The Yukon Trail: A Tale of the North
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CHAPTER XXI
A NEW WAY OF LEAVING A HOUSE
The surge of disgust with which Sheba had broken her engagement to marryMacdonald ebbed away as the weeks passed. It was impossible for her towait upon him in his illness and hold any repugnance toward this big,elemental man. The thing he had done might be wrong, but the veryopenness and frankness of his relation to Meteetse redeemed it fromshame. He was neither a profligate nor a squawman.
This was Diane's point of view, and in time it became to a certainextent that of Sheba. One takes on the color of one's environment, andthe girl from Drogheda knew in her heart that Meteetse and Colmac wereno longer the real barriers that stood between her and the Alaskan.She had been disillusioned, saw him more clearly; and though she stillrecognized the quality of bigness that set him apart, her spirit did notnow do such complete homage to it. More and more her thoughts contrastedhim with another man.
Macdonald did not need to be told that he had lost ground, but withthe dogged determination that had carried him to success he refused toaccept the verdict. She was a woman, therefore to be won. The habit ofvictory was so strong in him that he could see no alternative.
He embarrassed her with his downright attentions, hemmed her in withcourtesies she could not evade. If she appealed to her cousin, Dianeonly laughed.
"My dear, you might as well make up your mind to him. He is going tomarry you, willy-nilly."
Sheba herself began to be afraid he would. There was something dominantand masterful about the man that swept opposition aside. He had a way ofgetting what he wanted.
The motor-car picnic to the Willow Creek Camp was a case in point. Shebadid not want to go, but she went. She would much rather have sat in therear seat with Diane,--at least, she persuaded herself that shewould,--yet she occupied the place beside Macdonald in front. The girlwas a rebel. Still, in her heart, she was not wholly reluctant. He madea strong appeal to her imagination. She felt that it would have beenimpossible for any girl to be indifferent to the wooing of such a man.
The picnic was a success. Macdonald was an outdoor man rather than aparlor one. He took charge of the luncheon, lit the fire, and cooked thecoffee without the least waste of effort. In his shirt-sleeves, the neckopen at the throat, he looked the embodiment of masculine vigor. Dianecould not help mentioning it to her cousin.
"Isn't he a splendid human animal?"
Sheba nodded. "He's wonderful."
"If I were a little Irish colleen and he had done me the honor to carefor me, I'd have fallen fathoms deep in love with him."
The Irish colleen's eyes grew reflective. "Not if you had seen Peterfirst, Di. There's nothing reasonable about a girl, I do believe. Sheloves--or else she just doesn't."
Diane fired a question at her point-blank. "Have you met _your_Peter? Is that why you hang back?"
The color flamed into Sheba's face. "Of course not. You do say the mostoutrageous things, Di."
They had driven to Willow Creek over the river road. They returned byway of the hills. Macdonald drew up in front of a cabin to fill theradiator.
He stood listening beside the car, the water bucket in his hand.Something unusual was going on inside the house. There came the soundof a thud, of a groan, and then the crash of breaking glass. The wholewindow frame seemed to leap from the side of the house. The head andshoulders of a man projected through the broken glass.
The man swept himself free of the debris and started to run. Instantlyhe pulled up in his stride, as amazed to see those in the car as theywere to see him.
"Gordon!" cried Diane.
Out of the house poured a rush of men. They too pulled up abruptly atsight of Macdonald and his guests.
A sardonic mirth gleamed in the eyes of the Scotchman. "Do you alwayscome out of a house through the wall, Mr. Elliot?" he asked.
"Only when I'm in a hurry." Gordon pulled out a handkerchief and dabbedat some glass-cuts on his face.
"Don't let us detain you," said the Alaskan satirically. "We'll excuseyou, since you must go."
"I'm not in such a hurry now. In fact, if you're going to Kusiak,I think I'll ask you for a lift," returned the field agent coolly.
"And your friends-in-a-hurry--do they want a lift too?"
Big Bill Macy came swaying forward, both hands to his bleeding head."He's a spy, curse him. And he tried to kill me."
"Did he?" commented Macdonald evenly. "What were you doing to him?"
"He can't sneak around our claim under a false name," growled one of theminers. "We'll beat his damn head off."
"I've had notions like that myself sometimes," assented the bigScotchman. "But I think we had all better leave Mr. Elliot to the law.He has Uncle Sam back of him in his spying, and none of us are bigenough to buck the Government." Crisply Macdonald spoke to Gordon,turning upon him cold, hostile eyes. "Get in if you're going to."
Elliot met him eye to eye. "I've changed my mind. I'm going to walk."
"That's up to you."
Gordon shook hands with Diane and Sheba, went into the house for hiscoat, and walked to the stable. He brought out his horse and turned itloose, then took the road himself for Kusiak.
A couple of miles out the car passed him trudging townward. As theyflashed down the road he waved a cheerful and nonchalant greeting.
Sheba had been full of gayety and life, but her mood was changed. Allthe way home she was strangely silent.