The Country Beyond: A Romance of the Wilderness

by James Oliver Curwood

  CHAPTER XXIII

  Dawn came softly where the quiet waters of the Willow Bud ran under deepforests of evergreen out into the gold and silver birch of the NelsonRiver flats. A veiling mist rose out of the earth to meet the promiseof day, gentle and sweet, like scented raiment, stirring sleepily to thepulse of an awakening earth. Through it came the first low twitter ofbirdsong, a sound that seemed to swell and grow until it filled theworld. Yet was it still a sound of sleep, of half wakefulness, and themist was thinning away when, a ruffled little breast sent out its fullthroat-song from the tip of a silver birch that overhung the stream.

  The little warbler was looking down, as if wondering why there was nostir of life beneath him, where in last night's sunset there had beenmuch to wonder at and a new kind of song to thrill him. But the girlwas no longer there to sing back at him. The cedar and balsam shelterdripped with morning dew, the place where fire had been was blackand dead, and ruffling his feathers the warbler continued his song intriumph.

  Nada, hidden under her shelter, and still half dreaming, heard him. Shelay with her head nestled in the crook of Roger's arm, and the birdsongseemed to come to her from a great distance away. She smiled, and herlips trembled, as if even in sleep she--was about to answer it. And thenthe song drifted away until she could no longer hear it, and she sankback into an oblivion of darkness in which she seemed lost for a longtime, and out of which some invisible force was struggling to drag her.

  There came at last a sudden irresistible pull at her senses, and sheopened her eyes, awake. Her head was no longer in the crook of JollyRoger's arm. She could see him sitting up straight, and he was notlooking at her. It must be late, she thought, for the light was strongin his face, warm with the first golden flow of the sun. She smiled, andsat up, and shook her soft curls with a happy little laugh.

  "Roger--"

  And then she, too, was staring, wide-eyed and speechless. For she sawPeter under Jolly Roger's hand. But it was not Peter who drew her breathshort and sent fear cutting like a sharp knife through her heart.

  Facing them, seated coldly on a log which McKay had dragged in from thetimber, was a thin-faced sharp-eyed man who was studying them with anodd smile on his lips, and instantly Nada knew this man was Breault.

  There was something peculiarly appalling about him as he sat there, inspite of the fact that for a few moments he neither spoke nor moved. Hiseyes, Nada thought, were not like human eyes, and his lips were like theblades of two knives set together. Yet he was smiling, or half smiling,not in a comforting or humorous way, but with exultation and triumph.From looking at him one would never have guessed that Breault loved hisjoke.

  He nodded.

  "Good morning, Jolly Roger McKay! And--good morning, Mrs. Jolly RogerMcKay! Pardon me for watching you like this, but duty is duty. I amBreault, of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police."

  McKay wet his lips. Breault saw him, and the grin on his thin facewidened.

  "I know, it's hard," he said. "But you've got Peter to thank for it.Peter led me to you."

  He stood up, and in a most casual fashion covered Jolly Roger with hisautomatic.

  "Would you mind stepping out, McKay?" he asked.

  In his other hand he dangled a pair of handcuffs. McKay stood up, andNada rose beside him, gripping his arms with both hands.

  "No need of those things, Breault," he said. "I'll go peaceably."

  "Still--it's safer," argued Breault, a wicked glitter in his eyes. "Holdout one hand, please--"

  The manacle snapped over Jolly Roger's wrist.

  "I'm Breault--not Terence Cassidy," he chuckled. "Never take a chance,you know. Never!"

  Swift as a flash was his movement then, as the companion braceletsnapped over Nada's wrist. He stepped back, facing them with a grin.

  "Got you both now, haven't I?" he gloated. "Can't get away, can you?" Heput his gun away, and bowed low to Nada. "How do you like married life,Mrs. Jolly Roger?"

  McKay's face was whiter than Nada's.

  "You coward!" he spoke in a low, quiet voice. "You low-down miserablecoward. You're a disgrace to the Service. Do you mean you are going tokeep my wife ironed like this?"

  "Sure," said Breault. "I'm going to make you pay for some of the troubleI've had over you. I believe in a man paying his debts, you know. And awoman, too. And probably you've lied to her like the very devil."

  "He hasn't!" protested Nada fiercely. "You're a--a--"

  "Say it," nodded Breault good humoredly. "By all means say it, Mrs.Jolly Roger. If you can't find words, let me help you," and while hewaited he loaded his pipe and lighted it.

