by Rex Beach
CHAPTER XV
AND A KNOT TIGHTENED
A day of shattered hopes is a desolate thing, but the night of such aday is desolate indeed. In all his life Poleon Doret had never sunk tosuch depths of despondency, for his optimistic philosophy and hisbuoyant faith in the goodness of life forbade it. Therefore, whendarkness came it blotted out what little brightness and light and hopewere left to him after Necia's stormy interview with the Lieutenant.The arrival of the freight steamer afforded him some distraction, butthere was only a small consignment for the store, and that was quicklydisposed of; so, leaving the other citizens of Flambeau to wrangle overtheir private merchandise, he went back to his solitary vigil, whichfinally became so unbearable that he sought to escape his thoughts, orat least to drown them for a while, amid the lights and life andlaughter of Stark's saloon. Being but a child by nature, his means ofdistraction were primal and elementary, and he began to gamble, asusual with hard luck, for the cards had ever been unkind to him. He didnot think of winnings or losings, however--he merely craved theoccupation; and it was this that induced him to sit at a game in whichRunnion played, although ordinarily he would not have tolerated eventacitly such a truce to his dislikes. As it was, he crouched in acorner, his hat pulled down over his brow, his swarthy face a darkerhue beneath the shadow, losing steadily, only now and then showing aflash of white teeth as he saw his money go. What mattered loss to him?He had no more need of money now than Necia had of his love. He wouldspend the dollars he had eked and scraped and saved for her as she hadspent the treasures of his heart, and now that the one had brought himno return he wished to be rid of the other, for he was shortly to goagain in search of his "New Country," where no man needs gold half somuch as a clean heart. It would be a long journey, far to the West andNorth--a journey that none of his kind had ever fared back from, and hewished to go light, as all good adventurers go.
Runnion annoyed him with his volubility, for the news of hisgood-fortune had fired the man with a reckless disregard for money, andhe turned to gaming as the one natural recourse of his ilk. As theirony of fate would have it, he won what the Canadian lost, togetherwith the stakes of various others who played for a time with him andthen gave up, wagging their heads or swearing softly at the cards.
It was shortly after midnight that Stark came into the place. Poleonwas not too absorbed in his own fortunes to fail to notice theextraordinary ferocity and exhilaration of the saloon-keeper, nor thathis face was keener, his nostrils thinner, his walk more nervous, andhis voice more cutting than usual when he spoke to Runnion.
"Come here."
"I'll be with you when I finish this hand," said the player, over hisshoulder.
"Come here!" Stark snapped his command, and Runnion threw down hiscards.
"I'm right in the middle of a winning streak. You'll break my luck,Ben."
But the other only frowned impatiently, and, drawing the reluctantgambler aside, began to talk rapidly to him, almost within ear-shot ofPoleon, who watched them, idly wondering what Stark had to say thatcould make Runnion start and act so queerly. Well, it was their affair.They made a bad pair to draw to. He knew that Runnion was thesaloon-keeper's lieutenant and obeyed implicitly his senior's commands.He could distinguish nothing they said, nor was he at all curious untila knot of noisy men crowded up to the bar, and, forcing the two backnearer to the table where he sat, his sharp ears caught these wordsfrom Runnion's lips:
"Not with me! She'd never go with me!" and Stark's reply:
"She'll go where I send her, and with anybody I tell her to."
The Frenchman lost what followed, for a newly dealt hand requiredstudy. He scanned his cards, and tossed them face up before the dealer;then he overheard Runnion say:
"It's the only one in camp. He might sell it if you offered himenough." At this Stark called one of the men at the bar aside, and thethree began to dicker.
"Not a cent less," the third man announced, loudly. "There ain'tanother Peterborough in town."
It was Poleon's deal now, and when he had finished both Stark andRunnion had disappeared, also the man they had accosted, which pleasedthe Canadian, for now that Runnion was eliminated from the game hemight win a little. A steady, unvarying run of bad hands isuninteresting, and does not occupy one's mind as well as an occasionalchange of luck.
Outside Runnion was saying again to Stark:
"She won't go with me, Ben; she don't like me. You see, I made love toher, and she got mad and wanted me killed."
"She'll never know who you are until it's too late to turn back," saidthe other, "and you are the only man I can trust to take her through. Ican trust you--you owe me too much to be crooked."
