"As close in the corner as you can get, Miss Yardely; then there will be no danger except from a ricochet."
Helen obeyed him. The excitement of the moment banished her resentment, and as she watched him standing there, cool and imperturbable as he waited events, a frank admiration stirred within her. Whatever his sins, he was a man!
Then came a new form of attack. Arrows fired from different angles began to fly through the open space, making a vicious sound as they struck various parts of the cabin. Stane calculated the possible angles of their flight and gave a short laugh. "They're wasting labour now. That dodge won't work."
The flight of arrows, however, continued for a little time, then followed that which Stane had begun to fear. The space of the window suddenly grew plainer, outlined by a glow outside, and the next moment three blazing armfuls of combustible material were heaved in at the window. Stane fired twice during the operation, but whether he hit or not he did not know. One of the burning bundles fell in the bunk, which was soon ablaze, and the cabin began to fill with smoke. At the same time the besieged became aware of a fierce crackling outside, and the outlook in the snow-covered lake was illumined by a growing glow. Stane understood the meaning of the phenomenon at once, and looked at the girl.
"They are trying to burn down the cabin," he said. "I am afraid it is a choice of evils, Miss Yardely. We must either stay here, and die of suffocation or fire, or face the music outside."
"Then let us go outside," answered the girl resolutely.
"I do not believe they will injure you. I believe that they have orders to the contrary, but--"
"Did Miskodeed tell you so?"
For the moment he was utterly staggered by the question, then perceiving that she knew of his recent interview with the Indian girl, he answered frankly:
"Yes! You are to be taken alive, but I am to die, according to the program as arranged!"
"Oh, no! no!" she cried in sudden anguish. "You must not die. You must fight! You must live! live! I do not want you to die!"
In the growing light in the burning cabin he could see her face quite plainly, and the anguished concern in her eyes shook him as the dangers around him never could have done. Moved for a moment beyond himself, he stretched a hand towards her.
"My dear!" he stammered. "My dear--"
"Oh then you know that I am that?" she cried.
"I have known it for months!"
She made a little movement that brought her closer to him, and yielding to the surging impulse in his heart, he threw an arm round her.
"If you die--" she began, and broke off as a gust of smoke rolled over them.
"I think it is very likely," he answered. "But I am glad to have had this moment."
He stooped and kissed her, and a sob came from her.
"I shall die too!" she said. "We will die together-but it would have been splendid to live."
"But you will live," he said. "You must live. There is no need that you should die."
"But what shall I live for?" she cried. "And why am I to be spared? Have you thought of that?"
"Yes," he answered quickly, and gave her a hurried account of his own thought upon the matter. "If I am right no harm will befall you. And we must go. It is time. Look!"
A little tongue of flame was creeping through the joining of the logs at one end of the cabin, and the logs where the bunk had been were beginning to crackle and hiss ominously. The smoke had grown thicker, and the atmosphere was pungent and choking in its quality. He left her side for a moment, and returned with her furs.
"You must put them on," he said, "or you will freeze outside."
He himself had slipped on his own furs, and when he had helped her into hers, he took his rifle and nodded towards the pistol which she still held.
"You need not use it-outside," he said. "Keep it for-for eventualities. You understand?"
"I understand," she answered calmly, knowing that in the last resource she was to do what many women of her race had done before her.
"I will go first," he said. "And you must wait a full minute before emerging. I shall try and make for the woods at the back, and if I get clear you shall follow me-you understand?"
"Oh my man! my man!" she cried in a shaking voice, knowing that though he spoke lightly, he had little hope of escape.
Not knowing what to say, or how to comfort her, Stane took her in his arms again, and kissed her, then for a moment he stood listening. Outside all was still or whatever sounds there were were drowned by the increasing roar and crackle of the fire.
"Now!" he said. "Now!"
