The Hunted Woman

by James Oliver Curwood

  CHAPTER VII

  It was in the blood of John Aldous to kill Quade. He ran with the quicknessof a hare around the end of the cabin, past the window, and then stopped tolisten, his automatic in his hand, his eye piercing the gloom for somemoving shadow. He had not counted on an instant's hesitation. He wouldshoot Quade, for he knew why the mottled beast had been at the window.Stevens' boy had been right. Quade was after Joanne. His ugly soul wasdisrupted with a desire to possess her, and Aldous knew that when roused bypassion he was more like a devil-fish than a man--a creeping, slimy,night-seeking creature who had not only the power of the underworld back ofhim, but wealth as well. He did not think of him as a man as he stoodlistening, but as a beast. He was ready to shoot. But he saw nothing. Heheard no sound that could have been made by a stumbling foot or a movingbody. An hour later, the moon would have been up, but it was dark nowexcept for the stars. He heard the hoot of an owl a hundred yards away. Outin the river something splashed. From the timber beyond Buffalo Prairiecame the yapping bark of a coyote. For five minutes he stood as silent asone of the rocks behind him. He realized that to go on--to seek blindly forQuade in the darkness, would be folly. He went back, tapped at the door,and reentered the cabin when Joanne threw back the lock.

  She was still pale. Her eyes were bright.

  "I was coming--in a moment," she said, "I was beginning to fear that----"

  "--he had struck me down in the dark?" added Aldous, as she hesitated."Well, he would like to do just that, Joanne." Unconsciously her name hadslipped from him. It seemed the most natural thing in the world for him tocall her Joanne now. "Is it necessary for me to tell you what this manQuade is--why he was looking through the window?"

  She shuddered.

  "No--no--I understand!"

  "Only partly," continued Aldous, his face white and set. "It is necessarythat you should know more than you have guessed, for your own protection.If you were like most other women I would not tell you the truth, but wouldtry to shield you from it. As it is you should know. There is only oneother man in the Rocky Mountains more dangerous than Bill Quade. He isCulver Rann, up at Tete Jaune. They are partners--partners in crime, insin, in everything that is bad and that brings them gold. Their influenceamong the rougher elements along the line of rail is complete. They are sostrongly entrenched that they have put contractors out of business becausethey would not submit to blackmail. The few harmless police we havefollowing the steel have been unable to touch them. They have cleaned uphundreds of thousands, chiefly in three things--blackmail, whisky, andwomen. Quade is the viler of the two. He is like a horrible beast. CulverRann makes me think of a sleek and shining serpent. But it is this manQuade----"

  He found it almost impossible to go on with Joanne's blue eyes gazing sosteadily into his.

  "--whom we have made our enemy," she finished for him.

  "Yes--and more than that," he said, partly turning his head away. "Youcannot go on to Tete Jaune alone, Joanne. You must go nowhere alone. If youdo----"

  "What will happen?"

  "I don't know. Perhaps nothing would happen. But you cannot go alone. I amgoing to take you back to Mrs. Otto now. And to-morrow I shall go on toTete Jaune with you. It is fortunate that I have a place up there to whichI can take you, and where you will be safe."

  As they were preparing to go, Joanne glanced ruefully at the table.

  "I am ashamed to leave the dishes in that mess," she said.

  He laughed, and tucked her hand under his arm as they went through thedoor. When they had passed through the little clearing, and the darkness ofthe spruce and balsam walls shut them in, he took her hand.

  "It is dark and you may stumble," he apologized. "This isn't much like theshell plaza in front of the Cape Verde, is it?"

  "No. Did you pick up any of the little red bloodshells? I did, and theymade me shiver. There were strange stories associated with them."

  He knew that she was staring ahead into the blank wall of gloom as shespoke, and that it was not thought of the bloodshells, but of Quade, thatmade her fingers close more tightly about his own. His right hand wasgripping the butt of his automatic. Every nerve in him was on the alert,yet she could detect nothing of caution or preparedness in his carelessvoice.

  "The bloodstones didn't trouble me," he answered. "I can't rememberanything that upset me more than the snakes. I am a terrible coward when itcomes to anything that crawls without feet. I will run from a snake nolonger than your little finger--in fact, I'm just as scared of a littlegrass snake as I am of a python. It's the _thing_, and not its size, thathorrifies me. Once I jumped out of a boat into ten feet of water because mycompanion caught an eel on his line, and persisted in the argument that itwas a fish. Thank Heaven we don't have snakes up here. I've seen only threeor four in all my experience in the Northland."

