The Snowshoe Trail

by Edison Marshall

  XXXI

  When Bill sprang forward to intercept the attack upon the girl he camewith amazing accuracy and power. There was nothing of blindness ormisdirection about that leap. It was as if his sight had alreadyreturned to him. The real truth was that by means of his acute ear hehad located the exact position of every actor in the impending drama.

  What was more important, he knew the location of both candles. For allhis almost total blindness, he could discern through his watering eyesthe faint, yellow gleam of each. The one that burned beside him, on thelittle shelf, he brushed off with one sweep of his hand as he leaped.He knocked the second from the table; it fell, flickered, filled theroom an instant with dancing light, and then went out. The utterdarkness dropped down.

  The act had been so swift and unexpected that neither Joe, standingnearest to the girl, or Harold across the room could draw their pistolsand fire. Seemingly in a flash the darkness was upon them. No more wasBill the blind and helpless mole, to strike down with one careless blow.He was face to face with his enemies in his own dark lair. He hadturned the tables; the advantage of vision on which they had presumedhad been in an instant removed. They could see no more than he couldnow. Besides, in the hours since his rescue, he had already learned tofind his way around the cabin.

  And this was no half-darkness--that which descended as the candleswere struck down. It was the infinite, smothering gloom of anunderground cave in which no shadow could live, nor the sharpest outlineremain visible. Harold cursed in the blackness; as if in a continuationof the leap he had made to upset the candles, Bill seized Virginia inhis strong arms. He thrust her to the floor and into the angle betweenher bunk and the wall, the point that he instinctively realized would beeasiest to defend and safest from stray bullets. Then, widening hisarms, almost to the width of the little space between the table and thewall, he lunged forward again.

  Virginia's pistol was in Joe's hand by now, and he shot in Bill'sdirection. Two spurts of yellow fire broke for an instant the uttergloom. But there was no time for a third shot. He was the nearest ofthe three attackers, and Bill's outstretched arms seized him. Thewoodsman's muscles gave a mighty wrench.

  His grasp was about Joe's chest at first, but with a great lurch heslung the man's body out far enough so that he could loop his sinewyarms about the man's knees. Joe was shifted in his arms as workmen aresometimes snatched up by a mighty belt in a machine shop; he seemedsimply to snap in the remorseless grasp. Bill himself had no sensationof his enemy's weight. He had him about the knees by now, Joe's bodythrust out almost straight from centrifugal force, and with a terrificwrench of his mighty shoulders Bill hurled him against the wall.

  It was well for his enemies that none of them were in the road of thathuman missile. They would have taken no further part in the ensuingbattle. Joe's body crushed against the logs with a sound that wasstrange and horrible in the utter darkness; the pistol spun from hishand and rattled down'; then he fell with a crash to the floor. Therewas no further movement from him thereafter. His neck had been brokenlike a match. The odds were but two to one.

  Harold had taken out his own revolver now and was shooting blindly inthe darkness. Ducking low, Bill leaped for him. In that leap there wasnone of the gentle mercy with which he had dealt with him first, so longago in Harold's cabin. But a quick movement by Harold saved him fromthe full force of the leap; in a moment they were grappling in eachother's arms.

  Bill wrenched him back and forth, and in an instant would have crushedthe life out of him if it hadn't been for the interference of Pete. Thelatter breed leaped on his back, and Bill had to neglect Harold aninstant to stretch up his arms and hurl Pete to the floor. Harold stillclung to him, trying to seize his throat, but Bill wrenched him down.He flung his own body down on top of him, then seized him by the throatwith the deadly intention of hammering his head on the floor; but beforehe could accomplish his purpose Pete was upon him again.

  It was the end of the preliminaries. In that second the fight began inearnest. They were both powerful men, the breed and Harold; and Billwas like a wild beast--quick as a cougar, resistless as a grizzly--afighting fury that in the darkness was terrible as death. Mightymuscles, stinging blows, striking fists and grasping arms; the rage andglory of battle was upon him as never before.

  It was the death fight--in the darkness--and that meant it was asavage, nightmare thing that called forth those most deep and terribleinstincts that in the first days of the earth were stored and implantedin the germ plasm. These were no longer men of the twentieth century.They were simply beasts, fighting to the death in a cave. It was afamiliar thing to be warring thus in the darkness: Neither Harold norPete missed the light now. They were carried back to no less furiousbattles, fought in dark caverns under the sea; murder flamed in theirhearts and fire ran riot in their blood.

  They were no longer conscious of time; already it was as if they hadstruggled thus through the long roll of the centuries. It was hard toremember what had been the cause of the fight. It didn't matter now,anyway; the only issue left was the life of their adversary. To kill,to tear their enemies' hearts from their warm breasts and their arteriesfrom their throats,--this was all that any of the three could remembernow. It was true that Bill kept his adversaries away from Virginia'scorner as well as he could, but he did it by instinct rather than byconscious planning. He had not hated Harold in these months past, buthad only regarded him with contempt; but hate came to him fast enough inthose first moments of battle.

  Once, reeling across the cabin, they encountered soft flesh that triedto escape from beneath their feet; at first Bill thought it was Joe,returned to consciousness. But in an instant he knew the truth. "Goback to your corner. Virginia," he commanded.

  For some reason that he could not guess, she had seen fit to crawl forthfrom her shelter; whether or not she returned to it he couldn't tell.There was no chance to warn her again. His foes were upon him.

  This was not a silent fight, at first. So that they would not attackeach other, Harold and Pete cried out often, to reveal their locationand to signal a combined attack against Bill. In the instants that hewas free from Bill's arms and he knew that his confederate was out ofrange, Harold fired blindly with his pistol. Their bodies crashedagainst the wall, broke the furniture into kindling at their feet; theysnarled their hatred and their curses.

