The Woman from Outside

by Hulbert Footner

  CHAPTER XIII

  THE RESCUE

  They had struck off from the main trail between the two Indian villages,and were within a mile or two of Stonor's camp. Their pace was slow, forthe going was bad, and Stonor's horse was utterly jaded. The trooper'sface was set in grim lines. He was thinking of the scene that waitedahead.

  Imbrie, too, had the grace to look anxious and downcast. He had beenexasperatingly chipper all the way, until it had occurred to him justnow to ask Stonor what he had done with the women. Upon learning thatthey were waiting just ahead, his feathers drooped. A whine crept intohis voice, and, without saying anything definite, he began to hedge inan odd way.

  "The truth about this case hasn't come out yet," he said.

  "I never thought it had," said Stonor.

  "Well, a man under arrest has the right to lie to protect his interests,at least until he has the opportunity to consult a lawyer."

  "Sure, and an officer has the right to draw his own inferences from thelies."

  "Hell! I don't care what you think. As you said, you're not going to tryme."

  "When did you lie to me?"

  "Well, if I thought it necessary to lie to you awhile ago, I'm not goingto tell the truth now."

  "All right. Why bring the matter up?"

  "I just wanted to warn you not to jump to conclusions."

  The trooper was dead tired, and dead sick of gazing at the smooth, evilface of his companion. "Oh, go to hell!" he said. "You talk too much!"

  Imbrie subsided into a sullen silence.

  Stonor thought: "For some reason he's afraid of meeting Clare. I supposethat's natural enough when he's like this. He must know what's thematter with him. Probably he hates everything connected with his betterside. Well, if he doesn't want Clare it may simplify matters." Thus hewas still making his theory work.

  At last they came out from among the trees, and the little grassy valleyof the Meander lay below them. There were the three little tents pitchedon the other side of the stream, and the four horses quietly grazing inthe bottom. Mary was baking bread at the fire. It was a picture ofpeace, and Stonor's first anxiety for their safety was relieved.

  He had not the heart to hail them; they would see soon enough. Andalmost immediately Mary did look up and see the two horsemen. She spokeover her shoulder, and Clare quickly appeared from her tent. The twowomen awaited them motionless.

  Imbrie still rode ahead, hunched in his saddle. He glanced over hisshoulder, and Stonor saw that a sickly yellow tint had crept under hisskin. He looked at Stonor's failing horse. Suddenly he clapped heels tohis own beast, and, jerking the animal's head round, circled Stonor andattempted to regain the trail behind him. He evidently counted on thefact that the policeman would be unable to follow.

  To urge his spent beast to a run would only have been to provoke a fall.Stonor made no attempt to follow. Pulling his horse round, he whipped uphis gun and fired into the air. It was sufficient. Imbrie pulled up.Stonor possessed himself of the other's bridle-rein and turned him roundagain. They said nothing to each other.

  They splashed across the shallow ford. On the other side Stonor curtlybade Imbrie to dismount and ungirth. He did likewise. Clare and Maryawaited their coming at a few paces' distance. Clare's eyes were fixedon Imbrie with a painful intensity. Curiosity and apprehension wereblended in her gaze. Imbrie avoided looking at her as long as possible.

  They turned out the weary beasts to the grass, and Stonor marched hisprisoner up to Clare--there was no use trying to hedge with what had tobe gone through.

  "Here is Imbrie," he said laconically.

  The man moistened his dry lips, and mustered a kind of bravado. "Hello,Clare!" he said flippantly.

  "Do you recognize him?" asked Stonor--dreading her answer.

  "No--I don't know--perhaps," she stammered. "I feel that I have seen himbefore somewhere."

  Imbrie's face underwent an extraordinary change. He stared at Claredumbfounded.

  "You're sure," murmured Clare uncertainly to Stonor.

  "Oh, yes, this is the Kakisas' White Medicine Man."

  Imbrie turned sharply to Stonor. "What's the matter with her?" hedemanded.

  "She's temporarily lost her memory."

  "Lost her memory!" echoed Imbrie incredulously. He stared at Clare withsharp, eager eyes that transfixed her like a spear. She turned away toescape it. Imbrie drew a long breath, the ruddy colour returned to hischeeks, the old impudent grin wreathed itself about his lips once more.

