CHAPTER X--"THERE'S MONEY IN IT"
A brisk wind sprang up ere we were well clear of the Montell camp. Inhalf an hour it was blowing a gale. Overhead the clouds ripped apart inthe lash of the wind, and a belated moon peered tentatively through thetorn places. It lighted the way, so that we could see sudden dips in theprairie, buffalo-wallows and such abrupt depressions, before we reachedthem. With the lifting of the solid black that had walled us in Barreauset a faster pace.
"It will soon be day," he broke a long silence, "and though I am loth toovertax our mounts, we must reach the Blood Flats. If we are beingfollowed, they will scarcely think to look for us there. And I know ofno other place in this bald country where our picketed horses would notstand out like the nose on a man's face. How it blows!"
It did. So that speech was next to impossible, even had we been inclinedto talk. The wind struck us quartering and muffled a shout toinconsequent syllables. But beyond those few words Barreau kept mute,leaning forward in his stirrups at a steady lope. We must have coverednear twenty miles before the eastern skyline gave a hint of dawn. Withthat Barreau pulled his horse down to a walk.
"Well," he said lightly, "we made it easily enough. Now for a bit of aclimb. It will be awkward if a bunch of unfriendly Stonies have takenpossession of the one spot that will serve us. But that's hardlythinkable. Are you tired, Bob?"
I was, and freely owned it. He swung sharply aside while I was speaking,and in a few minutes an odd-shaped butte loomed ahead. It upreared outof the flat country like a huge wart. The bald slope of it layweather-worn, rain-scarred, naked of vegetation, but on its cresttangled patches of cherry brush and sally-willows made a raggedsilhouette against the sky. The east blazed like the forefront of aprairie fire when we reached the top. Then it became plain to me whyBarreau had sought the place. The scrub growth stood dense as a giant'sbeard, but here and there enfolding little meadows of bunchgrass, andwinding in and out through these Barreau finally drew up by arush-fringed pool that proved to be a spring.
"Water, wood, and grass," said he as his heels struck the earth, "andall securely screened from passers-by. Now we can eat and rest in peace.Let us get a fire built and boil a pot of coffee before it gets so lightthat the smoke will betray us."
The horses we picketed in one of the little glades. Shut in by thebrush, they could graze unseen. Then we cooked and ate breakfast,hurrying to blot out the fire, for dawn came winging swiftly across theplains.
"Come over and take a look from the brow of the hill," Barreau proposed,when we were done.
Wearily I followed him. I could have stretched myself in the soft grassand slept with a will; every bone and muscle in my body protestedagainst further movement, and I was sluggish with a full stomach. ButBarreau showed no sign of fatigue, and a measure of pride in my powersof endurance kept me from open complaint.
It was worth a pang or two, after all. He led the way to the southerntip of the plateau; no great distance--from edge to edge the tablelandwas no more than three hundred yards across. But it overlooked the BloodFlats from a great height, four hundred feet or more, I judged. Barreausat down beside a choke-cherry clump, and rolled himself a cigarette.Ten paces beyond, the butte fell away sheer to the waste levels below.
"There is nothing that I have ever seen just like this," he murmured."And it is never twice alike. Watch that rise take fire from the sun.And the mountains over yonder; square-shouldered giants, tricked out inroyal purple."
The sun slid clear of the skyline, and a long shaft of light brushedover the unreckoned miles of grassland till it fell caressingly on ourbutte. Hollows and tiny threads of creeks nursed deep, black shadowsthat shrank and vanished as the sun-rays sought them out. Away beyond,to the west, the snow-tipped Rockies stood boldly out in their robe ofmisty blue. And as the yellow glare bathed the sea of land that ringedthe lone pinnacle I saw why the Flats were so named.
Impassive, desolate, vast in its sweep, the plain took on a weird lookat the sun's kiss. Barren of tree or shrub so far as the eye couldreach, naked even of shriveled blades of grass, when the last, leastshadow was gone it spread before us like a painted floor; red to itsoutermost edges, a sullen dried-blood red. A strange colored soil, as ifit were a huge bed of dull-glowing coals.
"Blood Flats! There is no incongruity in the name," Barreau vouchsafed."This is almost beautiful. Yet I have seen the sun strike it of amorning--and felt a foolish, oppressive dread. Just after a rain, Iremember, once. Then it lay like a lake of blood. The light played onpools here and there, pools that glowed like great rubies. Fancy it!Ninety miles square of that blood-stained earth. A monster shambles, ithas often seemed to me. It breeds strange thoughts when one faces italone. Or take it on a day of lowering clouds. Then it almost voices athreat of evil. It is so void of life, so malevolent in its stillness.The psychology of environment is a curious thing. How is it that mereinanimate earth, a great magnitude of space, a certain color scheme, canaffect a man so? Sometimes I wonder if we inherit past experiences fromour primitive ancestors along with the color of our eyes or the cast ofour features. Our surroundings work upon our emotions as the temperatureaffects a thermometer, and we cannot tell why. Even the hard-headedbull-whackers hate this stretch of country."