He slipped down the bar, threw the door open suddenly and plunged outside. A yell greeted his emergence and he was aware of a small group of men standing a little way from the cabin. As he ran he fired at them from the hip; and turned sharply to the left. The two men appeared suddenly from behind the trees to bar his way, so quickly that he had not time to fire the rifle before one of them grappled with him. The rifle fell from his hand, and for a moment they struggled, then whilst the second man was still running, a shadowy figure slipped from behind a broad trunk close to where the two men were locked together, and Stane caught the sudden gleam of a knife as the light from the fire glinted upon it. He was unable to help himself, and, held in his antagonist's arms, he waited for the impending stroke. Twice the knife descended, and his opponent's grip suddenly slackened and the man slid slowly to the ground. The running man had now reached the scene of the struggle. He carried a hatchet in his hand, and he struck first at the unknown one who had killed his companion, and the unknown one went down like a log. Before Stane had recovered from his surprise the ax was raised again. He leaped at the man just as the ax descended. An intervening bough turned the stroke, twisting the ax so that it caught the side of his head, knocking him senseless. As he fell to the ground, the Indian raised the ax once more. Before the blow could fall, a rifle cracked in the wood behind him, and the attacker leaped in the air, and pitched forward upon his face.
* * *
When Hubert Stane left the burning cabin, Helen did not obey his injunctions to the letter. A full minute she was to wait in the shadow of the door before emerging, but she disregarded the command altogether in her anxiety to know what fate was to befall him. She guessed that on his emergence he expected a volley, and had bidden her remain under cover until the danger from it should have passed; and being morally certain that he was going to his death, she had a mad impulse to die with him in what was the supreme hour of her life. As the yell greeted his emergence, she caught the sound of the rifle-shot, and not knowing that it had been fired by Stane himself, in an agony of fear for him, stepped recklessly to the door. She saw him running towards the trees, saw him grappled by the Indian who barred the way, and beheld the second figure rise like a shadow by the side of the struggling men. The raised knife gleamed in the firelight, and with a sharp cry of warning that never reached Stane, she started to run towards him. The next moment something thick and heavy enveloped her head and shoulders, she was tripped up and fell heavily in the snow, and two seconds later was conscious of two pairs of hands binding her with thongs. The covering over her head, a blanket by the feel of it, was bound about her, so that she could see nothing, and whilst she could still hear, the sounds that reached her were muffled. Her feet were tied, and for a brief space of time she was left lying in the snow, wondering in an agonized way, not what was going to happen to herself, but what had already happened to her lover.
Then there came a sound that made her heart leap with hope-a sound that was the unmistakable crack of a rifle. Again the rifle spoke, three times in rapid succession, and from the sounds she conjectured that the fight was not yet over, and felt a surge of gladness in her heart. Then she was lifted from the ground, suddenly hurried forward, and quite roughly dropped on what she guessed was a sledge. Again hands were busy about her, and she knew that she was being lashed to the chariot of the North. There was a clamour of excited voices, again the crack of the r
ifle, then she felt a quick jerk, and found the sled was in motion.
She had no thought of outside intervention and as the sled went forward at a great pace, notwithstanding her own parlous condition, she rejoiced in spirit. Whither she was being carried, and what the fate reserved for her she had not the slightest notion; but from the rifle-shots, and the manifest haste of her captors, she argued that her lover had escaped, and believing that he would follow, she was in good heart.
That she was in any immediate danger, she did not believe. Her captors, on lashing her to the sledge, had thrown some soft warm covering over her, and that they should show such care to preserve her from the bitter cold, told her, that whatever might ultimately befall, she was in no imminent peril. With her head covered, she was as warm as if she were in a sleeping bag, the sled ran smoothly without a single jar, and the only discomfort that she suffered came from her bound limbs.
Knowing how vain any attempt at struggle would be, she lay quietly; reflecting on all the events of the night. Strong in the faith that Stane had escaped, she rejoiced that these events had forced from his lips the declaration that in the past few weeks she had seen him repress again and again. He could never recall it; and those kisses, taken in the very face of death, those were hers until the end of time. Her heart quickened as she thought of them, and her lips burned. It was, she felt, a great thing to have snatched the deepest gladness of life in such an hour, and to have received an avowal from a man who believed that he was about to die for her. And what a man!