  "Too bad!" he said, with a leer. "You don't recognize your hubby!"

  Clare shrank back, and involuntarily flung an arm up over her face.

  Stonor saw red. "Hold your tongue!" he cried, suddenly beside himself.

  Imbrie cringed from the clenched fist. "Can't a man speak to his wife?"he snarled.

  "Speak to her with respect, or I'll smash you!"

  "You daren't! You've got to treat me well. It's regulations."

  "Damn the regulations! You mind what I tell you!"

  Imbrie looked from one to another with insufferable malice. "Ah! Sothat's the way the wind lies," he drawled.

  Stonor turned on his heel and walked away, grinding his teeth in theeffort to get a grip on himself.

  Imbrie was never one to forego such an advantage. He looked from one toanother with bright, spiteful eyes. When Stonor came back he said:

  "You must excuse me if I gave you a turn. To tell the truth, a manforgets how attractive his wife is. I'm sorry I had to turn up, old man.Perhaps you didn't know that she had a Mrs. to her name. She took backher maiden name, they told me."

  "I knew it very well," said Stonor. "Since before we started to look foryou."

  "Well, if you knew it, that's your look-out," said Imbrie. "You can'tsay I didn't do my best to keep out of your way."

  This was intolerable. Stonor suddenly bethought himself what to do. In alow voice he bade Mary bring him the tracking-line. Imbrie, who stoodstroking his chin and surveying them with the air of master of thesituation, lost countenance when he saw the rope. Stonor cut off an endof it.

  "What's that for?" demanded Imbrie.

  "Turn round and put your hands behind you," said the policeman.

  Imbrie defiantly folded his arms.

  Stonor smiled. "If you resist my orders," he said softly, "there is noneed for me to hold my hand.--Put your hands behind you!" he suddenlyrasped.

  Imbrie thought better to obey. Stonor bound his wrists firmly together.He then led Imbrie a hundred yards from their camp, and, making him sitin the grass, tied his ankles and invited him to meditate.

  "I'll get square with you for this, old man!" snarled Imbrie. "You hadno right to tie me up!"

  "I didn't like the style of your conversation," said Stonor coolly.

  "You're damn right, you didn't! You snivelling preacher! You snooperafter other men's wives! Oh, I've got you where I want you now! Anycharge you bring against me will look foolish when I tell them----"

  "Tell them what?"

  "Tell them you're after her!"

  Stonor walked away and left the man.

  Clare still stood in the same place like a carven woman. She waited forhim with wide, harassed eyes. As he came to her she said simply:

  "This is worse than I expected."

  "The man is not right in his head!" said Stonor. "There is somethingqueer. Don't pay any attention to him. Don't think of him."

  "But I must think of him; I can't escape it. What do you mean by notright?"

  "A screw loose somewhere. What they call a case of double personality,perhaps. It is the only way to reconcile what you told me about him andwhat we see."

  Clare's glance was turned inward in the endeavour to solve the riddle ofher own blind spot. She said slowly: "I have known him somewhere; I amsure of that. But he is strange to me. He makes my blood run cold. Icannot explain it."

  "Do not brood on it," urged Stonor.

  She transferred her thoughts to Stonor. "You look utterly worn out. Willyou
sleep now?"

  "Yes. We won't leave here until morning. My horse must have a goodrest."

  "You'd wait for him, but not for yourself!"

  "Tole ought to be along in the morning to help pack, and to guard theprisoner."

  Before Stonor had a chance to lie down, Imbrie called him. There was apropitiatory note in his voice.

  The trooper went to him. "What do you want?" he asked sternly.

  "Say, I'm sorry I riled you, Sergeant," said Imbrie with a grin. "I wasa bit carried off my feet by the situation. I'll be more carefulhereafter. Untie this damned rope, will you?"

  Stonor slowly shook his head. "I think we're both better off with alittle distance between us."

  Imbrie repented of his honeyed tones. His lip curled back. But he madean effort to control himself. "Aren't you afraid your spotlessreputation will suffer?" he asked, sneering.

  "Not a bit!" said Stonor promptly.

  Imbrie was taken aback. "Well--can I speak to my wife for a minute?" heasked sullenly.

