Joe?" she repeated. "You know him, then?"

  "Of course I know Joe. He's an old friend. He's one that Bill toldnever to show his face in this part of Clearwater again--but you don'tsee anything happening to him, do you?"

  He waited, hoping Bill would make response. But the latter was holdinghard, waiting for the moment of crisis, hoping yet that it might beavoided. There was time enough when Virginia was safe and his sight hadreturned him to answer such speeches as this.

  "You see he hasn't anything to say," Harold gloated. "I asked you aquestion, Joe--about Virginia. Didn't I tell the truth?"

  The girl flinched, then caught herself with a half-sob. She resolved tomake one more appeal. "Oh Harold--please--please be careful whatyou say," she pleaded. "You're drunk now--but don't forget you were agentleman--once. Don't drink any more. Don't let these Indians drinkany more, either."

  "A gentleman once, eh? So you don't think I'm one any more. But Bill,there--he's one, ain't he? It seems to me you've been getting kind ofbossy around here, lately--and the women of we northern men don'tbehave that way."

  "I'm not your woman, thank God--and I ask you to be careful."

  "And I repeat that warning." Bill spoke gravely, quietly from hischair. "You're acting like a rotter, Harold, and you know it. Shut upthe bottle and try to hold yourself--and then remember what you'vebeen saying. Remember that I'm still here--and if I'm not able toavenge an insult now, the time is coming when I will. And I've got oneweapon _now_ that I won't hesitate to use. I mean--an answer to aquestion of a while ago. If you want to keep her love, be careful."

  The Indians turned to him, the murder-madness darkening their faces.Pete's hand began to steal toward his hip. He had no ancestralprecedent for the use of a miner's pick for such work as faced him now.And he held high regard for the thin, cruel blade.

  "Do you think I care?" Harold answered. "Tell her if you want to--allabout Sindy and everything else. Do you think I'm ashamed of it? I'veheard all I want to from you too--and I'll say and drink what Iplease."

  Bill had no answer at first. He had thought that this threat mightbring Harold to time; he had supposed that the man valued Virginia'slove as much as he, in a similar position, would have valued it. Haroldturned to the girl. "So you're _not_ my woman, eh?"

  "No, no, no! I never will be!" The girl's eyes were blazing, and shehad forgotten her fear in her magnificent wrath. "I suppose--you werea squaw man. These Indians are your own friends."

  Harold smiled cruelly. "Yes, a squaw man. And these are my friends.Don't you suppose I've known--for the last week--you were justfooling me along, all the time fondling Bill? Sindy at least wasfaithful--and her form wouldn't take anything from yours."

  Pete, watching Joe, was somewhat amazed at the curious start the manmade. His searching gaze had leaped over the girl's form; his dark,smoldering eyes suddenly blazed red. There was no other word than red.They were like two coals of fire.

  There ensued a moment of strange and menacing silence. Pete chuckled,already receptive to Joe's thought. Harold turned to stare at him.

  Joe put his pipe to his lips, then fumbled at his pocket. He seemed tosearch in vain. "Will you give me a match, please, lady?" he asked.

  The tone was strange, thick and strained, yet Virginia's heart thrilledwith hope. The request was a welcome interlude in a quarrel that wasalready rapidly approaching the fighting stage. Perhaps if these menstarted to smoke, their blood would cool; she had known of old thattobacco was a wonderful bromide to overstretched nerves. He turnedquickly to the shelf above Bill's head and procured half a dozen matchesfrom the box.

  As her back was turned she heard Pete laugh again,--one evil syllablethat filled her with instinctive horror. Her wide eyes turned to him;he was watching her intently. Then she stepped back to give Joe thematches.

  Instinctively her eyes turned to the wall for a reassuring sight of herpistol. It was gone from its place.

  For an instant she stared in horrified amazement. The matches droppedidly from her hand. A sob caught in her throat, a sob of hopeless andutter terror, but she fought a brave little fight to suppress it. Sheknew she must a
ppear to be brave; at least she must do this much. Shelooked at Joe; his evil, leering face told her only too plainly that hiseager hand had seized and secreted her pistol. Pete's face was drawntoo; Harold only looked bewildered.

  He was her last hope, but in one instant's scrutiny she saw that thishad vanished, too. Some terrible thought had sobered and engrossed him.Now he was eyeing her like a witless thing, his features drawn, his eyesburning. The moment was charged with ineffable suspense.

  "What is it, Virginia?" Bill asked.

  "One of these men--" she answered brokenly--"has taken my pistol. Iwant him to give it back----"

  The circle laughed then,--a harsh and sinister sound that filled herwith inexpressible horror. For a moment she stood motionless in thecenter of that leering circle, her eyes wide, her face white asdeath,--a slight figure, trying to hard to stand straight, crushed anddefenseless, only her eyes pleading in last appeal. Instinctively herlips whispered a prayer.

  Joe spoke then, a single sentence in the vernacular for Harold's ears.With one gesture he indicated Harold, himself, and Pete in turn, thenpointed to the girl. His face was hideous with eagerness.

  Harold started at the words, but at first made no answer. He had losther anyway; there was no need of further restraint. The silence, thestress, most of all the burning liquor flung a wild and devastatingflame through his veins, a dreadful madness seized his brain. There wasno saving grace, no impulse of manhood, no memory of virtue to hold himback.

  His degeneracy was complete. He could not go lower. His father'swicked blood pulsed in his veins; the final brutality that the Northbestows upon those it conquers was upon him. He answered with a curse.

  "Why not?" he said. "The slut's thrown me over. When I'm through youcan do what you want. And crack the skull of that mole with the pickand throw him out in the snow."

  The two Indians lurched forward at his words. Bill left his chair in amighty leap.