The thought of Miskodeed occurred to her; but now it did not trouble her very greatly. That visit of the Indian girl to the cabin had at first been incomprehensible except on one hateful supposition; but Stane's words had made it clear that the girl had come to warn them, and if there was anything behind that warning, if, as she suspected, the girl loved Stane with a wild, wayward love, that was not the man's fault. She remembered his declaration that he had never seen Miskodeed except on the two occasions at Fort Malsun, and though Ainley's evil suggestions recurred to her mind, she dismissed them instantly. Her lover was her own--
The sledge came to a sudden standstill; and lying there she caught a clamour of excited voices. She listened carefully, but such words as reached her were in a tongue unknown to her. A few minutes passed, something was thrown on the sled, close by her feet, then a whip cracked, a dog yelped, and again the sledge moved forward.
She was quite warm, and except for the thongs about her, comfortable, and presently her eyes closed, at first against the rather oppressive darkness resulting from the covering blanket, then remained closed without any conscious volition, and she slept, heavily and dreamlessly.
She was awakened by the sled coming to a standstill; and then followed the sounds of men pitching camp; the crackle of a fire, the growling and yelping of dogs quarrelling over their food. She did not know how long she had slept; but after awakening, it seemed a very long time before any one came near her. Then she caught the sound of steps crunching the frozen snow. The steps halted by the sledge and hands busied themselves with the fastenings. A minute later she felt that her limbs were free; and as the blanket was jerked from her head, she looked round.
It was still night, but by the light of a fire by which two men were sitting smoking, she caught the sight of overhanging trees and of a man who was standing by the sledge, looking down upon her. His face was in shadow and could not be seen, but the voice in which he addressed her was harsh and guttural, his manner almost apologetic.
"You stan' up now, mees."
As the blanket was jerked from her, Helen was conscious of a little prick of fear, but as the man spoke the fear vanished quicker than it had arisen. From the fact that he addressed her as miss, it was clear that he held her in some respect, whilst his manner spoke volumes. The words, though harshly spoken, were an invitation rather than a command, and accepting it as such, she first sat up, waited until a little attack of dizziness passed and then rose slowly to her feet. She swayed a little as she did so, and the man stretched a quick hand to steady her.
"Vait min'te," he said, "zee seeckness et veel pass."
It passed quicker than the man knew, and as the man had moved, bringing his face to the light, Helen used the opportunity to survey the man behind the mittened hand which she had lifted to her head. He was, she saw, a half-breed of evil, pock-marked countenance, with cruel eyes. Who he was she had not the slightest notion, but curiosity was strong within her, and as she lowered her hand, she waited for him to speak again.
"Ve vait here, leetle taime-une hour, deux, maybe tree. Zee dogs dey tire. But you veel not runs away. Dat vaire fool ting to do. Zee wood et ees so vast, an' zee wolves are plenty. You come to zee fire an' eat."
He moved towards the fire, as if certain that she would follow, and after one glance into the deep shadows of the forest, she did so. Whoever the man was, and whatever his intentions towards her, he talked sense. Flight without equipment or food, in a strange country, and in face of the menace of the arctic North would be the wildest folly. She seated herself on a log which had been placed for her convenience, accepted some fried moose-meat and unsweetened tea, whilst the other two men by the fire, both Indians, smoked stolidly, without bestowing upon her a single glance whilst she ate. When she had finished she pushed the tin plate from her, and looked at the half-breed, who had seated himself a yard or so away from her.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"Ah not tell you dat!" said the man with a grin.
"Then tell me what are you going to do with me?"
"You fin' dat out for yourself in a vaire leetle taime," was the answer.
"Then where are you taking me?"