  Stonor observed, wincing, how he loved to bring out the word "wife.""That's up to her," he answered. "I'll put it to her."

  Returning to Clare, he said: "He wants to speak to you."

  She shrank involuntarily. "What should I do, Martin?"

  "I see nothing to be gained by it," said Stonor quickly.

  "But if, as you say, in a way he's sick, perhaps I ought----"

  "He's not too sick to have a devil in him. Leave him alone!"

  She shook her head. She was gaining in firmness. "It won't hurt me tohear what he has to say. It may throw some light on the situation."

  "I doubt it," said Stonor. "His object is to raise as much dust aspossible. But go ahead. If he's insulting, leave him instantly. Anddon't let him know what I suspect him of."

  She went, and Stonor walked up and down in the grass in a fever untilshe returned. She was with Imbrie some little time. Stonor could notguess of what they talked. Clare's white composed face, and Imbrie'sinvariable grin, told him nothing.

  The instant she came towards him he burst out: "He didn't annoy you?"

  She shook her head. "No, he seemed quite anxious to please. Heapologized for what he said before."

  Stonor said, blushing and scowling: "Perhaps you do not care to tell mewhat you----"

  "Certainly!" she said, with a quick look. "Don't be silly, Martin. Itwas just what you might expect. Nothing important. He asked me dozens ofquestions as to what we did down the river."

  "You did not tell him?"

  "How could I? Apparently he is greatly puzzled by my condition. He seemsnot fully to believe, or at least he pretends not to believe, that Icannot remember. He tried to work on my feelings to get you to liberatehim. And of course he was most anxious to know what he was wanted for. Itold him I could not interfere in your affairs, that's all."

  Stonor nodded.

  "Martin," she said, with the withdrawn look that he had marked before,"I cannot remember anything, yet I am conscious of a deep resentmentagainst this man. At some time in the past he has injured me cruelly, Iam sure.--Yet I told you I had injured him, didn't I?" She passed a handacross her face. "It is very puzzling."

  "Don't worry!" he said cheerily. "It's bound to be made clear in theend."

  "You wish to do all the worrying, don't you?" she said, with a wrysmile.

  He could not meet her dear eyes. "Worry nothing!" he cried. "I only haveone idea in my mind, and that is to get some sleep!" He bustled to gethis blankets.

  They awoke him for the evening meal. After eating, he inspected hiscamp, sent Clare to bed, moved Imbrie closer, instructed Mary to keepwatch that he did not succeed in freeing himself, and went back to sleepagain. Mary was to call him at dawn, and they would take the trail atsunrise.

  In the middle of the night he was brought leaping to his feet by a cryout of the dark: a cry that was neither from wolf, coyote, norscreech-owl. Wakened from a deep sleep, his consciousness was aware onlyof something dreadful. Outside the tent Mary ran to him: her teeth werechattering with terror: she could not speak. Clare crept from her tent.Both women instinctively drew close to their protector.

  "What was it?" Clare asked, tremblingly.

  A shriek answered her; a dreadful urgent cry of agony that made thewhole night shudder. It came from a little way down the trail, from theedge of the woods perhaps, not more than a quarter of a mile away.

  "A human voice!" gasped Clare.

  "A woman's!" muttered Stonor grimly.

  Again it shattered the stillness, this time more dreadful, for theyheard words in their own tongue. "Don't hurt me! Don't hurt me!" Then ahorrible pause, and with added urgency: "Help! Help!"

  "By God! English words!" cried Stonor, astounded.

  "Go to her! Go to her!" cried Clare, urging him with her hands.

  On the other hand, Mary, falling to her knees, clung to him, fairlygibbering in the extremity of her terror.

  Stonor was suspicious, yet every instinct of manliness drew him towardsthese cries. Under that pull it was impossible to think clearly. Heshook Mary off, and started to run. He took three steps and pulledhimself up short.

  "Look at Imbrie," he muttered. "Strange he hasn't wakened."

  It was true the prisoner still lay motionless, entirely covered with hisblanket.

  "It's a trick!" said Stonor. "There could be no English woman near here.It's a trick to draw me out of camp!"

  "But none of the Kakisas could speak English," said Clare.

  "I don't know," muttered Stonor, in an agony of indecision. "My firstduty is here. Look at Mary. She thinks it's a trick."