  She laughed softly in spite of the uneasy thrill the night held for her.

  "It is hard for me to imagine you being afraid," she said. "And yet if youwere afraid I know it would be of just some little thing like that. Myfather was one of the bravest men in the world, and a hundred times I haveseen him show horror at sight of a spider. If you were afraid of snakes,why did you go up the Gampola, in Ceylon?"

  "I didn't know the snakes were there," he chuckled. "I hadn't dreamed therewere a half so many snakes in the whole world as there were along thatconfounded river. I slept sitting up, dressed in rubber wading boots thatcame to my waist, and wore thick leather gloves. I got out of the countryat the earliest possible moment."

  When they entered the edge of the Miette clearing and saw the glow oflights ahead of them, Aldous caught the sudden upturn of his companion'sface, laughing at him in the starlight.

  "Kind, thoughtful John Aldous!" she whispered, as if to herself. "How niceof you it was to talk of such pleasant things while we were coming throughthat black, dreadful swamp--with a Bill Quade waiting for us on the side!"

  A low ripple of laughter broke from her lips, and he stopped dead in histracks, forgetting to put the automatic back in his pocket. At sight of itthe amusement died in her face. She caught his arm, and one of her handsseized the cold steel of the pistol.

  "Would he--_dare?_" she demanded.

  "You can't tell," replied Aldous, putting the gun in his pocket. "And thatwas a creepy sort of conversation to load you down with, wasn't it,Ladygray? I imagine you'll catch me in all sorts of blunders like that." Hepointed ahead. "There's Mrs. Otto now. She's looking this way and wonderingwith all her big heart if you ought not to be at home and in bed."

  The door of the Otto home was wide open, and silhouetted in the flood oflight was the good-natured Scotchwoman. Aldous gave the whistling signalwhich she and her menfolk always recognized, and hurried on with Joanne.

  Before they had quite reached the tent-house, Joanne put a detaining handon his arm.

  "I don't want you to go back to the cabin to-night," she said. "The face atthe window--was terrible. I am afraid. I don't want you to be there alone."

  Her words sent a warm glow through him.

  "Nothing will happen," he assured her. "Quade will not come back."

  "I don't want you to return to the cabin," she persisted. "Is there noother place where you can stay?"

  "I might go down and console Stevens, and borrow a couple of his horseblankets for a bed if that will please you."

  "It will," she cried quickly. "If you don't return to the cabin you may goon to Tete Jaune with me to-morrow. Is it a bargain?"

  "It is!" he accepted eagerly. "I don't like to be chased out, but I'llpromise not to sleep in the cabin to-night."

  Mrs. Otto was advancing to meet them. At the door he bade them good-night,and walked on in the direction of the lighted avenue of tents and shacksunder the trees. He caught a last look in Joanne's eyes of anxiety andfear. Glancing back out of the darkness that swallowed him up, he saw herpause for a moment in the lighted doorway, and look in his direction. Hisheart beat faster. Joyously he laughed under his breath. It was strangelyne
w and pleasing to have some one thinking of him in that way.

  He had not intended to go openly into the lighted avenue. From the momenthe had plunged out into the night after Quade, his fighting blood wasroused. He had subdued it while with Joanne, but his determination to findQuade and have a settlement with him had grown no less. He told himselfthat he was one of the few men along the line whom it would be difficultfor Quade to harm in other than a physical way. He had no business thatcould be destroyed by the other's underground methods, and he had no job tolose. Until he had seen Joanne enter the scoundrel's red-and-white stripedtent he had never hated a man as he now hated Quade. He had loathed himbefore, and had evaded him because the sight of him was unpleasant; now hewanted to grip his fingers around his thick red throat. He had meant tocome up behind Quade's tent, but changed his mind and walked into thelighted trail between the two rows of tents and shacks, his hands thrustcarelessly into his trousers pockets. The night carnival of the railroadbuilders was on. Coarse laughter, snatches of song, the click of pool ballsand the chink of glasses mingled with the thrumming of three or fourmusical instruments along the lighted way. The phonograph in Quade's placewas going incessantly. Half a dozen times Aldous paused to greet men whomhe knew. He noted that there was nothing new or different in their mannertoward him. If they had heard of his trouble with Quade, he was certainthey would have spoken of it, or at least would have betrayed some sign.For several minutes he stopped to talk with MacVeigh, a young Scotchsurveyor. MacVeigh hated Quade, but he made no mention of him. Purposely hepassed Quade's tent and walked to the end of the street, nodding andlooking closely at those whom he knew. It was becoming more and moreevident to him that Quade and his pals were keeping the affair of theafternoon as quiet as possible. Stevens had heard of it. He wondered how.