  "You see I don't exactly live up to regulations when I'm with goodfriends like you," he apologized cynically. "In other words you're acouple of hard cases. Cassidy has turned in all sorts of evidence aboutyou. He says that you, McKay, should be hung the moment we catch you.He warned me not to take a chance--that you'd slit my throat in the darkwithout a prick of conscience. And I'm a valuable man in the Service. Itcan't afford to lose me."

  McKay shut his lips tightly, and did not answer.

  "Now, while you're helpless, I want to tell you a few things," Breaultwent on. "And while I'm talking I'll start the fire, so we can havebreakfast. Peter and, I are hungry. A good dog, McKay. He saved us up onthe Barren. Have you told Mrs. Jolly Roger about that?"

  He expected no answer, and whistled as he lighted a pile of birchbarkwhich he had already placed under dry cedar wood which McKay hadgathered the preceding evening.

  "That's where MY trouble began--up there on the Barren, Mrs. JollyRoger," he continued, ignoring McKay. "You see the three of us,Superintendent Tavish, and Porter--who is now his son-in-law--and Ihad a splendid chance to die like martyrs, and go down forever in thehistory of the Service, if it hadn't been for this fool of a husbandof yours, and Peter. I can't blame Peter, because he's only a dog. ButMcKay is responsible. He robbed us of a beautiful opportunity of dyingin an unusual way by hunting us up and dragging us into his shelter. Ashabby trick, don't you think? And inasmuch as Superintendent Tavish isabout the biggest man in the Service, and Porter is his son-in-law, andMiss Tavish was saved along with us--why, they reckoned something oughtto be done about it."

  Breault did not look up. With, exasperating slowness he added fuel tothe fire.

  "And so--"

  He rose and stood before them again.

  "And so--they assigned me to the very unpleasant duty of running youdown with a pardon, McKay--a pardon forgiving you for all your sins,forever and ever, Amen. And here it is!"

  He had drawn an official-looking envelope from inside his coat, and heldit out now--not to McKay--but to Nada.

  Neither reached for it. Standing there with the cynical smile still onhis lips, his strange eyes gimleting them with a cold sort of laughter,it was as if Breault tortured them with a last horrible joke. Then,suddenly, Nada seized the envelope and tore it open, while McKay staredat Breault, believing, and yet not daring to speak.

  It was Nada's cry, a cry wild and sobbing and filled with gladness, thattold him the truth, and with the precious paper clutched in her handshe smothered her face against McKay's breast, while Breault came upgrinning behind them, and Jolly Roger heard the click of his key in thehandcuffs.

  "I am also loaded down with a number of foolish messages for you,"he said, attending to the fire again. "For instance, that red-headedgood-for-nothing, Cassidy, says to tell you he is building a four-roombungalow for you in their clearing, and that it will be finished bythe time you arrive. Also, a squaw named Yellow Bird, and a redskin whocalls himself Slim Buck, sent word that you will always be welcome intheir hunting grounds. And a pretty little thing named Sun Cloud sent asmany kisses as there are leaves on the trees--"

  He paused, chuckling, and did not look up to see the wide, glorious eyesof the girl upon him.

  "But the funniest thing of all is the baby," he went on, preparing toslice bacon. "They're going to have one pretty soon--Cassidy's wife, Imean. They've given it a name a
lready. If it's a boy it's Roger--if it'sa girl it's Nada. They wanted me to tell you that. Silly bunch, aren'tthey? A couple of young fools--"

  Just then something new happened in the weirdly adventurous life ofFrangois Breault. Without warning he was suddenly smothered in a pair ofarms, his head was jerked back, and against his hard and pitiless moutha pair of soft red lips pressed for a single thrilling instant. "Well,I'll be damned," he gasped, dropping his bacon and staggering to hisfeet like a man who had been shot. "I'll be--CUSSED!"

  And he picked up his pack and walked off into the thick young spruceat the edge of the timber, without saying another word or once lookingbehind him. And breakfast waited, and Nada and Jolly Roger andPeter waited, but Frangois Breault did not return. For a strange andunaccountable man was he, a hard and pitiless man and a deadly hunterwho knew no fear. Yet the wilderness swallowed him, a coward atlast--running away from the two red lips that had kissed him.

  So went Breault, for the first time in his life a messenger of mercy;and at the top of the silver birch the little warbler knew thatsomething glad had happened, and offered up its gratitude in a suddenburst of song.

  THE END