CHAPTER XIV
Jolly Roger did not answer, but crawled through the hole and found thesledge in the outer darkness. He heard Peter coming after him, and hesaw Porter's bloodless face in the illumination of the alcohol lamp,where he waited to help him with the dunnage. In those seconds he foughtto get a grip on himself. A quarter of an hour ago he had laughed at thethought of the law. Never had it seemed to be so far away from him, andnever had he been more utterly isolated from the world. His mind wasstill a bit dazed by the thing that had happened. The police had nottrailed him. They had not ferreted him out, nor had they stumbledupon him by accident. It was he who had gone out into the night anddeliberately dragged them in! Of all the trickery fate had played uponhim this was the least to be expected.
His mind began to work more swiftly as in darkness he cut the babichecordage that bound the patrol dunnage to the sledge. "N" Division, hetold himself, was away over in the Athabasca country. He had never heardof Porter, nor of Superintendent Tavish, and inasmuch as the outfit wasevidently a special escort to Fort Churchill it was very likelythat Porter and his companions would not be thinking of outlaws, andespecially of Jolly Roger McKay. This was his one chance. To attemptan escape through the blizzard was not only a desperate hazard. It wasdeath.
There were only two packs on the sledge, and these he passed through thehole to Porter. A few moments later he was holding a flask of liquor tothe lips of the gray-bearded man, while the girl looked at him with eyesthat were widening as the snow-sting left them. Tavish gulped, and hismittened hand closed on the girl's arm.
"I'm all right, Jo," he mumbled. "All right--"
His eyes met McKay's, and then took in the snow walls of the dug-out.They were deep, piercing eyes, overhung by shaggy brows. Jolly Rogerfelt the intentness of their gaze as he gave the girl a swallow of thebrandy, and then passed the flask to Porter.
"You have saved our lives," said Tavish, in a voice that was clearer."I don't just understand how it happened. I remember stumbling in thedarkness, and being unable to rise. I was behind the sledge. Porterand Breault were dragging it, and Josephine, my daughter, was shelteredunder the blankets. After that--"
He paused, and Jolly Roger explained how it all had come about. Hepointed to Peter. It was the dog, he said. Peter had insisted there wassomeone outside, and they had taken a chance by going in search of them.He was John Cummings, a fox trapper, and the storm had caught him fiftymiles from his cabin. He was traveling without a dog-sledge, and hadonly a pack-outfit.
Breault, the third man, had regained his wind, and was listening to him.One look at his dark, thin face told McKay that he was the wildernessman of the three. He was staring at Jolly Roger in a strange sort ofway. And then, as if catching himself, he nodded, and began rubbing hisfrosted face with handfuls of snow.
Porter had thrown off his heavy coat, and was unpacking one of thedunnage sacks. He and the girl seemed to have suffered less than theother two. Jo, the girl, was looking at him. And then her eyes turned toJolly Roger. They were large, fine eyes, wide open and clear now. Therewas something of splendid strength about her as she smiled at McKay. Shewas not of the hysterical sort. He could see that.
"If we could have some hot soup," she suggested. "May we?"
There was gratitude in her eyes, which she made no attempt to express inwords. Jolly Roger liked her. And Peter crept up behind her, and watchedher as she followed Breault's example, and rubbed the cheeks of thebearded man with snow.
"There's an alcohol stove in the other pack," said Breault, with hishard, narrow eyes fixed steadily on Jolly Roger's face. "By the way,what did you say your name was?"
"Cummings--John Cummings."
Breault made no answer. During the next half hour Jolly Roger feltstealing over him a growing sense of uneasiness. They drank soup and atebannock. It grew warm, and the girl threw off the heavy fur garment thatenveloped her. Color returned into her cheeks. Her eyes were bright, andin her voice was a tremble of happiness at finding warmth and life whereshe had expected death. Porter's friendliness was almost brotherly. Heexplained what had happened. Two rascally Chippewyans had deserted them,stealing off into darkness and storm with both dog teams and one oftheir sledges. After that they had fought on, seeking for a drift intowhich they might dig a refuge. But the Barren was as smooth as atable. They had shouted, and Miss Tavish had screamed--not because theyexpected to find assistance--but on account of Tavish falling in thestorm, and losing himself. It was quite a joke, Porter thought, thatSuperintendent Tavish, one of the iron men of the service, should havegiven up the ghost so easily.
