The Barrier

by Rex Beach

  CHAPTER IV

  THE SOLDIER FINDS AN UNTRODDEN VALLEY

  During the weeks that followed Meade Burrell saw much of Necia. Atfirst he had leaned on the excuse that he wanted to study the curiousfreak of heredity she presented; but that wore out quickly, and he lethimself drift, content with the pleasure of her company and happy inthe music of her laughter. Her quick wit and keen humor delighted him,and the mystery of her dark eyes seemed to hold the poetry and beautyof all the red races that lay behind her on the maternal side. At timeshe thought of her as he had seen her that morning in the dance-girl'sdress, and remembered the purity of neck and breast it had displayed,but he attributed that to the same prank of heritage that had endowedher with other traits alien to her mother's race.

  He had experienced a profound sense of pity for her upon learning herfather's relation to Alluna, but this also largely vanished when hefound that the girl was entirely oblivious to its significance. He hadtried her in many subtle ways, and found that she regarded the matterinnocently, as customary, and therefore in the light of an acceptedconvention; nor did she seem to see anything in her blood or station torender her inferior to other women. She questioned him tirelessly abouthis sister, and he was glad of this, for it placed no constraintbetween them. So that, as he explored her many quaint beliefs and pagansuperstitions, the delight of being with her grew, and he ceased toreason whither it might lead him.

  As for her, each day brought a keener delight. She unfolded before theKentuckian like some beautiful woodland flower, and throughinnumerable, unnoticed familiarities took him into her innermostconfidence, sharing with him those girlish hopes and beliefs andaspirations she had never voiced till now.

  A month of this went by, and then Runnion returned. He came on anup-going steamer which panted in for a rest from its thousand-mileclimb, and for breath to continue its fight against the never-tiringsweep of waters. The manner of his coming was bold, for he stood fairlyupon the ship's deck, staring at the growing picture of the town, as hehad watched it recede a month before, and his smile was evil now, as ithad been then. With him was a stranger. When the boat was at restRunnion sauntered down the gang-plank and up to the Lieutenant, whostood above the landing-place, and who noted that the scar, close upagainst his hat-band, was scarce healed. He accosted the officer withan insolent assurance.

  "Well, I'm back again, you see, and I'm back to stay."

  "Very well, Runnion; did you bring an outfit with you?" The young manaddressed him civilly, although he felt that the fellow's presence wasa menace and would lead to trouble.

  "Yes, and I'm pretty fat besides." He shook a well-laden gold-sack atthe officer. "I reckon I can rustle thirteen dollars a month mostanywhere, if I'm left alone."

  "What do you want in this place, anyhow?" demanded Burrell, curiously.

  "None of your damned business," the man answered, grinning.

  "Be sure it isn't," retorted the Lieutenant, "because it would pleaseme right down to the ground if it were. I'd like to get you."

  "I'm glad we understand each other," Runnion said, and turned tooversee the unloading of his freight, falling into conversation withthe stranger, who had been surveying the town without leaving the boat.Evidently this man had a voice in Runnion's affairs, for he not onlygave him instructions, but bossed the crew who handled his merchandise,and Meade Burrell concluded that he must be some incoming tenderfootwho had grub-staked the desperado to prospect in the hills back ofFlambeau. As the two came up past him he saw that he was mistaken--thisman was no more of a tenderfoot than Runnion; on the contrary, he hadthe bearing of one to whom new countries are old, who had trod the edgeof things all his life. There was a hint of the meat-eating animalabout him; his nose was keen and hawk-like, his walk and movementsthose of the predatory beast, and as he passed by, Burrell observedthat his eyes were of a peculiar cruelty that went well with his thinlips. He was older by far than Runnion, but, while the latter wasmean-visaged and swaggering, the stranger's manner was noticeable forits repression.

  Impelled by an irresistible desire to learn something about the man,the Lieutenant loitered after Runnion and his companion, and enteredthe store in time to see the latter greet "No Creek" Lee, theprospector, who had come into town for more food. Both men spoke withquiet restraint.