"Oh-Ah tell you dat, mees!" was the reply, given in a manner that implied that the speaker was glad to find something in which he could oblige her. "Ah tak' you to see lak' of zee Leetle Moose, ten, maybe douze miles away."
"But why should you take me there?" asked Helen.
"Non! Ah not tell you dat! You fin' out all in zee good taime," was the reply stolidly given.
Helen looked at the evil, cunning face, and knew that it was no use pursuing inquiries in that direction. She waited a full minute, then she began to ask another question, to her of even vaster moment:
"That man who was with me in the cabin, he--"
"Sacree!" cried the half-breed in a sudden burst of fury. "Dat man he ees dead, Par Dieu! an' eef he was not, I roast heem alive!"
"Dead!" As the exclamation broke from her, the girl looked at the half-breed with eyes in which gleamed a sudden fear. Then hope came to her as she remembered the shots that she had heard. "But," she protested, "he was firing on you as you left. It cannot be that he--"
"Non!" broke in the half-breed. "Dat man was with you he fire onlee once, den he die. Dose shots dey come from zee wood, an' I not know who fire dem. Eet was strange, I not know eef there be one man or more, so I run aways wit' you."
He had more to say upon that particular matter, but Helen Yardely had no ears for his words. Her hope was completely shattered by the half-breed's explanation of those pursuing shots. From them, believing they had come from her lover's rifle, she had argued with certainty that he had survived the attack, that he was alive; and now--
Dead! As the word beat in her brain, she was overwhelmed by a feeling of despair; and bowing her face suddenly in her hands gave way to her grief. Great sobs shook her shoulders, and scalding tears welled in her eyes. Her lover had indeed gone to his death after all, had given his life for hers as at the very beginning of their acquaintance he had risked it to the same end of saving her!
The callous half-breed was disturbed by the utter abandon of her grief. In his brutal nature there was a stirring of unusual compunction, and after watching her for a moment, he strove to console her, speaking in a wheedling voice.
"No need to weep lik' zee rain in spring, mees! What ees one man when men are as zee leaves of zee forest? Dis man dead! True-but eet ees a small ting-zee death o
f a man. An' I tak' you to anodder man--"
"You will what?" Helen looked up sharply as she asked the question. There was a light of wrath struggling with the grief in her eyes and the half-breed was startled by it.
"I tak' you to anodder man who weel lov' you as white squaws desire. He--"
"Who is this man?" she asked, suddenly interrupting him.
But the half-breed developed a sudden wariness.
"Non!" he said. "I not tell you dat, for why, zee surprise it veel be zee more pleasant!"
"Pleasant!" cried Helen, wrath uppermost in her heart once more. "Pleasant! I--" She checked herself, then as something occurred to her she asked another question.
"This man whom you promise me? He pays you to bring me to him?"
"Oui! He pays a great price!"
"Why?"
"I not know! How can I tell what ees in zee heart of heem? But it ees in my mind dat he burns with love, dat--"
Helen rose suddenly from her seat. "I will tell you something," she said in a voice that made the callous half-breed shiver. "When you bring me to this man I will kill him because that other man has died!"
"I not care what you do wid heem!" answered her captor with a brutal laugh. "You marrie heem, you keel heem, it ees all zee same to me, I get zee price, an' I do not love dat mans, no."
"Tell me who is he-his name, and I will pay you double the price he promises."
The half-breed smiled cunningly. "Where is your double zee price? Zee price dat man pay I haf seen. Eet ees real! Eet ees a good price! Non! mees; a promise what ees dat? A red fox in zee trap ees more dan a silvaire fox in zee wood. Dis man half zee goods, an' you-what haf you?"
He lit his pipe and turned from her to the fire. Helen gave him one glance and guessed that it was useless to try to bribe him further, then she turned and began to walk restlessly to and fro. There was a set, stony look of grief on her face; but deep in the grey eyes burned a light that boded ill for the man who had brought the grief upon her.
A Mating In The Wilds Page 6