The Barrier

by Rex Beach

  CHAPTER XVII

  THE LOVE OF POLEON DORET

  To the girl crouching at the stern of Runnion's boat it seemed as ifthis day and night would never end. It seemed as if the procession ofnatural events must have ceased, that there was no longer any time, forshe had been suffering steadily for hours and hours without end, andbegan to wonder dreamily whether she had not skipped a day in herreckoning between the time when she first heard of the strike on herclaim and this present moment. It occurred to her that she was a richgirl now in her own right, and she smiled her crooked smile, as shereflected that the thing she had longed for without hope of attainmenthad come with confusing swiftness, and had left her unhappier thanever....

  Would the day never come? She pulled the rugs up closer about her asthe morning chill made her shiver. She found herself keeping mechanicalcount with the sound of the sweeps--they must be making good speed, shethought, and the camp must be miles behind now. Had it been earlier inthe season, when the river ran full of drift, they never could havegone thus in the dark, but the water was low and the chances ofcollision so remote as to render blind travel safe. Even yet she couldnot distinguish her oarsman, except as a black bulk, for it had been alowering night and the approaching dawn failed to break through theblanket of cloud that hung above the great valley. He was a goodboatman, however, as she gathered from the tireless regularity of hisstrokes. He was a silent man, too, and she was grateful for that. Shesnuggled down into her blanket and tried to sleep, but she only dozedfor a minute, it seemed, to find her eyes fly wide open again. So,restless and tired of her lonely vigil, she gave a premonitory cough,and said to her companion:

  "You must be tired rowing so steadily?"

  "Oh, I don't mind it," he replied.

  At the sound of his voice she sat bolt upright. It couldn't be--if thiswere Runnion he would have spoken before! She ventured again,tremulously:

  "Have you any idea what time it is?"

  "About three o'clock. I fancy."

  "Who are you?" The question came like a shot.

  "Don't you know?"

  "What are YOU doing here, Mr. Runnion?"

  "I'm rowing," he answered, carelessly.

  "Why didn't you speak?" A vague feeling of uneasiness came over her, asuspicion that all was not right, so she waited for him to explain, andwhen he did not, she repeated her question. "What made you keep stillso long? You knew who _I_ was?"

  "Well, it's the first time I ever took you on a midnight row, and Iwanted to enjoy it."

  The mockery in his voice quickened her apprehension. Of a sudden thefear of being misjudged impelled her to end this flight that had becomeso distasteful in a moment, preferring to face the people at the postrather than continue her journey with this man.

  "I've changed my mind, Mr. Runnion," she said. "I don't want to go downto the Mission. I want you to take me back."

  "Can't do it," he said; "the current is too swift."

  "Then set me ashore and I'll walk back. It can't be far to town."

  "Twenty-five miles. We've been out about three hours." He kept onrowing steadily, and although the distance they had gone frightenedher, she summoned her courage to say:

  "We can make that easily enough. Come, run in to the bank."

  He ceased rowing and let the boat drift with dragging sweeps, filledhis pipe and lighted it, then took up his oars again and resumed hislabors.

  "Please do as I ask you, Mr. Runnion. I've decided I don't want to goany farther." He laughed, and the sound aroused her. "Put me ashorethis minute!" she cried, indignantly. "What do you mean?"

  "You've got a fierce temper, haven't you?"

  "Will you do it or not?"

  When he made no answer, except to continue the maddening monotony ofhis movements, she was seized with a rash resolve to wrench the oarsout of his hands, and made a quick motion towards him, at which heshouted:

  "Sit down! Do you want to upset us?"

  The unstable craft lurched and dipped dangerously, and, realizing thefutility of her mad impulse, she sank back on her knees.

  "Put me ashore!"

  "No," he said, "not till I'm ready. Now, keep your seat or we'll bothdrown; this ain't a ferry-boat." After a few strokes, he added, "We'llnever get along together unless you tame that temper."

  "We're not going to get along together, Mr. Runnion--only as far as theMission. I dare say you can tolerate me until then, can you not?" Shesaid this bitingly.

  "Stark told me to board the first boat for St. Michael's," he said,disregarding her sarcasm, "but I've made a few plans of my own the lasthour or so."

  "St. Michael's! Mr. Stark told you--why, that's impossible! Youmisunderstood him. He told you to row me to the Mission. I'm going toFather Barnum's house."