"Oh, I'll act square with you! But look here, what's all this about,anyhow? Why do you want that girl? You said you didn't care for herthat way; you told me so yourself. Been having a change of heart, or isit your second childhood?" He laughed disagreeably.
"It's none of your business," said the gambler. "I want her, and that'senough. All you have to do is to take her to St. Michael's and keep herthere till you hear from me. She thinks she is going to the Mission,and you needn't tell her otherwise until you get her aboard a steamer;then take her, no matter what kind of a fight she puts up. You've got alight-rowing skiff, and you'd better keep going till you're overtakenby a down-river boat. I want her as far away from here as possible.There's going to be some hell in this camp. Now, hike, and get yourselfready."
"All right! But I ain't the safest kind of a chaperon for agood-looking girl."
Stark laid a cold hand on Runnion's shoulder, close up to his neck.
"Get that out of your mind. She belongs to me."
"You said just now--"
"Never mind what I said. She's mine, and you've got to promise to bestraight with her. I've trusted you before, and if you're not on thelevel now, say so. It will save you a lot of trouble."
"Oh! All right!" exclaimed Runnion, testily. "Only it looks mightyqueer."
He melted into the darkness and Stark returned to his cabin, where hepaced back and forth impatiently, smiling evilly now and then,consulting his watch at frequent intervals. A black look had begun tosettle on his face, but it vanished when Necia came, and he met herwith a smile.
"I was afraid you had weakened," he said. "Everything is ready andwaiting. I've got the only canoe in the place, a Peterborough, andhired a good oarsman to put you through, instructing him to make asfast time as he can, and to board the first steamer that overtakes you.Too bad this freighter that just got in isn't going the other way.However, there's liable to be another any hour, and if one doesn't comealong you'll find enough blankets and food in the skiff, so you needn'tgo ashore. You'll be there before you know it."
"You are very kind," said the girl. "I can't thank you enough." She wasclothed in her simple everyday dress, and looked again the sun-coloredhalf-breed girl with the wide, dark eyes and the twin braids ofcrow-black hair.
"You didn't run into anybody, eh?"
She shook her head. Then he led her out into the darkness, and theystumbled down to the river's-bank, descending to the gravelly water'sedge, where rows of clumsy hand-sawed boats and poling-skiffs werechafing at their painters. The up-river steamer was just clearing.
Stark's low whistle was answered a hundred yards below, and theysearched out a darker blot that proved to be a man's figure.
"Is everything ready?" he inquired, at which the shadow gruntedunintelligibly. So, holding Necia by the arm, Stark helped her back toa seat in the stern.
"This man will take you through," he said. "You can trust him, allright."
The oarsman clambered in and adjusted his sweeps, then Stark laid ahand on the prow and shoved the light boat out into the current,calling softly:
"Good-bye, and good-luck."
"Good-bye, Mr. Stark. Thank you ever so much," the girl replied, toonumb and worn out to say much, or to notice or care whither she wasbound or who was her boatman. She had been swept along too swiftly toreason or
fear for herself any more.
Half an hour later the scattered lights of the little camp winked andtwinkled for the last time. Turning, she set her face forward, and,adjusting the cushions to her comfort, strained her tired eyes towardsthe rising and falling shadow of her boatman. She seemed borne along ona mystic river of gloom that hissed and gurgled about her, invisiblebut all-pervading, irresistible, monstrous, only the ceaseless,monotonous creak of the rowlocks breaking the silence.
Stark did not return to his cabin, but went back instead to his saloon,where he saw Poleon Doret still sprawling with elbows on the table, hishat pulled low above his sullen face. The owner of the place passedbehind the bar and poured himself a full glass of whiskey, which hetossed off, then, without a look to right or left, went out and downtowards the barracks. A light behind the drawn curtains of theofficer's house told that his man was not abed, but he waited a longmoment after his summons before the door was opened, during which heheard the occupant moving about and another door close in the rear.When he was allowed entrance at last he found the young man alone in asmoke-filled room with a bottle and two empty glasses on the table.
For at the sound of his voice Gale had whispered to Burrell, "Keep himout!" and the Lieutenant had decided to refuse his late visitoradmittance when he lighted on the expedient of concealing the trader inthe bedroom at the rear. It was only natural, he reasoned, that Galeshould dislike to face a man like Stark before he had regained hiscomposure.
"Go in there and wait till I see what he wants," he had said, and,shutting the old man in, he had gone forth to admit Stark, resentinghis ill-timed intrusion and inquiring brusquely the cause of it.
