Glen of the High North

by H. A. Cody

  CHAPTER XVI

  THE ORDEAL

  "What are you doing here?"

  Curly was a sorry looking specimen of humanity as he stood before hisstern questioner, the ruler of Glen West. His clothes were torn, andhis face dirty and unshaven. His eyes glowed with a sullen light ofhatred, mingled with a nameless fear as he glanced furtively around theroom.

  "What are you doing here?" Weston repeated. "Why don't you answer?Are you deaf?"

  "I was prospectin'," was the surly reply.

  "Where?"

  "In the hills, north of Crooked Trail."

  "And why did you come through the pass?"

  "Me pardner an' I got lost; that's why."

  "Who was your partner?"

  "Slim Fales, from Big Draw."

  "Where is he now?"

  "Search me. He escaped, while I got pinched."

  "Did you expect to find gold near the Golden Crest?"

  "We thought it worth the try."

  "You know better now, don't you?"

  Curly made no reply, but kept his eyes fixed upon the floor.

  "It seems to me that you were prospecting for something more valuablethan gold, weren't you?" Weston queried.

  "What do you mean?" and Curly lifted his head.

  "You were prospecting for a woman, and that woman happens to be mydaughter. Deny it, if you dare."

  "I do deny it," Curly stoutly protested. "Your daughter is nothing tome."

  Jim Weston's right hand toyed with a paper-weight on his desk, and hiseyes gleamed with anger.

  "You lie, Curly, and you know it," he charged. "You have had your fouleyes upon my daughter ever since you first saw her. You have declaredover and over again that one day she would be yours."

  Curly's face grew livid, and he tried to speak. But Weston lifted hishand.

  "Wait until I am through," he thundered. "Have you not used mydaughter's name very often while gambling? And did you not bet a shorttime ago at Big Draw that you would cross the Golden Crest and lure mydaughter to a fate worse than death? You know it is true, and yet youhave the impudence to stand here and deny it."

  Curly's eyes were again fixed upon the floor, and he made no reply tothis accusation. His terror of this man was becoming great. How didhe know so much? he asked himself.

  "Now, what should be done to a thing like you?" Weston continued."Your record is well known, not only here but all along the coast. Noinnocent woman or girl is safe when you are around, and you are amenace to any community. You leave the marks of your filthy trailwherever you go. And you are not alone in your villainous deeds, forthere are others just like you, who defy the laws of God and man. Sofar you have escaped, but now you shall pay for your vile and cowardlyacts. It would be a sin to allow a creature like you to remain atlarge. It is far better to settle with you immediately and thus makeyou incapable of doing more harm in the future. You took it uponyourself to enter Glen West to ruin my daughter, and you must abide bythe result."

  Curly fully understood the meaning of these words, and his faceblanched with terror. He lifted his eyes and tried to speak. Butintelligible words failed to come, for he was almost paralyzed withfear.

  "Death is too good a punishment for you," Weston resumed. "But as thatis about the only thing which will strike terror into the hearts ofhuman devils, of which you are the chief, it must be done. It mayteach others to keep clear of Glen West after this."

  With a howl Curly dropped upon his knees. His teeth chattered, and hisbody trembled violently. He stretched out his hands in a beseechingmanner.

  "For God's sake, don't kill me!" he yelled. "Let me go, an' I swearI'll never come near this place again."

  "H'm, you are too late with your prayers, Curly. It's nothing lessthan the Ordeal for you now, so stop your yelps. If you don't of yourown accord, we shall be forced to do something to make you."

  He then turned to Sconda and gave a brief order in the Indian tongue.The next instant Curly was hurried out of the house, and down the trailleading to the village.

  Weston sat for a while in his room after the others had gone. The grimexpression had now left his face, and his eyes twinkled, while a smilelurked about the corners of his mouth. Anyone watching would havepronounced him the most hardened villain in existence. How could a mansmile who had just sentenced a fellow creature to death? This man'sheart must be hard and cold as an iceberg. But Weston's thoughts wereevidently not unpleasant, and when he at length picked up his hat andleft the house he was in an excellent frame of mind. Could Glen haveseen him then she would have wondered more than ever.

  The light of day had not yet faded from the land, although the highridge of the Golden Crest placed the village in deep shadows. The skywas heavy with big clouds, presaging a storm. The wind was steadilyincreasing, and Weston knew that the rain would shortly be upon them.

  He continued on his way down through the village, past the store andthe last house in the place until he came to the edge of a thicket offirs and jack-pines. Here he paused and listened intently, but nosound could he hear. Advancing fifty yards more, he left the mainthoroughfare and entered upon a narrow trail leading down toward thelake. The trees were thicker here, and the ground suddenly sloped to avalley a short distance ahead. Weston needed no light to guide him,and he walked with the assurance of one well acquainted with hissurroundings.

  In a few minutes a light gleamed through the trees, and a smile ofsatisfaction overspread Weston's face. He knew that the natives wereobeying orders and doing their part. Beyond was a small clearing, andcoming to the edge of this, he again paused and watched unseen all thatwas taking place.