  "No, you're not, and I didn't misunderstand him. He wants to get yououtside, all right, but I reckon you'd rather go as Mrs. Runnion thanas the sweetheart of Ben Stark."

  "Are you crazy?" the girl cried. "Mr. Stark kindly offered to help mereach the Father at his Mission. I'm nothing to him, and I'm certainlynot going to be anything to you. If I'd known you were going to row theboat, I should have stayed at home, because I detest you."

  "You'll get over that."

  "I'm not in the humor for jokes."

  He rested again on his oars, and said, with deliberation:

  "Stark 'kindly offered' did he? Well, whenever Ben Stark 'kindly'offers anything, I'm in on the play. He's had his eye on you for thelast three months, and he wants you, but he slipped a cog when he gaveme the oars. You needn't be afraid, though, I'm going to do the squarething by you. We'll stop in at the Mission and be married, and thenwe'll see whether we want to go to St. Michael's or not, thoughpersonally I'm for going back to Flambeau."

  During the hours while he had waited for Necia to discover hisidentity, the man's mind had not been idle; he had determined to takewhat fortune tossed into his lap. Had she been the unknown, unnoticedhalf-breed of a month or two before, he would not have wasted thoughtupon priests or vows, but now that a strange fate had worked a changein her before the world, he accepted it.

  The girl's beauty, her indifference, the mistaken attitude of Starkurged him, and, strongest of all, he was drawn by his cupidity, for shewould be very rich, so the knowing ones said. Doubtless that was whyStark wanted her, and, being a man who acknowledged no fidelity to hiskind or his Creator, Runnion determined to outwit his principal, Doret,Burrell, and all the rest. It was a chance to win much at the risk ofnothing, and he was too good a gambler to let it pass.

  With his brusque declaration Necia realized her position--that she wasa weak, lonely girl, just come into womanhood, so cursed by good looksthat men wanted her, so stained by birth that they would not take herhonestly; realized that she was alone with a dissolute creature andbeyond help, and for the first time in her life she felt the meaning offear.

  She saw what a frail and helpless thing she was; nothing about her wasgreat save her soul, and that was immeasurably vexed and worried. Shehad just lived through a grief that had made her generous, and now shegained her first knowledge of the man-animal's gross selfishness.

  "You are absolutely daft," she said. "You can't force me to marry you."

  "I ain't going to force you; you'll do it willingly."

  "I'll die first. I'll call the first man we see--I'll tell FatherBarnum, and he'll have you run out of the country--it would only take aword from me."

  "If you haven't changed your mind when we get to his place, I'll runthrough without stopping; but there isn't another priest between thereand St. Mike's, and by the time we get to the mouth of the river, Iguess you'll say yes to most anything. However, I'd rather marry you atHoly Cross if you'll consent, and I'm pretty sure you will--when youthink it over."

  "We won't discuss it."

  "You don't understand yet," he continued, slowly. "What will people saywhen they know you ran away with me."

  "I'll tell them the truth."

  "Huh! I'm too well known. No man on
the river would ever have you afterthat."

  "You--you--" Her voice was a-quiver with indignation and loathing, buther lips could not frame an epithet fit for him. He continued rowingfor some time, then said:

  "Will you marry me?"

  "No! If this thing is ever known, Poleon will kill you--or father."

  For a third time he rested on his oars.

  "Now that we've come to threats, let me talk. I offered to marry youand do the square thing, but if you don't want to, I'll pass up theformality and take you for my squaw, the same as your father tookAlluna. I guess you're no better than your mother, so your old mancan't say much under the circumstances, and if he don't object, Poleoncan't. Just remember, you're alone with me in the heart of awilderness, and you've got to make a choice quick, because I'm goingashore and make some breakfast as soon as it's light enough to choose alanding-place. If you agree to come quietly and go through with thisthing like a sensible girl, I'll do what's right, but if youdon't--then I'll do what's wrong, and maybe you won't be so damnedanxious to tell your friends about this trip, or spread your story upand down the river. Make up your mind before I land."

