The Country Beyond: A Romance of the Wilderness

by James Oliver Curwood

  CHAPTER II

  She followed Peter. For a long time the storm had been gathering in herbrain, a storm which she had held back, smothered under her unhappiness,so that only Peter had seen the lightning-flashes of it. But today thebetrayal had forced itself from her lips, and in a hard little voiceshe had told Jolly Roger--the stranger who had come into the blackforest--how her mother and father had died of the same plague more thanten years ago, and how Jed Hawkins and his woman had promised to keepher for three silver fox skins which her father had caught before thesickness came. That much the woman had confided in her, for she was onlysix when it happened. And she had not dared to look at Jolly Roger whenshe told him of what had passed since then, so she saw little of thehardening in his face as he listened. But he had blown his nose--hard.It was a way with Jolly Roger, and she had not known him long enoughto understand what it meant. And a little later he had asked her ifhe might touch her hair--and his big hand had lain for a moment on herhead, as gently as a woman's.

  Like a warm glow in her heart still remained the touch of that hand.It had given her a new courage, and a new thrill, just as Peter'svanquishment of unknown monsters that day had done the same for him.Peter was no longer afraid, and the girl was no longer afraid, andtogether they went along the slope of the ridge, until they came toa dried-up coulee which was choked with a wild upheaval of rock. HerePeter suddenly stopped, with his nose to the ground, and then his legsstiffened, and for the first time the girl heard the babyish growl inhis throat. For a moment she stood very still, and listened, and faintlythere came to her a sound, as if someone was scraping rock againstrock. The girl drew in a quick breath; she stood straighter, andPeter--looking up--saw her eyes flashing, and her lips apart. And thenshe bent down, and picked up a jagged stick.

  "We'll go up, Peter," she whispered. "It's one of his hiding-places!"

  There was a wonderful thrill in the knowledge that she was no longerafraid, and the same thrill was in Peter's swiftly beating little heartas he followed her. They went very quietly, the girl on tip-toe, andPeter making no sound with his soft footpads, so that Jed Hawkins wasstill on his knees, with his back toward them, when they came out into asquare of pebbles and sand between two giant masses of rock. Yesterday,or the day before, both Peter and Nada would have slunk back, forJed was at his devil's work, and only evil could come to the one whodiscovered him at it. He had scooped out a pile of sand from under theedge of the biggest rock, and was filling half a dozen grimy leatherflasks from a jug which he had pulled from the hole. And then he pausedto drink. They could hear the liquor gurgling down his throat.

  Nada tapped the end of her stick against the rock, and like a shot theman whirled about to face them. His face turned livid when he saw whoit was, and he drew himself up until he stood on his feet, his two bigfists clenched, his yellow teeth snarling at her.

  "You damned--spy!" he cried chokingly. "If you was a man--I'd kill you!"

  The girl did not shrink. Her face did not whiten. Two bright spotsflamed in her cheeks, and Hawkins saw the triumph shining in her eyes.And there was a new thing in the odd twist of her red lips, as she saidtauntingly.

  "If I was a man, Jed Hawkins--you'd run!"

  He took a step toward her.

  "You'd run," she repeated, meeting him squarely, and taking a tightergrip of her stick. "I ain't ever seen you hit anything but a woman, an'a girl, or some poor animal that didn't dare bite back. You're a coward,Jed Hawkins, a low-down, sneakin,' whiskey-sellin' coward--and yououghta die!"

  Even Peter sensed the cataclysmic change that had come in this momentbetween the two big rocks. It held something in the air, like theimpending crash of dynamite, or the falling down of the world. He forgothimself, and looked up at his mistress, a wonderful, slim little thingstanding there at last unafraid before the future--and in his dog heartand soul a part of the truth came to him, and he planted his big feetsquarely in front of Jed Hawkins, and snarled at him as he had neversnarled before in his life.

  And the bootlegger, for a moment, was stunned, For a while back he hadhumored the girl a little, to hold her in peace and without suspicionuntil Mooney was able to turn over her body-money. After that--after hehad delivered her to the other's shack--it would all be up to Mooney, hefigured. And this was what had come of his peace-loving efforts! She wastaking advantage of him, defying him, spying upon him--the brat he hadfed and brought up for ten years! Her beauty as she stood there did nothold him back. It was punishment she needed, a beating, a hair-pulling,until there was no breath left in her impudent body. He sprang forward,and Peter let out a wild yip as he saw Nada raise her stick. But shewas a moment too slow. The man's hand caught it, and his right hand shotforward and buried itself in the thick, soft mass of her hair.

  It was then that something broke loose in Peter. For this day, thishour, this minute the gods of destiny had given him birth. All things inthe world were blotted out for him except one--the six inches of nakedshank between the bootlegger's trouser-leg and his shoe. He dove in.His white teeth, sharp as stiletto-points, sank into it. And a wild andterrible yell came from Jed Hawkins as he loosed the girl's hair. Peterheard the yell, and his teeth sank deeper in the flesh of the firstthing he had ever hated. It was the girl, more than Peter, who realizedthe horror of what followed. The man bent down and his powerful fingersclosed round Peter's scrawny neck, and Peter felt his wind suddenly shutoff, and his mouth opened. Then Jed Hawkins drew back the arm that heldhim, as he would have drawn it back to fling a stone.