He made himself another cigarette, and sat quiet for a time, staring offacross the red waste.
"We may as well go back to camp," he said, rising abruptly. "There is nosign of men, mounted, afoot, or otherwise, that I can see."
Back by our saddles and pack layout, Barreau divided the blankets andshowed me how to fold mine to make the most of them. Thankfully I beddedmyself in a shaded place, but he, before following my example, unslungfrom his saddle the rifle he had procured of Montell. He looked it over,snapped the lever forward and back, slid another cartridge or two intothe magazine. This done, he laid it by his blankets.
"I grudge the Police my two good nags, and my Winchester," he remarked,as he drew off his boots. "What extra weapons Montell had were stowed ina wagon, and I had no time to hunt for them. So we will have to makeshift with one rifle--for a while, at least. For that matter, unless werun foul of some young bucks prowling for a scalp, one gun will serve aswell as two. If you elect to take a different trail, the best I can giveyou will be an ancient derringer and a scant number of cartridges. But Iam inclined to think we will not part company, yet a while."
He sat upon his blankets, regarding me with a measuring air; and I, frommy comfortable position, answered drowsily:
"I have a full stomach, a clear conscience, and a tired body; and I amgoing to sleep right now, if I never travel another trail."
He laughed softly. Whether he said anything further, I do not know. Iwas too near worn out to care. My last, faint impression was of himsitting cross-legged on his blankets, emitting sporadic puffs of smoke,and looking at me with his black brows drawn together. And the nextthing I remember was a tang of wood-smoke in my nostrils. I sat up andstared about, puzzled at first, for I had slept like a dead man.Twilight wrapped the butte. Barreau was bent over a small fire, cookingsupper.
"Oh," he said, looking around, "you've come alive, at last. I was aboutto wake you. The chuck's ready."
I washed in the trickle of water that ran away from the spring, and feltlike a new man. As to eating, I was little short of ravenous. Never hadfood made such an appeal to my senses. When the meal was over Barreausettled back against his saddle.
"There will be a moon somewhere near midnight," he declared. "We'll movethen. After to-night we can travel without cover of the dark. Meantime,lend me your ears, Robertus. Let us see where we stand."
"Fire away," I replied. "I am pretty much in the dark--in more ways thanone."
"Exactly," he responded. "And I imagine you have little taste forwalking blindfolded. So we will spread our hands on the board. First,let us look a few facts cold-bloodedly in the eye. Here are two of uspractically outlawed. I--well, it should be obvious to you that I am avery much-wanted man in these parts. My capture--especially now
--wouldbe the biggest feather any Policeman could stick in his cap. There areothers who would cheerfully shoot me in the back for what it would bringthem. Hence, the sooner I get out of this part of the country, thebetter I will be suited. You have killed a man for a starter. That----"
"But I had to," I broke in. "It was forced on me. You know it was.There's a limit to what a man can stand."
"I know all that," he replied quietly. "I'm not sitting in judgment onyou, Bob. I'm merely setting forth what has happened, and how we areaffected thereby. Tupper got no more than he deserved, and he did notget it soon enough--from my point of view. But, as I said, you killed aman, and the killing has taken on a different color in the minds ofothers, since you are also accused of theft."
"Do you believe that infernal lie?" I interrupted again. It galled me tohear him enumerate those ugly details in that calm, deliberate manner.
"It makes little difference what _I_ believe," he answered patiently."If it is any comfort to you, I can hardly conceive of you plunderingthe _Moon's_ cabin. But voicing our individual beliefs is beside thepoint. Certain things are laid to us. Certain penalties are sure as therising and setting of the sun, if either of us is caught and convicted.And"--he pinched his eyebrows together until little creases ran up anddown his forehead, but his voice was cold, matter of fact--"if we wereclean-handed as a babe unborn, we have forever damned ourselves beforeCanadian courts, by breaking jail. You see where we are? Forgettingthese other things that we may or may not have done, of this one crimewe are guilty. We can't dodge it, if we are taken. It is a felony initself."
"If I were a free agent," he went on, after a momentary pause, "I wouldhave made no attempt to escape; or having escaped, I would quit thisdamned country by the shortest route. But I can't. I have got into agame that I must play to a finish. Further, I have given my word to docertain work, and in the doing of it I am bucking elements that I cannotalways cope with alone. I need help. I want some one whom I can trustabsolutely if he gives his word; a man I can depend upon to stick by mein a pinch. That," he turned his gaze squarely on me, "is principallywhy I took long chances to get you out of the guardhouse, last night. Itseemed to me I could help myself best by helping you. I will be frank.My motive was not purely altruistic. Men's motives seldom are."