  The water gurgled at the bow again, and the row-locks squeaked. Anotherhour and then another passed in silence before the girl noted that sheno longer seemed to float through abysmal darkness, but that the rivershowed in muddy grayness just over the gunwale. She saw Runnion moreclearly, too, and made out his hateful outlines, though for all elseshe beheld they might have been miles out upon a placid sea, and soimperceptible was the laggard day's approach that she could not measurethe growing light. It was a desolate dawn, and showed no gloriousgleams of color. There was no rose-pink glow, no merging of a thousandtints, no final burst of gleaming gold; the night merely faded away,changing to a sickly pallor that grew to ashen gray, and then dissolvedthe low-hung, distorted shadows a quarter of a mile inland on eitherhand into a forbidding row of unbroken forest backed by plain, morass,and distant hills untipped by slanting rays. Overhead a bleak ruin ofclouds drifted; underneath the river ran, a bilious yellow. The wholecountry so far as the eye could range was unmarred by the hand of man,untracked save by the feet of the crafty forest people.

  She saw Runnion gazing over his shoulder in search of a shelving beachor bar, his profile showing more debased and mean than she had evernoticed it before. They rounded a bend where the left bank crumbledbefore the untiring teeth of the river, forming a bristlingchevaux-de-frise of leaning, fallen firs awash in the current. Theshort side of the curve, the one nearest them, protected a gravel barthat made down-stream to a dagger-like point, and towards this Runnionpropelled the skiff. The girl's heart sank and she felt her limbs growcold.

  The mind of Poleon Doret worked in straight lines. Moreover, his memorywas good. Stark's statement, which so upset Gale and the Lieutenant,had a somewhat different effect upon the Frenchman, for certain factshad been impressed upon his subconsciousness which did not entirelygibe with the gambler's remarks, and yet they were too dimly engravedto afford foundation for a definite theory. What he did know was this,that he doubted. Why? Because certain scraps of a disjointedconversation recurred to him, a few words which he had overheard inStark's saloon, something about a Peterborough canoe and a woman. Heknew every skiff that lay along the waterfront, and of a sudden hedecided to see if this one was where it had been at dusk; for therewere but two modes of egress from Flambeau, and there was but one canoeof this type. If Necia had gone up-river on the freighter, pursuit washopeless, for no boatman could make headway against the current; butif, on the other hand, that cedar craft was gone--He ran out of Stark'shouse and down to the river-bank, then leaped to the shingle beneath.It was just one chance, and if he was wrong, no matter; the otherswould leave on the next up-river steamer; whereas, if his suspicionproved a certainty, if Stark had lied to throw them off the track, andRunnion had taken her down-stream--well, Poleon wished no one to hinderhim, for he would travel light.

  The boat WAS gone! He searched the line backward, but it was not there,and his excitement grew now, likewise his haste. Still on the run, hestumbled up to the trading-post and around to the rear, where, bottomup, lay his own craft, the one he guarded jealously, a birch canoe,frail and treacherous for any but a man schooled in the ways of swiftwater and Indian tricks. He was very glad now that he had not told theothers of his suspicions; they might have claimed the right to go, andof that he would not be cheated. He swung the shell over his shoulders,then hurried to the bank and down the steep trail like some great,misshapen turtle. He laid it carefully in the whispering current, thenstripped himself with feverish haste, for the driving call of a hotpursuit was on him, and although it was the cold, raw hours of latenight, he whipped off his garments until he was bare to the middle. Heseized his paddle, stepped in, then knelt amidships and pushed away.The birch-bark answered him like a living thing, leaping and dancingbeneath the strokes which sprung the spruce blade and boiled the waterto a foam, while rippling, rising ridges stood out upon his back andarms as they rose and fell, stretched and bent and straightened.

  A half-luminous, opaque glow was over the waters, but the banks quicklydropped away, until there was nothing to guide him but the suck of thecurrent and the sight of the dim-set stars. His haste now becamesomething crying that lashed him fiercely, for he seemed to be standingstill, and so began to mutter at the crawling stream and to complain ofhis thews, which did not drive him fast enough, only the sound he madewas more like the whine of a hound in leash or a wolf that runs withhot nostrils close to the earth.

  Runnion drove his Peterborough towards the shore with powerful strokes,and ran its nose up on the gravel, rose, stretched himself, and draggedit farther out, then looked down at Necia.

  "Well, what is it, yes or no? Do you want me for a husband or for amaster?" She cowered in the stern, a pale, fearful creature, finallymurmuring:

  "You--you must give me time."