  With a scream the girl tore at him as his arm straightened out, andPeter went hurtling through the air. Her stick struck him fiercelyacross the face, and in that same moment there was a sickening, crushingthud as Peter's loosely-jointed little body struck against the face ofthe great rock. When Nada turned Peter was groveling in the sand, hiships and back broken down, but his bright eyes were on her, and withouta whimper or a whine he was struggling to drag himself toward her. OnlyJolly Roger could tell the story of how Peter's mother had died for awoman, and in this moment it must have been that her spirit entered intoPeter's soul, for the pain of his terrible hurt was forgotten in hisdesire to drag himself back to the feet of the girl, and die facing herenemy--the man. He did not know that he was dragging his broken bodyonly an inch at a time through the sand. But the girl saw the terribletruth, and with a cry of agony which all of Hawkin's torture couldnot have wrung from her she ran to him, and fell upon her knees, andgathered him tenderly in her arms. Then, in a flash, she was on herfeet, facing Jed Hawkins like a little demon.

  "For that--I'll kill you!" she panted. "I will. I'll kill you!"

  The blow of her stick had half blinded the bootlegger's one eye, but hewas coming toward her. Swift as a bird Nada turned and ran, and as theman's footsteps crunched in the gravel and rock behind her a wild fearpossessed her--fear for Peter, and not for herself. Very soon Hawkinswas left behind, cursing at the futility of the pursuit, and at the fatethat had robbed him of an eye.

  Down the coulee and out into the green meadowland of the plain ran Nada,her hair streaming brightly in the sun, her arms clutching Peter to herbreast. Peter was whimpering now, crying softly and piteously, just asonce upon a time she had heard a baby cry--a little baby that was dying.And her soul cried out in agony, for she knew that Peter, too, wasdying. And as she stumbled onward--on toward the black forest, she puther face down to Peter and sobbed over and over again his name.

  "Peter--Peter--Peter--"

  And Peter, joyous and grateful for her love and the sound of her voiceeven in these moments, thrust out his tongue and caressed her cheek, andthe girl's breath came in a great sob as she staggered on.

  "It's all right now, Peter," she crooned. "It's all right, baby. Hewon't hurt you any more, an' we're goin' across the creek to MisterRoger's cabin, an' you'll be happy there. You'll be happy--"

  Her voice choked full, and her mother-heart seemed to break inside her,just as life had gone out of that other mother's heart when the babydied. For their
grief, in God's reckoning of things, was the same; andlittle Peter, sensing the greatness of this thing that had made them onein flesh and blood, snuggled his wiry face closer in her neck, cryingsoftly to her, and content to die there close to the warmth of thecreature he loved.

  "Don't cry, baby," she soothed. "Don't cry, Peter, dear. It'll soonbe all right--all right--" And the sob came again into her throat, andclung there like a choking fist, until they came to the edge of the bigforest.

  She looked down, and saw that Peter's eyes were closed; and not untilthen did the miracle of understanding come upon her fully that there wasno difference at all between the dying baby's face and dying Peter's,except that one had been white and soft, and Peter's was different--andcovered with hair.

  "God'll take care o' you, Peter," she whispered. "He will--God, 'n' me,and Mister Roger--"

  She knew there was untruth in what she was saying for no one, not evenGod, would ever take care of Peter again--in life. His still little faceand the terrible grief in her own heart told her that. For Peter's backwas broken, and he was going--going even now--as she ran moaningly withhim through the deep aisles of the forest. But before he died, beforehis heart stopped beating in her arms, she wanted to reach Jolly Roger'sfriendly cabin, in the big swamp beyond the creek. It was not that hecould save Peter, but something told her that Jolly Roger's presencewould make Peter's dying easier, both for Peter and for her, for in thisfirst glad spring of her existence the stranger in the forest shack hadbrought sunshine and hope and new dreams into her life; and they had sethim up, she and Peter, as they would have set up a god on a shrine.

  So she ran for the fording place on Sucker Creek, which was a goodhalf mile above the shack in which the stranger was living. She wasstaggering, and short of wind, when she came to the ford, and when shesaw the whirl and rush of water ahead of her she remembered what JollyRoger had said about the flooding of the creek, and her eyes widened.Then she looked down at Peter, piteously limp and still in her arms,and she drew a quick breath and made up her mind. She knew that at thisshallow place the water could not be more than up to her waist, even atthe flood-tide. But it was running like a mill-race.

  She put her lips down to Peter's fuzzy little face, and held them therefor a moment, and kissed him.

