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<hr />

<p class="bold2">THE LONG PATROL</p>

<hr class="smler" />

<p class="bold">H. A. CODY</p>

<hr />

<h1><i>THE LONG PATROL</i></h1>

<p class="bold"><i>A Tale of the Mounted Police</i></p>

<p class="bold space-above">BY</p>

<p class="bold2">H. A. CODY</p>

<p class="bold">AUTHOR OF "THE FRONTIERSMAN,"<br />"THE FOURTH WATCH," ETC.</p>

<div class="center space-above"><img src="https://brian.carnell.com/wiki/_media/etext:h:ha-cody-logo.jpg" alt="logo" /></div>

<p class="bold space-above">HODDER &amp; STOUGHTON<br />NEW YORK<br />GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY</p>

<hr />

<p class="center space-above">Copyright, 1912,<br />By George H. Doran Company</p>

<hr />

<div class="box"><p><span class="smcap">To that noble body of men, The Royal North West Mounted Police,
this book is affectionately dedicated by one, who for several years
lived among them and shared their hospitality in the far-flung
Canadian Northland.</span></p></div>

<hr />

<h2>CONTENTS</h2>

<table summary="CONTENTS">
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2" class="left"><small>CHAPTER</small></td>
    <td><small>PAGE</small></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>I</td>
    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Unleashed</span></td>
    <td style="vertical-align: bottom"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>II</td>
    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Terror of the Mountains</span></td>
    <td style="vertical-align: bottom"><a href="#Page_10">10</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>III</td>
    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">A Child in the Midst</span></td>
    <td style="vertical-align: bottom"><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>IV</td>
    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Shadowing Horseman</span></td>
    <td style="vertical-align: bottom"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>V</td>
    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Fur Trader's Store</span></td>
    <td style="vertical-align: bottom"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>VI</td>
    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Den of Plotters</span></td>
    <td style="vertical-align: bottom"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>VII</td>
    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Buckskin Dan</span></td>
    <td style="vertical-align: bottom"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>VIII</td>
    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Intruder</span></td>
    <td style="vertical-align: bottom"><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>IX</td>
    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Undercurrents</span></td>
    <td style="vertical-align: bottom"><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>X</td>
    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Subtle Ways</span></td>
    <td style="vertical-align: bottom"><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>XI</td>
    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Capture</span></td>
    <td style="vertical-align: bottom"><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>XII</td>
    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Links of Steel</span></td>
    <td style="vertical-align: bottom"><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>XIII</td>
    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Trailing Serpent</span></td>
    <td style="vertical-align: bottom"><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>XIV</td>
    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">In the Deep of the Night</span></td>
    <td style="vertical-align: bottom"><a href="#Page_126">126</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>XV</td>
    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">A Cry Across the Water</span></td>
    <td style="vertical-align: bottom"><a href="#Page_135">135</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>XVI</td>
    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Signal Fire</span></td>
    <td style="vertical-align: bottom"><a href="#Page_143">143</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>XVII</td>
    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">In Pursuit</span></td>
    <td style="vertical-align: bottom"><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>XVIII</td>
    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Cruel Trail</span></td>
    <td style="vertical-align: bottom"><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>XIX</td>
    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Venom of Hatred</span></td>
    <td style="vertical-align: bottom"><a href="#Page_169">169</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>XX</td>
    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Out of the Depths</span></td>
    <td style="vertical-align: bottom"><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>XXI</td>
    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Strategy</span></td>
    <td style="vertical-align: bottom"><a href="#Page_188">188</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>XXII</td>
    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">At Bay</span></td>
    <td style="vertical-align: bottom"><a href="#Page_199">199</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>XXIII</td>
    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Haven</span></td>
    <td style="vertical-align: bottom"><a href="#Page_210">210</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>XXIV</td>
    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Mediator</span></td>
    <td style="vertical-align: bottom"><a href="#Page_222">222</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>XXV</td>
    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Heart of a Woman</span></td>
    <td style="vertical-align: bottom"><a href="#Page_232">232</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>XXVI</td>
    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Within the Deep Shadow</span></td>
    <td style="vertical-align: bottom"><a href="#Page_245">245</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>XXVII</td>
    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Cost</span></td>
    <td style="vertical-align: bottom"><a href="#Page_255">255</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>XXVIII</td>
    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">The Lifted Veil</span></td>
    <td style="vertical-align: bottom"><a href="#Page_263">263</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>XXIX</td>
    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Strength From the Hills</span></td>
    <td style="vertical-align: bottom"><a href="#Page_275">275</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>XXX</td>
    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Upholding the Law</span></td>
    <td style="vertical-align: bottom"><a href="#Page_286">286</a></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>XXXI</td>
    <td class="left">&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="smcap">Old Trails and New</span></td>
    <td style="vertical-align: bottom"><a href="#Page_300">300</a></td>
  </tr>
</table>

<hr />

<p class="bold2">THE LONG PATROL</p>

<hr />

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p>

<p class="bold2">THE LONG PATROL</p>

<h2><span>CHAPTER I</span> <span class="smaller">UNLEASHED</span></h2>

<p>"Is Grey&mdash;Norman Grey&mdash;here?"</p>

<p>The Orderly paused on the threshold and looked around the room.</p>

<p>"Over there," replied a constable, jerking his thumb to the left, "in
the corner."</p>

<p>At once the Orderly strode forward to the side of a young man leaning
against the Canteen bar.</p>

<p>"Say, Grey, the O. C. wants you."</p>

<p>At these words the man addressed straightened himself up to his full
height of six feet with a sudden jerk, while his dark piercing eyes
flashed questioningly from beneath the broad brim of his Stetson hat. A
deep silence now pervaded the room; the poker chips ceased their rattle;
the rustling of the newspapers stopped; the man behind the bar stayed
his hand in the act of pouring a glass of ginger beer, and even pipes
were allowed to go out.</p>

<p>It was the quiet after supper hour in the Big Glen Barracks of the "X"
Division of the North West Mounted Police, in the far-flung Northern
Yukon <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>Territory, and the work of the day was done. The few prisoners
had been marched silently back to their lonely cells in the stout log
guard room; the flag had fluttered slowly down from its tall staff in
the centre of the big Square; the bugle had rent the air with its
quivering notes, and the guards had been changed. Everything had been
done speedily and systematically. It was the daily routine. Each man
knew his duty, and did it.</p>

<p>The Canteen was the regular place of meeting, and here a score of
constables and corporals, tested guardians of a lone land, were
gathered, to drink the customary glass of ale or beer, read the
newspapers, discuss the affairs of the day, and play a few friendly
games of cards. The click of billiard balls in the adjoining room could
be distinctly heard, whilst from the open door of the Sergeants' Mess
came the sweet strains of a violin.</p>

<p>"Where's the O. C. now? In the office?" It was Grey's voice which broke
the silence as he looked hard at the Orderly.</p>

<p>"No, he's in his house. You had better hustle."</p>

<p>Grey glanced down at his clothes. He was dressed as he had come off
guard of the prisoners. A belt filled with cartridges encircled his
waist, and his revolver sheathed in its leathern holster hung at his
hip. His appearance at that moment was sufficient to win both respect
and admiration from the most indifferent. Of this his companions were
not thinking, but of that summons to meet the Commanding Officer. Well
did they know the startling news which was agitating this northern town,
causing strong men's eyes to moisten, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> mothers to clasp their
children closer in their arms. Had not prominent citizens hurried in and
out of the O. C.'s office all the afternoon, and did not the air hang
heavy with expectancy as to what move would be made and who would be
chosen for the difficult undertaking? Now it was no longer uncertain.
Grey was the first to be called, and all realised that the choice had
been a good one.</p>

<p>"Grey's got a difficult job ahead of him," remarked a tall, slim
constable after the former had left the room.</p>

<p>"He's the man for it, though," replied another, deliberately sipping his
beer.</p>

<p>"He'll do the job if anyone can, for he fears neither man nor devil.
Don't you remember how he stood up before 'Twisty' Parker and his gang
in Big Gulch Road House, cowed the whole bunch, and got his man?"</p>

<p>"Indeed I do, but that was nothing to the way he ran down "One-eyed"
Henry, the Swede, who murdered his partner at Five Fingers. He walked
right up to the revolver's point when it was spitting fire like hell,
knocked the Swede down and took him alive. The murderer afterwards
acknowledged that it was Grey's coolness, and the terrible gleam of
determination in his eyes which unnerved him and made his hand shake as
if he had the palsy."</p>

<p>Grey in the meantime had crossed the Barracks Square, and was admitted
by a quiet, passionless-eyed Jap into the presence of his Commanding
Officer. Giving the customary salute he stood at attention, and awaited
orders.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p><p>Major Sterling was sitting at his desk when Grey entered, with his eyes
fixed upon a map lying before him. Pacing up and down the room was a
small, middle-aged man whose agony of face and excited manner plainly
bespoke the agitated state of his mind.</p>

<p>"Major, find my boy," he was saying. "Spare no pains or money in your
efforts to run those villains down. They hate me, and have sworn to have
revenge. They demand twenty thousand dollars. Think of it, twenty
thousand dollars! They threaten the life of my child if it's not paid!
Oh, God, help me! I can't pay it, and I won't. But I want my boy, my
only child, Donnie. Major, for the sake of a heart-broken father and
mother; for the honour of this town, and for the welfare of humanity,
capture those scoundrels and save my boy."</p>

<p>In reply to this passionate appeal the Major swung around in his chair
and faced the troubled man.</p>

<p>"Mr. Farwell," he began, "the best answer I can give you stands there in
the person of Constable Grey. Leave the matter to us. We will do the
best we can."</p>

<p>"Thank you, sir; oh, thank you," cried Mr. Farwell, seizing the Major's
hand and wringing it vehemently. "I know you will do what you can. I
shall go now, but you will keep me informed, will you not?"</p>

<p>"Yes," replied the Major, rising and opening the door. "You shall be
kept acquainted with every move. Remember, Mr. Farwell, I am a father as
well as an officer, and what more can I say?"</p>

<p>When the door had closed behind his visitor the Major returned to his
desk, and remained for a while lost in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> thought. He was a stern man
outwardly, and ruled with a firm hand. Unbending in the line of duty he
combined rigid discipline with discriminating justice. Neither position,
money, nor threats availed in the slightest degree to swerve him one
hair's breadth from a purpose he knew to be right. Major Sterling was an
autocrat on this ragged edge of civilisation, and yet an autocrat whose
every heart beat was for the honour of his country and for the welfare
of the people committed to his charge. Relentless as a sleuth hound in
crushing down crime and tyranny he was feared and respected by both
whites and Indians alike.</p>

<p>"Grey," he at length remarked, turning toward the constable and
motioning him to a chair, "sit down; we've important business on
to-night."</p>

<p>The Major's voice had lost much of its old-time sternness, and Grey was
more than astonished at this unexpected order. Never before had he taken
a seat in the presence of his Superior Officer. To do so was a severe
breach of discipline. He advanced a step, and hesitated.</p>

<p>"This chair, Grey," and a slight smile illumined the Major's face as he
noted his subordinate's embarrassment. "There, that's better," he
continued, turning his attention once again to the map lying on his
desk. With a pencil in his hand he traced a course from Big Glen out
over the land away eastward toward the Rocky Mountains. At times he
paused, and his brow knitted in perplexity. At length, however, the
pencil rested upon a spot where a crooked stream was marked upon the
map. Everything else was a complete blank, no name<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> of town or village
appearing. Here the Major made a small circle, and wrote over it the one
word "Hishu."</p>

<p>"See, Grey," and he held up the map, "I want you to go there."</p>

<p>The constable started at these words, and glanced keenly at the pencil
mark. His interest now was thoroughly aroused. For years that region had
a strange fascination for his daring spirit. Indians had related
marvellous tales of what the place contained: rivers foaming, rushing,
and plunging into dark mysterious depths; monsters living in the
mountains, their roars shaking the earth, and belching fire and rocks
from their terrible mouths. There were tribes, too, so they said,
horrible and bloodthirsty, with hair, filled with knives, hanging to
their waists. At times the Indians about Big Glen had come trembling to
the Police for protection. Those tribes from their mountain fastnesses,
so they believed, were about to sweep down and wipe them out of
existence. The Police had always succeeded, however, in allaying their
fears, and upon investigation found the trouble generally started in the
fervid brain of the useless Medicine Man.</p>

<p>So the Major was to send him there. Grey could hardly believe his ears.
Into that region shrouded in mystery, like the shadow of death! What was
the use of it?</p>

<p>"How soon can you get ready, Grey?" The Major was speaking as if certain
of his line of action. There was no sign of doubt in his words.</p>

<p>"I can start at once, sir," the constable replied.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> "That is, as soon as
I make ready. But do you think, sir, they would flee to a place like
that?"</p>

<p>"Not if they knew how much I know," and the Major gave a peculiar little
laugh.</p>

<p>"But why should they go there, sir? They must have heard about that
place, and what a&mdash;"</p>

<p>"Look here, Grey," interrupted the Major, "I've had my eyes and ears
open to that region for some time now. I've heard all those Indian
stories, and believe them to be so many fairy tales, all purely
imagination. I have lately received information, which I think is
reliable, that certain men have crossed the mountains from the East, and
are now prospecting up Hishu Creek. They have a small settlement at its
mouth near the river. A notorious character, Siwash Bill by name, has a
trading store there, and I believe him to be the ringleader of the gang
who kidnapped that child. Prospectors on the Mackenzie River side of the
mountains carried this news to Edmonton, which was forwarded to me only
last week. I intended to send a man there shortly to investigate, but
this unexpected occurrence demands immediate action."</p>

<p>Thus for an hour officer and subordinate sat and talked in the deepening
twilight. When at length the latter rose to go, the Major reached
forward and drew from a pigeon hole in the desk a small slip of paper.</p>

<p>"Wait a minute, Grey," he commanded. "I find that your time will be up
two weeks from to-day."</p>

<p>"Yes, sir."</p>

<p>"And you intend to leave the Force then?"</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p><p>"Yes, sir."</p>