Before answering, Stark entered and closed the door behind him.
"I've got some work for you, Lieutenant."
"I guess it can wait till morning," said Meade.
"No, it can't; it's got to be done to-night, right now! You representthe law, or at least you've taken every occasion to so declareyourself, and to mix in with little things that don't cut much figure;so now I've come to you with something big. It's a serious affair, andbeing as I'm a peaceful man I want to go by the law." His eyes mockedthe words he uttered. "You're mighty prompt and determined when itcomes to regulating such affairs. You seem to carry the weight of thiswhole community on your shoulders, so I'm here to give you someinformation."
Burrell ignored the taunt, and said, quietly: "It's a little late forpolite conversation. Come to the point."
"I've got a criminal for you."
"What kind?"
"Murderer."
"You've had a killing in your place, eh?"
"No, I've just made a discovery. I found it all out by accident,too--pure accident. By Heaven! You can't tell me there isn't abeneficent Providence overlooking our affairs. Why, this felon haslived here among us all this time, and only for the merest chance Inever would have recognized him."
"Well, well! Go on!" snapped Burrell, impatiently.
"He's a friend of yours, and a highly respected party. He's a gloriousexample to this whole river."
The officer started. Could it be? he wondered. Could knowledge of thisaffair have reached this man? He was uncomfortably aware of thatpresence in the back room, but he had to know the truth.
"Who is the man?"
"He's your friend. He's--" Stark paused, gloating over his enemy'ssuspense.
"Go on." "He's everybody's friend. He's the shining mark of this wholecountry. He's the benevolent renegade, Squaw-man Gale."
"John Gale?"
"Gaylord is his name, and I was a fool not to know it sooner."
"How did you discover this?" inquired Burrell, lamely. "What proof haveyou?"
The disclosure had not affected the soldier as Stark expected, and hisanger began to lift itself.
"That's neither here nor there; the man's a murderer; he's wanted inCalifornia, where I came from; he's been indicted, and there's a priceon his head. He's hidden for fifteen years, but he'll hang as sure as Istand here."
Disclosures of a complex nature had so crowded on Burrell in the lastfew hours that he saw himself the centre of a most unfortunate andamazing tangle. Things were difficult enough as it was, but to havethis man appear and cry for justice--this man above all others!--it wasa complication quite unlocked for--a hideous mockery. He must gain timefor thought. One false step might ruin all. He could not face this onthe spur of the moment, so, shrugging his shoulders with an air ofpolite scepticism, he assumed a tone of good-natured raillery.
"Fifteen years? Murder? John Gale a murderer? Why, that'salmost--pardon me if I smile--I'm getting sleepy. What proof have you?"
"Proof!" blazed the gambler. "Proof! Ask Gaylord! Proof! Why, the womanhe murdered was my wife!"
It was Burrell's turn now to fall incoherent, and not only did hisspeech forsake him, but his thoughts went madly veering off into awilderness where there was no trail, no light, no hope. What kind of acoil was this? What frightful bones were these he bared? This man wasBennett! This was Necia's father! This man he hated, this man who wasbad, whose name was a curse throughout the length and breadth of theWest, was the father of the girl he loved! His head began to whirl,then the story of the trader came back to him, and he remembered whoand what the bearer of these later tidings was. He raised a pair ofeyes that had become furious and bloodshot, and suddenly realized thatthe man before him, who persisted in saddling upon Gale this heinouscrime, was the slayer of Necia's mother; for he did not doubt Gale'sstory for an instant. He found his fingers writhing to feel thecreature's throat.
"Proof!" Stark was growling. "How much proof do you need? I've followedhim for fifteen years. I've tracked him with men and dogs through woodsand deserts and mining-camps. I've slept on his trail for five thousandmiles, and now do you think I'm mistaken? He killed my wife, I say, androbbed me of my little girl! That's her in his house. That's her hecalls Necia. She's my girl--MY GIRL, do you understand?--and I'll havehis life."
It was hate that animated him, and nothing more. He had no joy in thefinding of his offspring, no uplifted thought of justice. The thirstfor revenge, personal, violent, utter, was all that prompted this man;but Burrell had no inkling yet of the father's well-shaped plans, norhow far-reaching they were, and could barely stammer:
"So! You--you know?"
