The Country Beyond: A Romance of the Wilderness

by James Oliver Curwood

  CHAPTER XI

  Days of new hope and gladness followed in the camp of Yellow Bird andSlim Buck. It was as if McKay, after a long absence, had come back tohis own people. The tenderness of mother and sister lay warm in YellowBird's breast. Slim Buck loved him as a brother. The wrinkled faces ofthe old softened when he came near and spoke to them; little childrenfollowed him, and at dusk and dawn Sun Cloud held up her mouth to bekissed. For the first time in years McKay felt as if he had found home.The northland Indian Summer held the world in its drowsy arms, andthe sun-filled days and the starry nights seemed overflowing with thepromise of all time. Each day he put off his going until tomorrow, andeach day Slim Buck urged him to remain with them always.

  But in Yellow Bird's eyes was a strange, quiet mystery, and she did noturge. Each day and night she was watching--and waiting.

  And at last that for which she watched and waited came to pass.

  It was night, a dark, still night with a creeping restlessness in it.This restlessness was like the ghostly pulse of a great living body,still for a time, then moving, hiding, whispering between the clouds inthe sky and the deeper shadowed earth below. A night of uneasiness, ofunseen forces chained and stifled, of impending doubt and oppressivelifelessness.

  There was no wind, yet under the stars gray masses of cloud sped as ifin flight.

  There was no breeze in the treetops, yet they whispered and sighed.

  In the strange spell of this midnight, heavy with its unrest, thewilderness lay half asleep, half awake, with the mysterious stillness ofdeath enshrouding it.

  At the edge of the white sands of Wollaston, whose broad water was likeoil tonight, stood the tepees of Yellow Bird's people. Smoke-blackenedand seasoned by wind and rain they were dark blotches sentineling theshore of the big lake. Behind them, beyond the willows, were the Indiandogs. From them came an occasional whine, a deep sigh, the snapping ofa jaw, and in the gloom their bodies moved restlessly. In the tepeeswas the spell of this same unrest. Sleep was never quite sure of itself.Men, women and little children twisted and rolled, or lay awake, andweird and distorted shapes and fancies came in dreams.

  In her tepee Yellow Bird lay with her eyes wide open, staring at thegray blur of the smoke hole above. Her husband was asleep. Sun Cloud,tossing on her blankets, had flung one of her long braids so that it layacross her mother's breast. Yellow Bird's slim fingers played with itssilken strands as she looked straight up into nothingness. Wide awake,she was thinking--thinking as Slim Buck--would never be able to think,back to the days when a white woman had been her goddess, and when alittle white boy--the woman's son--had called Yellow Bird "my fairy."

  In the gloom, with foreboding eating at her heart, Yellow Bird's redlips parted in a smile as those days came back to her, for they werepleasing days to think about. But after that the years sped swiftly inher mind until the day when the little boy--a man grown--came to saveher tribe, and her own life, and the life of Sun Cloud, and of Slim Buckher husband. Since then prosperity and happiness had been her lot. Thespirits had been good. They had not let her grow old, but had kept herstill beautiful. And Sun Cloud, her little daughter, was beautiful,and Slim Buck was more than ever her god among men, and her people werehappy. And all this she owed to the man who was sleeping under the gloomof the sky outside, the hunted man, the outlaw, "the little boy grownup"--Jolly Roger McKay.

  As she listened, and stared up at the smoke hole, strange spirits werewhispering to her, and Yellow Bird's blood ran a little faster andher eyes grew bigger and brighter in the darkness. They seemed to beaccusing her. They told her it was because of her that Roger McKay hadcome in that winter of starvation and death, and had robbed and almostkilled, that she and Slim Buck and little Sun Cloud might live. That wasthe beginning, and the thrill of it had got into the blood of Neekewa,her "little white brother grown up." And now he was out there, alonewith his dog in the night--and the red-coated avengers of the lawwere hunting him. They wanted him for many things, but chiefly for thekilling of a man.

  Yellow Bird sat up, her little hands clenched about the thick braid ofSun Cloud's hair. She had conjured with the spirits and had let thesoul go out of her body that she might learn the future for Neekewa, herwhite brother. And they had told her that Roger McKay had done right tothink of killing.

  Their voices had whispered to her that he would not suffer more than hehad already suffered--and that in the Country Beyond he would findNada the white girl, and happiness, and peace. Yellow Bird did notdisbelieve. Her faith was illimitable. The spirits would not lie. Butthe unrest of the night was eating at her heart. She tried tolift herself to the whisperings above the tepee top. But they wereunintelligible, like many voices mingling, and with them came a dullfear into her soul.

  She put out a hand, as if to rouse Slim Buck. Then she drew it back, andplaced Sun Cloud's braid away from her. She rose to her feet so quietlythat even in their restlessness they did not fully awake. Through thetepee door she went, and stood up straight in the night, as if now shemight hear more clearly, and understand.

