CHAPTER XXI
As they listened the cry came again. This time Philip caught in it anote that he had not detected before. It was not a challenge but thelong-drawn ma-too-ee of an Eskimo who answers the inquiring hail of acomrade.
"He thinks it is the man in the cabin," exclaimed Philip, turning tosurvey the fringe of forest through which their trail had come. "If theothers don't warn him there's going to be one less Eskimo on earth inless than three minutes!"
Another sound had drawn Celie back to the door. "When she looked in theman she had stunned with the club was moving. Her call brought Philip,and placing her in the open door to keep watch he set swiftly to workto make sure of their prisoner. With the babiche thong he had takenfrom his enemies he bound him hand and foot. A shaft of light fell fullon the giant's face and naked chest where it had been laid bare in thestruggle and Philip was about to rise when a purplish patch, oftattooing caught his eyes. He made out first the crude picture of ashark with huge gaping jaws struggling under the weight of a ship'sanchor, and then, directly under this pigment colored tatu, the almostinvisible letters of a name. He made them out one by one--B-l-a-k-e.Before the surname was the letter G.
"Blake," he repeated, rising to his feet. "GEORGE Blake--a sailor--anda white man!"
Blake, returning to consciousness, mumbled incoherently. In the sameinstant Celie cried out excitedly at the door.
"Oo-ee, Philip--Philip! Se det! Se! Se!"
She drew back with, a sudden movement and pointed out the door.Concealing himself as much as possible from outside observation Philippeered forth. Not more than a hundred and fifty yards away a dog teamwas approaching. There were eight dogs and instantly he recognized themas the small fox-faced Eskimo breed from the coast. They were dragginga heavily laden sledge and behind them came the driver, a furred andhooded figure squat of stature and with a voice that came now in thesharp clacking commands that Philip had heard in the company of BramJohnson. From the floor came a groan, and for an instant Philip turnedto find Blake's bloodshot eyes wide open and staring at him. Thegiant's bleeding lips were gathered in a snarl and he was straining atthe babiche thongs that bound him. In that same moment Philip caught aglimpse of Celie. She, too, was staring--and at Blake. Her lips wereparted, her eyes were big with amazement and as she looked she clutchedher hands convulsively at her breast and uttered a low, strange cry.For the first time she saw Blake's face with the light full upon it. Atthe sound of her cry Blake's eyes went to her, and for the space of asecond the imprisoned beast on the floor and the girl looking down onhim made up a tableau that held Philip spellbound. Between them wasrecognition--an amazed and stone like horror on the girl's part, asudden and growing glare of bestial exultation in the eyes of the man.
Suddenly there came the Eskimo's voice and the yapping of dogs. It wasthe first Blake had heard. He swung his head toward the door with agreat gasp and the babiche cut like whipcord under the strain of hismuscles. Swift as a flash Philip thrust the muzzle of the big Coltagainst his prisoner's head.
"Make a sound and you're a dead man, Blake!" he warned. "We need thatteam, and if you so much as whisper during the next ten seconds I'llscatter your brains over the floor!"
They could hear the cold creak of the sledge-runners now, and a momentlater the patter of many feet outside the door. In a single leap Philipwas at the door. Another and he was outside, and an amazed Eskimo waslooking into the round black eye of his revolver. It required no commonlanguage to make him understand what was required of him. He backedinto the cabin with the revolver within two feet of his breast. Celiehad caught up the rifle and was standing guard over Blake as thoughfearful that he might snap his bonds. Philip laughed joyously when hesaw how quickly she understood that she was to level the rifle at theKogmollock's breast and hold it there until he had made him a prisoner.She was wonderful. She was panting in her excitement. From the floorBlake had noticed that her little white finger was pressing gentlyagainst the trigger of the rifle. It had made him shudder. It made theEskimo cringe a bit now as Philip tied his hands behind him. And Philipsaw it, and his heart thumped. Celie was gloriously careless.
It was over inside of two minutes, and with an audible sigh of reliefshe lowered her rifle. Then she leaned it against the wall and ran toBlake. She was tremendously excited as she pointed down into thebloodstained face and tried to explain to Philip the reason for thatstrange and thrilling recognition he had seen between them. From her helooked at Blake. The look in the prisoner's face sent a cold shiverthrough him. There was no fear in it. It was filled with a deep andundisguised exultation. Then Blake looked at Philip, and laughedoutright.
"Can't understand her, eh?" he chuckled. "Well, neither can I. But Iknow what she's trying to tell you. Damned funny, ain't it?"
It was impossible for him to keep his eyes from shifting to the door.There was expectancy in that glance. Then his glance shot almostfiercely at Philip.
"So you're Philip Raine, of the R. N. M. P., eh? Well, you've got meguessed out. My name is Blake, but the G don't stand for George. Ifyou'll cut the cord off'n my legs so I can stand up or sit down I'lltell you something. I can't do very much damage with my hands hitchedthe way they are, and I can't talk layin' down cause of my Adam's applechokin' me."