Tavish smiled grimly. They were all in good humor, and happy, with thepossible exception of Breault. Not once did he laugh or smile. Yet JollyRoger noted that each time he spoke the others were specially attentive.There was something repressive and mysterious about the man, and thegirl would cut herself short in the middle of a laugh if he happenedto speak, and the softness of her mouth would harden in an instant. Heunderstood the significance of her gladness, and of Porter's, for twicehe saw their hands come together, and their fingers entwine. And intheir eyes was something which they could not hide when they looked ateach other. But Breault puzzled him. He did not know that Breaultwas the best man-hunter in "N" Division, which reached from AthabascaLanding to the Arctic Ocean, or that up and down the two thousand-milestretch of the Three River Country he was known as Shingoos, the Ferret.
The girl fell asleep first that night, with her cheek on her father'sshoulder. Breault, the Ferret, rolled himself in a blanket, and breatheddeeply. Porter still smoked his pipe, and looked wistfully at the paleface of Josephine Tavish. He smiled a bit proudly at McKay.
"She's mine," he whispered. "We're going to be married."
Jolly Roger wanted to reach over and grip his hand.
He nodded, a little lump coming in his throat.
"I know how you feel," he said. "When I heard her calling out there--itmade me think--of a girl down south."
"Down south?" queried Porter. "Why down south--if you care for her--andyou up here?"
McKay shrugged his shoulders. He had said too much. Neither he norPorter knew that Breault's eyes were half open, and that he waslistening.
Jolly Roger held up a hand, as if something in the wailing of the stormhad caught his attention.
"We'll have two or three days of this. Better turn in, Porter. I'm goingto dig out another room--for Miss Tavish. I'm afraid she'll need theconvenience of a private room before we're able to move. It's an easyjob--and passes the time away."
"I'll help," offered Porter.
For an hour they worked, using McKay's snowshoes as shovels. During thathour Breault did not close his eyes. A curious smile curled his thinlips as he watched Jolly Roger. And when at last Porter turned in, andslept, the Ferret sat up, and stretched himself. McKay had finished hisroom, and was beginning a tunnel which would lead as a back door out ofthe drift, when Breault came in and picked up the snowshoe which Porterhad used.
"I'll take my turn," he said. "I'm a bit nervous, and not at all sleepy,Cummings." He began digging into the snow. "Been long in this country?"he asked.
"Three winters. It's a good red fox country, with now and then a silverand a black."
Breault grunted.
"You must have met Cassidy, then," he said casually, without looking atMcKay. "Corporal Terence Cassidy. This is his country."
Jolly Roger did not look up from his work of digging.
"Yes, I know him. Met him last winter. Red headed. A nice chap. I likehim. You know him?"
"Entered the service together," said Breault. "But he's unlucky. Fortwo or three years he has been on the trail of a man named McKay. JollyRoger, they call him--Jolly Roger McKay. Ever hear of him?"
Jolly Roger nodded.
"Cassidy told me about him when he was at my cabin. From what I've heardI--rather like him."
"Who--Cassidy, or Jolly Roger?"
"Both."
For the first time the Ferret level
ed his eyes at his companion. Theywere mystifying eyes, never appearing to open fully, but remaining halfclosed as if to conceal whatever thought might lie behind them. McKayfelt their penetration. It was like a cold chill entering into him,warning him of a menace deadlier than the storm.
"Haven't any idea where one might come upon this Jolly Roger, have you?"
"No."
"You see, he thinks he killed a man down south. Well, he didn't. The manlived. If you happen to see him at any time give him that information,will you?"
Jolly Roger thrust his head and shoulders into the growing tunnel.
"Yes, I will."
He knew Breault was lying. And also knew that back of the narrow slitsof Breault's eyes was the cunning of a fox.
"You might also tell him the law has a mind to forgive him for stickingup that free trader's post a few years ago."
Jolly Roger turned with his snowshoe piled high with a load of snow.
"I'll tell him that, too," he said, chuckling at the obviousness ofthe other's trap. "What do you think my cabin is, Breault--a Rest forHomeless Outlaws?"
Breault grinned. It was an odd sort of grin, and Jolly Roger caught itover his shoulder. When he returned from dumping his load, Breault said:
"You see, we know this Jolly Roger fellow is spending the wintersomewhere up here. And Cassidy says there is a girl down south--"
Jolly Roger's face was hidden in the tunnel.
"--who would like to see him," finished Breault.
When McKay turned toward him the Ferret was carelessly lighting hispipe.
"I remember--Cassidy told me about this girl," said Jolly Roger. "Hesaid--some day--he would trap this--this man--through the girl. So if Ihappen to meet Jolly Roger McKay, and send him back to the girl, it willhelp out the law. Is that it, Breault? And is there any reward tacked toit? Anything in it for me?"
Breault was looking at him in the pale light of the alcohol lamp,puffing out tobacco smoke, and with that odd twist of a smile about histhin lips.
"Listen to the storm," he said. "I think it's getting worse--Cummings!"