"You flatter me," I commented bitterly. "Considering that I have shownmyself more or less weak-kneed every time I've got in a tight place,your remark about some one who would stick by you in a pinch savors ofirony. I hardly see how you could put absolute faith in me, when I haveso little faith in myself. Besides, I do not know what your programcalls for. I don't seem to have the faculty of holding my own in a roughgame; nor the right sort of nerve--if I have any. My instinct seems tobe to give ground until I'm cornered. I'd rather be at peace with theworld. I don't like war of the personal sort."
"Nor does any man, any normal man," he responded soberly. "But there aretimes, as you have seen, when we cannot escape it. So far as yourcapacity for holding your own is concerned, let me be judge of that. Iknow men more or less well--by bitter experience. Under certainconditions I could probably guess what you would do, better thanyourself. You may be sure I wouldn't ask you to accept certain risks andhardships with me if I thought a yellow streak tinged your make-up. Sowe will not argue along that line.
"What I need your help in is a legitimate enterprise; clean enough ofitself--though I have acquired a dirty reputation in the way of it. I'llgive you a few details, and you can judge for yourself. Four years agochance sent me north to a Hudson's Bay post on the Saskatchewan. Fromthere I drifted farther--to the Great Slave Lake country, almost. I'veknown more or less of the fur trade all my life. My father was in it.And so I was quick to see how the Hudson's Bay Company holds the Northtrade in the hollow of its hand. It was a revelation to me, Bob.Fortunes gravitate to their posts by the simplest process in the world.They barter a worthless muzzle-loading gun and a handful of powder andball for a hundredfold its worth in pelts. From one year's end toanother, yes, from generation to generation, the tribes have been keptin debt to the Company. They make a scanty living from the Company, andthe Company builds colossal fortunes out of them. You and I would callit robbery. To the Company it is merely 'trade.'
"Ever since the granting of its charter, close on two centuries ago, theCompany has lorded it over the North, barring out the free trader,guarding jealously against competition. Only the Northwest Fur Companyever held its own with the Hudson's Bay, and the two combined when theNorthwest established itself. The others, lone traders, partnerships,the Company fought and intimidated till they withdrew. Technically, itis a free country, has been since '69, but north of the Saskatchewan theCompany still holds forth in the ancient manner, making its own law,recognizing no higher authority than itself. It is a big country, theNorth, and the Canadian government has its hands full in the east andsouth. A white man takes his own risks north of latitude 54.
"All this I knew very well. But like many another purse-broken man, Iwanted a fling at the trade. I saw that a man could get in touch withthe tribes, give them fair exchange for their furs--give them treble theHudson's Bay rate of barter--and still make a fortune. I needed thefortune, Bob; I am still on the trail of it. But I had too littlecapital to play a lone hand. So I hied me to St. Louis and broached thescheme to Montell. I have known him all my life. He also is an old handin the trade. He had the capital I lacked."
Barreau stopped for a minute, digging at the earth with his heel. Thefire had dwindled to a few coals. I could not see his face. But hisvoice had changed, a note of resentment had crept into it, when he beganagain.
"Montell jumped at the plan. Later I learned things that led me tobelieve he was near the end of his rope, financially, at the time. So myscheme was in the nature of a Godsend to him. I had a little money, andevery dollar I could raise I put in. It was to be an equal partnership:my knowledge of the country and the conditions to offset his extracapital.
"The first year we made expenses, and a little over. But we were gettingknown among the Indian hunters, convincing them that we would treat thembetter than the Hudson's Bay. Secure in their established grip on thetribes, the Company passed us up. The second year we made money. Thenthe Company woke up and fought us tooth and nail. Not openly; that isnot their way. They fought us, nevertheless. There were reprisals. Thebrunt of it fell on me. They seemed to guess that with my teeth drawntheir fight was won. So they carried the war systematically into theopen country. Our jail-breaking last night took its inception in thatstruggle for and against a monopoly.
"This year, if things do not go awry, we stand to clear more than ahundred thousand dollars. And it will be the last. No individual tradercan break lances with the Company on its own ground. They are lords ofthe North beyond gainsaying. At the best we can but take a slice andleave the loaf to them. Next spring sees the last of our trading. Thisfall there will be fierce work to do, tramping here and there, issuingguns and powder and foodstuffs, bargaining with the hunters for thewinter's take of pelts. A hundred lodges have promised to trade with usthis season, and an Indian rarely breaks his word, once given in goodfaith. We will get others, in spite of the Company runners. But we mustbe on the alert; we cannot sit in our posts and wait for these things tocome about of themselves. And that brings me to the point.