  "Not another hour. Here's where you declare yourself; and remember, Idon't care which you choose, only you'd better be sensible."

  She cast her despairing eyes up and down the river, then at thewilderness on either shore; but it was as silent and unpeopled as if ithad been created that morning. She must have time; she would temporize,pretending to yield, and then betray him to the first comer; a promiseexacted under duress would not be binding.

  "I'll go quietly," she said, in a faint voice.

  "I knew you'd see that I'm acting square. Come! Get the cramp out ofyourself while I make a pot of coffee." He held out his hand to assisther, and she accepted it, but stumbled as she rose, for she had beencrouched in one position for several hours, and her limbs were stiff.He caught her and swung her ashore; then, instead of putting her feetto the ground, he pressed her to himself roughly and kissed her. Shegave a stifled cry and fought him off, but he laughed and held her thecloser.

  "Ain't I good for one kiss? Say, this is the deuce of an engagement.Come, now--"

  "No, no, no!" she gasped, writhing like a wild thing; but he crushedhis lips to hers again and then let her go, whereupon she drew awayfrom him panting, dishevelled, her eyes wide and filled with horror.She scrubbed her lips with the back of her hand, as if to erase hismark, while he reached into the canoe and brought forth an axe, abundle of food, and a coffee-pot; then, still chuckling, he gathered afew sticks of driftwood and built a fire. She had a blind instinct toflee, and sought for a means of escape, but they were well out upon thebar that stretched a distance of three hundred feet to the wooded bank;on one side of the narrow spit was the scarcely moving, half-stagnantwater of a tiny bay or eddy, on the other, the swift, gliding currenttugging at the beached canoe, while the outer end of the gravelledridge dwindled down to nothing and disappeared into the river. At sightof the canoe a thought struck her, but her face must have shown somesign of it, for the man chanced to look at the moment, and, seeing herexpression, straightened himself, then gazed about searchingly. Withouta word he stepped to the boat, and, seizing it, dragged it entirely o
utupon the bar, where her strength would not be equal to shoving it offquickly, and, not content with this, he made the painter fast, thenwent back to his fire. The eagerness died out of her face, but aninstant later, when he turned to the clearer water of the eddy to fillthe coffee-pot, she seized her chance and sped up the bar towards thebank. The shingle under foot and her noisy skirts betrayed her, andwith an oath he followed. It was an unequal race, and he handled herwith rough, strong hands when he overtook her.

  "So! You lied to me! Well, I'm through with this foolishness. If you'llgo back on your word like this you'll 'bawl me out' before the priest,so I'll forget my promise, too, and you'll be glad of the chance tomarry me."

  "Let me go!" she panted. "I'll marry you. Yes, yes, I'll do it, onlydon't touch me now!"

  He led her back to the fire, which had begun to crackle. She was soweak now that she sank upon the stones shivering.

  "That's right! Sit down and behave while I make you something hot todrink. You're all in." After a time he continued, as he busied himselfabout his task: "Say, you ought to be glad to get me; I've got a lot ofmoney, or I will have, and once you're Mrs. Runnion, nobody'll everknow about this or think of you as a squaw." He talked to her while hewaited for the water to boil, his assurance robbing her of hope, forshe saw he was stubborn and reckless, determined to override her willas well as to conquer her body, while under his creed, the creed of hiskind, a woman was made from the rib of man and for his service. Heconveyed it to her plainly. He ruled horses with a hard hand, he drovehis dog teams with a biting lash, and he mastered women with a similarlack of feeling or consideration.

  He was still talking when the girl sprang to her feet and sent a shrillcry out over the river, but instantly he was up and upon her, his handover her mouth, while she tore at it, screaming the name of PoleonDoret. He silenced her to a smothered, sobbing mumble, and turned tosee, far out on the bosom of the great soiled river, a man in a barkcanoe. The craft had just swung past the bend above, and was still along way off--so far away, in fact, that Necia's signal had not reachedit, for its occupant held unwaveringly to the swiftest channel, hisbody rising and falling in the smooth, unending rhythm of amaster-boatman tinder great haste, his arms up-flung now and then, asthe paddle glinted and flashed across to the opposite side.

