CHAPTER XI
BACK ON THE YELLOW KNIFE
The whole affair had been so sudden that Chloe scarcely realized whathad happened before a man stepped quickly into the clearing, at thesame time slipping a revolver into its holster. The girl gazed at himin amazement. It was Pierre Lapierre. He stepped forward, hat inhand. Chloe glanced swiftly from the dark, handsome features to theface of the man on the ground. The grey eyes opened for a second, andthen closed; but in that brief, fleeting glance the girl read distrust,contempt, and silent reproach. The man's lips moved, but no soundcame--and with a laboured, fluttering sigh, he sank intounconsciousness.
"Once more, it seems, my dear Miss Elliston, I have arrived just intime."
A sudden repulsion for this cruel, suave killer of men flashed into thegirl's brain. "Get some water," she cried, and dropping to her kneesbegan to unbutton MacNair's flannel shirt.
"But--" objected Lapierre.
"Will you get some water? This is no time to argue! You can explainlater!" Lapierre turned and without a word, walked to the lake and,taking a pail from the canoe, filled it with water. When he returned,Chloe was tearing white bandages from a garment essentially feminine,while Big Lena endeavoured to stanch the flow of blood from a smallwound high on the man's left breast, and another, more ragged woundwhere the bullet had torn through the thick muscles of his back.
The two women worked swiftly and capably, while Lapierre waited,frowning.
"Better hurry, Miss Elliston," he said, when the last of the bandageswas in place. "This is no place for us to be found if some ofMacNair's Indians happen along. Your canoe is ready. Mine is fartherdown the lake."
"But, this man--surely----"
"Leave him there. You have done all you can do for him. His Indianswill find him."
"What!" cried Chloe. "Leave a wounded man to die in the bush!"
Lapierre stepped closer. "What would you do ?" he asked. "Surely youcannot remain here. His Indians would kill you as they would kill a_carcajo_." The man's face softened. "It is the way of the North," hesaid sadly. "I would gladly have spared him--even though he is myenemy. But when he whirled with his rifle upon my heart, his fingerupon the trigger, and murder in his eye, I had no alternative. It washis life or mine. I am glad I did not kill him." The words and thetone reassured Chloe, and when she answered, it was to speak calmly.
"We will take him with us," she said. "The Indians could not care forhim properly even if they found him. At home I have everythingnecessary for the handling of just such cases."
"But, my dear Miss Elliston--think of the portages and the addedburden. His Indians----"
The girl interrupted him--"I am not asking you to help. I have a canoehere. If you are afraid of MacNair's Indians you need not remain."
The note of scorn in the girl's voice was not lost upon Lapierre. Heflushed and answered with the quiet dignity that well became him: "Icame here, Miss Elliston, with only three canoemen. I returnedunexpectedly to your school, and when I learned that you had gone toSnare Lake, I followed--to save you, if possible, from the hand of theBrute."
Chloe interrupted him. "You came here for that?"
The man bowed low. "Knowing what you do of Brute MacNair, and of hishatred of me, you surely do not believe I came here for business--orpleasure." He drew closer, his black eyes glowing with suppressedpassion. "There is one thing a man values more than life--the life andthe safety of the woman he loves!"
Chloe's eyes dropped. "Forgive me!" she faltered. "I--I did notknow--I--Oh! don't you see? It was all so sudden. I have had no timeto think! I know you are not afraid. But, we can't leave himhere--like this."
"As you please," answered Lapierre, gently.
"It is not the way of the North; but----"
"It is the way of humanity."
"It is _your_ way--and, therefore, it is my way, also. But, let us notwaste time!" He spoke sharply to Chloe's canoemen, who sprang to theunconscious form, and raising it from the ground, carried it to thewater's edge and deposited it in the canoe.
"Make all possible speed," he said, as Chloe preceded Big Lena into thecanoe; "I shall follow to cover your retreat."
The girl was about to protest, but at that moment the canoe shotswiftly out into the lake, and Lapierre disappeared into the bush.
There was small need for the quarter-breed's parting injunction. Thefour Indian canoemen evidently keenly alive to the desirability ofplacing distance between themselves and MacNair's retainers, bent totheir paddles with a unanimity of purpose that fairly lifted the bigcanoe through the water and sent the white foam curling from its bow intiny ripples of protest.