  For a space she breathed in the oppressive something that was in theair, and her eyes went east and west for sign of storm. But there wasno threat of storm. The clouds were drifting slowly and softly, withstarlight breaking through their rifts, and there was no moan of thunderor wail of wind far away. Her heart, for a little, seemed to stop itsbeating, and her hands clasped tightly at her breast. She began tounderstand, and a strange thrill crept into her. The spirits had put agreat burden upon the night so that it might drive sleep from her eyes.They were warning her. They were telling her of danger, approachingswiftly, almost impending. And it was peril for the white man who wassleeping somewhere near.

  Swiftly she began seeking for him, her naked little brown feet making nosound in the soft white sands of Wollaston.

  And as she sought, the clouds thinned out above, and the stars shonethrough more clearly, as if to make easier for her the quest in thegloom.

  Where he had made his bed of blankets in the sand, close beside a flatmass of water-washed sandstone, Jolly Roger lay half asleep. Peter waswide awake. His eyes gleamed brightly and watchfully. His lank and bonybody was tense and alert. He did not whine or snap his jaws, thoughhe heard the Indian dogs occasionally doing so. The comradeship of afugitive, ever on the watch for his fellow men, had made him silent andvelvet-footed, and had sharpened his senses to the keenness of knives.He, too, felt the impelling force of an approaching menace in this nightof stillness and mystery, and he watched closely the restless movementsof his master's body, and listened with burning eyes to the name whichhe had spoken three times in the last five minutes of his sleep.

  It was Nada's name, and as Jolly Roger cried it out softly in the oldway, as if Nada was standing before them, he reached out, and his handsstruck the sandstone rock. His eyes opened, and slowly he sat up.The sky had cleared of clouds, and there was starlight, and in thatstarlight Jolly Roger saw a figure standing near him in the sand. Atfirst he thought it was Sun Cloud, for Peter stood with his head raisedto her. Then he saw it was Yellow Bird, with her beautiful eyes lookingat him steadily and strangely as he awakened.

  He got upon his feet and went to her, and took one of her hands. It wascold. He felt the shiver that ran through her slim body, and suddenlyher eyes swept from him out into the night.

  "Listen, Neekewa!"

  Her fingers tightened in his hand. For a space he could hear the beatingof her heart.

  "Twice I have heard it," she whispered then. "Neekewa, you must go!"

  "Heard what?" he asked.

  She shook her head.

  "Something--I don't know what. But it tells me there is danger. And Isaw danger over the tepee top, and I have heard whisperings of it allabout me. It is coming. It is coming slowly and cautiously. It is verynear. Hark, Neekewa! Was that not a sound out on the water?"

  "I think it was the wing of a duck, Yellow Bird."

  "And THAT!" she cried swiftly, her fingers tightening still more. "T
hatsound--as if wood strikes on wood!"

  "The croak of a loon far up the shore, Yellow Bird."

  She drew her hand away.

  "Neekewa, listen to me," she importuned him in Cree. "The spiritshave made this night heavy with warning. I could not sleep. Sun Cloudtwitches and moans. Slim Buck whispers to himself. You were crying outthe name of Nada--Oo-Mee the Pigeon--when I came to you. I know. It isdanger. It is very near. And it is danger for you."

  "And only a short time ago you were confident happiness and peace werecoming to me, Yellow Bird," reminded Jolly Roger. "The spirits, yousaid, promised the law should never get me, and I would find Nada againin that strange place you called the Country Beyond. Have the spiritschanged their message, because the night is heavy?"

  Yellow Bird's eyes were staring into darkness.

  "No, they have not changed," she whispered. "They have spoken the truth.They want to tell me more, but for some reason it is impossible. Theyhave tried to tell me where lies this place they call the CountryBeyond--where you will again find Oo-Mee the Pigeon. But a cloud alwayscomes between. And they are trying to tell me what the danger is offthere--in the darkness." Suddenly she caught his arm. "Nee-kewa, DID YOUHEAR?"

  "A fish leaping in the still water, Yellow Bird."

  He heard a low whimper in Peter's throat, and looking down he sawPeter's muzzle pointing toward the thick cloud of gloom over the lake.

  "What is it, Pied-Bot?" he asked.

  Peter whimpered again.

  Jolly Roger touched the cold hand that rested on his arm.

  "Go back to your bed, Yellow Bird. There is only one danger for me--thered-coated police. And they do not travel in the dark hours of a nightlike this."

  "They are coming," she replied. "I cannot hear or see, but they arecoming!"

  Her fingers tightened.

  "And they are near," she cried softly.

  "You are nervous, Yellow Bird," he said, thinking of the two days andthree nights of her conjuring, when she had neither slept nor takenfood, that she might more successfully commune with the spirits. "Thereis no danger. The night is a hard one for sleep. It has frightened you."