"If I had only the Hudson's Bay Company to contend with, I would havelittle fear for the outcome. With them it is largely a question ofstrategy. If there is any violence it will come from some zealot intheir service, and we can hold our own against such. But Montell is aneel. He looms more threatening than the Company. In these three years Ihave had no accounting with him. I have done the dirty work, while heholed up at the post, or looked after the St. Louis end. I have morethan once come near tripping him up in petty tricks. Secretly he hatesme, for at bottom he is an arrogant old freebooter. And for all hisgrovelling last night, he is a dangerous man. By one means and another Iknow that he has made up his mind to put me in the lurch once thiswinter's trade is
turned. Without me, he can do little in the way ofgetting furs. Otherwise, I would be cooling my heels in MacLeodguardhouse yet. You may have guessed that he was the spirit which movedBlackie to pass in the knife and saw.
"But once full arrangements are made, and the pelts begin to come inwith spring, why, then--I don't know what he will do, how he willengineer his plan to eliminate my interest in the profits. He has somecard up his sleeve. Half of everything is mine, but I have nothing toshow it. There is nothing between us but his word! and that, I havelearned at last, is a thing he can twist to suit the occasion. He hasbegun shaping things to suit himself on this trip. He cut a bit of theground from under my feet back there in MacLeod. I'll pay him for that,though; and he knows it. The finishing touch will come this winter, orin the spring. He hates me, just as he hates any man whom he cannot leadby the nose, and he will move like the old fox he is. There's money init--for him. And money and power are Simon Montell's twin gods.
"Between these cross-fires, I will have my hands more than full. I canonly be in one place at a time. There is not a man with the bull-train,or among the few that remain in the North, but is under Montell's thumb.Most of them could not understand if I told them. The thing is toosubtle for their simple, direct minds. For that reason, I sought forsome one I could trust to keep a clear eye open, and his ears cocked;for whatever Montell does he will do by stealth. That evening we fell intogether at the foot of the Sweet Grass I was headed for the Sandersranch, thinking to get Walt to come North with me. He would have enjoyedthis sort of thing. You know how we fared that night. And you can seewhy, when the Police raid put him beyond my helping, I turned to you. Ihad you in mind all the while we lay in the guardhouse, but I hesitatedto drag you into it, until I learned of the robbery charged to you. ThenI went back for you, judging that of the two evils you would choose theone I offered.
"That is the way of it, Bob. If you help me play the game this winter,you accomplish two things with tolerable certitude. You will be safefrom the Police and those Benton idiots; and you will get to St. Louisin the spring. Montell himself will see to that, when he learns who youare. He knew your father slightly, and he has all of a guttersnipe'ssnobbish adulation of wealth and family. So you are doubly safe. On theother hand, if you are minded to work out your own salvation I willshare with you what I have, set you in the right direction, and wish yougood luck. Don't be hasty about deciding. Think the thing over."
But I had already made up my mind. How much the lure of a strange landand stirring things to be done bore upon my decision I cannot say. Howmuch, at the moment, George Barreau's personality dominated me I cannotquite compute. Individual psychology has never been a study of mine, butI know that there is no course of reasoning, no mental action, noemotion, that has not its psychic factors. Whatever these were in mycase, I lost sight of them. I think that what influenced me most was hisway of putting it man to man, so to speak. Unconsciously that restoredto me, in a measure, the self-respect I had nearly lost in those brutaldays on the _Moon_, and the skulking and imprisonment which followed.Here was a man before whom I had seen other strong men cringe asking mein a straightforward way for help. I had no wish to refuse; I felt athrill at the opportunity. For the time I forgot that Montell's daughterhad called him a thief and a murderer, and he had not denied. I took himat his face value, as he took me, and we shook hands on the bargain, andcemented it further with the bottle of port so unwillingly relinquishedby Montell.
"I'm with you," said I, "till the last dog is hung. But if I weaken in apinch, don't say you weren't forewarned."
He laughed.
"Don't underestimate yourself. A man doesn't need to be overloaded withnerve to play a man's part in this world. In fact, the fellow who huntstrouble for the sake of showing off his nerve, is generally some damnedfool with a yellow streak in him that he's deadly afraid some one mayuncover. After all," he reflected, "there may be nothing more to copewith than the dreary monotony of snowbound days, and nights when thefrost bites to the bone. Your part will merely be to keep tab on Mr.Simon Montell when I am not about. He's afraid of me. If he can't attainhis purpose by underhand methods, he may consider the risk of openhostility too great. But that we cannot foresee. Our problem, now, is toreach the Sicannie River as soon as we can. There we need never fearmeeting a scarlet jacket. It stands us in hand to be shy of thosegentlemen, for some time to come."
"Amen to that," I responded sincerely.
We lay back in the shadows, smoking, speaking a few words now and then,till the moon came peeping up from below the horizon, shedding its palelight on the strange, red sweep of the Blood Flats. Then we saddled andpacked and bore away from the lone butte, holding a course slightly westof the North Star.
The Land of Frozen Suns: A Novel Page 10