Hour after hour, as the craft drove southward, Chloe sat with thewounded man's head supported in her lap and pondered deeply the thingshe had told her. Now and again she gazed into the bearded face, calm,masklike in its repose of unconsciousness, as if to penetrate behindthe mask and read the real nature of him. She realized with a feelingalmost of fear, that here was no weakling--no plastic irresolute--whosewill could be dominated by the will of a stronger; but a man, virile,indomitable; a man of iron will who, though he scorned to stoop todefend his position, was unashamed to vindicate it. A man whose wordscarried conviction, and whose eyes compelled attention, even respect,though the uncouth boorishness of him repelled.
Yet she knew that somewhere deep behind that rough exterior lay a finersensitiveness, a gentleness of feeling, and a sympathy that hadimpelled him to a deed of unconscious chivalry of which no man need beashamed. And in her heart Chloe knew that had she not witnessed withher own eyes the destruction of his whiskey, she would have beenconvinced of his sincerity, if not of his postulates. "He is bad, butnot _all_ bad," she murmured to herself. "A man who will fight hard,but fairly. At all events, my journey to Snare Lake has not beenentirely in vain. He knows, now, that I have come into the North tostay; that I am not afraid of him, and will fight him. He knows that Iam honest----"
Suddenly the very last words she had spoken to him flashed into hermind--"Mr. Lapierre is far to the Southward"--and then Chloe closed hereyes as if to shut out that look of mingled contempt and reproach withwhich the wounded man had sunk into unconsciousness. "He thinks I liedto him--that the whole thing was planned," she muttered, and wasconscious of a swift anger against Lapierre. Her eyes swept backwardto the brown spot in the distance which was Lapierre's canoe.
"He came up here because he thought I was in danger," she mused. "AndMacNair would have killed him. Oh, it is terrible," she moaned. "Thiswild, hard wilderness, where human life is cheap; where men hate, andkill, and maim, and break all the laws of God and man; it is all_wrong_! Brutal, and savage, and wrong!"
The shadows lengthened, the canoe slipped into the river that leads toReindeer Lake, and still the tireless canoemen bent unceasingly totheir paddles. Reindeer Lake was crossed by moonlight, and a late campwas made a mile to the westward of the portage. The camp was fireless,and the men talked in whispers. Later Lapierre joined them, and at thefirst grey hint of dawn the outfit was again astir. By noon thefive-mile portage had been negotiated, and the canoes headed down CarpLake, which is the northmost reach of the Yellow Knife.
The following two days showed no diminution in the efforts of thecanoemen. The wounded man's condition remained unchanged. Lapierre'scanoe followed at a distance of a mile or two, and a hundred times aday Chloe found herself listening with strained expectancy for thesound of the shots that would proclaim that MacNair's Indians hadovertaken them. But no shots were fired, and it was with a feeling ofintense relief that the girl welcomed the sight of her own buildings asthey loomed in the clearing on the evening of the third day.
That night Lapierre visited Chloe in the cottage, where he found herseated beside MacNair's bed, putting the finishing touches to aswathing of fresh bandages.
"How is he doing?" he asked, with a nod toward the injured man.
"There is no change," answered the girl, as she in
dicated a chair closebeside a table, upon which were a tin basin, various bottles, andporcelain cups containing medicine, and a small pile of antiseptictablets. For just an instant the man's glance rested upon the tablets,and then swiftly swept the room. It was untenanted except for the girland the unconscious man on the bed.
"LeFroy, it seems, has improved his time," ventured Lapierre as heaccepted the proffered chair and drew from his pocket a thick packet ofpapers. "His complete list of supplies," he smiled. "With these inyour storehouse you may well expect to seriously menace the trade ofboth MacNair and the Hudson Bay Company's post at Fort Rae."
Chloe glanced at the list indifferently. "It seems, Mr. Lapierre, thatyour mind is always upon trade--when it is not upon the killing of men."
The quarter-breed was quick to note the disapproval of her tone, andhastened to reply. "Surely, Miss Elliston, you cannot believe that Iregard the killing of men as a pleasure; it is a matter of deep regretto me that twice during the short period of our acquaintance I havebeen called upon to shoot a fellow man."
"Only twice! How about the shot in the night--in the camp of theIndians, before you left for the Southward?" The sarcasm of the lastfour words was not lost upon the man. "Who fired that shot? And whatwas the thing that was lifted from your canoe and dropped into theriver?"
Lapierre's eyes searched hers. Did she know the truth? The chance wasagainst it.
"A most deplorable affair--a fight between Indians. One was killed andwe buried him in the river. I had hoped to keep this from your ears.Such incidents are all too common in the Northland----"
"And the murderer----"
"Has escaped. But to return to the others. Both shots, as you wellknow, were fired on the instant, and in neither case did I draw first."