<p>"And you don't mind being sent out on this business at the end of your
time?"</p>

<p>"No, sir."</p>

<p>"Well said. I'll remember that. Good night, Grey, and God be with you."</p>

<p>Slowly the constable walked back across the Square toward the Canteen.
His Commanding Officer's parting words touched him. He realised on this
night as never before what a sympathetic heart beat beneath the Major's
cold exterior. He was human after all, and cared for his men. What a
change, too, he thought, to be out of the Force&mdash;to be free! And yet,
why should he leave? Why should he not "take on again"? What was there
for him in life? Where should he go? What was there to do? He could go
home, but what was home without her? He paused, and bared his head. The
evening breeze cooled his hot brow, and played with his wealth of dark
hair. Above him shone the stars&mdash;their glory dimmed by the long northern
twilight. There was the pole star steady as of yore. He remembered the
night they had last looked at it together by the garden gate among the
flowers. How beautiful she was then in all her virgin purity! That was
six years ago&mdash;and where was she now? Six years, and not a trace of her
since!</p>

<p>"Star of heaven," he murmured, "where is she to-night? Where is my long
lost darling? Guide me, oh, lead me, to her side!"</p>

<p>The bugle sounded "Lights out," and soon all was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> in silence in the Big
Glen Barracks. Major Sterling still sat at his desk, studying the map
before him, and occasionally glancing at several closely-written papers
lying near. From the stable at one corner of the Square Norman Grey led
forth a jet-black horse, and stood for a minute stroking her glossy
neck. There was no one to bid him farewell, no one to grip his hand and
speed him on his way. A slight sarcastic laugh escaped his lips as he
sprang lightly into the saddle and headed Blackbird for the open road.
He was going out alone, unnoticed. But he would return&mdash;and what then?
Again he smiled, settled himself firmly in the saddle, and gave one word
to Blackbird. Then the ring of steel-shod hoofs sounded along the
gravelled way as horse and rider sped through the night, out of the
Barracks Square, out of the little straggling town, and out upon a great
lone trail stretching dim and uncertain beyond the farthest bounds of
civilization.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p>

<h2><span>CHAPTER II</span> <span class="smaller">THE TERROR OF THE MOUNTAINS</span></h2>

<p>The long trail wound and twisted far ahead, shimmering faintly in the
light of the westering sun. Miles and miles of wild bunch grass, sage
brush, and desolate sand met the eye, flanked on either side by high
mountain ranges.</p>

<p>"Good Lord, what a trail!" muttered Norman Grey, regaining his seat with
difficulty as Blackbird plunged her right foot into a concealed gopher
hole. "Will this cursed valley never end? It's getting worse all the
time."</p>

<p>Almost a week had now passed since he had swung away from Big Glen.
Almost a week, and yet how much that brief period of six days contained.
What desolate regions he had traversed, what streams forded, and what
lonely nights he had spent upon the cold hard ground beneath the starry
canopy of heaven. Thrice had he met Indians encamped along the way.
Friendly were they, and had provided him with a liberal supply of tender
moose meat. A mighty leveller is the northern trail. Here rank, title,
creed and race fade into absurd insignificance. Here all useless
appendages are swept aside. Here each stands for what he is, and his
sole worth lies in himself. And here, too, in a region so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> vast, where
the loneliness mocks and appals, the sight of a human face, though dark
and uncouth, thrills the heart with a sweet gladness.</p>

<p>These children of the wandering foot looked with admiration upon the
pale-faced stranger. They conversed with him in broken English, and
slowly shook their heads when Grey pointed away to the left and
mentioned the word "Hishu." As he started to leave the camp an Indian
woman, old and scrawny, had laid her long, slim fingers upon the pommel
of the saddle and looked up anxiously into his face.</p>

<p>"No, no, Hishu!" she cried, waving her left hand to and fro. "Bad, bad,
ugh!"</p>

<p>So impressed was Grey by her earnestness and vehement manner that a
foreboding chill smote his heart, and the reins dropped from his hand
upon Blackbird's neck.</p>

<p>"Me no savvey. What you mean?" he demanded.</p>

<p>More emphatic now than ever did the unkempt creature become. She tried
to explain herself, but her knowledge of the English language was
slight, and her words developed into a torrent of unintelligible jargon.
Seeing she was making but little impression upon the rider she suddenly
seized the bridle with both hands, wheeled Blackbird sharply about, and
headed her down the trail toward Big Glen.</p>

<p>"Go, go dat way," she cried. "No come back! No, no, Hishu!"</p>

<p>A slight smile of pity flitted across Grey's face at this woman's
peculiar action. The momentary feeling of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> awe had vanished. He
remembered how the Indians in the vicinity of Big Glen feared and
shunned the Hishu region. No doubt these were of the same tribe, and
believed the wild tales.</p>

<p>Two days had passed since then, and try as he might he could not banish
that incident from his mind. It came to him now late this afternoon as
Blackbird carefully picked her way among the innumerable gopher holes.
The whole region was conducive to deep reflection. Sombre stood the
rock-ribbed mountains. Silent throbbed the moistless air. Iron-grey
stretched the sunburnt valley. To the lone rider crouched in his saddle
the very atmosphere seemed to pulse with undercurrents of mystic
forebodings. Hundreds of miles was he from civilisation, thousands of
miles from home, a mere speck crawling over an execrable trail. What did
it all amount to anyway? he asked himself time and time again. What had
he gained during those five years of service in the Force? He was no
nearer to her now than ever. What hopes had thrilled his heart when
first he had entered upon his world-wide quest. He would find her, oh,
yes. The world was large, he knew, but love would make it small. And
this was the end&mdash;oblivion&mdash;merely for the sake of a child.</p>

<p>Presently Blackbird paused with a sharp jerk, causing Grey to look
quickly up. The cause was at once apparent, for rammed across the trail
was a long ragged ditch about three feet wide and four deep. With
widely-extended nostrils and flashing eyes Blackbird had planted her
forefeet close to the edge, and stood looking <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>anxiously down into the
excavation. On every side and far ahead stretched a chaotic maze of
trenches. Some were short and narrow, while others were deep, and rods
in length. This Grey knew to be the work of hungry bears in search of
fat and toothsome gophers.</p>

<p>"Heavens, what a mess!" he exclaimed, as his eyes scanned the scene.
"Grizzlies, I believe! There must be an army of them in this place. I
only hope they've had their supper by this time, and will leave us
alone. But if they do come they will receive a warm welcome," and he
laid his hand upon the smooth dark barrel of his comforting rifle. "They
will be flesh and blood, anyway, things I can see, and not those
horrible unseen devils which have been torturing me the whole afternoon.
Come on, you swine of the mountains!" he cried. "I fear you not. I'll
send more fiery demons into your tough hides than the Master did long
ago into the whole Gadarean herd." Grey was himself once more. The
presence of danger affected him like a tonic. He even laughed at his
morbid fears as he reined Blackbird to the left, and soothed her
restless mettle with words of encouragement.</p>

<p>Slowly, very slowly the noble animal picked her way between the
innumerable pitfalls. She was calm now. The spirit of the master was
hers, and all fear was banished. For over an hour they moved steadily
forward, and at length gained firmer ground where the earth was not
disturbed. The sun was sinking behind a mountain peak as they left the
valley and entered upon a deep ravine. The ascent was gradual, and at
times the trail<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> hung over high wooded banks. Up and up they moved
through dark battalions of pine, spruce and fir. It was a weird place,
and Grey breathed a sigh of relief when at length the summit was
attained. Here he dismounted, tied Blackbird, and climbed far up into a
large tree, towering high above its fellows. From this lofty position he
was enabled to obtain an excellent view of the surrounding country. Back
to the right he saw the valley over which they had lately painfully
travelled, while ahead, and somewhat to the left, a river was to be seen
lying like a long silver thread athwart the dusky landscape.</p>

<p>"It must be the Hishu," Grey muttered, as his eyes followed it away
northward. "The place I'm bound for is, no doubt, somewhere over there.
Should reach it to-morrow, and what then? Oh, well, I'm not going to
worry about that now. It will soon be dark, and I must find a good
camping spot. Down by the river is a likely place where those trees rise
like millions of pointed spears. There should be grass for Blackbird
down there on the level."</p>

<p>Leaving his lofty perch he descended the tree, unfastened Blackbird, and
sprang into the saddle. Down the hill they slowly moved, the trail&mdash;if
it could be called a trail&mdash;becoming more difficult all the time. At
length they reached a hollow through which a little brook gurgled on its
way to the river. Grey looked anxiously up and down, hoping to find a
reach of wild meadow grass for the horse.</p>

<p>"Guess we'll have to go farther, lady," he remarked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> "We must get you
some supper, and there's nothing here."</p>

<p>Beyond the brook the trail wound up a steep incline, and curved sharply
to the left around a large and almost perpendicular rock. Blackbird
ascended the slope with an eager pace, for the tang of the wild meadows
down by the river had drifted to her sensitive nostrils. She had just
reached the flinty wall when with a terrified snort she threw high her
head and reeled back upon her haunches. Instinctively Grey clutched the
mane with his right hand to keep from falling and peered keenly forward.
The cause of the disturbance was immediately evident, for coming slowly
around the bend was a huge grizzly bear. The sudden appearance of the
intruders into its domain startled the brute. Its upper lip curled, its
teeth gleamed white, and an angry growl sawed the air. Blackbird was
nearly frantic now. She quivered with excitement. The froth flew from
her champing mouth, and her steel-shod fore hoofs beat sledge hammer
blows upon the ground. With the greatest difficulty Grey managed to hold
her in check with the left hand, while with the right he unslung his
rifle. The bear was nearer now, coming steadily onward, still growling,
and causing Blackbird to back farther and farther down the hill. It was
not Grey's nature to retreat. He had never done so before the face of
man, and he was determined that the first time should not be from a
lumbering bear. The creature's insolence nettled him. It made him angry
to be checked when he was anxious to reach the river. If it was fight
the bear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> was looking for, it had sought the right spot. Quickly Grey
brought the rifle to his shoulder, took aim and fired. The ball struck
the bear a glancing blow upon the head. For an instant only the brute
paused, and then with a terrific roar hurled itself forward like an
avalanche. No longer could human hand control Blackbird's pent-up
terror. She reared on high, and swung about with such a sudden jerk that
Grey was hurled from the saddle and tossed like a ball among the
underbrush. Of his scratches and bruises he thought nothing, for sterner
work demanded his immediate attention. He had no time to regain his
feet, for the bear was coming, and every instant was precious. Kneeling
on the ground he seized the rifle, which had luckily fallen by his side,
threw out the empty shell and drove a loaded one into its place. And
none too soon, for the bear was almost upon him. Its rage was terrible
to behold. Its eyes glowed like living coals, and the hot hissing breath
poured from its gaping mouth like hell fire. With lightning rapidity
Grey thrust the muzzle of his rifle between those gleaming teeth and
fired. A deafening report ensued, and man and beast rolled over in one
confused heap. Grey fully expected to feel the slashing rip of
lance-like claws, and the sickening crunch of closing teeth. He
stretched out his hand for his sheath knife; he would fight to the last;
he would leave marks which would be remembered. But the keen blade was
not needed; the terror of the mountains had made its final charge, had
fought its last fight, and lay<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> there upon the ground a quivering, inert
mass&mdash;dead. Slowly and with difficulty Grey extricated himself and
regained his feet. For a moment he stood and looked upon the fallen
brute.</p>

<p>"Close call that," he commented. "Nearly put me out of business, hey,
old chap? Good Lord, what claws and teeth! But for that lucky shot
they'd've had me torn to ribbons by this time. I'd like to show them to
the Major; he's a great eye for such things."</p>

<p>Blackbird was nowhere to be seen; the wilderness had swallowed her up.
Suddenly Grey realised his position. Night was shutting down, horse
gone, and the region alive with bears. He had settled the account of
one, but there were hundreds more, and they might appear at any moment.
He could not go back over the trail after the horse; that would be
folly. He must reach the river. Picking up his rifle he wiped away the
froth and moisture from the barrel and carefully reloaded it.</p>

<p>He was about to leave the place when he paused and looked at the bear
lying before him.</p>

<p>"Ah, old chap," he exclaimed. "You've made me lose my grub by
frightening Blackbird out of her senses. She's taken my small supply
with her, and what shall I do for supper? You look fat and well liking,
so I think a piece of your carcass will have to serve instead."</p>

<p>Drawing forth his sheath knife he deftly removed a portion of the skin
and cut off a fair sized piece of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> meat from a part he considered the
choicest. Next he sharpened a small stick, and thrust it through the
flesh. This done, he threw it over his shoulder, seized the rifle and
headed for the river.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p>

<h2><span>CHAPTER III</span> <span class="smaller">A CHILD IN THE MIDST</span></h2>

<p>The river Hishu was swift. It raced and swirled between its clay banks.
The water was cold&mdash;icy cold&mdash;for countless small streams from
snow-capped mountains contributed to its volume. It was a fascinating
monster, sinuous, terrible, beautiful. The most dangerous spot on the
whole river was the Klikhausia Rapids. Here the current struck hidden
rocks, which swirled, eddied and boiled down through a flinty channel,
to leap at last foaming and spuming into the steady stream below.
Skilled canoe men could bring their crafts safely through this turbulent
piece of water, but woe speedily overtook the voyager who made the
venture without a thorough knowledge of the place.</p>