  Mary was lying on the ground, muttering a Kakisa word over and over.

  "What is it?" Stonor harshly demanded.

  "Spirits!" she gasped.

  Stonor turned away, flinging his arms up. "Good God! Ghosts again!" hecried, in exasperation.

  The dreadful cries were raised again. "Help! Help! He's killing me!"

  "I can't stand it!" cried Clare. "I must go myself!"

  "Stay where you are!" commanded Stonor. "It is too strange a thing tohappen so close to our camp if it was not staged for our benefit!"

  Just the same, it was not easy for him to hold himself. When the crieswere raised again a deep groan was forced from him:

  "If I only had another man!"

  "Go! Mary and I will be all right!" said Clare.

  "Don' go! Don' go!" wailed Mary from the ground.

  Stonor shouted into the darkness. "Come this way! Help is here!"

  The cries were redoubled.

  Imbrie suddenly awoke, and rolled clear of his blanket. "What's that?"he cried, with an admirable assumption of surprise. "A woman's voice! Awhite woman! Why don't you go to her?"

  It was a little too well done; Stonor felt partly reassured.

  Imbrie appeared to be struggling desperately in his bonds. "For God'ssake, man!" he cried. "If you won't go, cut me loose! I can't stand it!"

  "I am sure now," said Stonor, in a voice of relief. "This was what hefixed up with Myengeen this morning. I ought to have been prepared forit. Mary, help me make up the fire. A blaze will help chase thehorrors."

  "Oh, you coward!" taunted Imbrie. "If I had my hands free! This is thefamous nerve of the police!"

  Stonor could afford to laugh at this. His courage was tried.

  The voice came with a fresh note of despair. "He's taking me away! He'staking me away! Oh, come! come!" Sure enough the sounds began to recede.

  But the spell was broken now. They were only conscious of relief at theprospect of an end to the grim farce.

  "Damn clever work here," said Stonor. "She says the very things thatought to pull the hardest."

  "Where could they have got the English words?" said Clare.

  "Search me! It's another mystery to add to what's facing us."

  Meanwhile the flames were beginning to lick the twigs that Mary placedwith trembling hands.

  "If we make a big fire won't it reveal us to them?" said
Clarenervously.

  "They won't shoot," said Stonor contemptuously. "Stage business is moretheir line; conjure-tricks."

  Imbrie, seeing that the game was up, had given over trying to tauntStonor, and lay watching them with an unabashed grin. He seemed ratherproud of his scheme, though it had failed.

  "Can I smoke?" he said.

  "Mary, fill his pipe, and stick it in his mouth," said Stonor.

  They heaped up a big fire, and at Stonor's initiative, sat around itclearly revealed in the glare. He knew his Indians. At first Claretrembled, thinking of the possible hostile eyes gazing at them frombeyond the radius of light, but Stonor's coolness was infectious. Hejoked and laughed, and, toasting slices of bacon, handed them round.

  "We can eat all we want to-night," he said. "Tole will be along with afresh supply to-morrow."

  Imbrie lay about fifteen paces from the fire, near enough to makehimself unpleasant, if not to hear what was said. "Mighty brave man bythe fire," he sneered.

  Stonor answered mildly. "One more remark like that, my friend, and I'llhave to retire you again from good society."

  Imbrie held his tongue thereafter.

  Clare, wishing to show Stonor that she too could set an example ofcoolness, said: "Let's sing something."

  But Stonor shook his head. "That would look as if we were trying to keepour courage up," he said, smiling, "and of course it is up. But let Marytell us a story to pass the time."

  Mary, having reflected that it was her own people and not ghostlyvisitants that had made the hideous interruption in the night, hadregained her outward stolidity. She was not in the humour for tellingstories, though.

  "My mout' too dry," she said.

  "Go ahead," coaxed Stonor. "You know your own folks better than I do.You know that if we sit here by the fire, eating, talking, and laughinglike a pleasant company, it will put respect into their hearts. They'llhave no appetite for further devilry."

  "Can't tell stories," she said. "Too late, too dark, too scare. Wordswon't come."

  "Just tell us why the rabbits have a black spot on their backs. That's ashort one."

