CHAPTER XXII
In Philip's eyes Blake saw his match now. And more. For three-quartersof a minute he talked swiftly to the Eskimo. Philip knew that he wasgiving the Kogmollock definite instructions as to the manner in whichhis rescue must be accomplished. But he knew also that Blake wouldemphasize the fact that it must not be in open attack, no matter hownumerous his followers might be.
He hurried Blake through the door to the sledge and team. The sledgewas heavily laden with the meat of a fresh caribou kill and from thequantity of flesh he dragged off into the snow Philip surmised that thecabin would very soon be the rendezvous of a small army of Eskimo.There was probably a thousand pounds of it, Retaining only a singlequarter of this he made Celie comfortable and turned his attention toBlake. With babiche cord he re-secured his prisoner with the"manacle-hitch," which gave him free play of one hand and arm--hisleft. Then he secured the Eskimo's whip and gave it to Blake.
"Now--drive!" he commanded. "Straight for the Coppermine, and by theshortest cut. This is as much your race as mine now, Blake. The momentI see a sign of anything wrong you're a dead man!"
"And you--are a fool!" gritted Blake. "Good God, what a fool!"
"Drive--and shut up!"
Blake snapped his whip and gave a short, angry command in Eskimo. Thedogs sprang from their bellies to their feet and at another commandwere off over the trail. From the door of the cabin the Eskimo's littleeyes shone with a watery eagerness as he watched them go. Celie caughta last glimpse of him as she looked back and her hands gripped morefirmly the rifle which lay across her lap. Philip had given her therifle and it had piled upon her a mighty responsibility. He had meantthat she should use it if the emergency called for action, and that shewas to especially watch Blake. Her eyes did not leave the outlaw'sbroad back as he ran on a dozen paces ahead of the dogs. She was readyfor him if he tried to escape, and she would surely fire. Running closeto her side Philip observed the tight grip of her hands on the weapon,and saw one little thumb pinched up against the safety ready forinstant action. He laughed, and for a moment she looked up at him,flushing suddenly when she saw the adoration in his face.
"Blake's right--I'm a fool," he cried down at her in a low voice thatthrilled with his worship of her. "I'm a fool for risking you,sweetheart. By going the other way I'd have you forever. They wouldn'tfollow far into the south, if at all. Mebby you don't realize whatwe're doing by hitting back to that father of yours. Do you?"
She smiled.
"And mebby when we get there we'll find him dead," he added. "Dead oralive, everything is up to Blake now and you must help me watch him."
He pantomimed this caution by pointing to Blake and the rifle. Then hedropped behind. Over the length of sledge and team he was thirty pacesfrom Blake. At that distance he could drop him with a single shot fromthe Colt.
They were following the trail already made by the meat-laden sledge,and the direction was northwest. It was evident that Blake was headingat least in the right direction and Philip believed that it would bebut a short time before they would strike the Coppermine. Once on thefrozen surface of the big stream that flowed into the Arctic and theirimmediate peril of an ambuscade would be over. Blake was surely awareof that. If he had in mind a plan for escaping it must of necessitytake form before they reached the river.
"Where the forest thinned out and the edge of the Barren crept inPhilip ran at Celie's side, but when the timber thickened and possiblehiding places for their enemies appeared in the trail ahead he wasalways close to Blake, with the big Colt held openly in his hand. Atthese times Celie watched the back trail. From her vantage on thesledge her alert eyes took in every bush and thicket to right and leftof them, and when Philip was near or behind her she was looking atleast a rifle-shot ahead of Blake. For three-quarters of an hour theyhad followed the single sledge trail when Blake suddenly gave a commandthat stopped the dogs. They had reached a crest which overlooked anarrow finger of the treeless Barren on the far side of which, possiblya third of a mile distant, was a dark fringe of spruce timber. Blakepointed toward this timber. Out of it was rising a dark column ofresinous smoke.
"It's up to you," he said coolly to Philip. "Our trail crosses throughthat timber--and you see the smoke. I imagine there are about twenty ofUpi's men there feeding on caribou. The herd was close beyond when theymade the kill. Now if we go on they're most likely to see us, or theirdogs get wind of us--and Upi is a bloodthirsty old cutthroat. I don'twant that bullet through my gizzard, so I'm tellin' you."
Far back in Blake's eyes there lurked a gleam which Philip did notlike. Blake was not a man easily frightened, and yet he had given whatappeared to be fair warning to his enemy.
He came a step nearer, and said in a lower voice:
"Raine, that's just ONE of Upi's crowds. If you go on to the cabinwe're heading for there'll be two hundred fighting men after you beforethe day is over, and they'll get you whether you kill me or not. You'vestill got the chance I gave you back there. Take it--if you ain't tiredof life. Give me the girl--an' you hit out across the Barren with theteam."
"We're going on," replied Philip, meeting the other's gaze steadily."You know your little murderers, Blake. If any one can get past themwithout being seen it's you. And you've got to do it. I'll kill you ifyou don't. The Eskimos may get us after that, but they won't harm HERin your way. Understand? We're going the limit in this game. And Ifigure you're putting up the biggest stake. I've got a funny sort offeeling that you're going to cash in before we reach the cabin."
For barely an instant the mysterious gleam far back in Blake's eyesdied out. There was the hard, low note in Philip's voice which carriedconviction and Blake knew he was ready to play the hand which he held.With a grunt and a shrug of his shoulders he stirred up the dogs with acrack of his whip and struck out at their head due west. During thenext half hour Philip's eyes and ears were ceaselessly on the alert. Hetraveled close to Blake, with the big Colt in his hand, watching everyhummock and bit of cover as they came to it. He also watched Blake andin the end was convinced that in the back of the outlaw's head was asinister scheme in which he had the utmost confidence in spite of histhreats and the fact that they had successfully got around Upi's camp.Once or twice when their eyes happened to meet he caught in Blake'sface a contemptuous coolness, almost a sneering exultation which theother could not quite conceal. It filled him with a scarcely definableuneasiness. He was positive that Blake realized he would carry out histhreat at the least sign of treachery or the appearance of an enemy,and yet he could not free himself from the uncomfortable oppressionthat was beginning to take hold of him. He concealed it from Blake. Hetried to fight it out of himself. Yet it persisted. It was somethingwhich seemed to hover in the air about him--the FEEL of a danger whichhe could not see.
And then Blake suddenly pointed ahead over an open plain and said:
"There is the Coppermine."
The Golden Snare Page 22