  It was a most gruesome spot, this Valley of the Ordeal, and Curly wasby no means the first who had been conducted hither. But no one hadever come in a more cringing manner than did this latest victim. Somehad shown the craven spirit, and had begged for mercy, while others hadfought and cursed their captors. But Curly was different. Whateverspark of manhood he possessed deserted him the moment he left the bighouse on the hill. He sank upon the ground, and his guards had to draghim along by main force.

  He wept and moaned all the way through the village until the valley wasreached. Then what he beheld struck him dumb with terror, and for awhile he sat crouched upon the ground, staring wild-eyed upon theIndians as they began their preparations for the Ordeal.

  There were about two dozen natives present, and they knew their workthoroughly, due, no doubt, to considerable experience in the past.Near the edge of the thicket, on the opposite side of the clearing fromwhere Weston was standing, was the blackened stump of a big fir tree.To this Curly was dragged, and several of the men were forced to holdhim up while he was being securely bound with his back to the trunk.About his feet dry wood was then placed, and half way up his body.When this had been accomplished, the Indians formed themselves in acircle about the unhappy man, and began to chant a slow weird dirge inthe native tongue.

  Between them and the tree of punishment a small fire was burning, andthe light from this clearly exposed the face of the bound man. Hiseyes were dilated with terror, his weak lower jaw had dropped, and hismouth was wide open. So overcome was he, that he had no strength leftto stand, so his entire weight rested upon his bonds. Never was therea more pitiable object of abject terror and cowardice. But the Indiansdid not seem in the least affected by their captive's misery. Withstern, impassive faces they went on with their chanting, which steadilyincreased in weirdness as they continued.

  At length they ceased, and at once Sconda seized a burning brand fromthe fire and approached the prisoner. Then wild shrieks rent the airas Curly frantically struggled to free himself. He might as well haveaddressed his words to the trees which surrounded him, as to those grimnatives of the north.

  Sconda had already stooped, as if to touch the brand to the inflammablematerial about the victim's feet, when Weston stepped within the ring,and ordered him to wait. Sconda immediately straightened himself upand stepp
ed back.

  "Save me! Save me!" Curly yelled. "Don't let these devils burn me!For God's sake, save me! Oh, oh!"

  For a few seconds Weston stood with folded arms looking upon thehelpless man. Then his lips curled in a sarcastic smile.

  "You've got only yourself to blame for this," he began. "Did you notbet that you would defy all the power of Glen West, and lure mydaughter to her ruin? You can't deny it."

  "No, no, I don't deny it. I was a fool, a madman. But save me, oh,save me! Don't let them burn me!"

  "Do you think you are worth saving, Curly Inkles? You are aplague-spot in any community. You have brought untold misery upon manyinnocent ones, and why should you be allowed to do so to others?"

  "I will never do any harm again," Curly whined. "I swear by all thatis holy that I will change my life."

  "Bah, I wouldn't give the snap of a finger for all the oaths you make,Curly. You don't know the meaning of an oath. Your soul is so searedand blackened that one might as well try to change that stump to whichyou are bound into a living one as to transform you into a goodcitizen. No, it is better for you to be off the earth than on it."

  "But it's murder!" Curly yelled. "Would you murder a helpless man?You will hang for it, and all these devils here."

  "How do you dare to speak about murdering a helpless man?" Westonasked. "What happened to Bill Ducett, at Black Ravine?"

  At these words Curly's eyes fairly started from their sockets, and theperspiration poured down his face in great beads.

  "W-what d'ye know about that?" he gasped. "W-who are you, anyway?"

  "Oh, never mind who I am, or how much I know. It is sufficient for thepresent to say that I have all the knowledge necessary to stretch yourneck. You have now run the length of your wild career, and it showsyou that it is impossible to escape justice here or anywhere else.But, there, I've wasted too much time talking to you, so get ready."

  "Oh, oh, don't burn me!" Curly shrieked, as Weston turned and spoke toSconda.

  "Burn you? No!" was the contemptuous reply. "I wouldn't foul thisplace by burning a thing like you; it wouldn't be fair to others whohave been brought here. They all were men with some sparks ofmanliness and spirit left in their bodies. But you, bah!"

  He motioned to Sconda, who at once cut the bonds, and Curly fellforward at Weston's feet.

  "Get up," the latter ordered, "and never let me catch you again on thisside of the Golden Crest. The Indians will deal with you now. Afterthat, they will dump you beyond the pass, and the sooner you hit thetrail for Big Draw the better it will be for you. Thank your stars,Curly Inkles, that you have escaped this time."

  There was much suppressed excitement in Glen West that night, for manyhad heard the shrieks of terror from the Valley of the Ordeal. But noone dared to question the four and twenty men who later that eveningcrowded into the store where they received a liberal supply of tobaccoordered by their Big White Chief. They were men who could be trusted,and they well knew how to keep a secret.