CHAPTER VI
AN-INA
The brief daylight had nearly passed. Accompanied by its fierySatellites the sun was lolling moodily to its rest. Steve was searchingthe near distance for a sight of Oolak and the dog train, which shouldshortly arrive at the post. There was deep reflection in his wholeattitude, in the keen lines of his strong face, in the far-off look inhis steady eyes. Beside him little Marcel, in his warmth-giving bundleof furs, was emulating the attitude of his new "uncle." He, too, wassearching the distance. He, too, was still and silent. Perhaps, even, inhis childish way, he was striving to read the pages of the mystery book,which the bleak, snowbound prospect represented.
Beyond the low ridge of crystal whiteness, less than three milesdistant, the land rose steadily, ridge on ridge. It looked like a seriesof giant steps blotched and chequered with dark patches of forest whichcontained so many secrets hidden from the eyes of man. As the distancegained the crystal of it all mellowed softly till a deep purpledominated the whole prospect.
The wintering sun had almost completed its course. At this season of theyear it simply passed low above the horizon towards the west, like arolling ball of fire, until, weary of its effort, it submerged againbeyond the broken line of the hills. And each day that passed, itscourse dropped lower and lower.
It was a stern enough picture for all winter had not yet finally closedits doors upon the dying season. And none could know better the meaningof its frowning than Steve.
"Wot's us looking at, Uncle Steve?"
The childish treble piped its demand without the boy withdrawing hisgaze from the grim picture of winter's approach.
In a moment Steve's pre-occupation vanished. He smiled down on thefascinating little bundle of furs as he replied.
"Oolak, old fellow, Oolak, and Uncle Steve's outfit. Guess he's gotuncle's bed, and all his food."
"Wot food?"
Interest in such a subject superceded all interest in the sunset. LittleMarcel's eyes were eagerly enquiring as they gazed up into those of hisnew found friend.
"Why, there's some frozen black-tail deer. Maybe there's a jack rabbitor so. Then I guess there's biscuit, and coffee, and tea, and maybe evensugar."
The boy nodded appreciatively.
"I likes 'em," he said. Then after a moment. "I likes plenty sugar.There's sugar at the store. My Mummy, hers keep it for me cos I likes'em."
Steve understood. He interpreted the announcement in his own fashion. Heknew that stores were running short, and that those others, those twodevoted women, were hoarding the last remains of their sugar for thelittle life that needed it.
He turned abruptly towards the horizon again. Perhaps he did not desirethe eyes of the child to witness the feeling he had stirred.
He need have had no fear. At that moment the boy's treble shrilled withexcitement.
"Look, Uncle Steve!" he cried pointing. "Him's Oolak. Wiv dogs, an'sled, an' food, an' everything. Him's coming down--"
But he waited for no more. He waited for no reply. He waited for noguiding mandate. He raced off across the frozen surface of the snow asfast as his jolly little legs could carry him. It seemed as if heconsidered anything or anyone belonging to "Uncle Steve" to be also partof his small life, and was entitled to all the welcome he could give.
Steve watched the little fellow with a tender smile. He was so small, sofull of happy life and engaging simplicity. Then he had such a wonderfulpicture face, with its fringe of curling hair which thrust its way outfrom under the thick, arctic helmet of fur which was part of his outerclothing. For a moment, as he bundled over the snow like a brown woollyball, Steve wondered how he managed it, so encased was his small figurein seal-skin. But he did, and his high-pitched greeting to the man withthe dog train floated back upon the still, cold air as he flounderedfarther and farther away.
"Hello!--hello!--hello!"
The greeting came back at intervals. And Steve wondered at the feelingsof the silent Oolak when he heard that voice, and saw that baby figuresprinting and wobbling over the snow towards him.
"Missis gone--dead."
"Gone--dead!"
Steve turned with a start. He was looking into the handsome face of thesquaw, An-ina, whose words he had echoed.
"Missis all gone--dead!" the squaw repeated with a solemn inclination ofthe head.
But the re-affirmation was unneeded. Full confirmation was in her widedark eyes, which were full of every grievous emotion short of tears.Tears were something of which her stoic Indian nature was incapable.But Steve knew well enough the weight of grief which lay behind thestricken expression which looked out of the enveloping hood of thewoman's tunic of seal.