<p>Norman Grey sat upon the bank a short distance below the rapids, with
his eyes fixed upon the flowing stream. It held him spellbound by its
mystic music and the clearness of its liquid depths. There beneath the
surface, down among those polished stones, was peace&mdash;a peace and rest
for which he ardently yearned. He might have been a stump for all the
movement he made. A few birds twittered in the jack pines, and a noisy
squirrel scolded from the branch of a nearby tree. But Grey heeded them
not. His rifle was thrown <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>carelessly on the ground by his side. His
buckskin jacket and trousers were covered with dirt, and stained here
and there with fresh blood. Grey was sore and weary. The long ride, the
excitement of the day and the heavy fall from his horse were having
their effect. His whole body ached, and through his left shoulder surged
a numbing pain caused by the contact with the ground. The piece of bear
meat was lying by his side. He had matches, and could soon build a fire
and broil a slice of steak. But his energy had deserted him. He longed
to lie down and rest&mdash;rest forever. His one blanket had gone with
Blackbird. But what did it matter? He was accustomed to the open, and
his buckskin jacket would do instead. Yes, he would sleep, and forget
everything&mdash;bears and all.</p>

<p>Slowly he rose to his feet and began to climb the bank. Scarcely had he
reached the level above ere he gave a start and looked quickly
up-stream. What was that? A shout, a cry of terror, which winged its way
to his ears. He straightened himself up, shaded his eyes with his hand,
and scanned the river. The sun had been down for some time, but the long
northern twilight was still struggling with night, and it was not hard
to discern objects some distance away. As Grey's eyes rested upon the
rapids he beheld a boat&mdash;a frail craft&mdash;go to pieces upon a sunken rock
right in the centre of that swirling death. Then out from the midst of
the roaring mass of tumultuous billows darted a dark object. Rapidly it
was borne down the stream, and as it approached nearer Grey observed a
man clinging<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> frantically with one hand to a fragment of the boat, while
with the other he was clutching the limp form of a little child. Grey
was all alert now. His weariness and pain were gone. His tall gaunt
figure was drawn to its full height, forming a dark silhouette against
the evening sky. The clinging man looked toward the shore. His face was
filled with agony, and twitched convulsively.</p>

<p>"Help! help!" he cried. "This icy water's killing me! I can't hold on
any longer!&mdash;oh&mdash;God!" and with a wild piercing yell he threw up his
hands and sank beneath the surface.</p>

<p>Quicker than words Grey tore off his buckskin jacket, and throwing
discretion to the wind hurled himself into the racing stream. Though a
powerful swimmer he was but a gnat in that terrible current. It seemed
the maddest of folly to attempt a rescue in such a place. The waters
were icy, and his soggy clothes impeded his progress. Why give up his
own life for a vague uncertainty? Why risk all in a hazardous throw? But
a little face&mdash;oh, so white&mdash;gleamed before him, and a curly head of
gold appeared. The sight nerved him almost to superhuman effort. With
lusty sinews and mighty strokes he clove the water like a Titan. He
reached the child, he clutched it, held its head above the surface, and
turned toward the shore. Fortunately the piece of broken boat floated
near. This he grasped with one hand, and the child with the other. No
longer now did he try to stem the stream, but simply allowed himself to
drift. On and on they sped, Grey becoming<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> more numbed all the time.
Often he felt he could endure no longer, that he must give up and sink.
But the sight of that little child, lying so still in his arm, caused
him to grip the wreck more firmly. Only a short time before he had
cherished the idea of rest and peace beneath those same cold waters. Now
all was changed, and, instead of death, life was uppermost in his mind.
Not life for himself alone, but for that helpless form pressed close to
his breast. Oh, for a friendly voice from the shore, and a strong hand
stretched out to lift them from the icy depths. Ere long his brain began
to whirl. He seemed to be battling in the midst of thousands of hideous
serpents. They were coiling about his legs, arms and body. They were
leaping up, trying to tear away the child from his breast, and to loosen
his hold upon the boards. How much longer would they torture him? Would
they soon gain complete possession and bear him down never to rise
again? No, he would fight them. He would conquer. He would beat them
back. They were worse than the grizzly, but he would win. And even as he
made another great determined struggle his feet struck something which
sent a thrill of hope through his heart. Was it merely a delusion? Was
it only a fond fancy of his reeling brain? No, it was true. His feet had
struck a sand-bar, which put out from the shore like a long finger
hidden beneath the surface. Relaxing his grip of the raft, and with the
child in his arms Grey feebly and with much difficulty made his way
through the swirling water. So numb was his body that his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> legs seemed
like two lifeless sticks as he staggered forward. It was all he could do
to reach the shore and climb the bank. Then his strength deserted him.
He trembled and sank upon the hard ground. It was only for a few
seconds, however, for the child lying there needed immediate attention.
Kneeling by his side he peered into the little white face, noticed the
wan, pinched features, the luxuriant curly hair dripping with water, and
the soaked clothes clinging like cerements to his body. "What was such a
lad doing there?" he wondered. That not more than three summers had
passed over his head was quite evident. He was no poor man's child, for
the garments betokened a home of means and loving care above the
ordinary. At his throat a small safety pin was fastened, and as Grey
peered down through the faint and uncertain light he saw engraved there
the one word "Donnie." An exclamation of astonishment escaped his lips.
His eyes were suddenly opened, and he beheld before him Silas Farwell's
little stolen child.</p>

<p>"Fool&mdash;more than fool," he muttered. "To think that I didn't realise it
before. And here I've been cursing my fate ever since that grizzly
unhorsed me, and it was all for a purpose. I begin to see now that
another Hand is having much to do with this affair."</p>

<p>At that instant a shiver shook the child's body. He looked up, began to
cry and to call for his mother.</p>

<p>"Hush, hush, dear," soothed Grey, bending over him. "You shall have your
mother."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p><p>Then the helplessness of his position swept upon him. In a vast
wilderness, leagues from any settlement, and night shutting down. Not a
shred of dry clothing did he have in which to enwrap the child, and not
even a fire. He was numb and chill himself. That he could stand, but not
this delicate lad. "What am I to do?" he groaned. "Is this sweet child
to die here slowly after all? Better to have left him to perish in the
river; it would have been quicker."</p>

<p>Rising to his feet he peered through the gloom, but no sign of human
life could he behold, nothing but the scrubby forest, silent and grim.
He lifted up his voice and called, once, twice, three times, but only a
far-off echo, ghost-like and hollow, sent back its mocking response.
Again he knelt by the side of the child.</p>

<p>"Are you cold, dear?" he asked.</p>

<p>"Ya, cold, cold," and the lad shivered. "I wants my mother. Why doesn't
she tum to her 'ittle boy-boy?"</p>

<p>Grey looked at his own clothes. They were very wet; not a dry stitch
upon him. Then he thought of the buckskin jacket he had thrown off ere
he leaped into the river. He believed there were several dry matches in
one of the pockets. Suppose they had fallen out during his tussle with
the bear! They were his only hope now. The liberal supply he had brought
with him, rolled up in his blanket, had gone with Blackbird. Never
before had he realised the value of a few tiny matches. Now they meant
life or death. He must have them if they were there, and at once.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p><p>"Are you afraid to stay here alone, little one?" he asked. "It will be
only for a short time, and I shall soon come back."</p>

<p>A startled look came into Donnie's face, as reaching out a small hand he
clutched the arm of his rescuer.</p>

<p>"No, no, don't go!" he cried, with tears streaming down his cheeks.
"Take me home. I wants my mother."</p>

<p>"I won't leave you, then," was the reassuring response. "You shall go
along, too."</p>

<p>Stooping down, he lifted the child tenderly in his arms and turned his
face up-stream. Could he make the journey? That was the question. Had he
the strength after his two fearful ordeals to struggle through that
dusky tangled underbrush, where no trail marked the way, and with his
feet stumbling at almost every step? Suppose he should fall and not be
able to rise again? He banished the thought. It was too horrible to be
entertained even for an instant. No, he must not fail. What would the
Major, who had entrusted him with such a sacred commission think? And
how would the Force regard it? "Constable N. Grey, Regiment No. &mdash;&mdash;
lost; supposed to have died on the trail, somewhere between Big Glen and
the river Hishu, while in search of a stolen child." How would words
such as these sound in the laconic Police Report when it appeared the
following year? Would their bones, bleached and white, at last be found
amid those tangled bushes? And the mother, what of her? Would she ever
know of the struggle he had made to save her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>darling child? There came
to him now her white, drawn face. Did not every man in the Barracks know
Mrs. Farwell? She was beautiful, cultured, and a general favourite in
the little social circle of Big Glen. But she was kind to all, and
greeted each constable she met with a pleasant smile. She had spoken to
him once, and congratulated him upon the capture of "One-eyed" Henry,
the Swede. He had never forgotten that, and her sparkling eyes and sunny
face had haunted him for months. For her sake now, at least, he must not
fail. He would save her child. He had taken but a few steps forward when
he stopped short in his tracks. A dark form had suddenly loomed up out
of the night right in front of him. It was an Indian tall and silent,
leaning upon his grounded rifle. For the space of ten heart throbs
neither spoke. Then,</p>

<p>"Who are you," Grey demanded, "and what do you want?"</p>

<p>"You call?" came the calm reply.</p>

<p>"Yes, indeed, I did call. Look you. This child is wet, cold, freezing.
Got in river. See? You savvey cabin&mdash;fire, eh?"</p>

<p>At once the Indian took a step nearer, and peered keenly into the white
man's face.</p>

<p>"Ah, ah," he remarked. "Me savvey. Come."</p>

<p>Turning abruptly he plunged into the thicket of jack pines and cotton
wood trees. He had not gone far, however, ere he paused and looked back.</p>

<p>"Me take bah-bee," he said; "you cally gun, eh?"</p>

<p>But when he reached out his hands Donnie shrank<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> back with a little
sobbing cry, and threw his arms tightly around his preserver's neck.</p>

<p>"Don't want to leave me, little man?" Grey asked, while his heart
thrilled with a new-found joy at the child's confiding action.</p>

<p>"Ya, me tay," whimpered the boy. "You carry baby."</p>

<p>"All right, dear, you shall stay with me as long as I have any strength
left," and he motioned the Indian to advance.</p>

<p>Silently they threaded their way through the chilly night, Grey using
every exertion to keep up with his dusky guide. Donnie was a
considerable weight to him in his weakened condition. Once he felt he
should be forced to relinquish his burden to the Indian, no matter how
badly the child might feel. But the pressure of that little body and the
hand laid so trustingly against his shoulder nerved him to greater
action, and painfully he stumbled forward. After what seemed to Grey to
be an interminable distance, although in reality it was not far, a
bright light suddenly pierced the darkness. It came from a camp fire
directly ahead, around which he observed someone moving. In another
minute the place was reached, and gladly he laid the child down in front
of the cheerful blaze.</p>

<p>It was only a temporary brush camp erected there in the wilderness, but
to Grey no place had ever seemed half so welcome. Seated on a blanket
spread over some fir boughs was an Indian woman with hair, jet black and
straight, falling over not unshapely shoulders.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> Nearby stood a girl of
fifteen years, whose eyes sparkled with curiosity as she turned them
upon the stranger and the little form at his feet. One glance at the
sympathetic faces before him told Grey that he was in the midst of
friends. A few brief words in the rhythmical native tongue passed
between the Indian man and woman, and immediately the rude camp was
converted into a hive of industry. The child was stripped of his wet
clothes, his cold body thoroughly rubbed and then enwrapped in a soft
grey blanket which the girl had brought forth from a mysterious corner
of the camp.</p>

<p>Donnie had no fear of the woman, but sat contentedly on her lap,
alternately watching the blazing fire and the animated face of the young
maiden kneeling by his side. Then, after he had taken some of the
savoury ptarmigan soup which the girl had dipped from a kettle near the
fire, he laid his tired little head against the Indian woman and was
soon fast asleep.</p>

<p>All this Grey noted with much satisfaction as he lay close to the fire
trying to dry his own wet garments. How his heart warmed toward these
dusky waifs as he watched their care of the child. He saw the little
head droop, the eyes close, and observed how gently the Indian woman
laid him down upon the brush bed, and tenderly placed over him a thick
warm blanket. The thoughtfulness and dignity of these people surprised
him. Formerly he had very little use for the natives, and considered
them with a certain degree of pity, mingled with contempt. Most of the
Indians he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> had seen in this northern land were weak, inferior
creatures, fond of hanging about towns and mining camps, and trying to
imitate the ways of the whites. But these were different, and he fell
asleep there on the hard ground wondering if all the Indians in the
Hishu region were of this same superior class.</p>

<p>A cry fell upon his ears, and he awoke with a start. He sat quickly up,
and looked around in a dazed manner. He glanced toward Donnie, and
instantly realised the nature of the trouble. The icy water had done its
work, and he saw the poor little form racked with a terrible cough. The
Indian woman had the boy on her lap, and was rubbing his chest with oil
which was warming near the fire. But still the child cried, stopping
only as the painful, wheezing cough swept upon him.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p>

<h2><span>CHAPTER IV</span> <span class="smaller">THE SHADOWING HORSEMAN</span></h2>

<p>Grey was completely surprised at himself as he leaped to his feet and
hurried to Donnie's side. He could not account for the anxiety which now
filled his heart. Had anyone suggested such a thing a week before he
would have laughed him to scorn. Had the Major sent him in quest of a
horse it would have stirred him about as much as going forth to find a
stolen child. With him sentiment had no place in the undertaking. It was
stern, iron duty, and nothing more. But this sudden interest was
something for which he had not planned. The child sitting there before
him was more than a mere pawn in this game he was playing. It appealed
to his nature by its very helplessness and confiding manner. The
pinched, drawn features, the frail cough-racked body and those large
blue eyes looking so beseechingly up into his rough bearded face sent a
peculiar thrill through his heart.</p>

<p>"What's wrong, old man?" he asked, placing his hand upon the little hot
forehead. "Too much water, eh?"</p>

<p>At once Donnie stretched out his hands, and slipped from the Indian
woman's lap.</p>

<p>"I wants my mother," he wailed. "Take me to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> my&mdash;" His words were cut
short by another fit of coughing, and he stood trembling there, a
pitiable figure of distress. At once Grey reached down, caught the child
in his strong arms, and held him close to his breast.</p>

<p>"Can't you do anything for the boy?" he demanded, turning to the Indian
woman standing near.</p>

<p>The latter slowly shook her head, and spoke a few quick words to her
husband who was stirring the fire. Deliberately straightening himself up
he confronted the constable.</p>