Chloe, who had been regarding him intently, was forced to admit thejustice of his words. She noted the serious sadness of the handsomefeatures, the deep regret in his voice, and suddenly realized that inboth instances Lapierre's shots had been fired primarily in defence ofher.
A sudden sense of shame--of helplessness--came over her. Could it bethat she did not fit the North? Surely, Lapierre was entitled to hergratitude, rather than her condemnation. Judged by his own standard,he had done well. With a shudder she wondered if she would ever reachthe point where she could calmly regard the killing of men as a mereincident in the day's work? She thought not. And yet--what had mentold her of Tiger Elliston? Without exception, almost, the deeds theyrecounted had been deeds of violence and bloodshed. When she replied,her voice had lost its note of disapproval.
"Forgive me," she said softly, "it has all been so different--sostrange and new, and big. I have been unable to grasp it. All my lifeI have been taught to hold human life sacred. It is not you who are toblame! Nor, is it the others. It is the kill or be killed creed--thesavage wolf creed--of the North."
The girl spoke rapidly, with her eyes upon the face of MacNair. Soabsorbed was she that she did not see the slim fingers of Lapierresteal softly across the table-top and extract two tablets from thelittle pile--failed also to see the swift motion with which thosefingers dropped the tablets into a porcelain cup, across the rim ofwhich rested a silver spoon.
The man arose at the conclusion of her words, and crossing to her siderested a slim hand upon the back of her chair. "No. Miss Elliston,"he said gently, "I am not to blame nor, in a measure, are the others.It is, as you say, the North--the crushing, terrible, alluringNorth--in whose primitive creed a good man does not mean a moral one,but one who accomplishes his purpose, even though that purpose be bad.End, and not means, is the ethics of the lean, lone land, where humanlife sinks into insignificance, beneath the immutable law of savagemight."
His eyes burned as he gazed down into the upturned face of the girl.His hands stole lightly from the chair back and rested upon hershoulder. For one long, intense moment, their eyes held, and then,with a movement as swift and lithe as the spring of a panther, the manwas upon his knees beside her chair, his arms were about her, and withno thought of resistance, Chloe felt herself drawn close against hisbreast, felt the wild beating of his heart, and then--his lips wereupon hers, and she felt herself struggling feebly against the embraceof the sinewy arms.
Only for a moment did Lapierre hold her. With a movement as sudden andimpulsive as the movement that embraced her, the arms were withdrawn,and the man leaped swiftly to his feet. Too dazed to speak, Chloe satmotionless, her brain in a chaotic whirl of emotion, while in herbreast outraged dignity and hot, fierce anger strove for the masteryover a thrill, so strange to her, so new, so intense that it stirredher to the innermost depths of her being.
Swiftly, unconsciously, her glance rested for a moment upon the lean,bearded face of MacNair; and beside her chair, Lapierre noted theglance, and the thin lips twisted into a smile--a cynical, sardonicsmile, that faded on the instant, as his eyes flashed toward thedoorway. For there, silent and grim as he had seen her once before,stood Big Lena, whose china-blue eyes were fixed upon him, in that samedisconcerting, fishlike stare.
The hot blood mounted to his cheeks and suddenly receded, so that hisface showed pallid and pasty in the gloom of the darkened room. Hedrew his hand uncertainly across his brow and found it damp with acold, moist sweat. Was it fancy, or did the china-blue, fishlike eyesrest for just an instant upon the porcelain cup on the table? With aneffort the man composed himself, and stooping, whispered a few hurriedwords into the ears of the girl who sat with her face buried in herhands.
"Forgive me, Miss Elliston; for the moment I forgot that I had noright. I love you! Love you more than life itself! More than my ownlife--or the lives of others. It was but the impulse of an unguardedmoment that caused me to forget that I had not the right--forget that Iam a gentleman. We love as we kill in the North. And now, good-by, Iam going Southward. I will return, if it is within the power of man toreturn, before the ice skims the lakes and the rivers."
He paused, but the girl remained as though she had not heard him. Heleaned closer, his lips almost upon her ear. "Please, Miss Elliston,can you not forgive me--wish me one last bon voyage?"
Slowly, as one in a dream, Chloe offered him her hand. "Good-by!" shesaid simply, in a dull, toneless voice. The man seized the hand,pressed it lightly, and turning abruptly, crossed to the table. As hedrew his Stetson toward him, its brim came into violent contact withthe porcelain medicine cup. The cup crashed to the floor, its contentssplashing widely over the whip-sawed boards.
With a hurried word of apology he passed out of the door--passed closebeside the form of Big Lena onto whose cold, fishlike eyes the blackeyes stared insolently, even as the thin lips twisted into asmile--cynical, sardonic, mocking.
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