CHAPTER XII
IMBRIE
Stonor went ashore at Ahcunazie's village, searched every tepee, andquestioned the inhabitants down to the very children. The result wasnil. The Indians one and all denied that Imbrie had come back up theriver. Stonor was convinced that they were lying. He said nothing ofwhat had happened down at the falls, though the young Kakisa, Ahteeah,displayed no little curiosity on his own account.
They went on, making the best time they could against the current. Clarewielded a third paddle now. The river was no less beautiful; the brownflood moved with the same grace between the dark pines; but they hadchanged. They scarcely noticed it. When they talked it was to discussthe problem that faced them in businesslike voices. Like the Kakisasthey searched the shores now, but they were looking for two-legged game.What other Indians they met on the river likewise denied having seenImbrie.
Stonor had in mind the fact that the devoted Kakisas could hide Imbriein any one of a thousand places along the shores. It was impossible forhim to make a thorough search single-handed, nor did he feel justifiedin remaining on the river with Clare. His plan was to return to FortEnterprise as quickly as possible, making the best search he could bythe way, and, after obtaining assistance, to return. In the end, unlesshe got out, the river would be like a trap for Imbrie. It was quitelikely that he understood this, and was even now struggling to get awayas far as possible.
On the morning of the tenth day after leaving Imbrie's shack theyarrived at the Horse Track, and Ahchoogah's village. Their coming washailed with the same noisy excitement, in which there was no trace of awelcome. Stonor instantly sought out the head man, and abruptly demandedto know when Imbrie had returned, and where he had gone. Ahchoogah, withthe most perfect air of surprise, denied all knowledge of the WhiteMedicine Man, and in his turn sought to question Stonor as to what hadhappened. It was possible, of course, that Ahchoogah's innocence wasreal, but he had the air of an accomplished liar. He could not quiteconceal the satisfaction he took in his own fine acting.
Stonor posted Clare at the door of the shack, whence she could overlookthe entire village, with instructions to raise an alarm if she sawanybody trying to escape. Meanwhile, with Mary, he made his usual searchamong the tepees, questioning all the people. Nothing resulted fromthis, but on his rounds he was greatly elated to discover among thecanoes lying in the little river the one with the peculiar notches cutin the bow-thwart. So he was still on his man's track! He said nothingto any one of his find.
He set himself to puzzle out in which direction Imbrie would likely nexthave turned. Certainly not to Fort Enterprise; that would be stickinghis head in the lion's mouth. It was possible Ahchoogah might haveconcealed him in the surrounding bush, but Stonor doubted that, for theyknew that the policeman must soon be back, and their instinct would beto get the man safely out of his way. There remained the third Kakisavillage at Swan Lake, seventy miles up the river, but in that case, whyshould he not have gone on in the canoe? However, Stonor learned fromMary that it was customary for the Kakisas to ride to Swan Lake. Whileit was three days' paddle up-stream it could be ridden in a day. Infact, everything pointed to Swan Lake. If Imbrie was trying to get outof the country altogether the upper Swan provided the only route in thisdirection. Stonor decided to take the time to pay a little surprisevisit to the village there.
Stonor announced at large that he was returning to Fort Enterprise thatsame day. Ahchoogah's anxiety to speed his departure further assured himthat he was on the right track. Collecting their horses and packing up,they were ready for the trail about five that afternoon. The Indianswere more cordial in bidding them farewell than they had been inwelcoming them. There was a suspicious note of "good riddance" in it.
After an hour's riding they came to the first good grass, a charminglittle "prairie" beside the stream that Clare had christened Meander.Stonor dismounted, and the two women, reining up, looked at him insurprise, for they had eaten just before leaving the Indian village, andthe horses were quite fresh, of course.
"Would you and Mary be afraid to stay here all night without me?" heasked Clare.
"Not if it is necessary," she answered promptly. "That is, if you arenot going into danger," she added.
He laughed. "Danger! Not the slightest! I think I know where Imbrie is.I'm going after him."
Clare's eyes widened. "I thought you had given him up for the present."
He shook his head. "I couldn't tell you back there, but I found hiscanoe among the others."
"Where are you going?"
"To the Kakisa village at Swan Lake."
He saw Mary's expression change slightly, and took encouragementtherefrom. Mary, he knew, divided between her loyalty to Clare and herallegiance to her own people, was in a difficult position. Stonor wasvery sure, though, that he could depend on her to stand by Clare.