Philip seized the rifle and placed it again in Celie's hands,stationing her once more at the door.
"Watch--and listen," he said.
He cut the thongs that bound his prisoner's ankles and Blake struggledto his feet. When he fronted Philip the big Colt was covering his heart.
"Now--talk!" commanded Philip. "I'm going to give you half a minute tobegin telling me what I want to know, Blake. You've brought the Eskimosdown. There's no doubt of that. What do you want of this girl, and whathave you done with her people?"
He had never looked into the eyes of a cooler man than Blake, whoseblood-stained lips curled in a sneering smile even as he finished.
"I ain't built to be frightened," he said, taking his time about it. "Iknow your little games an' I've throwed a good many bluffs of my own inmy time. You're lyin' when you say you'll shoot, an' you know you are.I may talk and I may not. Before I make up my mind I'm going to giveyou a bit of brotherly advice. Take that team out there and hit acrossthe Barren--ALONE. Understand? ALONE. Leave the girl here. It's yourone chance of missing what happened to--"
He grinned and shrugged his huge shoulders.
"You mean Anderson--Olaf Anderson--and the others up at BathurstInlet?" questioned Philip chokingly.
Blake nodded.
Philip wondered if the other could hear the pounding of his heart. Hehad discovered in this moment what the Department had been trying tolearn for two years. It was this man--Blake--who was the mysteriouswhite leader of the Kogmollocks, and responsible for the growingcriminal record of the natives along Coronation Gulf. And he had justconfessed himself the murderer of Olaf Anderson! His finger trembledfor an instant against the trigger of his revolver. Then, staring intoBlake's face, he slowly lowered the weapon until it hung at his side.Blake's eyes gleamed as he saw what he thought was his triumph.
"IT'S your one chance," he urged. "And there ain't no time to lose."
Philip had judged his man, and now he prayed for the precious minutesin which to play out his game. The Kogmollocks who had taken up theirtrail could not be far from the cabin now.
"Maybe you're right, Blake," he said hesitatingly. "I think, after herexperience with Bram Johnson that she is about willing to return to herfather. Where is he?"
Blake made no effort to disguise his eagerness. In the droop ofPhilip's shoulder, the laxness of the hand that held the revolver andthe change in his voice Blake saw in his captor an apparent desire toget out of the mess he was in. A glimpse of Celie's frightened faceturned for an instant from the door gave weight to his conviction.
"He's down the Coppermine--about a hundred miles. So, Bram Johnson--"
His eyes were a sudden blaze of fire.
"Took care of her until your little
rats waylaid him on the trail andmurdered him," interrupted Philip. "See here, Blake. You be square withme and I'll be square with you. I haven't been able to understand aword of her lingo and I'm curious to know a thing or two before I go.Tell me who she is, and why you haven't killed her father, and whatyou're going to do with her and I won't waste another minute."
Blake leaned forward until Philip felt the heat of his breath.
"What do I WANT of her?" he demanded slowly. "Why, if you'd been fiveyears without sight of a white woman, an' then you woke up one morningto meet an angel like HER on the trail two thousand miles up in nowherewhat would you want of her? I was stunned, plumb stunned, or I'd hadher then. And after that, if it hadn't been for that devil with hiswolves--"
"Bram ran away with her just as you were about to get her into yourhands," supplied Philip, fighting to save time. "She didn't even knowthat you wanted her, Blake, so far as I can find out. It's all amystery to her. I don't believe she's guessed the truth even now. Howthe devil did you do it? Playing the friend stunt, eh! And keepingyourself in the background while your Kogmollocks did the work? Wasthat it?"
Blake nodded. His face was darkening as he looked at Philip and thelight in his eyes was changing to a deep and steady glare. In thatmoment Philip had failed to keep the exultation out of his voice. Itshone in his face. And Blake saw it. A throaty sound rose out of histhick chest and his lips parted in a snarl as there surged through hima realization that he had been tricked.
In that interval Philip spoke.
"If I never sent up a real prayer to God before I'm sending it now,Blake," he said. "I'm thanking Him that you didn't have time to harmCelie Armin, an' I'm thanking Him that Bram Johnson had a soul in hisbody in spite of his warped brain and his misshapen carcass. And nowI'm going to keep my word. I'm not going to lose another minute. Come!"
"You--you mean--"
"No, you haven't guessed it. We're not going over the Barren. We'regoing back to that cabin on the Coppermine, and you're going with us.And listen to this, Blake--listen hard! There may be fighting. If thereis I want you to sort of harden yourself to the fact that the firstshot fired is going straight through your gizzard. Do I make myselfclear? I'll shoot you deader than a salt mackerel the instant one ofyour little murderers shows up on the trail. So tell this owl-facedheathen here to spread the glad tidings when his brothers come in--andspread it good. Quick about it! I'm not bluffing now."
The Golden Snare Page 21