Suddenly he held out a hand to Peter, who sat near the lamp, his brighteyes fixed watchfully on the stranger.
"Nice dog you have, Cummings. Come here, Peter! Peter--Peter--"
Tight fingers seemed to grip at McKay's throat. He had not spokenPeter's name since the rescue of Breault.
"Peter--Peter--"
The Ferret was smiling affably. But Peter did not move. He made noresponse to the outstretched hand. His eyes were steady and challenging.In that moment McKay wanted to hug him up in his arms.
The Ferret laughed.
"He's a good dog, a very good dog, Cummings. I like a one-man dog, andI also like a one-dog man. That's what Jolly Roger McKay is, if you everhappen to meet him. Travels with one dog. An Airedale, with whiskers onhim like a Mormon. And his name is Peter. Funny name for a dog, isn'tit?"
He faced the outer room, stretching his long arms above his head.
"I'm going to try sleep again, Cummings. Goodnight! And--Mother ofHeaven!--listen to the wind."
"Yes, it's a bad night," said McKay.
He looked at Peter when Breault was gone, and his heart was beatingfast. He could hear the wind, too. It was sweeping over the Barren morefiercely than before, and the sound of it brought a steely glitter intohis eyes. This time he could not run away from the law. Flight meantdeath. And Breault knew it. He was in a trap--a trap built by himself.That is, if Breault had guessed the truth, and he believed he had. Therewas only one way out--and that meant fight.
He went into the outer room for his pack and a blanket. He did not lookat Breault, but he knew the man's narrow eyes were following him. Heleft the alcohol lamp burning, but in his own room, after he had spreadout his bed, he extinguished the light. Then, very quietly, he dug ahole through the snow partition between the two rooms. He waited forten minutes before he thrust a finger-tip through the last thin crustof snow. With his eye close to the aperture he could see Breault. TheFerret was sitting up, and leaning toward Porter, who was sleeping anarm's length away. He reached over, and touched him on the shoulder.
Jolly Roger widened the snow-slit another inch, straining his ears tohear. He could see Tavish and the girl asleep. In another moment Porterwas sitting up, with the Ferret's hand gripping his arm warningly.Breault motioned toward the inner room, and Porter was silent. ThenBreault bent over and began to whisper. Jolly Roger could hear onlythe indistinct monotone of his voice. But he could see very clearly thechange that came into Porter's face. His eyes widened, and he staredtoward the inner room, making a movement as if to rouse Tavish and thegirl.
The Ferret stopped him.
"Don't get excited. Let them sleep."
McKay heard that much--and no more. For some time after that the twomen sat close together, conversing in whispers. There was an exultantsatisfaction in Porter's clean-cut face, as well as in Breault's. JollyRoger watched them until Breault extinguished the second lamp. Then helightly plugged the hole in the partition with snow, and reached out inthe darkness until his hand found Peter.
"They think they've got us, boy," he whispered, "They think they've gotus!"
Very quietly they lay for an hour. McKay did not sleep, and Peter waswide awake. At the end of that hour Jolly Roger crept on his hands andknees to the doorway and listened. One after another he picked out thesteady breathing of the sleepers. Then he began feeling his way aroundthe wall of his room until he came to a place where the snow was verysoft.
"An air-drift," he whispered to Peter, close at his shoulder. "We'llfool 'em, boy. And we'll fight--if we have to."
He began worming his head and shoulders and body into the air-drift likea gimlet. A foot at a time he burrowed himself through, heaving his bodyup and down and sideways to pack the light snow, leaving a round tunneltwo feet in diameter behind him. Within an hour he had come to theouter crust on the windward side of the big snow-dune. He did not breakthrough this crust, which was as tough as crystal-glass, but lay quietlyfor a time and listened to the sweep of the wind outside. It was warm,and very comfortable, and he had half-dozed off before he caught himselfback into wakefulness and returned to his room. The mouth of his tunnelhe packed with snow. After that he wound the blanket about him and gavehimself up calmly to sleep.
Only Peter lay awake after that. And it was Peter who roused Jolly Rogerin what would have been the early dawn outside the snow-dune. McKay felthis restless movement, and opened his eyes. A faint light was illumininghis room, and he sat up. In the outer room the alcohol lamp was burningagain. He could hear movement, and voices that were very low andindistinct. Carefully he dug out once more the little hole in the snowwall, and widened the slit.