  Runnion glanced about hurriedly, then cursed as he saw no place ofconcealment. The Peterborough stood out upon the bar conspicuously, asdid he and the girl; but the chance remained that this man, whoever hewas, would pass by, for his speed was great, the river a mile in width,and the bend sharp. Necia had cried Poleon's name, but her companionsaw no resemblance to the Frenchman in this strange-looking voyager; infact, he could not quite make out what was peculiar about theman--perhaps his eyes were not as sharp as hers--and then he saw thatthe boatman was naked to the waist. By now he was drawing opposite themwith the speed of a hound. The girl, gagged and held by her captor'shands, struggled and moaned despairingly, and, crouching back of theboat, they might have escaped discovery in the gray morning light hadit not been for the telltale fire--a tiny, crackling blaze no largerthan a man's hat. It betrayed them. The dancing craft upon which theireyes were fixed whipped about, almost leaping from the water at onestroke, then came towards them, now nothing but a narrow thing, halfagain the width of a man's body. The current carried it down abreast ofthem, then past, and Runnion rose, releasing the girl, who cried outwith all her might to the boatman. He made no sound in reply, but drovehis canoe shoreward with quicker strokes. It was evident he wouldeffect his landing near the lower end of the spit, for now he waswithin hearing distance, and driving closer every instant.

  Necia heard the gambler call:

  "Sheer off, Doret! You can't land here!"

  She saw a gun in Runnion's hand, and a terrible, sickening fear sweptover her, for he was slowly walking down the spit, keeping abreast ofthe canoe as it drifted. She could see exactly what would happen: noman could disembark against the will of an armed marksman, and ifPoleon slackened his stroke, or stopped it to exchange his paddle for aweapon, the current would carry him past; in addition, he would have tofire from a rocking paper shell harried by a boiling current, whereasthe other man stood flat upon his feet.

  "Keep away or I'll fire!" threatened Runnion again; and she screamed,"Don't try it, Poleon, he'll kill you!"

  At her words Runnion raised his weapon and fired. She heard the woodsbehind reverberate with the echoes like a sounding-board, saw the whitespurt of smoke and the skitter of the bullet as it went wide. It was along shot, and had been fired as a final warning; but Doret made nooutcry, nor did he cease coming; instead, his paddle clove the waterwith the same steady strokes that took every ounce of effort in hisbody. Runnion threw open his gun and replaced the spent shell. On camethe careening, crazy craft in a sidewise drift, and with it the girlsaw coming a terrible tragedy. She started to run down the gravelledridge behind her enemy, not realizing the value or moment of heraction, nor knowing clearly what she would do; but as she drew near shesaw Runnion raise his gun again, and, without thought of her ownsafety, threw herself upon him Again his shot went wide as he strove tohurl her off, but his former taste of her strength was nothing to this,now that she fought for Poleon's life. Runnion snarled angrily andthrust her away, for he had waited till the canoe was close.

  "Let me go, you devil!" he cried, and aimed again; but again she ran athim. This time, however, she did not pit her strength against his, butpaused, and as he undertook to fire she thrust at his elbow, thendodged out of his way. Her blow was crafty and well-timed, and his shotwent wild. Again he took aim, and again she destroyed it with a touchand danced out of his reach. She was nimble and light, and quickenednow by a cold calculation of all that depended upon her.

  Three times in all she thwarted Runnion, while the canoe drove closerevery instant. On the fourth, as she dashed at him, he struck to be ridof her, cursing wickedly--struck as he would have struck at a man.Silently she crumpled up and fell, a pitiful, draggled, awkward littlefigure sprawled upon the rocks; but the delay proved fatal to him, for,though the canoe was close against the bank, and the huge man in itseemed to offer a mark too plain to be missed, he was too close topermit careful aim. Runnion heard him giving utterance to a strange,feral, whining sound, as if he were crying like a fighting boy; then,as the gambler raised his arm, the Canadian lifted himself up on thebottom of the canoe until he stood stretched to his full height, andleaped. As Runnion fired he sprang out and was into the water to hisknees, his backward kick whirling the craft from underneath him outinto the current, where the river seized it. He had risen and jumpedall in one moment, launching himself at the shore like a panther. Thegun roared again, but Poleon came up and on with the rush of the great,brown grizzly that no missile can stop. Runnion's weapon blazed in hisface, but he neither felt nor heeded it, for his bare hands were uponhis quarry, the impact of his body hurling the other from his feet, andneither of them knew whether any or all of the last bullets had takeneffect. Poleon had come like an arrow, straight for his mark theinstant he glimpsed it, an insensate, unreasoning, raging thing that noweight of lead nor length of blade could stop. In his haste he had leftFlambeau without weapon of any kind, for in his mind such things weresuperfluous, and he had never fought with any but those God gave him,nor found any living thing that his hands could not master. Therefore,he had rushed headlong against this armed and waiting man, reaching forhim ever closer and closer till the burning powder stung his eyes. Theygrappled and fought, alone and unseen, and yet it was no fight, forRunnion, though a vigorous, heavy-muscled man, was beaten down,smothered, and crushed beneath the onslaught of this great nakedfellow, who all the time sobbed and whined and mewed in a panting fury.