  "Nine years since I saw you, Stark," said the miner. "Where you bound?"

  "The diggings," replied Stark, as Lee addressed the stranger.

  "Mining now?"

  "No, same old thing, but I'm grub-staking a few men, as usual. One ofthem stays here. I may open a house in Dawson if the camp is as good asthey say it is."

  "This here's a good place for you."

  Stark laughed noiselessly and without mirth. "Fine! There must be ahundred people living here."

  "Never mind, you take it from me," said the miner, positively, "and getin now on the quiet. There's something doing." His one sharp eyedetected the Lieutenant close by, so he drew his friend aside and begantalking to him earnestly and with such evident effect as to alterStark's plans on the moment; for when Runnion entered the store shortlyStark spoke to him quickly, following which they both hurried back tothe steamer and saw to the unloading of much additional freight andbaggage. From the volume and variety of this merchandise, it wasevident that Mr. Stark would in no wise be a burden to the community.

  Burrell was not sufficiently versed in the ways of mining-camps to knowexactly what this abrupt change of policy meant, but that there wassomething in the air he knew from the mysterious manner of "No Creek"Lee and from the suppressed excitement of Doret and the trader. Hiscuriosity got the better of him finally, and he fell into talk withLee, inquiring about the stranger by way of an opening.

  "That's Ben Stark. I knew him back in the Cassiar country," said Lee.

  "Is he a mining man?"

  "Well, summat. He's made and lost a bank-roll that a greyhound couldn'tleap over in the mining business, but it ain't his reg'lar graft. Herun one of the biggest places in the Northwest for years."

  "Saloon, eh?"

  "Saloon and variety house--seven bartenders, that's all. He's thefeller that killed the gold-commissioner. Of course, that put him onthe hike again."

  "How do you mean?"

  "Well, he had a record as long as a sick man's drug bill before he wentinto that country, and when he put the commissioner away them Canadianofficials went after him like they was killin' snakes, and it cost himall he had made to get clear. If it had happened across the line, thecoroner's jury would have freed him, 'cause the commissioner was drunkand started the row; but it happened right in Stark's saloon, and youknow Canucks is stronger than vitriol for law and order. Not bein' hisfirst offence, it went hard with him."

  "He looks like a killer," said Burrell.

  "Yes, but he ain't the common kind. He always lets the other man begin,and therefore he ain't never done time."

  "Come, now," argued the Lieutenant, "if it were the other man whoinvariably shot first, Stark would have been killed long ago."

  "I don't care what WOULD have happened, it 'AIN'T happened, and he'sgot notches on his gun till it looks like a cub bear had chawed it. Ifyou was a Western man you'd know what they say about him."

  "'The bullet 'ain't been run to kill him.' That's the sayin'. Youneedn't grin, there's many a better man than you believes it."

  "Who is it that the bullet hasn't been run to kill?" said the trader'sdeep voice behind them. He had finished with his duties, and nowsauntered forward.

  "Ben Stark," said Lee, turning. "You know him, John?"

  "No, I never saw him, but I know who he is--used to hear of him in theCoeur d'Alenes."

  "That's him I was talking to," said the miner. "He's an old friend ofmine, and he's going to locate here."

  Burrell thought he saw Lee wink at the trader, but he was not sure, forat that moment the man of whom they were speaking re-entered. Leeintroduced him, and the three men shook hands. While the soldier fellinto easy conversation with the new-comer,
Gale gazed at him narrowly,studying him as he studied all men who came as strangers. As he wasdoing so Alluna entered, followed by Johnny and Molly. She had come forsugar, and asked for it in her native tongue. Upon her exit Stark brokeoff talking to the Lieutenant and turned to the trader.

  "Your squaw, Mr. Gale?"

  The old man nodded.

  "Pah-Ute, eh?"