For a moment he gazed into An-ina's face in helpless silence. For themoment the tragedy of the whole thing left him groping. He knew thiswoman had come to him seeking guidance. In that moment of disaster hefelt that the destiny of little Marcel and his devoted nurse had beenflung into his hands.
"Come," he said with swift decision. "We'll get right back--to her."
* * * * *
Steve was at the bedside. He was bending low over the still, calmfigure, so straight, so rigid under the blanket covering. He was readingfor himself, and in his own way, the brief account of those last momentswhen her spirit had yielded before those other overwhelming powers ithad been impossible to resist.
Every disfiguring line of suffering had passed out of the beautiful,youthful face. For all the marble coldness which had taken possession ofit Steve realized something of the splendid, smiling, courageouswomanhood which had struggled so recklessly in support of the man forwhom she had given up her life. And the full force of the tragedy of itall found a deep echo of pitying admiration in his heart. It seemed tohim that the hand of Providence had fallen hard, and, in his humanunderstanding, with more than questionable justice.
His examination completed he turned to the dusky creature at his side.
"I guess her sufferings are over--sure. Her poor soul's gone to join herman, and the boy's just--alone."
The squaw's dark eyes were soft with that velvet look so peculiar tothe Indian woman in moments of deep emotion.
"Maybe it best so," she said, in a manner which bespoke long associationwith white folk. "Him good woman. Him suffer much--so much. Poor--poorMissis. It not him fault. Oh, no. Him think all the time for her man,an' little Marcel. Oh, yes. Not think nothing else all time. This devilman come. Him kill her man. She not know. Poor Missis. She not think.Only so she please her man. So this devil man kill her man. So."
"What d'you mean?"
The man's gaze was compelling. Its steady light searched the soft eyesof the squaw. The woman withstood his gaze unflinchingly. Then shesuddenly bent across, and drew the coverlet up, and tenderly hid theface of the dead. Then she looked up again into Steve's face.
"Come," she said quietly. "I tell you."
Without waiting for reply she led the way out of the room into the storebeyond, with its bare counter, and shelves, and bins so meagrelysupplied. Steve followed without a word. He had suddenly realized thatas yet he knew only a part of the story of these people. There was moreto be told.
The store displayed much the same purpose and care which everything elseabout the work of Marcel Brand revealed. The completeness of it all musthave been surprising, had not Steve understood that the chemist had comehere to carry his life's work to its logical completion. There weresigns everywhere of capacity, and unstinted expenditure of money. Butthe haulage of it all. The thought was always in Steve's mind. The greatstove in the corner of the long, low room. The carpentered shelvings,and drawers, and cupboards. The counter, too, no makeshift barrier setup for the purposes of traffic, but with every sign of skilledworkmanship about it. He felt certain that all these things must havebeen borne up the slopes of the great table-land, hauled overland, or bywater, from the workshops of civilization.
Habit was strong and An-ina moved at once to the great stove radiatingits pleasant warmth. Ste
ve took up his position opposite her.
The squaw began at once. She had nothing to conceal from this man whorepresented the law of the white men. Besides, was she not thinking ofthe boy who had stolen so closely into her mother heart?
"An-ina not say to Missis all," she said, in her simple way. "Oh, no.Missis much afraid. Much suffer. Him sick--much sick. No man--then allgone. She 'fraid. She all break up her heart. Marcel not come. Why? Why?An-ina know. She hear from Indian man. All Indian man know. Marcel himall killed dead. Indian man not kill him. Oh, no. Cy Allshore him killhim. Marcel him kill Cy too. Both kill each one. Oh, yes. Cy devil man.Cy think him kill up Marcel. Then him have Missis--have all things. Oh,yes. Indian man know. Indian man find both, all killed dead. Indian mantell An-ina. An-ina say no tell Missis. Maybe she all kill dead--too.Yes? An-ina love Missis. Love her much. She no hurt Missis. So she notsay. Oh, no."
The searching eyes of Steve never left the woman's dusky face for amoment. They were boring their way to pierce the unemotional exteriorfor the truth that lay behind.
"Say, just stop right there," he commanded. "I need to get this right.You reckon this feller Cy--Cy Allshore was out for plunder--murder. Youguess he kind of loved your Missis, and she didn't know. He reckoned tokill Marcel, and steal all this, and--his wife. That so?"