<p>"Can't you do something?" Grey repeated. "Baby sick. You savvey Injun
medicine? You make him well?"</p>

<p>"Me no savvey," was the slow reply. "Me no ketch 'um root. Me notting
here."</p>

<p>"But the child will die! See how he coughs."</p>

<p>"Me no savvey," was all the Indian would say, and Grey realised that no
help could be expected from these natives.</p>

<p>What was he to do? Could he permit the child to die without an effort to
save his life? He had suffered for him already, and would all that he
had done amount to nothing? He thought of Big Glen. Oh, to have him
there, in his mother's tender keeping. But that was out of the question.
Next he thought of the Hishu village. Would he find assistance there?
Would anyone know what to do in such a place? It was not likely, and yet
it was worth trying. He turned to the Indian.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p><p>"You savvey white man over there?" and he pointed away to the left.</p>

<p>"Ah, ah, me savvey 'um," was the reply.</p>

<p>"How far?" Grey demanded.</p>

<p>"White man cabin over dere. Wan sleep? No."</p>

<p>"What, can I get there to-night?"</p>

<p>"Ah, ah. Sun heem come up dere, sun heem go down dere. White man cabin.
You go, eh?"</p>

<p>"Yes, yes, I must," and Grey looked intently at the coughing child.</p>

<p>"You cally bah-bee, eh?"</p>

<p>"Certainly. What else can I do?"</p>

<p>"Bah-bee velly seek. Bah-bee beeg. White man no strong. Bime by stop.
Soon all sam bah-bee."</p>

<p>Too well did Grey realise the force of these quaint words. He was
feeling the effect of his experience in the icy water, and his body
ached. The child, too, was large for his age, and to carry him all day
long over a rough trail was utterly impossible. And yet he was willing
to try even the impossible rather than stay there and see the lad die
without an effort to save his life.</p>

<p>The Indian watched him closely, and, noting his determination, an
expression of satisfaction appeared upon his tawny face.</p>

<p>"White man no squaw," he remarked. "White man all sam beeg chief. Me
help white man."</p>

<p>"What, will you go with me?" and Grey looked his astonishment.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p><p>"Ah, ah. Hishu Sam help white man cally bah-bee."</p>

<p>The eastern sky was flushed with the radiance of the rising sun as
constable and Indian started forth with the little child. The trail,
worn by numerous moccasined feet, wound and twisted for weary miles
through the vast wilderness. Here it skirted and crossed open plains
covered with wild bunch grass and sage brush. There it dipped into deep
valleys where the trees stood thick and grim. At times it circled around
ragged ledges where the foothold was precarious. The sun rose and swung
clear of the tallest mountain peaks. It rode high in the heavens, and
poured its hot beams upon the hurrying wayfarers.</p>

<p>Often Grey's steps faltered as he staggered up some steep incline, and
his feet were sore from contact with snags and sharp stones. Not so the
Indian. He seemed tireless. Light of heel he sped forward with a
rhythmical springing gait. His slightly stooping form, long and lithe
from hips to shoulders, was the very embodiment of physical endurance.
Such strength and grace of movement filled Grey with profound
admiration. Of what avail now was his own special training? He had
excelled in running, jumping and swimming. He could pull an oar with the
strongest, and on the baseball field could tantalise a crack batsman
with cranky balls. He had prided himself upon his prowess, and ever
struggled to be first. But here was one of nature's own children, an
uncouth native, putting him to the blush.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p><p>The Indian insisted upon carrying the boy, and Donnie no longer
objected, but lay quietly in those great strong arms. Instinctively he
felt that the powerful stranger was his friend, and would do him no
harm. Hishu Sam seemed to think nothing of the lad's weight, and when
Grey tried to relieve him of the burden he would always refuse with an
emphatic grunt and a shake of the head. At noon they paused to rest by
the side of a little babbling brook, whereupon the Indian brought forth
a piece of dried salmon, and shared it with his companions. Donnie
hardly touched the food, but Grey ate eagerly, for he was hungry after
the long tramp. He sat on the ground with the boy on his lap, and gently
stroked his curly head. Donnie was feeling somewhat better, and the
cough was not so troublesome. He even smiled, a wan little smile, as
Grey told him a simple story he had heard when a child. The Indian sat
silently near, steadily smoking an old blackened pipe. He, too, was
interested in the lad, and gave a brief grunt of satisfaction as the
child smiled.</p>

<p>"Look here, Sam," said Grey as they were about to resume their journey
and the Indian had risen to his feet, "how much do you want for helping
me out to-day?"</p>

<p>"What you mean?" came the reply. "Me no savvey."</p>

<p>"How much I pay you? How much money you want?"</p>

<p>For a minute the native did not reply. He stood<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> like a statue. Then he
turned his piercing eyes full upon the constable's face.</p>

<p>"Me no tak pay," he almost fiercely rejoined. "No, no, ugh!"</p>

<p>"But why no take pay?" Grey insisted. "You save baby's life. You do much
good."</p>

<p>"No, no, me no tak pay. You savvey Injun bah-bee in camp?"</p>

<p>Grey nodded.</p>

<p>"Wan, two, seex winter mebbe, Injun bah-bee velly seek. Heem no get
well. Me no feex 'um. Me velly seek here," and he placed his hand over
his heart. "Me t'ink bah-bee die. White man, beeg, beeg Chief, heem come
'long. Heem see bah-bee. Heem do all sam dis," and he knelt upon the
ground. "Heem savvey all sam Medicine Man. Heem mak Injun bah-bee well.
Heem no tak monee. Heem good man. No, no, me no tak monee. Me all sam
white man."</p>

<p>"You savvey white man?" the constable asked.</p>

<p>"Ah, ah."</p>

<p>Grey was about to question further when the Indian gave a sudden start,
and pointed to the left. Following the direction of the finger the
constable noticed a man astride a cayuse on the high bank of the river
about two hundred yards away. Whether a white man or an Indian Grey
could not tell, but he appeared to be watching them very closely. This
incident, trifling as it seemed, aroused in Grey a feeling of
apprehension. So intent had he been upon the child that he had almost
forgotten his fears concerning the Hishu region<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> and the characters he
knew had their abode there. Perhaps this was one of them. Anyway it was
as well to hurry forward out of that desolate place before night shut
down.</p>

<p>Hour after hour they plodded steadily forward, their eyes and ears
keenly sensitive to any sound or sight of the strange horseman. Once
only did he reappear. They had paused for a brief rest in a valley, and
to drink of a stream whose water ran icy cold from the mountains, when
he had suddenly darted out from a hill above and peered down upon them.
The Indian had laid his hand upon his rifle, and whispered, "Me feex
'um." But Grey shook his head, and the native had desisted. Although he
felt that the rider was following them for some sinister purpose, it
would not do to enter Hishu as blood-stained travellers. And, besides,
there was the strict command instilled into every new recruit not to
shoot first. "Get your man," was the brief stern order. "If you don't
get him, it means three months' hard, and if you shoot him it is all the
same, with perhaps dismissal tacked on." No, Grey was not going to run
counter to such orders. Anyway, what good would it do? Perhaps after all
this was a harmless horseman, watching them out of mere curiosity.</p>

<p>He thought of these things through that long afternoon. Would the trail
never end? It seemed like a week since they had left the camp. The child
slept much of the time in those tireless dusky arms. Occasionally he
awoke with a cry of fright, and the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>annoying cough would sweep upon
him. He was becoming weaker, Grey could see that, and his heart ached as
he watched the limp, pathetic figure, and the face all too white. "What
must be a mother's love?" he asked himself over and over again. "If this
little lad I have known such a short time appeals to me so strongly, how
must she feel who suffered for his sake, and watched over him for three
years?" At such times his hands would grip hard the rifle, and a scowl
would furrow his brow as he inwardly cursed the villains who had torn
away this sweet, innocent child from his mother's tender keeping.</p>

<p>The sun was swinging low in the heavens as slowly and wearily they at
length toiled up a steep incline and reached the brow of a high hill.
Here the Indian paused, and pointed to the opposite side of the valley
lying snugly below. Grey, following the direction of the outstretched
arm beheld several log buildings, nestling among the trees on the
farther hillside. To the left flowed the Hishu River, glimpses of which
could be easily observed from their high vantage ground.</p>

<p>"Hishu," the Indian quietly remarked. "Ketch 'um bime by."</p>

<p>Grey's heart thrilled as he shaded his eyes and scanned the little
settlement. And this was Hishu, the spot toward which his face had been
turned for weary days. He smiled as he thought of the wild
blood-curdling Indian tales he had heard. What of the savage Indians and
the monsters of the mountains? How tame and commonplace everything
seemed, and Hishu<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> was only that straggling cluster of houses over there
in the distance. It was simply a mining camp, and no doubt all of the
rascals who had kidnapped the child had gone down in the Klikhausia
Rapids. His heart was lighter than it had been for days, and he
descended the hill with a new springing gait. He began to see the end of
his venture, the quiet return to Big Glen, and the child safely restored
to his mother.</p>

<p>The trail was becoming easier now, for numerous feet had worn it smooth.
On both sides of the way signs of woodsmen's axes were visible in the
many stumps dotting the land. Ere long the first house burst upon their
view as they emerged from the forest. It was only a rude log cabin, but
how good it looked to Grey after that long desolate trail. The building
was standing by itself, no other cabin being visible. Of its isolation
he thought nothing then, but only of the shelter and relief he might
find for the child. The door was open, though no one was to be seen.
With the customary freedom of the frontier he gave a loud rap, and
entered, the Indian following with Donnie in his arms. The room was not
large, but clean, while a few rude benches, a couch and one table
adorned the place. In a far corner were several shelves on which stood a
number of black bottles. All this Grey observed at a glance, for
scarcely had they entered ere a curtain was drawn quickly aside, and a
woman stood before them. Grey started back in amazement, and gave vent
to an ejaculation of surprise. Men he had expected to find in Hishu, but
not women. His <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>astonishment was succeeded by a feeling of joy. How
fortunate, he thought, that she is here, whoever she might be. She will
be able to help the boy better than men.</p>

<p>The woman was neatly dressed, of medium height, and at the first glance
fair to look upon, although her face was somewhat pale. Her eyes were
what fascinated the constable. They were cold steel grey, piercing in
their intensity. They were cruel eyes, devoid of the softening grace of
pity. To them tears of sorrow or sympathy seemed unknown. A faint
semblance of a smile flitted across her face as she observed Grey's
unaffected stare. She took a step forward, and then,</p>

<p>"Who are you," she demanded, "and what did you bring that brat here
for?"</p>

<p>If Grey was surprised before he was completely dumbfounded now. He did
not expect this. Presently an idea flashed through his brain. He glanced
again at the bottles, and from them to the woman's face, and then he
understood.</p>

<p>A coarse laugh greeted his embarrassment. She had divined his thoughts,
and it pleased her.</p>

<p>"Don't like the place, greeny, eh?" she sneered. "You needn't stay;
there's the door. But I guess you'll soon get used to it. All the men
here have except one d&mdash; fish, and I'll have Buckskin Dan yet."</p>

<p>At this Grey found his tongue. He knew now what kind of a character he
had to deal with. Her rough talk and heartlessness nettled him.</p>

<p>"I don't want to stay here," he replied, "but you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> might do something
for this sick child. He'll die, otherwise."</p>

<p>"Let him die, then," came the cruel response; "he'll be better off."</p>

<p>"And you won't care for him?" Grey questioned.</p>

<p>"Oh, I'll not turn the brat out. Throw it on the couch there. What's
wrong with him anyway?"</p>

<p>Briefly Grey related the story of the wreck in the rapids, the rescue
from the icy water, and the effect upon the child.</p>

<p>A sudden change passed over the woman's face as she listened to the
tale.</p>

<p>"And you say the men were drowned?" she cried when Grey had finished.</p>

<p>"Yes."</p>

<p>"My God! What will Bill say?"</p>

<p>"Bill who?"</p>

<p>"Siwash Bill. Don't you know him?"</p>

<p>Grey was about to reply in the negative, when he suddenly started, and
stood as if transfixed. The sound of someone singing had reached his
ears. It was a woman's voice, full of unutterable pathos. It sounded
nearer now, and he caught the refrain:</p>

<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<div>"Somewhere, somewhere, beautiful isle of somewhere,</div>
<div>Land of the true where we live anew,</div>
<div>Beautiful isle of somewhere."</div>
</div></div></div>

<p>The singer by this time had reached the door, and the song ceased. She
was a young woman, slight and beautiful, who crossed the threshold,
carrying a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>sunbonnet in one hand and a bunch of wild flowers in the
other. Her eyes glanced for an instant at the bearded stranger standing
in the centre of the room. Then they rested upon the child lying on the
couch and with a cry of surprise and delight she darted forward and
knelt down by his side. Later when she looked inquiringly around Grey
was nowhere to be seen. He had disappeared, and only the woman with the
hard eyes was standing before her.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p>

<h2><span>CHAPTER V</span> <span class="smaller">THE FUR TRADER'S STORE</span></h2>

<p>Grey stumbled rather than walked out of the log cabin. He looked about
for the Indian, but he was nowhere to be seen. The evening breeze fanned
and cooled his flushed face. He wished to get away somewhere. His throat
was dry; he felt he would choke. His brain reeled as he staggered
forward. A trail to the left caught his eye, and along this he tottered.
Madeline there! Madeline in such a den as that! What did it all mean?
Was it only a horrible dream, or was he going mad? Had he been mistaken?
Perhaps it was someone else. No, it was all too real. It was she without
any doubt! Could he ever forget that face, those eyes, that wealth of
dark-brown hair, and the slight girlish figure? It was Madeline, his
long-lost Madeline. He had expected to find her some day, somewhere, but
not here.</p>