  "Yes. Why, do you savvy the talk?"

  "Some. I lived in California once."

  "Where?" The question came like a shot.

  "Oh, here and there; I followed the Mother Lode for a spell."

  "I don't recall the name," said the trader, after a bit.

  "Possibly. Where were you located?"

  "I never lit on any one place long enough to call it home."

  It seemed to Burrell that both men were sparring cautiously in anindirect, impersonal manner.

  "Those your kids, too, eh?" Stark continued.

  "Yes, and I got another one besides--older. A girl."

  "She's a 'pip,' too," said "No Creek" Lee, fervently. "She's plumbbeautiful."

  "All of them half-breeds?" questioned Stark.

  "Sure." The trader's answer was short, and when the other showed nointention of pressing the subject further he sauntered away; but nosooner was he out of hearing than Stark said: "Humph! They're allalike."

  "Who?"

  "Squaw-men."

  "This one ain't," Lee declared. "He's different; ain't he, Lieutenant?"

  "He certainly is," agreed Burrell. This was the first criticism he hadheard of Necia's father, and although Stark volunteered no argument, itwas plain that his opinion remained unaffected.

  The old man went through the store at the rear and straightway soughtAlluna. Speaking to her with unwonted severity in the Pah-Ute language,he said:

  "I have told you never to use your native tongue before strangers. Thatman in the store understands."

  "I only asked for sugar to cook the berries with," she replied.

  "True, but another time you might say more, therefore the less youspeak it the better. He is the kind who sees much and talks little.Address me in Siwash or in English unless we are alone."

  "I do not like that man," said the woman. "His eyes are bad, like afish eagle's, and he has no heart."

  Suddenly she dropped her work and came close up to him. "Can he be theone?"

  "I don't know. Stark is not the name, but he might have changed it; hehad reasons enough."

  "Who is this man Stark?"

  "I don't know that, either. I used to hear of him when I was in BritishColumbia."

  "But surely you must know if he is the same--she must have told you howhe looked--others must have told you--"

  Gale shook his head. "Very little. I could not ask her, and others knewhim so well they never doubted that I had seen him; but this much I doknow, he was dark--"

  "This man is dark--"

  "--and his spirit was like that of a mad horse--"

  "This man's temper is black--"

  "--and his eyes were cruel."

  "This man has evil eyes."

  "He lacked five years of my age," said the trader.

  "This man is forty years old. It must be he," said the squaw.

  Even Necia would have marvelled had she heard this revelation of herfather's age, for his hair and brows were grizzled, and his face hadthe look of a man of sixty, while only those who knew him well, likeDoret, were aware of his great strength and the endurance that beliedhis appearance.

  "We will send Necia down to the Mission to-night, and let Father Barnumkeep her there till this man goes," said the squaw, after somedeliberation.

  "No, she must stay here," Gale replied, with decision. "The man hascome here to live, so it won't do any good to send her away, and, afterall, what is to be will be. But she must never be seen in thatdance-girl's dress again, at least, not till I learn more about thisStark. It makes no difference whether this one is the man or not; hewill come and I shall know him. For a year I have felt that the timewas growing short, and now I know it."

  "No, no!" Alluna cried; "we have no strangers here. No white men exceptthe soldiers and this one have come in a year. This is but a littletrading-post."

  "It was yesterday, but it isn't to-day. Lee has made a strike--like theone George Carmack made on the Klondike. He came to tell me and Poleon,and we are going back with him to-night, but you must say nothing or itwill start a stampede."

  "Other men will come--a great many of them?" interrogated Alluna,fearfully, ignoring utterly the momentous news.

  "Yes. Flambeau will be another Dawson if this find is what Lee thinksit is. I stayed away from the Upper Country because I knew crowds ofmen would come from the States, and I feared that he might be amongthem; but it's no use hiding any longer, there's no other place for usto go. If Lee has got a mine, I'll have the one next to it, for we willbe the first ones on the ground. What happens after that won't mattermuch, you four will be provided for. We are to leave in an hour, one ata time, to avoid comment."