  Aldous retraced his steps. As though nothing had happened, he enteredQuade's place. There were a dozen men inside, and among them he recognizedthree who had been there that afternoon. He nodded to them. Slim Barker wasin Quade's place behind the counter. Barker was Quade's right-hand man atMiette, and there was a glitter in his rat-like eyes as Aldous leaned overthe glass case at one end of the counter and asked for cigars. He fumbled abit as he picked out half a dollar's worth from the box. His eyes metSlim's.

  "Where is Quade?" he asked casually.

  Barker shrugged his shoulders.

  "Busy to-night," he answered shortly. "Want to see him?"

  "No, not particularly. Only--I don't want him to hold a grudge."

  Barker replaced the box in the case and turned away. After lighting a cigarAldous went out. He was sure that Quade had not returned from the river.Was he lying in wait for him near the cabin? The thought sent a suddenthrill through him. In the same breath it was gone. With half a dozen menready to do his work, Aldous knew that Quade would not redden his own handsor place himself in any conspicuous risk. During the next hour he visitedthe places where Quade was most frequently seen. He had made up his mind towalk over to the engineers' camp, when a small figure darted after him outof the gloom of the trees.

  It was Stevens' boy.

  "Dad wants to see you down at the camp," he whispered excitedly. "He saysright away--an' for no one to see you. He said not to let any one see me.I've been waiting for you to come out in the dark."

  "Skip back and tell him I'll come," replied Aldous quickly. "Be sure youmind what he says--and don't let any one see you!"

  The boy disappeared like a rabbit. Aldous looked back, and ahead, and thendived into the darkness after him.

  A quarter of an hour later he came out on the river close to Stevens' camp.A little nearer he saw Stevens squatted close to a smouldering fire aboutwhich he was drying some clothes. The boy was huddled in a disconsolateheap near him. Aldous called softly, and Stevens slowly rose and stretchedhimself. The packer advanced to where he had screened himself behind aclump of bush. His first look at the other assured him that he was right inusing caution. The moon had risen, and the light of it fell in the packer'sface. It was a dead, stonelike gray. His cheeks seemed thinner than whenAldous had seen him a few hours before and there was despair in the droopof his shoulders. His eyes were what startled Aldous. They were like coalsof fire, and shifted swiftly from point to point in the bush. For a momentthey stood silent.

  "Sit down," Stevens said then. "Get out of the moonlight. I've gotsomething to tell you."

  They crouched behind the bush.

  "You know what happened," Stevens said, in a low voice. "I lost my outfit."

  "Yes, I saw what happened, Stevens."

  The packer hesitated for a moment. One of his big hands reached out andgripped John Aldous by the arm.

  "Let me ask you something before I go on," he whispered. "You won't takeoffence--because it's necessary. She looked like an angel to me when I sawher up at the train. But you _know_. Is she good, or----You know what wethink of women who come in here alone. That's why I ask."

  "She's what you thought she was, Stevens," replied Aldous. "As pure and assweet as she looks. The kind we like to fight for."

  "I was sure of it, Aldous. That's why I sent the kid for you. I saw her inyour cabin--after the outfit went to hell. When I come back to camp, Quadewas here. I was pretty well broken up. Didn't talk to him much. But he seenI had lost everything. Then he went on down to your place. He told me thatlater. But I guessed it soon as he come back. I never see him look like hedid then. I'll cut it short. He's mad--loon mad--over that girl. I playedthe sympathy act, thinkin' of you--an' _her_. He hinted at some easy money.I let him understand that at the present writin' I'd be willing to takemoney most any way, and that I didn't have any particular likin' for you.Then it come out. He made me a proposition."

  Stevens lowered his voice, and stopped to peer again about the bush.

  "Go on," urged Aldous. "We're alone."

  Stevens bent so near that his tobacco-laden breath swept his companion'scheek.

  "He said he'd replace my lost outfit if I'd put you out of the way sometime day after to-morrow!"

  "Kill me?"

  "Yes."

  For a few moments there was a silence broken only by their tense breathing.Aldous had found the packer's hand. He was gripping it hard.

  "Thank you, old man," he said. "And he believes you will do it?"