<p>He had reached the forest now, and sat down on a log by the side of the
trail. He wished to think, to solve the mystery. Madeline there! Was it
possible? Then thoughts, terrible spectres, surged through his brain.
Why was she there? How could he associate the pure-souled woman as he
had known her with such<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> a life as that? That song, full of intense
pathos, that face, that cry of surprise and joy; they came to him again.
Madeline was there&mdash;only a few rods away, beneath that roof! A great
longing filled his heart. Oh, to go to her, to look into those eyes and
listen to her voice! He rose from the log, and took a step forward. He
would go. He would know the worst at once. But he hesitated. His hand
sought his brow in perplexity. He tried to think, to reason. No, not
to-night. He would rest first, and in the morning, perhaps, it would be
better to go to her.</p>

<p>The bark of a dog aroused him. It made him realise that night was upon
him, and he must have food and shelter. Following the direction of the
sound, ere long he reached a clearing of several acres in extent. All
around he beheld log cabins and frames of numerous tents. Through the
midst of these the trail wound, and along this he moved, watching for
some sign of life. At length he reached a building larger than the rest,
where stood a lean Indian dog which sidled angrily away as Grey
approached. In answer to his knock a gruff voice commanded him to enter.
Pushing open the door he beheld two men seated before a rough deal
table, playing cards. In a corner nearby sat a powerfully-built man,
with a long beard, and wavy hair well streaked with grey. He was calmly
smoking, and watching the game with much interest.</p>

<p>Across one side of the room ran a rough counter, formed of whipsawn
boards, which evidently knew nothing of soap and water. Behind this and
arranged<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> along the wall were all sorts of articles from cheap prints to
tea, tobacco, beads and candy.</p>

<p>The opposite side of the room was lined with goods, useful in bartering
with Indians. Rifles and shot-guns were lying on stands. Sacks of flour,
rice and beans were piled in one corner, while slabs of bacon hung from
the huge ridge-pole overhead. All this Grey intuitively observed as he
stood for an instant near the door.</p>

<p>The players paused in their game, and stared hard at the new-comer,
while the man in the corner forgot to take three regular and deliberate
puffs of his blackened pipe. A visitor was evidently a curiosity at
Hishu.</p>

<p>"Chair, stranger?" remarked one of the players, shoving forward a
three-legged stool with his foot.</p>

<p>"Do you own this cabin?" Grey asked as he accepted the proffered seat.</p>

<p>"Reckon so," was the reply. "Paid, and d&mdash;high, too, for everything
here. Anything I can do for ye, stranger?"</p>

<p>"Yes. I'm dead beat, and almost starved. So if you'll give me a snack of
food and a shake-down for the night it will make a new man of me."</p>

<p>"Sure thing," was the response. "You're welcome to the grub, such as
'tis, but can't say about a shake-down. We're mighty cramped for room
just now. Anyway, we'll see later how things pan out, and maybe we can
do something for ye."</p>

<p>Saying which he turned toward a door at the back<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> of the room, and gave
a short, sharp command in the native tongue.</p>

<p>What he said Grey did not know, but almost immediately an Indian woman
appeared in the doorway. It was not her sudden appearance which arrested
Grey's attention, so much as her strange attitude. Her eyes glowed with
defiance, mingled with fear, while a surly expression shrouded her face,
which exhibited marks of much natural beauty. A glance was sufficient to
show Grey that this was no ordinary, submissive Indian woman standing
before him. Combined with her defiance and fear was a haughtiness which
could not be concealed. Although partially cowed and curbed, she had
evidently known the exhilarating joy of unrestrained freedom. And that
same spirit still animated her heaving breast, but in a more terrible
form. It was pent up, and liable at any moment to break forth in the
wildest fury like a checked mountain stream or the boiling lava of some
hidden volcano. But now she listened attentively to the words of command
hurled forth, and at once disappeared within the back room.</p>

<p>"Fine squaw, that," remarked the other player, gazing with admiration
upon the retreating form. "How in h&mdash; do you manage to curb such a
spirit? Your deal, Bill," and he shoved the cards across the table.</p>

<p>Mechanically his partner shuffled and dealt the cards. But his thoughts
were elsewhere, and as the game proceeded he shot an occasional furtive
glance at the stranger sitting near.</p>

<p>An uncomfortable feeling stole into Grey's heart as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> he felt those
piercing eyes fixed upon him. Once he looked full into their cold
depths, and involuntarily recoiled at the sinister expression he beheld
lurking there. The player noticed the start, and an oath escaped his
lips as he flung his last card down upon the table. Then swinging on his
stool he hurled a torrent of Indian words across the room.</p>

<p>In a moment or two the woman reappeared with a rough wooden tray
containing some beans, thick bread and a cup of black tea.</p>

<p>"Put it here," demanded her imperious lord, shoving forward the small
table. "We're done with our game for the present."</p>

<p>Grey was hungry, and he did good justice to the food set before him. But
his mind was not easy. Why had that man given him those keen lightning
glances? Did he surmise who he was and the purpose of the visit? Then
his thoughts drifted away to that lone house down the trail, to the
child and to Madeline. He forgot for a time his surroundings and the
sinister-eyed man. He was with her, sitting by her side, looking into
her face, and listening to her words of love.</p>

<p>At length he roused from his reverie and looked quickly about the room.
The two card players were nowhere to be seen. Only the man in the
buckskin jacket was sitting in the corner, pulling away at his old pipe.
Their eyes met, and instinctively Grey felt that here was one to be
trusted.</p>

<p>"Do you live in this place?" he asked, pushing back the table a little,
and turning around on his stool.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p><p>Instead of replying the man took the pipe from his mouth, knocked it
against the bench on which he was sitting, and examined it carefully.
Then from a deep capacious pocket he drew forth a large clasp-knife and
a plug of tobacco, and began deliberately to whittle away at the latter.</p>

<p>Grey was surprised at this action, and believed that his question had
not been heard. Perhaps the man was somewhat deaf, and it was necessary
to speak louder. He was about to repeat his words, when the man suddenly
paused, looked carefully around the room, and jerked his bench closer to
Grey's side.</p>

<p>"Young man, what are ye adoin' here?" he asked.</p>

<p>So low and full of meaning was the voice that Grey's eyes opened wide
with astonishment.</p>

<p>"Just travelling," he replied.</p>

<p>"H'm," ejaculated the questioner, as he carefully rolled the tobacco
between his hands. "Prospectin' or trappin'?"</p>

<p>"Oh, anything that turns up. I'm not particular."</p>

<p>Creak, creak. It was the back door, which moved as if shaken by the
wind. The buckskinned man gave a slight start and glanced to the left.</p>

<p>"Doin' anything that turns up, eh?" he remarked. "Isn't it rather
unsartin bizness? How d'ye expect to live?"</p>

<p>Creak, creak, went the door again. The creaking of a door generally
disturbs one's nerves. There seems to be something uncanny about it, as
if unseen evil spirits were outside trying to force an entrance. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>
when one suspects that men are standing there, with ears close to the
crack, listening with sinister intent to every word which falls from the
lips of those in the room, the tension becomes almost unbearable. Grey
was all alert now. The whole place was conducive to suspicion. The
sudden disappearance of the two card players, the low warning voice of
the quiet smoker, and that creaking door. There was no breeze to cause
it to move, for the evening was still, with not a leaf aquiver.</p>

<p>"An' whar will ye stay to-night?"</p>

<p>The question was kindly asked, and the eyes which looked straight into
Grey's spoke of trust.</p>

<p>"Don't know," was the reply. "Under the trees maybe, unless the owner of
this cabin will give me a shake-down here."</p>

<p>"No, that won't do," came the response. "I've a snug cabin over yon, so
if ye'll put up with the accommodation ye're welcome to it, sich as
'tis."</p>

<p>Grey at once rose to his feet, and followed his companion, who was
already starting toward the door. They had advanced but a few rods from
the cabin when the clatter of hoofs sounded along the trail. In a few
moments a horseman appeared, astride a raw lanky cayuse, and drew up
before the store. Grey had paused, and was looking back, but his
companion clutched him fiercely by the arm, and hurried him along.</p>

<p>"Come, lad," he whispered, "it's no time fer starin' now. Let's git
under shelter."</p>

<hr />

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p>

<h2><span>CHAPTER VI</span> <span class="smaller">THE DEN OF PLOTTERS</span></h2>

<p>The horseman quickly made the cayuse fast to a post. He then turned and
watched the retreating forms of Grey and Buckskin Dan. He stood there
for several minutes after the two had disappeared within a small log
cabin up the trail. He was a lean, lank, Cassius-type of man, with
furtive, restless eyes, which had won for him the sobriquet of "Shifty"
Nick. An old, dirty, weather-beaten slouch hat had been drawn over his
low receding forehead until the broad brim was on a dead level with his
piercing eyes. Presently his lips curled in an angry snarl, and a row of
white teeth showed for an instant beneath a heavy dark moustache.
Thrusting his hands deep into his pockets he moved toward the store,
gave the dog lying by the door a savage kick, and entered the building.
Seeing no one there he strode swiftly forward to the door at the rear of
the room. Here he paused and listened. Hearing voices within he gave the
door a push, and entered. Seated on stools were the two card players,
Siwash Bill and Windy Pete, while sitting on the floor in one corner was
the Indian woman. Her fingers were busy stringing beads for a buckskin
jacket lying near. She seemed to be engrossed solely with her work,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> and
her head was bent low. But not a sound in that room escaped her acute
ears. Occasionally she lifted her eyes and gave a lightning glance
toward the two men. Then in that brief instant her dusky face revealed a
world of meaning. A passion deep and intense was consuming that quiet
form. Love, fear and hate were raging there, contending with one another
in fierce conflict.</p>

<p>Shifty Nick looked contemptuously at the two men before him.</p>

<p>"So this is how yer spendin' yer time," he snarled. "Great lot you are.
Are yez scart of somethin'? What's happened to the d&mdash; place? Scarce a
soul around, an' you hidin' here with the squaw."</p>

<p>"What's wrong, Shifty?" returned Bill. "Ye seem to be outer sorts.
What's the news? Where's the gang an' the kid?"</p>

<p>Deigning no reply Nick flung himself upon a stool, and eyed the two. His
bronze face was paler than usual, and his face twitched in an agitated
manner.</p>

<p>"Where did that cub come from?" he at length demanded.</p>

<p>"What cub?"</p>

<p>"Oh, you know. That young cuss with old Dan. What's he doin' here?"</p>

<p>"How in h&mdash; do I know," replied Bill, somewhat nettled at the other's
surly manner.</p>

<p>"But ye ought to know. It's yer bizness to know. Here I've been out in
the blazin' sun all day watchin' the trail, while you've been skulkin'
here in this hole."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p><p>"Well, suppose we have, ye needn't git so tarnal ugly. We've been doin'
nothin', 'bout same as you. There was nothin' fer us to do but wait."</p>

<p>Nick tapped the floor with his boots for a minute or two lost in
thought.</p>

<p>"Boys," he at length began. "I'm sore upset to-night. I've brought yez
bad news&mdash;the gang's gone down in the Rapids."</p>

<p>The effect of this message was most startling. With a muttered oath
Siwash Bill leaped to his feet and confronted the horseman. Pete sat on
the stool like a statue. His lower jaw dropped and his eyes bulged big
with astonishment. Even the Indian woman paused in her work and looked
up. Her eyes glowed with a strange light, whether of sorrow or fierce
joy she alone knew.</p>

<p>"Speak, speak, man, fer God's sake!" shouted Pete, "an' tell us what ye
mean."</p>

<p>"Haven't I told ye?"</p>

<p>"Yes, yes. But don't stop there. Tell us all. When did it happen, an'
where's the kid?"</p>

<p>"Damn if I know where the brat is. I thought you knew. Why didn't ye ask
that stranger?"</p>

<p>"The stranger. What has he to do with the kid? What are ye drivin' at?"</p>

<p>"Nuthin' much, 'cept he had 'im."</p>

<p>"Had 'im?"</p>

<p>"Sure thing."</p>

<p>"Not when he was here."</p>

<p>"No, so I understand."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p><p>"But when? What's wrong with ye? Why don't ye spit it out?"</p>

<p>"I will if ye'll sit down an' give me time. There, that's better," he
continued, as Bill with a growl dropped back upon his stool. "Now I kin
spin it off. Well, fer two days I watched yon trail an' river, not
knowin' by which the gang 'ud come. I knew it 'ud be by one or t'other
unless they got pinched. Early this mornin' as I happened by chance
along a high bluff this side of the rapids I spotted two men hikin'
along the trail headin' fer Hishu. At first I thought they were the
gang, but watchin' closer I saw that one was an Injun carry in'
somethin' large in his arms."</p>

<p>"The devil!" ejaculated Pete, and the Indian woman again looked suddenly
up.</p>

<p>"They didn't see me, though," continued Shifty, "fer I smelled a rat,
an' scuttled. Then I did some tall thinkin', an' made up my mind to see
what was behind, fer I knew they hadn't come fer at that time of the
day. Hittin' the trail some distance up, an' follow-in' it fer a piece I
found a huge grizzly lyin' dead at the foot of a little knoll. There
were signs of a lively skirmish, an' the man wot pumped lead into that
critter ain't to be fooled with, let me tell ye that."</p>

<p>"Good Lord, no!" gasped Pete; "guess not."</p>

<p>"Continuin' my way I reached the river, an' there jist at the ford I
found some things which set me thinkin' some more."</p>

<p>"What?" was the excited question.</p>

<p>"A rifle an' a buckskin jacket."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p><p>"Whew, ye don't tell!"</p>

<p>"Yes, there they were, thrown down upon the bank. Lookin' up an' down
the river my eyes caught sight of a piece of a canoe floatin' in a
little eddy along the shore. Examinin' it closely I found it was the one
Shorty kep' above the rapids. Goin' down-stream a bit I found another
big chunk on a sand-bar, which made me sartin that somethin' had
happened to the gang. Comin' back I struck an Injun camp, where there
was an old squaw an' a young 'un. They told me the hull yarn an' a d&mdash;
sight more, too. That afternoon I skirted the river an' caught up with
the travellers. Twice they spotted me, which made 'em hike like h&mdash;"</p>