  "But why did this man stop here?" insisted the woman. "Why did he notstay on the steamboat and go to Dawson?"

  "He's a friend of Lee's. He is going with us." Then he added, almost ina whisper, "Before we return I shall know."

  Alluna seized his arm. "Promise to come back, John! Promise that youwill come back even if this should be the man."

  "I promise. Don't worry, little woman; I'm not ready for a reckoningyet."

  He gave her certain instructions about the store, charging her inparticular to observe the utmost secrecy regarding the strike, else shemight precipitate a premature excitement which would go far towardsruining his and Poleon's chances. All of which she noted; then, as heturned away, she laid her hand on his arm and said:

  "If you do not know him he will not know you. Is it not so?"

  "Yes."

  "Then the rest is easy--"

  But he only shook his head doubtfully and answered, "Perhaps--I am notsure," and went inside, where he made up a light pack of bacon, flourand tea, a pail or two, a coffee-pot and a frying-pan, which he rolledinside a robe of rabbit-skin and bound about in turn with a lighttarpaulin. It did not weigh thirty pounds in all. Selecting a new pairof water-boots, he stuffed dry grass inside them, oiled up hissix-shooter, then slipped out the back way, and in five minutes washidden in the thickets. Half an hour later, having completed a detourof the town, he struck the trail to the interior, where he found PoleonDoret, equipped in a similar manner, resting beside a stream, singingthe songs of his people.

  When Burrell returned to his quarters he tried to mitigate the feelingof lonesomeness that oppressed him by tackling his neglectedcorrespondence. Somehow, to-day, the sense of his isolation had comeover him stronger than ever. His rank forbade any intimacy with hismiserable handful of men, who had already fallen into the monotony ofroutine, while every friendly overture he made towards the citizens ofFlambeau was met with distrust and coldness, his stripes of officeseeming to erect a barrier and induce an ostracism stronger and morecomplete than if they had been emblems of the penitentiary. He began toresent it keenly. Even Doret and the trader seemed to share the generalfeeling, hence the thought of the long, lonesome winter approachingreduced the Lieutenant to a state of black despondency, deepened by theknowledge that he now had an open enemy in camp in the person ofRunnion. Then, too, he had taken a morbid dislike to the new man,Stark. So that, all in all, the youth felt he had good reason to be inthe dumps this afternoon. There was nothing desirable in thisplace--everything undesirable--except Necia. Her presence in Flambeauwent far towards making his humdrum existence bearable, but of late hehad found himself dwelling with growing seriousness on the unhappycircumstances of her birth, and had almost made up his mind that itwould be wise not to see her any more. The tempting vision of her inthe ball-dress remained vividly in his imagination, causing him hoursof sweet torment. There was a sparkle, a fineness, a gentleness abouther that seemed to make the few women he had known well dul
l andcommonplace, and even his sister, whom till now he had held as theperfection of all things feminine, suffered by comparison with thismaiden of the frontier.

  He was steeped in this sweet, grave melancholy, when a knock came athis door, and he arose to find Necia herself there, excited andradiant. She came in without sign of embarrassment or slightestconsciousness of the possible impropriety of her act.

  "The most wonderful thing has happened," she began at once, when shefound they were alone. "You'll faint for joy."

  "What is it?"

  "Nobody knows except father and Poleon and the two new men--"

  "What is it?"

  "I teased the news out of mother, and then came right here."

  He laughed. "But what--may I ask--"

  "Lee has made a strike--a wonderful strike--richer than the Klondike."

  "So? The old man's luck has changed. I'm right glad of that," said thesoldier.

  "I came as fast as I could, because to-morrow everybody will know aboutit, and it will be too late."

  "Too late for what?"