"Yes! She wears the evidence around her neck, and if that isn't enoughI can furnish more--evidence enough to smother you. My name isn't Starkat all; I changed it years ago for certain reasons. I've changed itmore than once, but that's my privilege and my own affair. Her name isMerridy Bennett."
"I don't suppose you know I'm going to marry her," said the Kentuckian,irrelevantly.
"No," replied the other, "I wasn't aware of the fact."
"Well, I am. I'll be your son-in-law." He said this as if it were thestatement of an astonishing truth, whereat Stark grinned, a mirthless,disquieting sort of grimace, and said:
"There's a lot of things for you and me to settle up first. For onething, I want those mines of hers."
"Why?"
"Well, I'm her father, and she's not of age."
"I'll think it over."
"I'll take them, anyway, as her next of kin."
Burrell did not follow up this statement, for its truth wasincontrovertible, and showed that the father's ill-will was tootangible a thing to be concealed; so he continued:
"We'll adjust that after Gale is attended to; but, meanwhile, what doyou want me to do?"
"I want you to arrest the man who killed my wife. If you don't take himthe miners will. I've got a following in this camp, and I'll raise acrowd in fifteen minutes--enough to hang this squaw-man, or batter downyour barracks to get him. But I don't want to do that; I want to go bythe law you've talked so much about; I want you to do the trick."
At last Burrell saw the gambler's deviltry. He knew Stark's reputationtoo well to think that he feared a meeting with Gale, for the man hadlived in hope of that these fifteen years, and had shaped his lifearound such a me
eting; but this indirect method--the Kentuckian felt aflash of reluctant admiration for a man who could mould a vengeancewith such cruel hands, and, even though he came from a land of feuds,where hate is a precious thing, the cunning strength of this man'senmity dwarfed any he had ever known. Stark had planned his settlementcoldly and with deliberate malice; moreover he was strong enough tostand aside and let another take his place, and thus deny to Gale thefinal recourse of a hunted beast, the desperate satisfaction that thetrader craved. He tied his enemy's hands and delivered him up with histhirst unsatisfied--to whom? He thrust a weapon into the hand of hisother enemy, and bade this other enemy use it; worse than that, forcedhim to strike the man he honored--the man he loved. Burrell neverdoubted that Stark had carefully weighed the effect of this upon Necia,and had reasoned that a girl like her could not understand a soldier'sduty if it meant the blood of a parent. If he refused to act, thegambler could break him, while every effort he made to protect Galewould but increase the other's satisfaction. There was no chance of thetrader's escape. Stark held him in his hand. His followers would do hisbidding. It was a desperate affair. Was it impossible, the Lieutenantwondered, to move this man from his purpose?
"Have you thought of Necia? She loves Gale. What effect will this haveon her?"
"Damn her! She's more his brat than mine. I want John Gaylord!"
At this a vicious frenzy overtook Burrell, and he thought of the manbehind yonder door, whom he had forgotten until these words wokesomething savage in him. Well! Why not? These two men had stalked eachother clear into the farthest places, driven by forces that were olderthan the hills. Who was he to stand between such passions? This wasordained, it was the course of nature, the clash of elements, and thiswas a fair battle-ground, so why should he undertake to stop a thingdecreed?
The gambler's words rang in his ears--"I want John Gaylord"--and beforehe knew what he was doing he had answered: "Very well. I'll give him toyou," and crossed quickly to the door of his bedroom and flung it open.On the threshold he paused stock-still. The place was empty; a draughtsucked through the open window, flirting with the curtain and tellingthe story of the trader's exit.
"If you're looking for your coat, it's here," he heard Stark say. "Getinto it, and we'll go for him."
The Lieutenant's mind was working fast enough now, in all conscience,and he saw with clear and fateful eyes whither he was being led, atwhich a sudden reckless disregard for consequences seized him. He felta blind fury at being pulled and hauled and driven by this creature,and also an unreasoning anger at Gale's defection. But it was thethought of Necia and the horrible net of evil in which this man hadensnared them both that galled him most. It was all a terrible tangle,in which the truth was hopelessly hidden, and nothing but harm couldcome from attempting to unravel it. There was but one solution, andthat, though fundamental and effective, was not to be expected from anofficer of the law. Nevertheless, he chose it, for Ben Stark was toopotent a force for evil to be at large, and needed extermination astruly as if he were some dangerous beast. He determined to finish thisthing here and now.