<p>"But what did they do with the kid?" questioned Pete.</p>

<p>"Took it to Old Meg's, so the squaw told me. Guess it's there yit."</p>

<p>"Good," exclaimed Bill, "we'll not lose it. If Meg's got it, we're all
right."</p>

<p>"Don't be too sure of that," replied Shifty. "What about that young cub
with Buckskin Dan?"</p>

<p>"An' ye say that he had the kid?"</p>

<p>"Sartin. Didn't I tell ye?"</p>

<p>"But how in h&mdash; did he git hold of it?"</p>

<p>"Jumped in the river an' saved its life, so the squaw said."</p>

<p>"The devil! Ye don't say so! But how did he happen to be there jist in
the nick of time?"</p>

<p>"Bah," and Shifty spat contemptuously upon the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> floor. "How did he
happen to be there! How does he happen to be here? How does he happen to
be everywhere? Don't ye know he's one of them d&mdash;Yellow-legs from Big
Glen?"</p>

<p>His companions started at these words, and glanced anxiously toward the
door. Shifty gave a sarcastic laugh, drew a pipe from his pocket and
stuck it between his teeth.</p>

<p>"Scart are ye?" he asked. "I thought y'd scent 'im five miles off."</p>

<p>"To tell ye the truth," Pete replied, "we didn't like the looks of 'im
from the first, so we came back here to talk it over. Thought mebbe he'd
tell Old Dan if left alone. So we listened."</p>

<p>"An' what did ye learn?"</p>

<p>"Nuthin', only we concluded he wasn't a Yellow-leg."</p>

<p>"How's that?"</p>

<p>"Why if he was after the ones wot pinched the kid he couldn't git here
so soon, an' anyway he wouldn't come alone."</p>

<p>"An' so that's yer conclusion, was it? I thought yez had more sense than
that. 'Couldn't git here so soon,' an' 'wouldn't come alone,'" he
mocked. "Don't ye know that them Mounted Devils are everywhere? Ye may
think there isn't one within two hundred miles. But let somethin' happen
an' he's at yer heels like greased lightnin'. As fer comin' alone he
doesn't mind that. He's used to it. He'll stroll into a gang of
cutthroats as cool as ye please, pick his man, snap<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> on the irons, an'
walk out. Why haven't I seen it done time an time ag'in?"</p>

<p>"It takes nerve to do that," suggested Pete.</p>

<p>"Sartin. That's what made the Force what it is to-day. Only the man with
nerves like steel is picked to do an ugly job, an' he knows that the
hull damn Force is back of 'im, an' back of that the British Empire,
Army an' Navy combined. Touch 'im an' ye touch the hull consarn. So ye
may be sure it's no weak-kneed, wobbly-spine chap wot's been sent here,
let me tell ye that."</p>

<p>"But how are ye so sure that he <i>is</i> a Yellow-leg?" questioned Siwash
Bill.</p>

<p>"Know?" retorted Shifty. "Who else would be hikin' about Hishu without
any object? Besides what about that Police rifle out there on that
measly cayuse, an' the buckskin jacket? There's not a shadow of a doubt
about it, so ye needn't worry over that. He's here fer bizness, an' the
sooner we git a move on, the better."</p>

<p>"Oh, if he's as ye say," replied Bill, rising and stretching himself,
"we kin soon fix 'im. He hasn't struck a bunch of kids an' babies here
in Hishu."</p>

<p>"What's yer plan?" asked Shifty.</p>

<p>Bill glanced significantly at a revolver at his hip.</p>

<p>"Now, look here, Bill. Don't make a fool of yerself. D'ye want to bring
down the hull Force upon us? We've done enough already. But lay hands
upon yon chap, an' they'll be about us like hornets."</p>

<p>"What else kin we do, then?"</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p><p>Shifty sat for some time in silence, while his face twitched more than
ever, as it always did when his mind was working keenly. At length he
brought his hand down upon his knee with a resounding whack.</p>

<p>"I've got it!" he exclaimed. "Ho, ho. It'll be all right. <i>We</i> won't
touch 'im. But what about that pious-tongued hypocrite, Dan? Mebbe he'll
have a finger in this little affair which he didn't expect. Ho, ho, me
an' Pete'll help the Police to find the villain; oh, yes."</p>

<p>"How?" questioned Bill.</p>

<p>"How? Never ye mind that. We'll tend to the tail if you'll look after
the head, an' that's the kid over yon. You keep an eye on it, and we'll
look after the spyin' cub. Is it a go?"</p>

<p>"Sure," Bill assented somewhat dubiously, "but I'll be alone in my game,
though."</p>

<p>"What about that gal with old Meg?" and Shifty tipped a wink to Pete.
"She's a shy 'un, an' hasn't been broken in yit, but I guess you kin do
it. I'd like to try meself, but haven't a ghost of a chance with you.
She'll help ye if ye work her right."</p>

<p>"Think so?"</p>

<p>"Sartin. That kid's got to be moved. It's no place fer it here. So
you've got yer job cut out. Git the kid, an' don't fergit the gal. She's
a trim one that, an' I can't see how old Meg cinched her. She's the
pardner fer ye. None better. If ye had her here she'd bambozzle every
miner an' Injun wot comes to Hishu.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> They'd crowd in jist to see her,
an' ye'd sell yer stuff like hot cakes."</p>

<p>"But they kin see her over there," replied Bill.</p>

<p>"No. Didn't I tell ye she's too d&mdash; shy? I can't savvey it nohow. An' ye
better git a hustle on, too, fer in a short time the Injuns'll be pilin'
in here like mad."</p>

<p>"Why, what d'ye mean, man? They won't be back fer two months yit."</p>

<p>"Won't they, hey? Jist you wait. I learned somethin' to-day which makes
me say they will."</p>

<p>"Wot's that?"</p>

<p>"The Big Lake Injuns are on the warpath. The Hishus have trespassed on
their ancestral huntin' grounds, an' won't take back water. The
trouble's been brewin' fer years, an' has at last come to a head. It'll
be either a big potlatch or war. But I fear the latter."</p>

<p>"Good Lord, man!" exclaimed Bill, "how did ye learn all this? Surely yer
only foolin'."</p>

<p>"Not a bit of it. That old squaw I met on the trail let the cat out of
the bag, an' the big Injun wot toted the kid is her husband, Hishu Sam.
So ye know wot that means."</p>

<p>During the latter part of this conversation the Indian woman's eyes
glowed with an intense light. She kept them fixed full upon Siwash
Bill's face. Jealousy mingled with a deep hatred was expressed there.
Occasionally her right hand slipped into a bundle by her side until it
rested upon the haft of a keen sheath knife. But when Shifty told about
the threatened war between the Indians, and mentioned the name of Hishu
Sam,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> jealousy and hatred gave place to fear. It was expressed both in
her eyes and in her face. She sat perfectly rigid, however, until the
conversation had ceased and the men had passed out into the other room.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p>

<h2><span>CHAPTER VII</span> <span class="smaller">BUCKSKIN DAN</span></h2>

<p>"What are ye doin' here, young man?"</p>

<p>The words startled Grey, and caused him to look quickly around. Twice
had this man asked that same question, and each time there was a
peculiar warning note in his voice.</p>

<p>They had entered a small cabin, and were seated upon rough stools. The
place was clean and neat, a striking contrast to the disorderly room
they had just left. Two narrow bunks, one above the other, stretched
part way across the south end of the room, while on the opposite side,
and near the door, stood a small sheet-iron camping stove. Nearby was a
rough table of whipsawn boards, over which, fastened to the wall, was a
rude cupboard, containing a few iron plates, cups, saucers and knives.
On the floor in the centre of the room a large bearskin was spread,
while the principal adornments of the walls were snowshoes, rifles and
traps, suspended on wooden pegs driven into the logs. Not until the
owner of the cabin had started a fire in the stove, for the evening was
cool, did he blurt forth his question, "What are ye doin' here, young
man?"</p>

<p>"Just travelling," Grey replied.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p><p>"Travellin'; jist travellin', are ye? But isn't it rather risky
bizness?"</p>

<p>"In what way? What do you mean?"</p>

<p>"Oh, nuthin' much. It only depends upon what yer travellin' fer that
makes the difference."</p>

<p>"I don't understand. Will you please explain?"</p>

<p>"Wall, some people travel fer their health, some fer pleasure, an' some
fer bizness. Now you ain't out fer yer health, that's sartin, fer ye've
got more'n yer share, it seems to me. As fer pleasure&mdash;wall, folks don't
ginerally come to a place like this. Tharfere ye must be out fer
bizness, an' I reckon it's mighty delicate bizness at that."</p>

<p>"What makes you think so?" questioned Grey, somewhat amused at these
shrewd remarks.</p>

<p>"I dunno exactly," and the old man scratched his head. "But somehow I
feel ye're here in kernection with that gang over yon. If so I say ag'in
that it's mighty delicate bizness."</p>

<p>"What makes you think so?" and Grey looked keenly into the calm eyes
before him.</p>

<p>"Yer one of them Reds from Big Glen, are ye not?" and the old man jerked
his stool a little nearer. "Thar now ye needn't git excited," he
continued, noticing Grey about to interrupt him. "Buckskin Dan hasn't
studied the gentle art of observation all these years fer nuthin'. In
towns, cities an' sich places yer nat'ral senses peter out. Ye don't
have to look much, fer yer streets are nuthin' but grooves, like a hull
bunch of sluice boxes, an' ye jist foller yer nose. Somethin' gits<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>
wrong, too, with yer hearin' gear, fer I've had men tell me that right
down thar in New York on Broadway, they never hear a sound, they're so
used to the noise. As fer the smell, it almost drives me mad, an' yit
folks wot live thar never smell anythin'. Now that ain't nat'ral. The
good Lord when he gave me my senses meant me to use 'em. Fer some time
past I've been seein' an' hearin' things over in yon store which made me
sorter suspicious. Now, when I see a chap like yerself wanderin' about
here in a vague sort of a way I begin t' see more things, an' surmise
that thar's somethin' crooked afloat. I may be wrong, but guess not. So
if ye'll take a word of caution ye'll go keerful, an' if I kin help ye a
leetle, don't be afeered to ax me."</p>

<p>At first Grey was somewhat annoyed at Dan's words, and felt like
rebuking him for his interference. This resentment, however, was quickly
replaced by a very different feeling. It was impossible not to be
impressed by this quiet man. He realised the truth of his words, and
knew how serious was his own position, and how important it was to have
such a sturdy ally in Buckskin Dan.</p>

<p>"You've lived some time in the North, I suppose?" he at length remarked.</p>

<p>"Nigh onto fifteen years," was the reply.</p>

<p>"And you know most of the people here?"</p>

<p>"Sartin. Know 'em all, an' some too well fer convenience."</p>

<p>"Do many miners live here?"</p>

<p>"'Bout fifty. But they're all out in the hills now<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> prospectin'. They're
comin' and goin' most of the time. Mark my word, thar'll be a big strike
made about here one of these days. The gold's thar jist waitin' fer some
lucky chap to find it."</p>

<p>"I suppose you know Siwash Bill and his gang," remarked Grey.</p>

<p>"Y' bet. Remember the fust time they struck this place, an' they've been
raisin' Cain ever since, especially with the Injuns."</p>

<p>"How many are there in the gang?"</p>

<p>"Five, an' they stick together like tarred feathers."</p>

<p>"Are you sure there are five?"</p>

<p>"Sartin. Never more so."</p>

<p>"Well, I think you'll find there are only three now."</p>

<p>"Three! Only three! What d'ye mean?"</p>

<p>"That two of them went down last night in Klikhausia Rapids, when their
canoe struck a sunken rock."</p>

<p>At this Dan sprang to his feet, and laid his hand heavily upon Grey's
shoulder.</p>

<p>"What! What!" he whispered in a hoarse voice. "Say that over ag'in.
Mebbe I didn't hear ye aright. D'ye tell me that two of 'em have gone
down?"</p>

<p>"I believe so."</p>

<p>"What! Shorty an' Tim?"</p>

<p>"I don't know their names, but if you sit down I'll tell you all about
it."</p>

<p>And there in that little cabin Grey told about the stolen child, the
fight with the grizzly, the wreck in the rapids, and the rescue of the
boy. To all this Dan<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> listened with wide open eyes, at times
interjecting a word of surprise.</p>

<p>"My God!" he exclaimed, when Grey had finished. "So them poor divils
have gone down! Yes, I'm sartin it's them, fer I savvey things now which
I couldn't afore. It's all clear to me as day. I see through their
game&mdash;to steal the poor lad from his mother's arms, an' make the old man
cough up the dough. Oh, them villains! It jist sarved 'em right, fer
they war mean skunks. But I do pity the ones who'll have to look after
'em in t'other world. Parsons an' sich like may talk about goin' to
hell, but Shorty an' Tim have taken their own hell fire along with 'em,
an' don't ye fergit that."</p>

<p>"I wonder if the rest of the gang know about the accident," Grey
remarked, gazing thoughtfully at the little stove, which was sending out
its genial heat.</p>

<p>"Can't tell fer sartin," was the reply. "But they'll savvey about the
lad at Old Meg's over yon, an' that'll be enough fer them."</p>

<p>"Will they try to do anything now, do you think?"</p>

<p>"Do? They'll never stop doin' as long as life's in their nasty bodies.
Ye don't know them varmints. They're after money, an' they're bound to
git it."</p>

<p>"And so you think the child's in danger yet?"</p>

<p>"Think it? I don't think anything about it. I know it."</p>

<p>"And what is to be done?"</p>

<p>"Git that youngster out of this as soon as he's able to be moved."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p><p>"But will they let us?"</p>

<p>"Not if they kin help it. But thar are always ways, don't ye fergit
that. Thar are ways. But come, lad, ye're dead beat an' need some rest.
So curl up in yon bunk while I stroll around outside a bit."</p>