"Haven't you come far out of your way?" Clare asked.
"Not so far as you might think. We've been travelling south the last fewmiles. By crossing the Meander here and heading east through the bushI'll hit the Swan River in four miles or so. I'll be out of the bushlong before dark. I've heard there's a short-cut trail somewhere, if Ionly knew where to find it."
He said this purposely within Mary's hearing. She spoke up: "Other sidethis little prairie where the ford is. There the trail begins."
Stonor was not a little touched by this. "Good for you, Mary!" he saidsimply. "I shan't forget it. You've saved me a struggle through thebush."
Mary only looked inscrutable. One had to take her feelings for granted.
"When will you be back?" Clare asked.
"By land it's about ninety miles' round trip. As I must ride the samehorse the whole way, say three or four to-morrow afternoon. I won't takeMiles Aroon, he's too valuable to risk. I'll ride the bay. If anythingshould delay me Tole Grampierre is due to arrive from the post day afterto-morrow."
They made camp beside the ford that Mary pointed out. Clare waved Stonorout of sight with a smile. His mind was at ease about her, for he knewof no dangers that could threaten her there, if her fears created none.
The side trail was little-used and rough, and he was forced to proceedat a slow walk: the roughest trail, however, is infinitely better thanthe untrodden bush. This part of the country had been burned over yearsbefore, and the timber was poplar and fairly open. Long before dark hecame into the main trail between the two Indian villages. This waswell-travelled and hard, and he needed to take no further thought aboutpicking his way; the horse attended to that. For the most part the goingwas so good he had to hold his beast in, to keep him from tiring tooquickly. He saw the river only at intervals on his right hand in itswide sweeps back and forth through its shallow valley.
He spelled for his supper, and darkness came on. Stonor loved travellingat night, and the unknown trail added a zest to this ride. The nightworld was as quiet as a room. Where one can see less one feels more. Thescents of night hung heavy on the still air; the pungency of poplar, themellowness of balsam, the bland smell of river-water that makes the skintingle with desire to bathe, the delicate acidity of grass that causedhis horse to whicker. The trail alternated pretty regularly betweenwooded ridges, where the stones caused him to slacken his pace, and longtraverses of the turfy river-bottoms, where he could give his horse hishead. Twice during the night he picketed his horse in the grass, andtook a short nap himself. At dawn, from the last ridge, he saw the paleexpanse of Swan Lake stretching to the horizon, and at sun-up he rodeamong the tepees of the Kakisa village.
It was built on the edge of the firm ground bordering the lake, thoughthe lake itself was still half a mile distant across a wet meadow. SwanLake was not a true lake, but merely a widening of the river where itfilled a depression among its low hills. With its flat, reedy shores ithad more the characteristics of a prairie slough. As in the lastvillage, the tepees were raised in a double row alongside a small streamwhich made its way across the meadow to the lake. In the middle of theirvillage the stream rippled over
shallows, and here they had placedstepping-stones for their convenience in crossing. Below it was sluggishand deep, and here they kept their canoes. These Kakisas used bothdug-outs, for the lake, and bark-canoes for the river. The main body ofthe lake stretched to the west and south: off to Stonor's right itgradually narrowed down to the ordinary dimensions of the river.
When Stonor reined up alongside the little stream not a soul wasstirring outside the tepees. He had at least succeeded in taking them bysurprise. The first man who stuck his head out, aroused by the dogs,was, to his astonishment, white. But when Stonor got a good look at himhe could scarcely credit his eyes. It was none other than Hooliam, thehandsome young blackguard he had deported from Carcajou Point two monthsbefore. Seeing the policeman, Hooliam hastily made to withdraw his head,but Stonor ordered him out in no uncertain terms. He obeyed with hisinimitable insolent grin.
Stonor dismounted, letting his reins hang. The well-trained horse stoodwhere he left him. "What are you doing here?" the policeman demanded.
"Just travelling," drawled Hooliam. "Any objection?"
"I'll take up your case later. First I want the white man Ernest Imbrie.Which tepee is he in?"
Hooliam stared, and a peculiar grin wreathed itself around his lips."I've seen no white man here," he said. "Except myself. They call me awhite man." He spoke English without a trace of the red man's clippedidiom.
Stonor's glance of scorn was significant. It meant: "What are you doingin the tepees, then?"