  After a little more urging Mary began in her stolid way:

  "One tam Old Man him travel in the bush. Hear ver' queer singin'. Neverhear not'ing like that before. Look all round see where it come. Wah! hesee cottontail rabbits singing and making medicine. They mak' fire. Gotplenty hot ashes. They lie down in those ashes and sing, and anotherrabbit cover them up with ashes. They not stay there ver' long for causethose ashes moch hot.

  "Old Man say: 'Little brothers, that is wonderful how you lie down inthose hot ashes without burning. Show me how to do it.'

  "Rabbits say: 'Come on, Old Man. We show you how. You got sing our song,only stay in ashes little while.' So Old Man begin to sing, and he liedown, and they cover him with ashes. Him not burn at all.

  "He say: 'That is ver' nice. You sure got ver' strong medicine. Now Iwant do it myself. You lie down, and I cover you up.'

  "So rabbits all lie down in ashes, and Old Man cover them up. Then heput the whole fire over them. Only one old rabbit get out. Old Man catchher and go put her back, but she say: 'Pity me, my children soon beborn.'

  "Old Man say: 'All right, I let you go, so there is plenty more rabbitsbam-bye. But I will cook these nicely and have a feast.' And he put morewood on the fire. When those rabbits cooked nice, he cut red willow bushand lay them on to cool. Grease soak into those branches; that is whywhen you hold red willow to the fire you see grease on the bark. You cansee too, since that time, how rabbits got burnt place on their back.That is where the one that got away was singed.

  "Old Man sit down waitin' for rabbits to cool a little. His mouth is wetfor to taste them. Coyote come along limpin' ver' bad. Say: 'Pity me,Old Man, you got plenty cooked rabbits, give me one.'

  "Old Man say: 'Go along! You too lazy catch your dinner, I not helpyou!'

  "Coyote say: 'My leg broke. I can't catch not'ing. I starving. Just giveme half a rabbit.'

  "Old Man say: 'I don't care if you die. I work hard to cook all theserabbits. I will not give away. But I tell you what we do. We run a raceto that big hill way off there. If you beat me I give you a rabbit.'

  "Coyote say: 'All right.' So they start run. Old Man run ver' fast.Coyote limp along close behind. Then coyote turn round and run back veryfast. Him not lame at all. Tak' Old Man long tam to get back. Jus'before he get there coyote swallow las' rabbit, and trot away over theprairie with his tail up.

  "That is the end."

  Stonor laughed. "That's the kind of story I like. No cut and driedmoral!"

  Mary never could be got to see anything funny in the stories she told.Just what her attitude was towards them the whites could not guess.

  "Give us another about Old Man," Stonor went on. "A longer one. Tell howOld Man made medicine. A crackerjack!"

  Clare looked at him wonderingly. If he were aware of the weirdness oftheir situation no sign betrayed it. The crackling flames mountedstraight in the air, the smoke made a pillar reaching into the darkness.Fifteen paces from Stonor lay his prisoner, staring unwinkingly at himwith eyes that glittered with hatred; and from all around them in thedarkness perhaps scores of their enemies were watching.

  Mary stolidly began again:

  "It was long tam ago before the white man come. The people not havehorses then. Kakisas hunt on the great prairie that touch the sky allaround. Many buffalo had been killed. The camp was full of meat. Greatsheets hung in the lodges and on the racks outside to smoke. Now themeat was all cut up and the women were working on the hides. Cure somefor robes. Scrape hair from some for leather----"

  The story got no further. From across the little stream they heard amuffled thunder of hoofs in the grass.

  Stonor sprang up. "My horses!" he cried. "Stampeded, by God! Thecowardly devils!"

  Imbrie laughed.

  Stonor snatched up his gun. "Back from the fire!" he cried to the women."I'm going to shoot!"

  He splashed across the ford, and, climbing the bank, dropped on hisknee in the grass. The horses swerved, and galloped off at a tangent.They were barely visible to eyes that had just left the fire. Stonorcounted seven animals, and he had but six with Imbrie's. On the sevenththere was the suggestion of a crouching figure. Stonor fired at thehorse.