  "For us to get in on it, of course. Oh, but won't there be a stampede!Why, all the people bound for Dawson on the next boat will pile offhere, then the news will go up-river and down-river, and thousands ofothers will come pouring in from everywhere, and this will be a city.Then we will stake our town lots and sell them for ever so much money,and go around with our noses in the air, and they will say to eachother:

  "'Who is that beautiful lady with the fine clothes?' and somebody willanswer:

  "'Why, that is Miss Necia Gale, the mine-owner.' And then you will comealong, and they will say:

  "'That is Lieutenant Burrell, the millionaire, and--'"

  "Hold on! hold on!" said the soldier, stopping her breathless patter."Tell me all about this."

  "Well, 'No Creek' came in this morning to tell dad and Poleon. Then theboat arrived with an old friend of Lee's, a Mr. Stark, so Lee told him,too, and now they've all gone back to his creek to stake more claims.They slipped away quietly to prevent suspicion, but I knew there wassomething up from the way Poleon acted, so I made Alluna tell me allabout it. They haven't more than two hours start of us, and we canovertake them easily."

  "We! Why, we are not going?"

  "Yes, we are," she insisted, impatiently--"you and I. That's why Icame, so you can get a mine for yourself and be a rich man, and so youcan help me get one. I know the way. Hurry up!"

  "No," said he, in as firm a tone as he could command. "In the firstplace, these men don't like me, and they don't want me to share inthis."

  "What do you care?"

  "In the second place, I'm not a miner. I don't know how to proceed."

  "Nevermind; I do. I've heard nothing but mining all my life."

  "In the third place, I don't think I have the right, for I'm a soldier.I'm working for Uncle Sam, and I don't believe I ought to take upmining claims. I'm not sure there is anything to prevent it, butneither am I sure it would be quite the square thing--are you?"

  "Why, of course it's all right," said Necia, her eager face cloudingwith the look of a hurt child. "If you don't do it, somebody else will."

  But the Lieutenant shook his head. "Maybe I'm foolish, but I can't seemy way clear, much as I would like to."

  "Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" she exclaimed, brokenly. "I do so want to go. Iwant you to be rich, and I want to be rich myself. I want to be a finelady, and go outside and live like other girls. It's--the onlychance--I ever had--and I'll never have another. Oh, it means so muchto me; it means life, future, everything! Why, it means heaven to agirl like me!" Her eyes were wet with the sudden dashing of her hopes,and her chin quivered in a sweet, girlish way that made the youthalmost surrender on the instant. But she turned to the window and gazedout over the river, continuing, after a moment's pause: "Pleasedon't--mind me--but you can't understand what a difference this wouldmake to me."

  "We couldn't possibly overtake them if we tried," he said, as ifwilling to treat with his conscience.

  "No, but we could beat them in. I know where Lee is working, for I wentup last winter with Constantine and his dog-team, over a short cut byway of Black Bear Creek. We took it coming back, and I could find itagain, but Lee doesn't know that route, so he will follow the summertrail, which is fifteen miles farther. You see, his creek makes a greatbend to the southward, and heads back towards the river, so by crossingthe divide at the source of Black Bear you drop into it a few milesabove his cabin."

  While she made this appeal Burrell fought with himself. There werereasons why he longed to take this trip, more than he had longed foranything since boyhood. These men of Flambeau had disregarded him, andinsisted on treating him with contemptuous distrust, despite hisrepeated friendly overtures; wherefore he was hungry to beat them attheir own game, hungry to thrust himself ahead of them and compel themto reckon with him as an equal, preferring a state of open enmity, ifnecessary, to this condition of indifferent toleration. Moreover, heknew that Necia was coveted by half of them, and if he spent a night inthe woods alone with her it would stir them up a bit, he fancied. ByHeaven! That would make them sit up and notice him! But then--it mightwork a wrong upon her; and yet, would it? He was not so sure that itwould. She had come to him; she was old enough to know her mind, andshe was but a half-breed girl, after all, who doubtless was not sosimple as she seemed. Other men had no such scruples in this or anyother land, and yet the young man hesitated until, encouraged by hissilence, the girl came forward and spoke again, impulsively:

  "Don't be silly, Mr. Burrell. Come! Please come with me, won't you?"

