The Gun-Brand
Page 18
CHAPTER XVIII
WHAT HAPPENED AT BROWN'S
It was the middle of December. Storm after storm had left the Northcold and silent beneath its white covering of snow. A dog-team swungacross the surface of the ice-locked Athabasca, and took the steepslope at Fort McMurray on a long slant.
Leaving the dogs in care of the musher, Pierre Lapierre loosened thethongs of his rackets, and, pushing open the door, stamped noisily intothe detachment quarters of the Mounted and advanced to the stove wheretwo men were mending dog-harness. The men looked up.
"Speaking of the devil," grinned Constable Craig, with a glance towardCorporal Ripley, who greeted the newcomer with a curt nod. "Well,Lapierre, where'd you come from?"
Lapierre jerked his thumb toward the southward. "Up river," heanswered. "Getting out timber for my scows." Removing his cap andmittens, the quarter-breed loosened his heavy moose-hide _parka_, beatthe clinging snow from the coarse hair, and drew a chair to the stove.
"Come through from the Landing on the river?" asked Ripley, as hefilled a short black pipe with the tobacco he shaved from a plug."How's the trail?"
"Good and hard, except for the slush at the Boiler and another stretchjust below the Cascade." Lapierre rolled a cigarette. "Hear youcaught MacNair with the goods at last," he ventured.
Ripley nodded.
"Looks like it," he admitted. "But what do you mean, 'at last'?"
The quarter-breed laughed lightly and blew a cloud of cigarette-smokeceilingward. "I mean he has had things pretty much his own way thelast six or eight years."
"Meanin' he's been runnin' whiskey all that time?" asked Craig.
Lapierre nodded. "He has run booze enough into the North to float acanoe from here to Port Chippewayan."
It was Ripley's turn to laugh. "If you are so all-fired wise, whyhaven't you made a complaint?" he asked. "Seems like I never heard youand MacNair were such good friends,"
Lapierre shrugged. "I know a whole lot of men who have got their fullgrowth because they minded their own business," he answered. "I am notin the Mounted. That's what you are paid for."
Ripley flushed. "We'll earn our pay on this job all right. We've gotthe goods on him this time. And, by the way, Lapierre, if you've gotanything in the way of evidence, we'll be wanting it at the trial.Better show up in May, and save somebody goin' after you. If you runonto any Indians that know anything, bring them along."
"I will be there," smiled the other. "And since we are on the subject,I can put you wise to a little deal that will net you some first-handevidence." The officers looked interested, and Lapierre continued:"You know where Brown's old cabin is, just this side of the Methyeportage?" Ripley nodded. "Well, if you should happen to be at Brown'son New Year's Day, just pull up the puncheons under the bunk and seewhat you find."
"What will we find?" asked Craig.
Lapierre shrugged. "If I were you fellows I wouldn't overlook anybets," he answered meaningly.
"Why New Year's Day any more than Christmas, or any other day?"
"Because," answered Lapierre, "on Christmas Day, or any other daybefore New Year's Day, you won't find a damned thing but an emptyhole--that is why. Well, I must be going." He fastened the throat ofhis _parka_ and drew on his cap and mittens. "So long! See you in thespring. Shouldn't wonder if I will run onto some Indians, this winter,who will tell what they know, now that MacNair is out of the way. Iknow plenty of them that can talk, if they will."
"So long!" answered Ripley as Lapierre left the room. "Much obligedfor the tip. Hope your hunch is good."
"Play it and see," smiled Lapierre, and banged the door behind him.
Moving slowly northward upon a course that paralleled but studiouslyavoided the old Methye trail, two men and a dog-team plodded heavilythrough the snow at the close of a shortening day. Ostensibly, thesemen were trappers; and, save for a single freight piece bound securelyupon the sled, their outfit varied in no particular from the outfits ofothers who each winter fare into the North to engage in the taking offur. A close observer might have noted that the eyes of these men werehard, and the frequent glances they cast over the back-trail were tensewith concern.
The larger and stronger of the two, one Xavier, a sullen riverman ofevil countenance, paused at the top of a ridge and pointed across asnow-swept beaver meadow. "T'night we camp on dees side. T'mor' wecross to de mout' of de leetle creek, and two pipe beyon' we com' on decabin of Baptiste Chambre."