  The animal collapsed with a thud. Stonor ran to where he lay twitchingin the grass. It was a strange horse to him. The rider had escaped. Buthe could not have got far. The temptation to follow was strong, butStonor, remembering his prisoner and the women who depended on him,refused to be drawn. He returned to where Clare and Mary awaited him ata little distance from the fire. Meanwhile the horses galloped away outof hearing into the bush beyond the little meadow. Imbrie was stillsecure in his bonds. Stonor kept a close watch on him.

  They had not long to wait before dawn began to weave colour in the sky.Light revealed nothing living but themselves in the little valley, oraround its rim. The horse Stonor had shot still lay where he haddropped. Stonor returned to him, taking Mary. The animal was dead, witha bullet behind its shoulder. It was a blue roan, an ugly brute with achewed ear. It had borne a saddle, but its owner had succeeded inretrieving that under cover of darkness. The man's tracks were visible,leading off towards the side trail.

  "Mary, whose horse is that?" Stonor asked.

  She shrugged and spread out her hands. As she had been living at FortEnterprise for years, and saw her own people but seldom, he had nochoice but to believe that she did not know. They returned to Clare.

  Stonor said: "I shall have to leave you for awhile. There's no help forit. I'm expecting Tole Grampierre this morning, but I can't tell forsure how fast he will travel, and in the meantime the horses may begetting further away every minute. If you are afraid to stay, I supposeyou can come with me--though I may have to tramp for miles."

  Clare kept her chin up. "I'll stay here. If you have to go far I'd onlybe a drag on you. I shan't be afraid."

  The harassed policeman gave her a
grateful glance. "I'll leave you myrevolver. There's no use arming Mary, because I couldn't ask her to fireon her own people. I do not think there is the slightest danger of yourbeing attacked. If the Indians, seeing me go, come around, pay noattention to them. Show no fear and you are safe. If they want Imbrielet them take him. I'll get him later. It only means a little delay. Hecannot escape me up here."

  "You must eat before you start," said Clare anxiously.

  "I'll take cold food. Can't wait for hot bread."

  As Stonor started off Imbrie cried mockingly: "So long, Redbreast!"Stonor doubted very much if he would find him on his return. But therewas no help for it. One has to make the best of a bad situation.

  After traversing the little meadow the stampeded horses had taken to thetrail in the direction of Fort Enterprise. Stonor took heart, hopingthat Tole might meet them and drive them back. But, reliable as Tolewas, of course he could not count on him to the hour; nor had he anyassurance that the horses would stay in the trail. He kept on.

  The horses' tracks made clear reading. For several miles Stonor followedthrough the bush at a dog-trot. Then he came to another little openglade and saw that they had stopped to feed. He gained on them here. Ashort distance further he suddenly came upon his bay in the trail, thehorse that had carried him to Swan Lake and back. As he had expected,she was hopelessly foundered, a pitiable sight. He regretfully put abullet through her brain.

  Near here the remaining horses had swerved from the trail and turnednorthward, looking for water perhaps. Stonor pinned a note to a tree,briefly telling Tole what had happened, and bidding him hasten forwardwith all speed.

  Stonor followed the hoof-prints then through the trackless bush,painfully slow going over the stones and the fallen trunks, with many apitfall concealed under the smooth moss. After an hour of this hefinally came upon them all five standing dejectedly about in a narrowopening, as if ashamed of their escapade and perfectly willing to becaught.

  Mounting Miles Aroon, he drove the others before him. To avoid the riskof breaking their legs he had to let them make their own slow pace overthe down timber, and it was a sore trial to his patience. He had alreadybeen gone two hours. When finally he struck the trail again he saw thathis note to Tole was still where he had left it. He let it stay, on thechance of its bringing him on a little quicker. He put his horses to thetrail at a smart pace. They all clattered through the bush, makingdizzying turns around the tree-trunks.

  As he approached the little meadow by the Meander his heart rose slowlyin his throat. He had been more anxious for their safety than he wouldlet himself believe. As he came to the edge of the trees his eyes wereready to leap to the spot where he had left his charges. A shock awaitedthem. Of the three little tents there was but one remaining, and no signof life around it. He furiously urged his horse to the place.

  Mary and Clare were gone with Imbrie. The camp site was trampled byscores of hoofs. The Indians had taken nothing, however, but the twolittle tents and the personal belongings of the women--an oddscrupulousness in the face of the greater offence. All the tracks madeoff across the meadow towards the side trail back to the Swan.