  They swung half across the spit to the farther side, where they fell ina fantastic convulsion, slipping and sliding and rolling among therocks that smote and gouged and bruised them. The gambler fought forhis life against the naked flesh of the other, against the distortedface that snapped and bit like
the muzzle of a wolf, while all the timehe heard that fearful, inarticulate note of blood-hunger at his ear.The Canadian's clenched hands crushed whatever they fell upon as ifmailed with metal; the fingers were like tearing tongs that could notbe loosed. It was a frightful combat, hideous from its inequality, likethe battle of a man against a maddened beast whose teeth tore and whoseclaws ripped, whose every move was irresistible. And so it was overshortly.

  Poleon rose and ran to the fallen girl, leaving behind him a huddledand twisted likeness of a man. He picked her up tenderly, moaning andcrooning; but as her limp head lolled back, throwing her pale, blindfeatures up to the heavens, he began to cry, this time like a woman.Tears fell from his eyes, burning tears, the agony of which seared hissoul. He laid her carefully beside the water's edge, and, holding herhead and shoulders in the crook of his left arm, he wet his right handand bathed her face, crouching over her, half nude, dripping with thesweat of his great labors, a tender, palpitating figure of bronzedmuscle and sinew, with all his fury and hate replaced by apprehensionand pity. The short moments that he worked with her were ages to him,but she revived beneath his ministrations, and her first frightenedlook of consciousness was changed to a melting smile.

  "W-what happened, Poleon?" she said. "I was afraid!"

  He stood up to his full height, shaking, and weak as the water thatdripped from him, the very bones in him dissolved. For the first timehe uttered words.

  "T'ank God, ba gosh!" and ran his hand up over his wet face.

  "Where is he?" She started to her knees affrightedly; then, seeing thetwisted, sprawling figure beyond, began to shudder. "He--he's dead?"

  "I don' know," said Poleon, carelessly. "You feel it purty good now,eh, w'at?"

  "Yes--I--he struck me!" The remembrance of what had occurred surgedover her, and she buried her face in her hands. "Oh, Poleon! Poleon! Hewas a dreadful man."

  "He don' trouble you no more."

  "He tried--he--Ugh! I--I'm glad you did it!" She broke down, tremblingat her escape, until her selfishness smote her, and she was up andbeside him on the instant. "Are you hurt? Oh, I never thought of that.You must be wounded!"

  The Frenchman felt himself over, and looked down at his limbs for thefirst time, "No! I guess not," he said, at which Necia noticed hismeagre attire, and simultaneously he became conscious of it. He fellaway a pace, casting his eyes over the river for his canoe, which wasnow a speck in the distance.

  "Ba gosh! I'm hell of a t'ing for lookin' at," he said. "I'm paddlehard--dat's w'y. Sacre! how I sweat!" He hitched nervously at the bandof his overalls, while Necia answered:

  "That's all right, Poleon." Then, without warning, her face froze withmingled repulsion and wonder. "Look! Look!" she whispered, pointingpast him.

  Runnion was moving slowly, crawling painfully into a sitting posture,uplifting a terribly mutilated face, dazed and half conscious, gropingfor possession of his wits. He saw them, and grimaced frightfully,cowering and cringing.

  Poleon felt the girl's hand upon his arm, and heard her crying in ahard, sharp voice:

  "He needs killing! Put him away!"

  He stared down at his gentle Necia, and saw the loathing in her faceand the look of strange ferocity as she met his eyes boldly.