The smaller man frowned. He, too, was a riverman, tough and wiry andsmall. A man whose pinched, wizened body was a fitting cloister forthe warped soul that flashed malignantly from the beady, snakelike eyes.
"_Non, non_!" he cried, and the venomous glance of the beady eyes wasnot unmingled with fear. "We ke'p straight on pas' de beeg swamp.Me--I'm no lak' dees wintaire trail." He pointed meaningly toward themarks of the sled in the snow.
The other laughed derisively. "_Sacre_! you leetle man, you Du Mont,you 'fraid!"
The other shrugged. "I'm 'fraid, _Oui_, I'm lak' I ke'p out de jail.Tostoff, she say, you com' on de cabin of Brown de Chrees'mas Day._Bien_! Tostoff, she sma't mans. Lapierre, too. Tostoff, she 'fraidfor de wintaire trail, but she 'fraid for Lapierre mor'."
Xavier interrupted him. "_Tra la_, Chrees'mas Day! Ain't we got deeasy trail? Two days befor' Chrees'mas we com' on de cabin of Brown.Baptiste Chambre, she got de beeg jug rum. We mak' de grand dronk--oneday--one night. Den we hit de trail an com' on de ClearwaterChrees'mas Day sam' lak' now. Tostoff, de Russ, she nevair know,Lapierre, she nevair know. _Voila_!"
Still the other objected. "Mebe so com' de storm. What den? We was'ede time wit' Baptiste Chambre. We no mak' de Clearwater de Chrees'masDay--eh?"
Xavier growled. "De Chrees'mas Day, damn! We no mak' de Chrees'masDay, we mak' som' odder day. Lapierre's damn' Injuns com' for dewheeskey on Chrees'mas Day, she haf to wait. Me--I'm goin' to BaptisteChambre. I'm goin' for mak' de beeg dronk. If de snow com' and de dogcan't pull, I'm tak' dees leetle piece on ma back to the Clearwater."
He reached down contemptuously and swung the piece containing tengallons of whiskey to his shoulder with one hand, then lowered it againto the sled.
"You know w'at I'm hear on de revair?" he asked, stepping closer to DuMont's side and lowering his voice. "I'm hearin' MacNair ees een dejail. I'm hearin' Lapierre she pass de word to hit for Snare Lake, fordeeg de gol'."
"Did Lapierre tell you to deeg de gol', or me? _Non_. He say, you goto Tostoff." The snakelike eyes of the smaller man glittered at themention of gold. He clutched at the other's arm and cried out sharply:
"MacNair arres'! _Sacre_! Com', we tak' de wheeskey to de Clearwateran' go on to Snare Lake."
This time it was Xavier's eyes that flashed a hint of fear. "_Non_!"he answered quickly. "Lapierre, she----"
The other silenced him, speaking rapidly. "Lapierre, she t'ink shemak' us w'at you call, de double cross!" Xavier noted that themalignant eyes flashed dangerously--"Lapierre, she sma't but me--I'msma't too. Dere's plent' men 'long de revair lak' to see de las' ofPierre Lapierre. And plent' Injun in de Nort' dey lak' dat too. Butdey 'fraid to keel him. We do de work--Lapierre she tak' de money._Sacre_! Me--I'm 'fraid, too." He paused and shrugged significantly."But som' day I'm git de chance an' den leetle Du Mont she dismeesLapierre from de serveece. Den me--I'm de bos'. _Bien_!"
The other glanced at him in admiration.
"Me, I'm goin' 'long to Snare Lake," he said, "but firs' we stop onBaptiste Chambre an' mak' de beeg dronk, eh!" The smaller man nodded,and the two sought their blankets and were soon sleeping silentlybeside the blazing fire.
A week later the two rivermen paused at the edge of a thicket thatcommanded the approach to Brown's abandoned cabin on the Clearwater.The threatened storm had broken while they were still at BaptisteChambre's cabin, and the two days' debauch had lengthened into five.
Chambre's jug had been emptied and several times refilled fr
om thecontents of Tostoff's concealed cask, which had been skilfully tappedand as skilfully replenished as to weight by the addition of snow water.
The effect of their protracted orgy was plainly visible in thebloodshot eyes and heavy movements of both men. And it was more fromforce of long habit than from any sense of alertness or premonition ofdanger that they crouched in the thicket and watched the smoke curlfrom the little iron stovepipe that protruded above the roof of thecabin.