<p>Grey was tired, very tired, and the bed soft and comfortable. For some
time, however, he lay there thinking over the events of the day. His
principal thoughts were of Madeline. How strange that after such a long
separation he should find her in such a desolate region&mdash;and in that
house! The sight of her had brought back the old memories of happy days,
when they had strolled together, talked, and loved. Thinking thus he
drifted into a restless sleep in which he was besieged by wild dreams.
He was surrounded by the "gang." They were trying to throttle him. Then
he saw Madeline, with face as white as death, struggling in the grasp of
Siwash Bill. Her eyes were full of terror as she reached out to him
appealing hands for help. For an instant he had not the power to assist
her. He was bound by chains which held him fast. With a great cry he
made one mighty effort. The chains snapped and he was free. At once the
scene faded and he awoke. The room was fairly light, for the bright moon
was shining in through the little window. How late it was he could not
tell. Overhead he could hear Buckskin Dan's deep breathing. For some
time he lay quietly in the bunk, hoping that he would soon drop off to
sleep again. But try as he might his eyes would not close. The dream had
been too real, and ever before his mind rose<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> Madeline's tearful face,
while her cry of fear rang incessantly in his ears.</p>

<p>At length he could bear it no longer. The bunk seemed like a prison.
Slipping quietly to the floor, he softly opened the door, and left the
building. It was a glorious night, and the moon, almost full, was
drifting through masses of fleecy clouds. The air was cool and a long,
filmy fog hung over the trees down by the river. Grey stood for a while
outside the door, and looked around. Not a sound broke the intense
stillness of the night. The chill air cooled his flushed face. He looked
toward Old Meg's house, and moved by a sudden impulse started down the
trail. A walk, he thought, would do him no harm; he would sleep the
better after it. He wished to look again upon the cabin which sheltered
Madeline. It did not take him long to reach the little clearing in which
the dwelling stood, and, not wishing to pass out into the open, he
stepped aside from the trail a short distance.</p>

<p>Seating himself upon a fallen tree at the edge of the forest he could
obtain a good view of the house, while he himself was hidden. He was
somewhat surprised to see a light shining in one of the windows facing
him. Then he thought of the child. Perhaps someone was watching by its
side. Was it Madeline? Was she sitting there in that room keeping
faithful ward over the little one? It was just like her, he knew that,
to give up her own comfort for others, especially for children. He
looked carefully around. Not a living thing could he see. Suppose he
stepped across to the house and peered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> in through the window. It could
do no harm, and he did so long to see her face again.</p>

<p>He was about to step out into the open, when an object arrested his
attention, which caused him to shrink back behind a small fir tree. The
object soon proved to be a man, creeping guardedly toward the house from
the right. Although he kept somewhat in the shade of the trees he was
exposed to full view. Almost breathlessly Grey watched him as he
proceeded slowly by the side of the building until he came to the window
from which the light shone. Here he paused, and looked cautiously into
the room. What he beheld Grey could not tell, but presently he went to
the door and gave a gentle tap. Ere long it was slowly opened, and
someone appeared. At that distance he could not hear what was being
said, although several minutes elapsed as Grey stood there straining his
ears in an effort to distinguish the words. Then the sounds grew louder,
and occasionally an intelligent word drifted toward him. It was a
woman's voice he heard, and now there was no doubt about it&mdash;it was
Madeline's. What was she doing there at that time of the night? He
recognised the man by his voice. It was Siwash Bill&mdash;and what was
Madeline doing there with him? Was it his custom to meet her thus? These
thoughts and others of a similar nature surged through Grey's brain.</p>

<p>"I tell you no! It can never be!"</p>

<p>How decisive were the words which now reached him clear and distinct.
Then they sank lower, and listen as he might he could not distinguish
their meaning.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p><p>"Leave me, and never come here again!"</p>

<p>Ah, he could hear these, and they thrilled the heart of the concealed
listener. She did not wish him to come. A weight was lifted from his
mind, and he breathed more freely. It was only for an instant, however,
for at once a cry fell upon his ears&mdash;a cry for help&mdash;and it was
Madeline's! No longer now did he hesitate. She was in danger, and needed
him. He sprang from his hiding place, and bounded across the open,
straight toward the spot where the two were standing.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p>

<h2><span>CHAPTER VIII</span> <span class="smaller">THE INTRUDER</span></h2>

<p>Madeline's joy at beholding the child lying on the couch soon gave place
to surprise. In her first intense delight at seeing the little one with
the white face and curly hair, she had thought of nothing else. The
child was enough, and she had rushed forward and bent over the frail
form. That sight was sufficient to stir within her memories which she
believed had long since been dead. Gradually wonder took possession of
her. Where had the boy come from? What was he doing in such a place as
Hishu, and especially at this house above all others? Then she thought
of the tall silent form she had noticed standing in the centre of the
room. She had given but one fleeting glance, and yet how that figure
stood out in her mind clear and distinct. There was something familiar
about those broad shoulders and the poise of that head which set her
heart beating fast and brought the blood surging to her cheeks. Could it
be possible that it was&mdash;? She caught her breath at the mere thought.
No, such an idea was ridiculous. And yet something seemed to whisper it
to her, and tell her that there was no mistake, that it was Norman and
none other. A peace such as she had not known for years filled her
heart. A subtle<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> influence seemed to surround her and pervade the room.
For a brief space of time she kept her face close to the child. How
could she look upon him? What would he say? How would he greet her? She
felt that his eyes were fixed upon her. Were they filled with sorrow or
reproach? Would he scorn her? At length she raised her head and looked
around for one quick glance, but he was gone. Then a sharp revulsion of
feeling swept over her. The crimson left her cheeks, leaving them as
pallid as death. Her bloodless lips were compressed. He was gone, and
she knew why! He had recognised her, had understood, and had fled!</p>

<p>Madeline rose to her feet, and stared straight before her toward the
door, and out into the yard beyond. She saw no one; she heard nothing
but the beating of her own tumultuous heart. She presented a beautiful
pathetic scene standing there. But the woman watching her thought
nothing of this. Her cynical eyes were fixed upon Madeline's face, and
her lips parted in a cold smile.</p>

<p>"Don't worry. He'll come back."</p>

<p>Madeline started at these words.</p>

<p>"Who is he?" and her voice was hoarse as she whispered the question.</p>

<p>"You'll learn in time, so don't be uneasy," replied the woman. "But,
come, you had better look after that brat. I don't want to be bothered
with it, and as you think so much of it you'd better tend to it at once.
You must get the thing fixed up as soon as possible, for I don't want it
kicking about here when the men come<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> back from the hills. You won't
have any time to look after it then, mark my words."</p>

<p>Madeline turned from the cruel creature toward the child. A great weight
pressed upon her heart, and she felt she must cry out. Had Old Meg
spoken such words that morning or the day before she would have thought
little of them. Was she not accustomed to the life&mdash;hideous though it
was&mdash;and this woman's sharp, pitiless tongue? Madeline imagined that
she, too, was hardened and indifferent herself. But now she realised
that a change had taken place. That subtle influence which surrounded
her and the presence of that sweet-faced boy sleeping there on the couch
made a great difference. The men would come from the hills, they would
crowd into the house, and then hell would be let loose. She shuddered as
she thought of it.</p>

<p>A cough from Donnie brought Madeline quickly to his side. He opened his
eyes, and looked up into her face.</p>

<p>"Mother. I wants my mother," he wailed. "Why don't she tum to her 'ittle
boy-boy?"</p>

<p>Madeline was all alert now. Soothing the child and winning his
confidence she carried him off to her own small room at the side of the
house, and laid him upon her rude cot. Quickly and deftly she undressed
him and tucked the blanket carefully about his little body. Donnie was
restless and feverish, and the rasping cough still shook the delicate
frame. For a while Madeline stood in doubt. She hardly knew what course
to pursue to relieve the suffering. At length a simple remedy came to
her mind. Crossing the room she drew back<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> a curtain and brought down
from a nail a much worn flannel skirt. Only for a moment did she
hesitate as she looked upon it. Then seizing a pair of scissors lying on
a table near by she cut off a large portion from the bottom of the
garment. Telling Donnie not to be afraid, that she would return soon,
she went at once to a small cooking stove at the back of the building,
lighted a fire, and placed the flannel near to warm. Then going to a
corner of the room she poured some coal oil from a tin can into a saucer
and placed it on the stove to heat. When this had been accomplished to
her satisfaction she carried Donnie to the kitchen, placed him on her
lap near the fire, and thoroughly rubbed his little chest with the oil,
and then applied the warm flannel. It was only a simple remedy, she was
well aware, but it was all she knew, and she was willing to do what she
could. This she kept up for some time, and then once more placed the
little fellow back into bed. Soon she had the satisfaction of seeing his
eyes close in a peaceful sleep. But not for a moment did Madeline relax
her watchfulness.</p>

<p>Hour after hour she remained faithfully on guard, keeping the fire in
the stove and the flannels warm upon the chest. How thankful Madeline
was for the presence of the child! Sleep fled her eyes as she sat there
watching. No sound broke the intense stillness which reigned. The house
was unusually quiet, for often sounds of revelry continued throughout
the night. Her mind was greatly agitated. Where had this child come
from, and why was such a delicate lad so far in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> wilderness away
from civilisation? Carefully she examined his clothes, studying well
each little garment, the fine quality of the material of which it was
made, and the signs of a loving hand in each tiny stitch. And why should
<i>he</i> have the boy? No longer did she doubt that the man was Norman. But
what was he doing there? Then a question stinging in its intensity
pierced her heart. Was this his child? Had he a wife living somewhere in
the North? Was she beautiful? Did her hands fashion the little garments
lying before her? Was this the reason why Norman had fled so hurriedly
from the house? Had he recognised her, and did not want to speak to her
because he was married? She could not rid her mind of the thought.
Dry-eyed and motionless she sat there, staring straight at the sleeping
lad. She did not blame Norman. How could she expect that he would wait
six long years for her, whom the world believed dead? How strange it was
that she should be watching by the side of his boy! What circumstance,
she wondered, had brought such a thing to pass? Though now a gulf yawned
between them his child was with her, and she could love it for his sake.
Bending suddenly forward she pressed her hot lips to Donnie's cheek. How
soft was the little face, and what a strange new thrill that simple
touch brought to her heart.</p>

<p>A knock upon the door at the side of the house startled her. She drew
back abashed. Was it Norman, and had he been watching her through the
window? It was but natural that he should come to see about his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> sick
boy. How could she meet him? Rising to her feet she stood irresolute by
the foot of the bed. What should she do? What could she say?</p>

<p>Again the knock sounded, louder than before. Madeline no longer
hesitated. She crossed the room, turned the wooden button, and
cautiously opened the door. As she did so she started back, and a slight
cry of fear escaped her lips. Standing on the step with his left hand
upon the side of the door was Siwash Bill. His swinish eyes leered in
upon her, and a frown wrinkled his brow as he noted how she recoiled
from his presence.</p>

<p>For some time past Madeline had noted how the squaw man had sought her
company. He had come to the house, and often met her as she took her
lonely walk along the trail leading to the river. He followed her like a
shadow, and lost no opportunity of ingratiating himself in her good
will. The more she repulsed him, the more determined he became. Rough,
uncouth men frequented the house when they were in Hishu. Them she could
tolerate, or had to tolerate. But this creature filled her heart with a
loathsome repugnance, like the presence of a slimy, crawling viper.</p>

<p>"Frightened are ye, miss?" Again Bill smiled&mdash;the smile of the evil one.
"Didn't know I was sich a monster."</p>

<p>"What do you want?" and Madeline spoke sharply. "Why do you disturb me
at this time of the night?"</p>

<p>"Saw a light in the window, an' thought mebbe ye'd like company," was
the reply.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p><p>"No, I prefer to be alone&mdash;with the child. So you might have spared
yourself the trouble."</p>

<p>"Now don't git heady, miss. It's partly on account of that little chap
that I've come here to-night. He means a pile of money to me. I've run a
big risk consarnin' him, an' I can't afford to take chances."</p>

<p>"Run a big risk? What do you mean?"</p>

<p>"Listen," and the squaw man moved closer and whispered something into
Madeline's ear, which caused her to start. "Thar now, ye needn't take
on," Bill continued. "All ye've got to do is to hand over that kid to me
when he gits better, an' part of the chink's yours."</p>

<p>"Never!" Madeline's determined negative rang out distinctly through the
night, and thrilled a silent listener concealed not far away. "I can't
do that, so God help me!"</p>

<p>"Can't? Think ag'in. Money's a god; it works miracles."</p>

<p>Madeline did not reply. How could she answer this villain? What was the
use of speech? She would leave him; close the door in his face. Siwash
Bill mistook her silence for acquiescence. He drew nearer, and she
shrank back.</p>

<p>"Yes," he continued, "money's a god; it'll do anything. An' look you;
there's money in it, twenty thousand dollars! A man with that kin leave
the North, go outside, an' be rich. Miss, I want that chink, an' you in
the bargain. D'ye suppose I've been watchin' ye all these weeks fer
nuthin'? D'ye suppose I'd a taken all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> yer rebuffs in silence if I
didn't love ye? Not a bit of it. Come, say ye'll have me, an' we'll cut
this d&mdash;place ferever. We'll cinch that twenty thousand dollars an' git
out."</p>

<p>Madeline, though pale before, was white as death now. She clutched at
the door post for support. She knew something of the determined nature
of the man standing before her.</p>

<p>"You scoundrel!" she cried. "How dare you say such words! Leave me, and
never show your face here again!"</p>

<p>"An' ye won't have me?"</p>

<p>"No; a thousand times no!"</p>

<p>"Then I won't ask ye. This is the land whar strength rules. If ye won't
be mine one way ye will another."</p>

<p>Saying which the brute took a quick step forward, and placed his arm
suddenly about her waist.</p>

<p>With a cry Madeline strove to wrench herself from his grip. But the more
she strove the firmer he held her fast, and drew her closer to his
breast. A faintness swept over her as she felt his hot breath upon her
face, and she gave one wild piercing cry for help.</p>