  "We'll make it, Peter," she whispered. "We ain't afraid, are we, baby?We'll make it--sure--sure--we'll make it--"

  She set out bravely, and the current swished about her ankles, to herknees, to her hips. And then, suddenly, unseen hands under the waterseemed to rouse themselves, and she felt them pulling and tugging at heras the water deepened to her waist. In another moment she was fighting,fighting to hold her feet, struggling to keep the forces from drivingher downstream. And then came the supreme moment, close to the shore forwhich she was striving. She felt herself giving away, and she cried outbrokenly for Peter not to be afraid. And then something drove pitilesslyagainst her body, and she flung out one arm, holding Peter close withthe other--and caught hold of a bit of stub that protruded like a handlefrom the black and slippery log the flood-water had brought down uponher.

  "We're all right, Peter," she cried, even in that moment when she knewshe had lost. "We're all ri--"

  And then suddenly the bright glory of her head went down, and with herwent Peter, still held to her breast under the sweeping rush of theflood.

  Even then it was thought of Peter that filled her brain. Somehow shewas not afraid. She was not terrified, as she had often been of theflood-rush of waters that smashed down the creeks in springtime. Aninundating roar was over her, under her, and all about her; it beat ina hissing thunder against the drums of her ears, yet it did not frightenher as she had sometimes been frightened. Even in that black chaos whichwas swiftly suffocating the life from her, unspoken words of cheer forPeter formed in her heart, and she struggled to hold him to her, whilewith her other hand she fought to raise herself by the stub of the logto which she clung. For she was not thinking of him as Peter, the dog,but as something greater--something that had fought for her that day,and because of her had died.

  Suddenly she felt a force pulling her from above. It was the big log,turning again to that point of equilibrium which for a space her weighthad destroyed. In the edge of a quieter pool where the water swirled butdid not rush, her brown head appeared, and then her white face, and witha last mighty effort she thrust up Peter so that his dripping body wason the log. Sobbingly she filled her lungs with air. But the drench ofwater and her hair blinded her so that she could not see. And she foundall at once that the strength had gone from her body. Vainly she triedto drag herself up beside Peter, and in the struggle she raised herselfa little, so that a low-hanging branch of a tree swept her like a mightyarm from the log.

  With a cry she reached out for Peter. But he was gone, the log was gone,and she felt a vicious pulling at her hair, as Jed Hawkins himself hadoften pulled it, and for a few moments the current pounded against herbody and the tree-limb swayed back and forth as it held her there by herhair.

  If there was pain from that tugging, Nada did not feel it. She could seenow, and thirty yards below her was a wide, quiet pool into which thelog was drifting. Peter was gone. And then, suddenly, her heart seemedto stop its beating, and her eyes widened, and in that moment ofastounding miracle she forgot that she was hanging by her hair in theugly lip of the flood, with slippery hands beating and pulling at herfrom below. For she saw Peter--Peter in the edge of the pool--making hisway toward the shore! For a space she could not believe. It must be hisdead body drifting. It could not be Peter--swimming! And yet--his headwas above the water--he was moving shoreward--he was struggling--

  Frantically she tore at the detaining clutch above her. Something gaveway. She felt the sharp sting of it, and then she plunged into thecurrent, and swept down with it, and in the edge of the pool struck outwith all her last strength until her feet touched bottom, and she couldstand. She wiped the water from her eyes, sobbing in her breathlessfear--her mighty hope. Peter had reached the shore. He had draggedhimself out, and had crumpled down in a broken heap--but he was facingher, his bright eyes wide open and questing for her. Slowly Nada wentto him. Until now, when it was all over, she had not realized howhelplessly weak she was. Something was turning round and round in herhead, and she was so dizzy that the shore swam before her eyes, and itseemed quite right to her that Peter should be alive--and not dead.She was still in a foot of water when she fell on her knees and draggedherself the rest of the way to him, and gathered him in her arms again,close up against her wet, choking breast.

  And there the sun shone down upon them, without the shade of a twigoverhead; and the water that a little while before had sung of deathrippled with its old musical joy, and about them the birds sang, andvery near to them a pair of mating red-squirrels chattered and played ina mountain-ash tree. And Nada's hair brightened in the sun, and beganto ripple into curls at the end, and Peter's bristling whiskers grewdry--so that half an hour after she had dragged herself out of the waterthere was a new light in the girl's eyes, and a color in her cheeks thatwas like the first dawning of summer pink in the heart of a rose.

  "We're a'most dry enough to go to Mister Jolly Roger, Peter," shewhispered, a little thrill in her voice.

  She stood up, and shook out her half dry hair, and then picked upPeter--and winced when he gave a little moan.

  "He'll fix you, Peter," she comforted. "An' it'll be so nice overhere--with him."

  Her eyes were looking ahead, down through the glory of the sun-filledforest, and the song of birds and the beauty of the world filled hersoul, and a new and wonderful freedom seemed to thrill in the touch ofthe soft earth under her feet.

  "Flowers," she cried softly. "Flowers, an' birds, an' the sun, Peter--"She paused a moment, as if listening to the throb of light and lifeabout her. And then, "I guess we'll go to Mister Jolly Roger now," shesaid.

  She shook her hair again, so that it shone in a soft and rebelliousglory about her, and the violet light grew a little darker
in her eyes,and the color a bit deeper in her cheeks as she walked on into theforest over the faintly worn foot-trail that led to the old cabin whereJolly Roger was keeping himself away from the eyes of men.