  "I told him I would--day after to-morrow--an' throw your body in theAthabasca."

  "Splendid, Stevens! You've got Sherlock Holmes beat by a mile! And does hewant you to do this pretty job because I gave him a crack on the jaw?"

  "Not a bit of it!" exclaimed Stevens quickly. "He knows the girl is astranger and alone. You've taken an interest in her. With you out of theway, she won't be missed. Dammit, man, don't you know his system? And, ifhe ever wanted anything in his life he wants her. She's turned thatpoison-blood of his into fire. He raved about her here. He'll go the limit.He'll do anything to get her. He's so crazy I believe he'd give everydollar he's got. There's just one thing for you to do. Send the girl backwhere she come from. Then you get out. As for myself--I'm goin' toemigrate. Ain't got a dollar now, so I might as well hit for the prairiesan' get a job on a ranch. Next winter I guess me 'n the kid will trap up onthe Parsnip River."

  "You're wrong--clean wrong," said Aldous quietly. "When I saw your outfitgoing down among the rocks I had already made up my mind to help you. Whatyou've told me to-night hasn't made any difference. I would have helped youanyway, Stevens. I've got more money than I know what to do with right now.Roper has a thirty-horse outfit for sale. Buy it to-morrow. I'll pay forit, and you needn't consider yourself a dollar in debt. Some day I'll haveyou take me on a long trip, and that will make up for it. As for the girland myself--we're going on to Tete Jaune to-morrow."

  Aldous could see the amazed packer staring at him in the gloom. "You don'tthink I'm sellin' myself, do you, Aldous?" he asked huskily. "That ain'twhy you're doin' this--for me 'n the kid--is it?"

  "I had made up my mind to do it before I saw you to-night," repeatedAldous. "I've got lo
ts of money, and I don't use but a little of it. Itsometimes accumulates so fast that it bothers me. Besides, I've promised toaccept payment for the outfit in trips. These mountains have got a hold onme, Stevens. I'm going to take a good many trips before I die."

  "Not if you go on to Tete Jaune, you ain't," replied Stevens, biting a hugequid from a black plug.

  Aldous had risen to his feet. Stevens stood up beside him.

  "If you go on to Tete Jaune you're a bigger fool than I was in tryin' toswim the outfit across the river to-day," he added. "Listen!" He leanedtoward Aldous, his eyes gleaming. "In the last six months there's beenforty dead men dragged out of the Frazer between Tete Jaune an' FortGeorge. You know that. The papers have called 'em accidents--the 'toll ofrailroad building.' Mebby a part of it is. Mebby a half of them forty diedby accident. The other half didn't. They were sent down by Culver Rann andBill Quade. Once you go floatin' down the Frazer there ain't no questionsasked. Somebody sees you an' pulls you out--mebby a Breed or an Indian--an'puts you under a little sand a bit later. If it's a white man he doeslikewise. There ain't no time to investigate floaters over-particular inthe wilderness. Besides, you git so beat up in the rocks you don't looklike much of anything. I know, because I worked on the scows three months,an' helped bury four of 'em. An' there wasn't anything, not even a scrap ofpaper, in the pockets of two of 'em! Is that suspicious, or ain't it? Itdon't pay to talk too much along the Frazer. Men keep their mouths shut.But I'll tell you this: Culver Rann an' Bill Quade know a lot."

  "And you think I'll go in the Frazer?"

  "Egzactly. Quade would rather have you in there than in the Athabasca. Andthen----"

  "Well?"

  Stevens spat into the bush, and shrugged his shoulders. "This beautifullady you've taken an interest in will turn up missing, Aldous. She'lldisappear off the face of the map--just like Stimson's wife did. Youremember Stimson?"

  "He was found in the Frazer," said Aldous, gripping the other's arm in thedarkness.

  "Egzactly. An' that pretty wife of his disappeared a little later. Up thereeverybody's too busy to ask where other people go. Culver Rann an' BillQuade know what happened to Stimson, an' they know what happened toStimson's wife. You don't want to go to Tete Jaune. You don't want to let_her_ go. I know what I'm talking about. Because----"

  There fell a moment's silence. Aldous waited. Stevens spat again, andfinished in a whisper:

  "Quade went to Tete Jaune to-night. He went on a hand-car. He's gotsomething he wants to tell Culver Rann that he don't dare telephone ortelegraph. An' he wants to get that something to him ahead of to-morrow'strain. Understand?"