  "You don't know what he--what he did," she said, through her shutteeth. "He--" But the man waited to hear no more.

  Runnion saw him coming, and scrambled frantically to all-fours, thengot on his feet and staggered down the bar. As Poleon overtook him, hecried out piteously, a shrill scream of terror, and, falling to hisknees, grovelled and debased himself like a foul cripple at fear of thelash. His agony dispelled the savage taint of Alluna's aboriginaltraining in Necia, and the pure white blood of her ancestors cried out:

  "Poleon, Poleon! Not that!" She hurried after him to where he pausedabove the wretch waiting for her. "You mustn't!" she said. "That wouldbe murder, and--and--it's all over now."

  The Frenchman looked at her wonderingly, not comprehending this suddenleniency.

  "Let him alone; you've nearly killed him; that's enough." WhereatRunnion, broken in body and spirit, began to beg for his life.

  "Wat's dat you say jus' now?" Doret asked the girl. "Was dat de truthfor sure w'at you speak?"

  "Yes, but you've done your work. Don't touch him again."

  He hesitated, and Runnion, quick to observe it, added his entreaty tohers.

  "I'm beaten, Doret. You broke me to pieces. I need help--I--I'm hurt."

  "W'at you 'spec' I do wit' 'im?" the Canadian asked, and she answered:

  "I suppose we'll have to take him where he can get assistance."

  "Dat skiff ain' carry all free of us."

  "I'll stay here," groaned the frightened man. "I'll wait for a steamerto pick me up, but for God's sake don't touch me again!"

  Poleon looked him over carefully, and made up his mind that the man wasmore injured in spirit than in body, for, outside of his batteredmuscles, he showed no fatal symptoms. Although the voyageur was slowerto anger than a child, a grudge never died in him, and his simple,self-taught creed knew no forgiveness for such men as Runnion,cherished no mercy for preying men or beasts. He glanced towards thewooded shores a stone's-throw above, then back at the coward he hadbeaten and whose life was forfeit under the code. There was a queerlight in his eyes.

  "Leave him here, Poleon. We'll go away, you and I, in the canoe, andthe first boat will pick him up. Come." Necia tugged at his wrist forfear she might not prevail; but he was bent on brushing away a handfulof hungry mosquitoes which, warmed by the growing day, had ventured outon the river. His face became wrinkled and set.

  "Bien!" he grunted. "We lef 'im here, biccause dere ain't 'nough roomin de batteau, eh? All right! Dat's good t'ing; but he's seeck man, somebbe I feex it him nice place for stop till dem boats come."

  "Yes, yes! Leave me here. I'll make it through all right," beggedRunnion.

  "Better you camp yonder on de point, w'ere you can see dose steamboatw'en she comes 'roun' de ben'. Dis is bad place." He indicated thethicket, a quarter of a mile above which ran out almost to the cutbank. "Come! I help you get feex."

  Runnion shrank from his proffered assistance half fearfully, but,reassured, allowed the Frenchman to help him towards the shore.

  "We tell it de first boat 'bout you, an' dey pick you up. You waithere, Necia."

  The girl watched her rescuer guide Runnion up to the level of thewoods, then disappear with him in the firs, and was relieved to see thetwo emerge upon the river-bank again farther on, for she had feared foran instant that Poleon might forget. There seemed to be no danger,however, for he was crashing through the brush in advance of the other,who followed laboriously. Once Runnion gained the high point, he wouldbe able to command a view of both reaches of the river, and could makesignals to attract the first steamboat that chanced to come along.Without doubt a craft of some sort would pass from one direction or theother by to-morrow at latest, or, if not, she and Poleon could sendback succor to him from the first habitation they encountered. The twomen disappeared again, and her fears had begun to prey on her a secondtime when she beheld the big Canadian returning. He was hurrying a bit,apparently to be rid of the mosquitoes that swarmed about him; and shemarked that, in addition to whipping himself with a handful ofblueberry bushes, he wore Runnion's coat to protect his shoulders.

  "Woof! Dose skeeter bug is hongry," he cried. "Let's we pass on deriver queeck."

  "You didn't touch him again?"

  "No, no. I'm t'rough wit' 'im."

  She was only too eager to be away from the spot, and an instant laterthey were afloat in the Peterborough.