"Dem Injun she wait," growled Xavier. "Com' on, me--I'm lak' for ketchsom' sleep." The two swung boldly into the open and, pausing only longenough to remove their rackets, pushed open the door of the cabin.
An instant later Du Mont, who was in the lead, leaped swiftly backwardand, crashing into the heavier and clumsier Xavier bowled him over intothe snow, where both wallowed helplessly, held down by Xavier's heavypack.
It was but the work of a moment for the wiry Du Mont to free himself,and when he leaped to his feet, cursing like a fiend, it was to looksquarely into the muzzle of Corporal Ripley's service revolver, whileConstable Craig loosened the pack straps and allowed Xavier to arise.
"Caught with the goods, eh?" grinned Ripley, when the two prisonerswere seated side by side upon the pole bunk.
The sullen-faced Xavier glowered in surly silence, but the malignant,beady eyes of Du Mont regarded the officer keenly. "You patrol deClearwater now, eh?"
Ripley laughed. "When there's anything doin' we do."
"How you fin' dat out? Dem Injun she squeal? I'm lak' to know 'boutdat."
"Well, it wasn't exactly an Indian this time," answered Ripley; "thatis, it wasn't a regular Indian. Pierre Lapierre put us on to thislittle deal."
"_Pierre_--LAPIERRE!"
The little wizened man fairly shrieked the name and, leaping to hisfeet, bounded about the room like an animated rubber ball, while fromhis lips poured a steady stream of vile epithets, mingled with everycurse and gem of profanity known to two languages.
"That's goin' some," enthused Constable Craig, when the other finallypaused for breath. "An' come to think about it, I believe you'reright. I like to hear a man speak his mind, an' from your remarks itseems like you're oncommon peeved with this here little deal. It ain'tnothin' to get so worked up over. You'll serve your time an' in acouple of years or so they'll turn you loose again."
At the mention of the prison term the burly Xavier moved uneasily uponthe bunk. He seemed about to speak, but was forestalled by the quickerwitted Du Mont.
"Two years, eh!" asked the outraged Metis, addressing Ripley. "Mebe soyou mak' w'at you call de deal. Mebe so I'm tell you who's de boss.Mebe so I'm name de man dat run de wheeskey into de Nort'. De man datplans de cattle raids on de bordair. De man dat keels mor' Injun danmos' men keels deer, eh! Wat den? Mebe so den you turn us loose, eh?"
Ripley laughed. "You think I'm goin' to pay you to tell me the name ofthe man we've already got locked up?"
"You got MacNair lock up," Du Mont leered knowingly. "_Bien_! Yout'ink MacNair run de wheeskey. But MacNair, she ain't run no wheeskey.You mak' de deal wit' me. Ba Gos'! I'm not jus' tell you de name, I'mtell you so you fin' w'at you call de proof! I no fin' de proof--youno turn me loose. _Voila_!"
Corporal Ripley was a keen judge of men, and he knew that thevindictive and outraged Metis was in just the right mood to tell all heknew. Also Ripley believed that the man knew much. Therefore, he madethe deal. And it is a tribute to the Mounted that the crafty andsuspicious Metis accepted, without question, the word of the corporalwhen he promised to do all in his power to secure their liberty inreturn for the evidence that would convict "the man higher up."
Corporal Ripley was a man of quick decision; with him to decide was toact. Within an hour from the time Du Mont concluded his story the twoofficers with their prisoners were headed for Fort Saskatchewan. BothDu Mont and Xavier realized that their only hope for clemency lay intheir ability to aid the authorities in building up a clear caseagainst Lapierre, and during the ten days of snow-trail that ended atAthabasca Landing each tried to outdo the other in explaining what heknew of the workings of Lapierre's intricate system.
At the Landing, Ripley reported to the superintendent commanding NDivision, who immediately sent for the prisoners and submitted them toa cross-examination that lasted far into the night, and the followingmorning the corporal escorted them to Fort Saskatchewan, where theywere to remain in jail to await the verification of their story.
Division commanders are a law unto themselves, and much to hissurprise, two days later, Bob MacNair was released upon his ownrecognizance. Whereupon, without a moment's delay, he bought the bestdog-team obtainable and headed into the North accompanied by CorporalRipley, who was armed with a warrant for the arrest of Pierre Lapierre.