But the other was quite unabashed. "I'll get Myengeen for you," he said,turning to go.
He seemed a bit too eager. Stonor laid a heavy hand on his shoulder."You stay where you are."
Meanwhile the little Kakisas had begun to appear from the tepees, themen hanging back bashfully, the women and children peering from underflaps and under the edges of the tepees, with scared eyes.
"I want Myengeen," said Stonor to the nearest man.
All heads turned to a figure crossing the stream. Stonor waited for him,keeping an eye on Hooliam meanwhile. The individual who approached was alittle larger than the average of the Kakisas; well-favoured, and with agreat shock of blue-black hair hanging to his neck. He was quitesprucely dressed in store clothes. His close-set eyes and extremelyshort upper lip gave him a perpetual sneer. He had the walled look of abold child caught in mischief. He came up to Stonor and offered his handwith a defiant air, saying: "How!"
Stonor shook hands with him, affecting not to notice the signs oftruculence. The other Indians, encouraged by the presence of their headman, drew closer.
"I want Ernest Imbrie," Stonor said sternly. "Where is he?"
Myengeen could speak no English, but the spoken name and the tone weresignificant enough. He fell back a step, and scowled at Stonor as if hesuspected him of a desire to make fun of him. Then his eyes wentinvoluntarily to Hooliam. Stonor, following his glance, was struck bythe odd, self-conscious leer on Hooliam's comely face. Suddenly itflashed on him that this was his man. His face went blank withastonishment. The supposed Hooliam laughed outright.
"Is _this_ Imbrie??" cried Stonor.
Myengeen nodded sullenly.
Hooliam said something in Kakisa that caused the surrounding Indians togrin covertly.
And in truth there was a comic aspect to Stonor's dismay. His brain waswhirling. This hardy young villain married to the exquisite Clare! Thisthe saviour of the Indians! This the high-minded gentleman whose diaryClare had read to him! It was inexplicable. Yet Stonor suddenlyremembered Hooliam's curiosity concerning the reports that were incirculation about the White Medicine Man; this was understandable now.But how could Clare have so stooped----? Well, it must be left to timeto unravel.
He pulled himself together. "So you're Imbrie," he said grimly.
"That was my dad's name," was the impudent reply.
"I'll have to trouble you to take a journey with me."
"What's the charge?"
"Oh, we merely want to look into your doings up here."
"You have no right to arrest me without some evidence of wrong-doing."
"Well, I'm going to arrest you anyhow, and take my chances of provingsomething on you."
Hooliam scowled and pulled at his lip.
Stonor thought: "You'd give a lot to know how much I know, my man!"
Myengeen addressed Imbrie. Stonor watched him narrowly. He could onlyunderstand one word, the man's name, "Eembrie," but Myengeen's wholeattitude to the other was significant. There was respect in it;admiration, not unmixed with awe. Stonor wondered afresh. Clearly therecould be no doubt this was their White Medicine Man.
Imbrie said to Stonor, with his cynical laugh: "I suppose you want toknow what he's saying. I don't understand it all. I'm just learningtheir lingo. But he's offering me the homage of the tribe or somethinglike that."
"It's more than you deserve," thought Stonor. Aloud he said: "Imbrie, ifyou do what I tell you you can ride as you are. But if you want to maketrouble I'll have to tie you up. So take your choice."
"Oh, I don't hanker after any hempen bracelets," said Imbrie. "What doyou want of me?"
"First of all order somebody to bring out all your gear and spread it onthe ground."
"That's not much," said Imbrie. By word and by sign he communicated theorder to one of the Kakisas. It seemed to Stonor that something wasreserved.
The Indian disappeared in the tepee and presently returned with Imbrie's"bed," that is to say, a pair of heavy blankets and a small, grimypillow, and Imbrie's hatchet.
"That's all I brought," said Imbrie, "except a little dried moose-meat,and that's eaten up."
"I want your gun," said Stonor.
"Didn't bring any."
"Then what are you wearing a cartridge-belt for?" Imbrie shruggedairily.
"Produce your gun, or I'll tie you up, and search for it myself."