  "Dis nice batteau," Poleon remarked, critically. "I mak' it go fas',"and began to row swiftly, seeking the breeze of the open river in whichto shake off the horde of stinging pests that had risen with the sun."I come 'way queeck wit'out t'inkin' 'bout gun or skeeter net ornot'in'. Runnion she's len' me dis coat, so mebbe I don' look so worselak' I do jus' now, eh?"

  "How did
you leave him? Is he badly injured?"

  "No, I bus' it up on de face an' de rib, but she's feelin' good now.Yes. I'm leave 'im nice place for stop an' wait on desteamboat--plaintee spruce bough for set on."

  She began to shudder again, and, sensitive to her every motion, heasked, solicitously, if she were sick, but she shook her head.

  "I--I--was thinking what--supposing you hadn't come? Oh, Poleon! youdon't know what you saved me from." She leaned forward and laid a tiny,grateful hand on the huge brown paw that rested on his oar. "I wonderif I can ever forget?"

  She noted that they were running with the current, and inquired:

  "Where are we going?"

  "Wal, I can't pull dis boat 'gainst dat current, so I guess we pass ontill I fin' my shirt, den bimebye we pick it up some steamboat an' gohome."

  Five miles below his quick eye detected his half-submerged "bark"lodged beneath some overhanging firs which, from the water's action,had fallen forward into the stream, and by rare good-fortune it wasstill upright, although awash. He towed it to the next sand-bar, wherehe wrung out and donned his shirt, then tipped the water from thesmaller craft, and, making it fast astern of the Peterborough, set outagain. Towards noon they came in sight of a little stern-wheeled craftthat puffed and pattered manfully against the sweeping current, hidingbehind the points and bars and following the slackest water.

  "It's the Mission, boat!" cried Necia. "It's the Mission boat! FatherBarnum will be aboard."

  She waved her arms madly and mingled her voice with Poleon's until ablack-robed figure appeared beside the pilot-house.

  "Father Barnum!" she screamed, and, recognizing her, he signalled back.

  Soon they were alongside, and a pair of Siwash deckhands lifted Neciaaboard, Doret following after, the painter of the Peterborough in histeeth. He dragged both canoes out of the boiling tide, and laid thembottom up on the forward deck, then climbed the narrow little stairs tofind Necia in the arms of a benignant, white-haired priest, thebest-beloved man on the Yukon, who broke away from the girl to greetthe Frenchman, his kind face alight with astonishment.

  "What is all this I hear? Slowly, Doret, slowly! My little girl istalking too furiously for these poor old wits to follow. I can'tunderstand; I am amazed. What is this tale?"

  Together they told him, while his blue eyes now opened wide withwonder, now grew soft with pity, then blazed with indignation. Whenthey had finished he laid his hand upon Doret's shoulder.

  "My son, I thank God for your good body and your clean heart. You savedour Necia, and you will be rewarded. As to this--this--man Runnion, wemust find him, and he must be sent out of the country; this new, cleanland of ours is no place for such as he. You will be our pilot, Poleon,and guide us to the spot."

  It required some pressure to persuade the Frenchman, but at last heconsented; and as the afternoon drew to a close the little steamboatcame squattering and wheezing up to the bar where Runnion had built hisfire that morning, and a long, shrill blast summoned him from the pointabove. When he did not appear the priest took Poleon and hisround-faced, silent crew of two and went up the bank, but they found nosign of the crippled man, only a few rags, a trampled patch of brush atthe forest's edge, and--that was all. The springy moss showed no trail;the thicket gave no answer to their cries, although they spent an hourin a scattered search and sounded the steamboat's whistle again andagain.

  "He's try for walk it back to camp," said Doret. "Mebbe he ain' hurt somuch, after all."

  "You must be right," said Father Barnum. "We will keep the steamerclose to this shore, so that he can hail us when we overtake him."

  And so they resumed their toilsome trip; but mile after mile fellbehind them, and still no voice came from the woods, no figure hailedthem. Doret, inscrutable and silent, lounged against the pilot-housesmoking innumerable cigarettes, which he rolled from squares ofnewspaper, his keen eyes apparently scanning every foot of their slowway; but when night fell, at last, and the bank faded from sight, hetossed the last butt overboard, smiled grimly into the darkness, andwent below.