Meade went to his bureau, took his revolver from the belt where he hadhung it, and came out into the other room. Stark, seeing the weapon,exclaimed:
"You don't need that; he won't resist you."
"I've decided not to take him," said Burrell.
"Decided not to take him?" shouted the other. "Have you weakened? Don'tyou intend to arrest that man?"
"No!" cried the soldier. "I've listened to your lies long enough; nowI'm going to stop them, once for all. You're too dangerous to havearound."
They faced each other silently a moment; then Stark spoke in a veryquiet voice, though his eyes were glittering:
"What's the meaning of this? Are you crazy?"
"Gale was here just before you came, and told me who killed your wife.I know."
"You do?"
"I do."
"Well?"
"It's pretty late. This place is lonely. This is the simplest way."
The gambler fell to studying his antagonist, and when he did not speakBurrell continued:
"Come, brace up! I'm giving you a chance."
But Stark shook his head.
"Don't be afraid," insisted the Lieutenant. "There are no witnesses. Ifyou get me, nobody will know, and your word is good. If not--it's muchsimpler than the other." Then, when the gambler still made no move, heinsisted, "You wouldn't have me kill you like a rattlesnake?"
"You couldn't," said the older man. "You're not that kind--and I'm notthe kind to be cheated, either. Listen! I've lived over forty years,and I never took less than was coming to me. I won't begin to-night."
"You'll get your share--"
"Bah! You don't know what I mean. I don't want you; it's him I'm after,and when I'm done with him I'll take care of you; but I won't run anyrisk right now. I won't take a chance on losing what I've risked somuch to gain, what I've lived these fifteen years to get. You might putme away--there's the possibility--and I won't let you or any otherman--or woman either, not even my girl--cheat me out of Gale. Put upyour gun."
The soldier hesitated, then did as he was bidden, for this man knew himbetter than he knew himself.
"I ought to treat you like a mad dog, but I can't do it while yourhands are up. I'm going to fight for John Gale, however, and you can'ttake him."
"I'll have his carcass hung to my ridge-pole before daylight."
"No."
"I say yes!" Stark turned to go, but paused at the door. "And you thinkyou'll marry Necia, do you?"
"I know it."
"Like hell you will! Suppose you find her first."
"What do you mean? Wait--"
But his visitor was gone, leaving behind him a lover already sorelyvexed, and now harassed by a new and sudden apprehension. What venomthe man distilled! Could it be that he had sent Necia away? Burrellscouted the idea. She wasn't the kind to go at Stark's mere behest; andas for his forcing her, why, this was not an age of abductions! Hemight aim to take her, but it would require some time to establish hisrights, and even then there were Gale and himself to be reckoned with.Still, this was no time for idling, and he might as well make certain,so the young man put on his coat hurriedly, knowing there was work todo There was no telling what this night would bring forth, but first hemust warn his friend, after which they would fight this thing together,not as soldier and civilian, but as man and man, not for the law, butagainst it. He smiled as he realized the situation. Well, he wasthrough with the army, anyhow; his path was strange and new from thistime henceforth, and led him away from all he had known, taking himamong other peoples; but he did not flinch, for it led to her. Behindhim was that former life; to-night he began anew.
Stark traced his way back to his cabin in a ten times fiercer mood thanhe had come, reviling, cursing, hating; back past the dark trading-posthe went, pausing to shake his clenched fist and grind out an oathbetween his teeth; past the door of his own saloon, which was a-light,and whence came the sound of revelry, through the scattered houses,where he went more by feel than by sight, up to the door of his ownshack. He fitted his key in the lock, but the door swung open withouthis aid, at which he remembered that he had only pulled it after himwhen he came away with Necia. He closed it behind him now, and lockedit, for he had some thinking to do; then felt through his pockets for amatch, and, striking it, bent over his lamp to adjust the wick. Itflared up steady and strong at last, flooding the narrow place with itsillumination; then he straightened up and turned towards the bed tothrow off his coat, when suddenly every muscle of his body leaped withan uncontrollable spasm, as if he had uncovered a deadly serpent coiledand ready to spring. In spite of himself his lungs contracted as ifwith the grip of giant hands, and his breath came forth in a startledcry.
John Gale was sitting at his table, barely an arm's-length away, hisgray-blue eyes fixed upon him, and the deep seams of his heavy face setas if graven in stone. His huge, knotted hands were upon the table, andbetween them lay a
naked knife.