Imbrie spoke, and the Kakisa disappeared again, returning with arevolver, which he handed to Stonor. Stonor was careful not to betraythe grim satisfaction he experienced at the sight of it. It was ofthirty-eight calibre, the same as the bullet that reposed in his pocket.While not conclusive, perhaps, this was strong evidence. Since he hadseen this man he had lost his dread of bringing the crime home to him.He wished to convict him now. He dropped the revolver in his sidepocket, and held out his hand for the ammunition-belt, which was handedover.
"Now get a horse," he said.
Myengeen objected with violent shakes of the head.
"He says he's got no horses to hand over," said Imbrie, grinning.
"Make him understand that I will give a receipt for the horse. If it isnot returned the company will pay in trade."
"No spare horses," he says.
"Let him give you the horse you came on."
"I walked."
Stonor did not believe this for a moment. "Very well then, you can walkback," he said coolly.
Imbrie thought better of this. He entered into a colloquy with Myengeenwhich eventually resulted in a horse being caught and led up andsaddled. Stonor gave a receipt for it as promised. Myengeen handled thebit of paper fearfully.
"Now mount!" said Stonor.
"Aren't you going to let me have my breakfast?"
"We'll spell beside the trail."
Myengeen became visibly excited and began to harangue Imbrie in a fierystyle, with sidelong looks at the policeman. Stonor out of the tail ofhis eye saw answering scowls gather on the faces of the other Indians asthey listened. Myengeen's gestures were significant; with a sweep of hisarm he called attention to the number of his followers, and then pointedto Stonor, who was but one.
Imbrie said with a sneering laugh: "He's telling me that I have only tosay the word, and you'll never take me."
"Rubbish!" said Stonor coolly. "Men do not oppose the police."
They could not understand the words, but the tone intimidated them.Their eyes bolted as he looked sternly from man to man. He saw that lookof angry pain come into their eyes that he knew in their race. It wasnot
that they did not wish to defy him, but they dared not, and theyknew they dared not.
"Oh, I'm helping you out, old man," said Imbrie, with airy impudence."I'm telling them I don't mind going with you, because you've gotnothing in the world against me. I'm going to give them some good advicenow. Listen."
He did indeed address Myengeen earnestly at some length. Stonor couldnot guess what he was saying, for he used no gestures. He saw that itwas true Imbrie was unpractised in their tongue, for he spoke withdifficulty, hesitating for words, and they had to pay close attention toget his meaning. Myengeen listened with a face as inscrutable asImbrie's own. At the end he nodded with an expression of approval, andbent a queer look on Stonor that the trooper was unable to fathom.
Imbrie then tied his bed behind his saddle and swung himself on thehorse. Stonor signed to him to start first, and they trotted out fromamong the tepees. Stonor sat stiffly with the butt of his gun on histhigh, and disdained to look around. The instant they got in motion awailing sound swept from tepee to tepee. Stonor wondered greatly at thehold this fellow had obtained over the simple people; even the Kakisas,it seemed to him, should have been able to see that he was no good.
They trotted smartly over the first ridge and out of sight. A long,grassy bottom followed. When they had put what Stonor considered a safedistance between them and the village, he called a halt. Picketing thehorses, and building a fire, he set about preparing their simple meal.Imbrie seemed willing enough to do his share of unpacking, fetching woodand water, etc.; indeed in his cynical way he was almost good-natured.
As they sat over their meal he said tauntingly: "Why are you afraid totell me what the charge is against me?"
Stonor had no intention of letting out what he knew. He figured thatImbrie's mind was probably perfectly at ease regarding themurder--always supposing there had been a murder--because he could notpossibly guess that the body had not been carried over the falls. Heretorted: "If your conscience is easy, what do you care what charge ismade?"
"Naturally I want to know why I'm obliged to upset all my plans to makethis journey."
"There is no charge yet."
"But when you bring me in you'll have to make some kind of a charge."
"Oh, I suppose they'll merely ask you to explain your business up here."
"And if I stand on my rights as a free man, and refuse to tell mybusiness?"
Stonor shrugged. "That's not up to me. I shan't be the one to questionyou."
"Is it a crime to live alone?"
"No. But why did you run away when I came to see you?"
"I didn't run away."
"Don't know what you call it, then. When you saw us coming you hid in atree."
"Who was us?" asked Imbrie, with a leer.
Stonor could not bring himself to name Clare's name to the man. "I thinkyou know," he said quietly. "When night came you fell or jumped out ofthe tree, and took to the bush. Later you attempted to sneak into thehouse----"
"Well, it was my own house, wasn't it?"