  She took him by the edges of his coat and drew him to her coaxingly. Itmay have been partly the spirit of revolt that had been growing in himall day, or it may have been wholly the sense of her there beside him,warm and pleading, but something caused a great wave to surge upthrough his veins, caused him to take her in his arms, fiercely kissingher upturned face again and again, crying softly, deep down in histhroat:

  "Yes! Yes! Yes! You little witch! I'll go anywhere with you! Anywhere!Anywhere!" The impulse was blind and ungovernable, and it grew as hislips met hers, while, strangely enough, she made no resistance,yielding herself quietly, till he found her arms wound softly about hisneck and her face nestling close to his. Neither of them knew how longthey stood thus blended together, but soon he grew conscious of thebeating of her heart against his breast, as she lay there like a littlefluttering bird, and felt the throbbing of his own heart swaying him.Her arms, her lips, and her whole body clung to his in a sweetsurrender, and yet there was nothing immodest or unmaidenly about it,for his strength and ardor had lifted her and drawn her to him as onthe sweep of a great wave.

  She drew her face free and hid it against his neck, breathing softlyand with shy timidity, as if the sound of the words she whispered halffrightened her.

  "I love you. I love you, Meade."

  It may happen that a man will spend months in friendly and charmingintimacy with a woman and never feel the violence or tenderness ofpassion till there comes a psychic moment or a physical touch thatsuddenly enwraps them like a flame. So it was with Burrell. The sweetburden of this girl in his arms, the sense of her yielding lips, thewarmth of her caressing hands, momentarily unleashed a leaping pack ofmad desires, and it was she who finally drew herself away to remind himsmilingly that he was wasting time.

  "My lips will be here when those mines are worked out," she said. "No,no!" and she held him off as he came towards her again, insisting thatif they were going they must be off at once, and that he could have nomore kisses for the present. "But, of course, it is a long trip, and wewill have to sit down now and then to rest," she added, shyly; at whichhe vowed that he was far from strong, and could not walk but a littleway at a time, yet even so, he declared, the trail would be too short,even though it led to Canada.

  "Then get your pack made up," she ordered, "for we must be well uptowards the head of Black Bear Creek before it grows dark enough tocamp."

  Swiftly
he made his preparations; a madness was upon him now, and hetook no pains to check or analyze the reasons for his decision. Thethought of her loveliness in his arms once more, far up among theperfumed wooded heights, as the silent darkness stole upon them,stirred in him such a fret to be gone that it was like a fever. Heslipped away to the barracks with instructions for his corporal, butwas back again in a moment. Finally he took up his burden of blanketand food, then said to her:

  "Well, are you ready, little one?"

  "Yes, Meade," she answered, simply.

  "And you are sure you won't regret it?"

  "Not while you love me."

  He kissed her again before they stepped out on the river trail thatwound along the bank. A hundred yards beyond they were hidden by thegroves of birch and fir.

  Two hours later they paused where the foaming waters of Black BearCreek rioted down across a gravelled bar and into the silent, sweepingriver, standing at the entrance to a wooded, grass-grown valley, withrolling hills and domes displayed at its head, while back of them laythe town, six miles away, its low, squat buildings tiny and toy like,but distinctly silhouetted against the evening sky.

  "Is it not time to rest?" said the soldier, laughingly, yet with a lookof yearning in his misty eyes as he took the girlish figure in hisarms. But she only smiled up at him and, releasing his hold, led theway into the forest.

  He turned for a moment and shook his fist at the village and those init, laughing loudly as if from the feel of the blood that leaped withinhim. Then he joined his companion, and, hand-in-hand, they left thebroad reaches of the greater stream behind them and plunged into theuntrodden valley.