  "It has warned me," she persisted, standing as motionless as a statue athis side. "Neekewa, the spirits do not forget. They have not forgottenthat winter when you came, and my people were dying of famine andsickness--when I dreaded to see little Sun Cloud close her eyes even insleep, fearing she would never open them again. They have not forgottenhow all that winter you robbed the white people over on the Des Chenes,that we might live. If they remember those things, and lie, I would notbe afraid to curse them. But they do not lie."

  Jolly Roger McKay did not answer. Deep down in him that strangesomething was at work again, compelling him to believe Yellow Bird. Shedid not look at him, but in her low Cree voice, soft as the mellow notesof a bird, she was saying:

  "You will be going very soon, Neekewa, and I shall not see you again fora long time. Do not forget what I have told you. And you must believe.Somewhere there is this place called the Country Beyond. The spiritshave said so. And it is there you will find your Oo-Mee the Pigeon--andhappiness. But if you go back to the place where you left The Pigeonwhen you fled from the red-coated men of the law, you will find onlyblackness and desolation. Believe, and you shall be guided. If youdisbelieve--"

  She stopped.

  "You heard that, Neekewa? It was not the wing of a duck, nor was it thecroak of a loon far up the shore, or a fish leaping in the still water.IT WAS A PADDLE!"

  In the star-gloom Jolly Roger McKay bowed his head, and listened.

  "Yes, a paddle," he said, and his voice sounded strange to him."Probably it is one of your people returning to camp, Yellow Bird."

  She turned toward him, and stood very near. Her hands reached out tohim. Her hair and eyes were filled with the velvety glow of the stars,and for an instant he saw the tremble of her parted lips.

  "Goodby, Neekewa," she whispered.

  And then, without letting her hands touch him, she was gone. Swiftly sheran to Slim Buck's tepee, and entered, and very soon she came out againwith Slim Buck beside her. Jolly Roger did not move, but watched asYellow Bird and her husband went down to the edge of the lake, andstood there, waiting for the strange canoe to pass--or come in. Itwas approaching. Slowly it came up, an indistinct shadow at first, butgrowing clearer, until at last he could see the silhouette of it againstthe star-silvered water beyond. There were two people in it. Before thecanoe reached the shore Slim Buck stood out knee-deep in the water andhailed it.

  A voice answered. And at the sound of that voice McKay dropped likea shot beside Peter, and Peter's lips curled up, and he snarled. Hismaster's hand warned him, and together they slipped back into theshadows, and from under a piece of canvas Jolly Roger dragged forth hispack, and quietly strapped it over his shoulders while he waited andlistened.

  And then, as he heard the voice again, he grinned, and chuckled softly.

  "It's Cassidy, Pied-Bot! We can't lose that redheaded fox, can we?"

  A good humored deviltry lay in his eyes, and Peter--looking up--thoughtfor a moment his master was laughing. Then Jolly Roger made a megaphoneof his hands, and called very clearly out into the night.

  "Ho, Cassidy! Is that you, Cassidy?"

  Peter's heart was choking him as he listened. He sensed a terrificdanger. There was no sound at the edge of the lake. There was no soundanywhere. For a few moments a death-like stillness followed JollyRoger's words.

  Then a voice came in answer, each word cutting the gloom with thedecisive clearness of a bullet coming from a gun.

  "Yes, this is Cassidy--Corporal Terence Cassidy, of 'M' Division, RoyalNorthwest Mounted Police. Is that you, McKay?"

  "Yes, it's me," replied Jolly Roger. "Does the wager still hold,Cassidy?"

  "It holds."

  There was a shadowy movement on the beach. The voice came again.

  "Watch yourself, McKay. If I see you I shall fire!"

  With drawn gun Cassidy rushed toward the spot where Jolly Roger andPeter had stood. It was empty now, except for the bit of old canvas.Cassidy's Indian came up and stood behind him, and for many minutes theylistened for the crackling of brush. Slim Buck joined them, and lastcame Yellow Bird, her dark eyes glowing like pools of fire in theirexcitement. Cassidy looked at her, marveling at her beauty, andsuspicious of something that was in her face. He went back to the beach.There he caught himself short, astonishment bringing a sharp exclamationfrom his lips.

  His canoe and outfit were gone!

  Out of the star-gloom behind him floated a soft ripple of laughter asYellow Bird ran to her tepee.

  And from the mist of water--far out--came a voice, the voice of JollyRoger McKay.

  "Goodby, Cassidy!"

  With it mingled the defiant bark of a dog.

  In her tepee, a moment later, Yellow Bird drew Sun Cloud's glossy headclose against her warm breast, and turned her radiant face up thankfullyto the smoke hole in the tepee top, through which the spirits hadwhispered their warning to her. Indistinctly, and still farther away,her straining ears heard again the cry,

  "Goodby, Cassidy!"