"Sure, that's what puzzles me. What were you afraid of? Then when theIndian woman screamed you lit out for the beach, and beat it up theriver."
"Well, was that a crime?"
"No, only a suspicious circumstance. Frankly, now, don't you consideryourself a suspicious character?"
"Oh, it's your business to suspect everybody!"
"Well, when I first met you, why did you lie to me concerning youridentity?"
"I didn't lie. I just kept the truth to myself."
"You told me your name was Hooliam."
"Can't a man have more than one baptismal name?"
"Is it Ernest William, or William Ernest?" asked Stonor mockingly.
"I shan't tell you. I shan't tell you anything about myself until Iknow what I'm wanted for. I suppose that's my right, isn't it?"
"Sure!" said Stonor good-naturedly. "Anything you like. Travellers mustbe saying something to each other."
But Imbrie was not content to let the matter drop. There was a littlegnawing anxiety somewhere. He burst out: "And have I got to put myselfto the trouble of taking this long journey, just because you're toothick-witted to understand my perfectly natural motives?"
"Put it that way if you like," said Stonor, grinning. "The police _are_thick sometimes in dealing with clever fellows like you."
"Well, I'll tell you. I came up to this country because I choose to livealone. My reasons are my own affair. I'm not wanted by the police ofthis or any other country. But I don't choose to be spied on andfollowed up. That's why I got out of the way."
"Did you live alone down there?" asked Stonor casually.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, there was that lady who left Carcajou Point with you."
"Oh, that was just a temporary affair," said Imbrie, with a leer.
Stonor, thinking of Clare, could have struck him for it. With an efforthe swallowed his rage. "Did you never have any visitors?" he askedcoolly.
Imbrie favoured him with a lightning glance. "What put that idea intoyour head?"
Stonor lied in the good cause. "One of the Indians said you had avisitor."
"When?"
"Just a few days before we went down."
"What kind of visitor?"
"A man much like yourself," said Stonor.
Imbrie lost his grin for the moment. "It's a lie," he said thickly.
"Oh, well, it's no crime to have a visitor," said Stonor smoothly.
Imbrie saw his mistake, and quickly commanded himself. He laughedeasily. "Just my way," he said. "I'm cracked on the subject of livingalone."
They had to spell at short intervals during the day, for Stonor's horsewas growing very tired. Whenever they halted they began to fence withwords in much the same way, each trying to discover the other's weakjoint without letting down his own guard. It seemed to Stonor that,under his cynical insolence, his prisoner was growing ever more anxious.
On one occasion Imbrie said with a careless air: "Did you see the bigfalls when you were down the river?"
"No," said Stonor instantly.
"Very fine sight."
It occurred to Stonor that a certain amount of curiosity on his partwould appear natural. "What are they like?"
Imbrie looked at him through slightly narrowed lids. "Big horse-shoeeffect. The water falls all around in a sort of half-circle, and thereare tremendous rocks below. The water falls on the rocks."
This description sounded purposely misleading. The place, of course, wasnot like that at all. Stonor thought: "What does he tell me that for?Living there all that time, it isn't possible he hasn't seen the falls.In his diary he mentioned going there." Suddenly the explanation came tohim. "I know! He's trying to tempt me to call him a liar, and then he'llknow I've been there."
"Must be great!" he said offhand.
During the last spell Imbrie slept part of the time. Stonor dared notclose his eyes, though he needed sleep sorely. He sat smoking andwatching Imbrie, trying to speculate on what lay behind that smooth,comely mask.
"It's like a book I read once," he thought. "A man had two natures inhim, one good, one bad. At one time the good nature would have the upperhand; at another time the bad. He was like two entirely differentpeople. A case of double personality, they called it. It must besomething like that with this man. Clare married the good man in him,and the bad turned up later. No doubt that was why she left him. Thenthe good man reappeared, and she felt she had done him a wrong. Itexplains everything."
But a theory may work too perfectly to fit the haphazard facts of life.There was still the dead man to be explained. And a theory, howeverperfect, did not bring him any nearer to solving the personal problemsconcerned. What was one to do with a man who was at once sane andirresponsible? He could give up Clare like a man, he told himself, if itwere necessary to her happiness; but to give her up to this----! Hejumped up and shook himself with the gesture that was becoming habitual.He could not allow himself to dwell on that subject; frenzy lay thatway.
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