  Bill fought like a giant, a might of battle upon him never known before.He would hurl away one, then whirl to face the other; his fists wouldlash out, his mighty shoulders would wrench. More than once theircombined attack hurled him to the floor, but always he was able toregain his feet. Once he seized Harold's wrist, and twisting it backforced him to drop the pistol. But Pete's interference prevented himfrom breaking his arm.

  Steadily Harold and Pete were learning to work together. They were usedto the darkness now; Pete obeyed the white man's shouts. Two against onewas never a fair fight, and they knew that by concerted action theycould break him down.

  One lucky blow sent Pete spinning to the floor, and Bill's strong armshurled Harold after him. Just for a fraction of an instant he stoodbraced and alone in the center of the cabin. For the instant a silence,deep and appalling past all words, fell over the room. But Harold'svoice quickly shattered it.

  "Up and at him Pete!" he cried, hoarse with fury. They both sprang uponhim again.

  Both were fortunate in securing good holds, and as they came fromopposite sides, Bill found it impossible to hurl them off. Both of hisfoes recognized their great chance; if they could retain their hold onlyfor a moment they could break him and beat him down. Harold also knewthat this was the moment of crisis. All three contestants seemed tosweep to the fray with added fury. Bill was drawing on his reservestrength--the battle could only last a few minutes longer.

  They fought in silence now. They did not waste precious breath onshouts or curses. There were no pistol shots, no warnings; only thesound of troubled breathing against the shoc
k of their bodies as theyreeled against the walls. Bill was fighting with all his might to keephis feet.

  But the tower that was his body fell at last. All three staggered,reeled, then crashed to the floor. Pete had managed to wiggle fromunderneath and, his hold yet unbroken, struggled at Bill's left side;Harold was on top. But for all that he lay prone, Bill was not conqueredyet. With his flailing arms he knocked aside the vicious blows thatHarold aimed at his face; he tore Pete's grasp from his throat. Hefought with a final, incredible might. And now he was breaking theirholds to climb once more upon his feet.

  Then--above the sound of their writhing bodies--Virginia heard Peteexclaim. It was a savage, a murderous sound, and anew degree of terrorswept through her. But she didn't cry out. She had her own plans.

  "Hold him--just one instant!" Pete cried. The breed had rememberedhis knife. It was curious that he hadn't thought of it before.

  He took it rather carefully from his holster. The two men werethreshing on the floor by now, Harold in a desperate effort to keep hisenemy down, and there was plenty of time. Pete's hand fumbled in hispocket. In his cunning and his savagery he realized that the supremeopportunity for victory was at hand; but he must take infinite pains.

  He didn't want to run the risk of slaying his own confederate. His handfound a match; he raised his knife high. The match cracked, then flamedin the darkness.

  But it was not to be that that murderous blow should go home. He hadforgotten Bill's lone ally,--the girl that had seemed so crushed andhelpless a few minutes before. She had not remained in the safe cornerwhere Bill had thrust her, and she had had good reasons. The price thatshe paid was high, but it didn't matter now. She had crawled out tofind her pistol that Joe's hand had let fall, and just before Pete hadlighted his match her hand had encountered it on the floor.

  It seemed to leap in her hand as the match flamed. It described a bluearc; then rested, utterly motionless, for a fraction of an instant. Forthat same little time all her nervous forces rallied to her aid; hereyes were remorseless and true over the sights.

  The pistol shot rang in the silence. The knife dropped from Pete'shand. She had shot with amazing accuracy, straight for the littlehollow in his back that his raised arm had made. He turned with a lookof ghastly surprise.

  Then he went on his face, creeping like a legless thing toward the door.With a mighty effort Bill rolled Harold beneath him.

  The battle was short thereafter. Harold had never been a match forBill, unaided. The latter's hard fists lashed into his face, blow afterblow with grim reports in the silence. Harold's resistance ceased; hisbody quivered and lay still. Remembering Virginia Bill leaped to hisfeet.

  But Harold was not quite unconscious. But one impulse was left,--toescape; and dumbly he crawled to the door. Pete had managed to open it;but he crawled past Pete's body, strangely huddled and still, justbeyond the threshold. Then he paused in the snow for a last, savageexpression of his hate.

  But it was just words. No weapon remained in his hands. "I'll get youyet, you devil!" he screamed, almost incoherently. "I'll lay in waitand kill you--you can't get away! The wolves have got your grizzlymeat--you can't go without food."

  His voice was shrill and terrible in the silence of the winter night.Even in the stress and inward tumult that was the reaction of thebattle, Bill could not help but hear. He didn't doubt that the wordswere true: he realized in an instant what the loss of the grizzlyflesh would mean. But his only wish was that he had killed theman when he had him helpless in his hands.

  He remembered Joe then, and listened for any sound from him. He heardnone, and like a man in a dream he felt his way to the lifeless formbeside the wall. He seized the shoulders of the breed's coat, draggedhim like a sack of straw, and as easily hurled his body through thedoorway into the drifts. Two bodies lay there now. But only thecoyotes, seekers of the dead, had interest in them.

  He turned, then stood swaying slightly, in the doorway. No wind stirredover the desolate wastes without. The cabin was ominously silent. Hecould hear his own troubled breathing; but where there was no stir, nomurmur from the corner where he had left Virginia. A ghastly terror,unknown in the whole stress of the battle, swept over him.

  "Virginia," he called. "Where are you?"

  From the dark, far end of the cabin he heard the answer,--a voice lowand tremulous such as sometimes heard from the lips of a sick child."Here I am, Bill," she replied. "I'm hit with a stray shot--and Ibelieve--they've killed me."