Breault and Tavish were asleep, but Porter was sitting up, and closebeside him sat the girl. Her coiled hair was loosened, and fallen overher shoulders. There was no sign of drowsiness in her wide-open eyes asthey stared at the door between the two rooms. McKay could see her handclasping Porter's arm. Porter was talking, with his face so close to herbent head that his lips touched her hair, and though Jolly Roger couldunderstand no word that was spoken he knew Porter was whispering theexciting secret of his identity to Josephine Tavish. He could see, fora moment, a shadow of protest in her face, he could hear the quick,sibilant whisper of her voice, and Porter cautioned her with a fingerat her lips, and made a gesture toward the sleeping Tavish. Then hisfingers closed about her uncoiled hair as he drew her to him. McKaywatched the long kiss between them. The girl drew away quickly then, andPorter tucked the blanket about her when she lay down beside her father.After that he stretched out again beside Breault.
Jolly Roger guessed what had happened. The girl had awakened, a bitnervous, and had roused Porter and asked him to relight the alcohollamp. And Porter had taken advantage of the opportunity to tell her ofthe interesting discovery which Breault had made--and to kiss her. McKaystroked Peter's scrawny neck, and listened. He could no longer hear thestorm, and he wondere
d if the fury of it was spent.
Every few minutes he looked through the slit in the snow wall. The lasttime, half an hour after Porter had returned to his blanket, JosephineTavish was sitting up. She was very wide awake. McKay watched her as sherose slowly to her knees, and then to her feet. She bent over Porter andBreault to make sure they were asleep, and then came straight toward thedoor of his room.
He lay back on his blanket, with the fingers of one hand gripped closelyabout Peter.
"Be quiet, boy," he whispered. "Be quiet."
He could see the shutting out of light at his door as the girl stoodthere, listening for his breathing. He breathed heavily, and before heclosed his eyes he saw Josephine Tavish coming toward him. In a momentshe was bending over him. He could feel the soft caress of her loosehair on his face and hands. Then she knelt quietly down beside him,stroking Peter with her hand, and shook him lightly by the shoulder.
"Jolly Roger!" she whispered. "Jolly Roger McKay!"
He opened his eyes, looking up at the white face in the gloom.
"Yes," he replied softly. "What is it, Miss Tavish?"
He could hear the choking breath in her throat as her fingers tightenedat his shoulder. She bent her face still nearer to him, until her haircluttered his throat and breast.
"You are--awake?"
"Yes."
"Then--listen to me. If you are Jolly Roger McKay you must getaway--somewhere. You must go before Breault awakens in the morning. Ithink the storm is over--there is no wind--and if you are here when daycomes--"
Her fingers loosened. Jolly Roger reached out and somewhere in thedarkness he found her hand. It clasped his own--firm, warm, thrilling.
"I thank you for what you have done," she whispered. "But the law--andBreault--they have no mercy!"
She was gone, swiftly and silently, and McKay looked through the slit inthe wall until she was with her father again.
In the gloom he drew Peter close to him.
"We're up against it again, Pied-Bot," he confided under his breath."We've got to take another chance."
He worked without sound, and in a quarter of an hour his pack was ready,and the entrance to his tunnel dug out. He went into the outer roomthen, where Josephine Tavish was awake. Jolly Roger pantomimed hisdesire as she sat up. He wanted something from one of the packs. Shenodded. On his knees he fumbled in the dunnage, and when he rose tohis feet, facing the girl, her eyes opened wide at what he held in hishand--a small packet of old newspapers her father was taking to thefactor at Fort Churchill. She saw the hungry, apologetic look in hiseyes, and her woman's heart understood. She smiled gently at him, andher lips formed an unvoiced whisper of gratitude as he turned to go.At the door he looked back. He thought she was beautiful then, with hershining hair and eyes, and her lips parted, and her hands half reachingout to him, as if in that moment of parting she was giving him courageand faith. Suddenly she pressed the palms of her fingers to her mouthand sent the kiss of benediction to him through the twilight glow of thesnow-room.
A moment later, crawling through his tunnel with Peter close behindhim, there was an exultant singing in Jolly Roger's heart. Again he wasfleeing from the law, but always, as Yellow Bird had predicted in hersorcery, there were happiness and hope in his going. And always therewas someone to urge him on, and to take a pride in him, like JosephineTavish.
He broke through the dune-crust at the end of his tunnel and crawledout into the thick, gray dawn of a barren-land day. The sky was heavyoverhead, and the wind had died out. It was the beginning of the brieflull which came in the second day of the Great Storm.
McKay laughed softly as he sensed the odds against them.
"We'll be having the storm at our heels again before long, Pied-Bot," hesaid. "We'd better make for the timber a dozen miles south."
He struck out, circling the dune, so that he was traveling straight awayfrom the first hole he had cut through the shell of the drift. From thatdoor, made by the outlaw who had saved them, Josephine Tavish watchedthe shadowy forms of man and dog until they were lost in the gray-whitechaos of a frozen world.
The Country Beyond: A Romance of the Wilderness Page 14