"Sure. That so."
"How d'you know?"
"An-ina see. An-ina have two eyes. She see all thing. Oh, yes."
"Tell me."
"How An-ina tell? She not know. She woman. She see. That all. Cy himhard. Him have bad eye for woman. Him think money all time. Him say,'An-ina you good squaw.' Him say, 'Cy have no squaw. Cy like squaw.'An-ina say, no! She know. Then him hate An-ina. Him hate An-ina plenty,big. An-ina say nothing. She not 'fraid. Cy know she maybe kill him.Then him talk much with Missis. An-ina watch. Yes. Missis not know. Himgood woman. An-ina know. Cy bad. An-ina think her mak big talk withMarcel. Her say much. No. Her not mak big talk. Marcel him kill Cy. Thenall thing here--no good. Oh, yes. So An-ina say nothing. So him Cy an'Marcel go long trail. Marcel him not think nothin'. Him dream--dream.All time dream. Cy think bad all time.
"So." An-ina shrugged expressively. "Much long time. No Cy. No Marcel.Then Indian man mak big talk. Him say Indian man come by the big water.What you call him?"
"Hudson's Bay?"
"No, no. Not so big water."
"Chesterfield Inlet?"
The woman's eyes cleared of their perplexity.
"So. Chest-fiel' Inlet. Him big water. Indian man come with much seal.Him mak camp. Bimeby him mak big trail for Unaga. Then him find himtrail. Cy an' Marcel. Him follow him trail, an' bimeby him come big,deep place. Cy an' Marcel, all gone--dead. Him dogs all gone--dead. An'wolves eat up all flesh. Oh yes."
"How did they recognize the bones?"
"Him sled, him outfit. All 'Sleeper.' Indian man know."
"And you reckon Cy Allshore killed Marcel--murdered him?"
There was a sharpness in Steve's demand that suggested doubt. He did notdoubt the woman's story. It was her assertion that Cy had murdered hispartner. He saw no evidence for her assumption. He felt that she hadgiven run to her own personal feelings against the man.
"That so. I tell you," An-ina returned composedly. She read his doubtand understood. "I not lie. Oh, no. Indian man wise. Sleeper man wise.Not bad. No. They find him bones. All eat clean. They see big place.They look an' look. No fall. Oh, no. No break 'em all up. No. Him sayMarcel wise man. Cy wise man. Not care for wolf. Oh, no. So him lookmuch. Him take him bone an' look. Him find him head--two. MaybeMarcel--maybe Cy. Him find him hole. Little hole--big hole. Same likeeach. Then him find gun. Two much little gun. Two big gun. Little gunhim both shoot. Two time--three time. Him say big fight--plenty. So. Iteasy. Oh, yes. Marcel him no fight plenty. Oh, no. Him so as brotherwith Cy. Cy him not so. An-ina know. Cy him steal, steal, so," An-inabent her lithe body in an attitude of stealing upon a victim. "Then himlittle gun go--one I Marcel know. Him quick like lightning. Himbrave--much brave. Then him little gun go--one. So. Both all killup--dead."
For all the broken way of her talk, An-ina carried conviction. She knewboth men. And her woman's heart and mind had read Cy Allshore to thedregs of what she believed was an infamous heart. Steve knew the dangerof accepting her story without reserve. He was convinced of hersincerity. It would have been impossible to doubt. But----
The sound of little Marcel's piping voice reached them from the outside.Steve turned and glanced out of the window. Oolak was bringing in histrain, with its five powerful dogs. Julyman with a club was busy, withlittle Marcel's assistance, beating off the ferocious welcome of dogs ofthe post.
For a moment he watched the boy's amazing efforts. Then as the tumultsubsided he turned again to the patient woman awaiting his verdict.
"You're a good woman, An-ina," he said simply. "You've told me the wholething as you see it. Well, I guess I can't ask more. Anyway I'm campinghere for the winter, an' during that time I'll need to wake some ofthese 'sleepers.' I've got to get out and see what happened at that 'bigplace.' Later on, when the snow goes, why--Say, I guess there isn't athing to keep you and little Marcel around here--now."
The Heart of Unaga Page 6