<p>And even as she ceased to struggle, and a fearful blackness blinded her
eyes, she heard the sound of rapid steps, and felt the squaw man's arms
suddenly relax. Grey had arrived none too soon, and words of explanation
were unnecessary. One long arm reached out, and tense knuckles caught
Siwash Bill full under the left ear. Unheeding the wretch sprawling on
the ground<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> he caught Madeline in his arms and entered the building. It
took but a minute for him to cross the room and lay her upon the couch.
But in that brief space of time as he clasped her unconscious form to
his breast an overmastering yearning took possession of him. He looked
into that dear white face; his breath fanned her wavy hair, and with the
greatest effort he restrained himself from pressing his lips to those
slightly parted ones so close to his. But no, he must not allow his
feeling to get the better of him. It would be better to wait awhile. He
turned and saw Old Meg standing in the middle of the room, with a
questioning look upon her face.</p>

<p>"What's the matter with her?" she growled. "Why all such yelling and
fuss at this time of the night?"</p>

<p>Grey was about to express himself freely to this woman. With an effort,
however, he restrained himself, knowing that angry words would do no
good.</p>

<p>"Ask Siwash Bill," he replied. "Perhaps he'll tell you, for I don't
know. But look you well after her," and he pointed to Madeline. "She's
somewhat knocked out. Get a basin and some water, quick. You attend to
her; I must see to someone outside."</p>

<p>With one deep longing glance toward Madeline he turned and left the
building, leaving Old Meg staring in profound wonder after his tall
retreating form.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p>

<h2><span>CHAPTER IX</span> <span class="smaller">UNDERCURRENTS</span></h2>

<p>For some time after the plotters had left the room Nadu, the Indian
woman, sat quietly in the corner. No longer were her fingers busy, for
the buckskin jacket had been laid aside. Other things occupied her mind.
She could hear the murmur of voices in the adjoining store, and
recognised the men. It was quite dark now, for the moon had not risen.
Presently Nadu thrust her hand beneath her blanket, and clutched the
handle of the sharp knife concealed there. Running her fingers across
the blade she noted with satisfaction the keenness of the edge and the
sharp needle-like point. Drawing the weapon forth she hid it deftly
within the folds of a blanket wrapped about her shoulders. Rising to her
feet she moved softly across the room, quietly opened the door, and
slipped out into the night.</p>

<p>To the right flowed the river, its banks lined with cottonwood trees and
jack pines. Through these she glided like some weird spectre.
Occasionally she stayed her steps to listen, but all was silent. After a
while she paused, and crept to the edge of the clearing. There before
her was the dim form of a house, with a light shining from one of the
windows. For some time Nadu remained crouched upon the ground. The
light<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> seemed to fascinate her, and when once it disappeared she started
to her feet, and crept forward like a tiger ready to spring, but slunk
back again when the light reappeared.</p>

<p>At length her eyes sought the East, where a faint glow was visible in
the sky close to the horizon. It was the first signal of the moon, which
soon would be rising full and bright over the land. This Nadu well knew,
so creeping from her place of concealment she sped across the open, and
moved warily around the log building until she came near to the window
from which the light was streaming. Then standing a little to one side
she peered in through the small panes of glass, until her eyes rested
upon a slight form bending lovingly over a little child lying asleep
upon the bed.</p>

<p>No feeling of tenderness smote Nadu's breast at the scene which met her
gaze. Jealousy and hatred held her in thrall. Before her was the woman
who was making her life a hell; the one who had crossed her path, and
who was alienating the affections of her husband, the squaw man. Had she
not noticed it for days, nay, weeks now? Did not all the pride of her
race rebel at the neglect and ignominy which were bestowed upon her? But
him she blamed not. The woman alone was the cause, and now her eyes
dilated as she looked through the curtainless window. Once Madeline
turned half around as if she intuitively knew of that lowering face.
Then Nadu had shrunk back, fearful lest she should be observed.</p>

<p>During the whole of this time the Indian woman<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> firmly clutched the
knife beneath her blanket. Its touch gave her a degree of satisfaction,
and often her fingers caressed the keen blade as her eyes gloated over
the pale-faced woman in the room.</p>

<p>The moon had now risen, and was flooding the whole landscape with its
silver beams. To the left the trees of the forest threw out their long
trailing shadows. Nadu glanced uneasily in their direction. How sombre
and gruesome they appeared! The whole air seemed to pulsate with strange
forebodings. Nadu was no coward. She belonged to a tribe which knew not
fear. The Big Lake Indians had never retreated from a foe. They could
die with a smile and a song, but knew not how to yield. And Nadu was a
child of the bravest. Had not her mother often related to her the story
of that terrible night when her father had led forth the Big Lake
warriors and had driven back a band of Dog Rib Indians from beyond the
mountains? The fighting had been fierce, and several had been slain, her
father among the number. How Nadu's heart had thrilled as she dreamed of
that scene, until the spirit of her father was hers. But on this night
it was detection she feared. She had a purpose in view, and until that
was accomplished she must be wary.</p>

<p>With one long lingering look through the window she moved away from the
house, and glided across the open to the edge of the forest, until her
form was hidden by the dark shadows. Here she paused, and squatting upon
the ground kept her eyes fixed upon the light pouring from the house.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p><p>And not many minutes did she have to wait ere Siwash Bill came creeping
along. She saw him peering in through the window, and approach the door.
Then when she beheld Madeline standing there, and noticed the two
talking together, the fire of rage and jealousy leaped to a white heat.
Formerly she had believed that the pale-faced woman was entirely at
fault. Now she knew that Bill was much to blame. He had come to the
place to see this woman. She had loved the squaw man with all the
affection of her passionate nature. She had waited upon him like a
slave, and his curses she had received without a murmur. All this she
could endure, for he was hers, and her love was deep. But now&mdash;She
clutched the knife more firmly, and, waiting no longer, sped through the
shadows, plunged into the forest, and reached the river. A trail, worn
smooth, wound along the bank. This she followed up-stream for the space
of fifty yards. Then she paused and listened. Hearing nothing but the
rapid beating of her own heart she was about to continue on her way,
when a faint sound fell upon her ears. She glanced quickly toward the
river, but only the silver sheen of the ripple-less surface met her
eyes. She believed she had been mistaken, and was about to proceed when
again the sound was heard, much more distinct now. Something was down
there along the shore within the shadows of the trees, she felt sure of
that. At first she thought it might be only a wild duck, or a muskrat
besporting itself in the water. This idea was soon dispelled, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>however,
for presently she was able to detect the soft rhythmical dip of paddles.
Moving behind a small jack pine, she crouched upon the ground and
waited. Who could it be, she wondered, approaching at such an hour of
the night? Was it friend or foe? It could not be any of the Hishus, for
they had all gone up-stream. Could it be the Big Lake Indians? She
thought of the conversation in the house, and of what Shifty had said
about the trouble between the tribes, and of Hishu Sam's return. Were
the Big Lakes coming in force to attack the settlement, to murder the
inhabitants, seize the supplies in the store, and then sweep on to
surprise the Hishus in their camping grounds! Well did she know the
remorselessness and tiger-like swiftness of the Big Lakes when once
aroused to action.</p>

<p>A sudden impulse seized her to dart forward and give warning of the
invaders. She rose partly to her feet, but immediately sank back again.
Why should she go? The Hishus were nothing to her, and the white
men&mdash;ugh! What did she care for them now? Had they not treated her like
a dog, and Bill worst of all? Let him go to the white woman; of what
avail would she be to him if the Big Lakes came?</p>

<p>Such were the thoughts which beat through her brain as she crouched
there with her straining eyes fixed upon the river. The sounds were
becoming more distinct, and ere long she was able to discern the dim
outline of something moving slowly over the water. Nearer and nearer it
approached until the faint shape of a canoe could be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> discerned, with
two forms seated therein. Stealthily and shadowy it glided forward, and
passed the place where she was crouched.</p>

<p>Nadu arose, and crept silently along the trail. On and on the canoe
moved until it came opposite the store. Here it drew into shore at a
little opening which led to the water's edge. Nadu watched the strangers
while they made the craft fast to an old root. Then they crept warily
through the trees toward the settlement. Her first thought was to follow
after, and ascertain the object of their visit. But the sight of the
canoe brought to her mind a new idea. With Nadu to think was to act, and
when sure that the men were some distance away she moved quickly from
her hiding place, unfastened the canoe, gave it a gentle push, and
sprang in. Seizing one of the paddles lying in the bottom, with a few
vigorous strokes she headed the canoe up-stream, keeping well within the
shadows. When she had gone about one hundred yards she ran into shore in
a sheltered nook, and made the craft fast to a tree. Having accomplished
this she hurried down the trail, and once more took up her position
close to the spot where the Indians had landed.</p>

<p>Here she waited for some time ere the sound of returning steps rewarded
her patience. Swiftly and softly the two strangers sped down the trail.
Reaching the river they looked in surprise at the place where they had
left the canoe. Then a whispered conversation ensued. That they were
much concerned Nadu could easily tell. Closely she watched them as well
as the shadows would permit. One she recognised, and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> sight of his
figure brought a thrill to her heart. It brought back memories of
by-gone years. It was Tonda, the sturdy brave, who had sought her love
ere the advent of Siwash Bill, his successful rival. She had given him
up for the white man, and what had she gained? The roving life, the
fascination of forest, river and lake all had been relinquished. And now
she was a slave, confined to a hateful cabin, to wait upon her brutish
lord and master.</p>

<p>The sight of Tonda stirred Nadu more than was her wont. Would he care to
see her? she wondered. Would he have anything to do with her? Would her
people have her back again after years of absence? The old life was
drawing, appealing, calling her by numerous mystic charms.</p>

<p>As the Indians continued to converse, Nadu stepped quickly forward and
stood by their side. Startled by her sudden appearance, the men raised
their rifles. But Nadu lifted her hand, and motioned them not to fear.</p>

<p>"Tonda," she said in a low voice, in the language of the Big Lakes;
"Tonda afraid of a squaw? Why does he tremble? Why does he wish to
shoot? Is Tonda's heart weak?"</p>

<p>"Who speaks?" replied the latter, bending forward to obtain a better
look.</p>

<p>"Has Tonda forgotten? Does he not remember the voice which once was
music to his ears?"</p>

<p>"Nadu! Is it Nadu?" and the man straightened himself up. "What does Nadu
care about Tonda? Nadu has left her people. She has joined the pale
face<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> intruders. She lives now among the Hishu 'dogs.'"</p>

<p>"Ah, ah!" Nadu replied. "Tonda speaks true. The Hishus are dogs, but
they are swift-footed dogs, and do not bark before they bite. Let the
Big Lakes beware, for the Hishu dogs are roused, and their fangs are
long and keen."</p>

<p>"Why does Nadu say all this?" Tonda replied. "Does she not live among
the Hishus, and knows her own people no longer?"</p>

<p>"Nadu is a child of Wabanda. His blood flows in her veins. His spirit is
hers. Nadu has not forgotten her people; she would go back to them. She
would go with Tonda."</p>

<p>"And did Nadu take the canoe?" questioned the latter, as a suspicion of
what had happened to the craft floated into his mind.</p>

<p>"Ah, ah; Nadu knows," was the low reply.</p>

<p>"And will Nadu come to-night?"</p>

<p>Tonda was eager now. This woman was fascinating him as of yore. He
forgot how she had repulsed him for the white man. In her presence he
was as a child.</p>

<p>"Nadu will not go to-night. Two sleeps and Nadu will be ready."</p>

<p>"But why wait so long? Tonda cannot stay."</p>

<p>"Is Tonda afraid of the Hishus? Does he fear their fangs?"</p>

<p>"No, no; Tonda knows not fear. But the Big Lakes are waiting."</p>

<p>"Let them wait," answered the woman. "What does Tonda know about the
Hishus? What has he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> learned to-night? Nothing. Two sleeps and Nadu will
be here. She knows much."</p>

<p>"And the canoe?" breathed the warrior.</p>

<p>"Let Tonda wait, and he shall have the canoe. He shall have it
to-night."</p>

<p>For a few minutes the two men moved aside and conversed with each other
in low tones. At length Tonda turned toward the woman.</p>

<p>"The Big Lake warriors will trust Nadu," he said. "Let her show them the
canoe, and after two sleeps they will be here."</p>

<p>"Tonda speaks well" was the reply. "Nadu is pleased. She will find the
canoe. Come."</p>

<hr />

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p>

<h2><span>CHAPTER X</span> <span class="smaller">SUBTLE WAYS</span></h2>

<p>When Siwash Bill staggered to his feet he was still dazed by the furious
blow which had sent him reeling to the ground. A burning rage filled his
heart, mingled with a sense of fear. Who was this man who had so
suddenly leaped out of the night with that sledge-hammer fist? His face
he had not seen, for there had been no time for that. He looked toward
the door, and saw a dark, tall form bearing the unconscious woman in its
arms. Then the door closed and he was alone. His first impulse was to
rush forward, smash down that wooden barrier and hurl himself upon his
assailant. He advanced a few steps, and then hesitated. No, he would
wait. He would learn more. And besides, the woman did not want him. She
had repelled him. He had made her a liberal offer, and she had scorned
him to his face. Slowly he moved away from the building toward the
store. He reached the edge of the forest, and, stepping aside a few
yards from the trail, sat down upon an old log. He could see the house,
and anyone who came out would be quite visible. His small eyes peered
forth from among the trees as he sat and watched.</p>

<p>He had not long to wait ere Grey emerged from the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> building and hurried
across the open. The squaw man half rose to his feet as he recognised
the constable. His hand slipped to his hip pocket and rested upon the
butt of a revolver concealed there. Here was his chance. He would get
more than even for the assault which had been made. His face was sore
and swollen where the blow had fallen. That insult would soon be wiped
out. Grey was near now, almost opposite, and Bill held the weapon in his
hand. Another step or two and all would be over. But even as his finger
rested upon the curve of the trigger his arm weakened and his hand
trembled. A vision flashed before his mind.</p>

<p>With his outward eyes he beheld only one lone man striding forward
through the night. He was unaware of danger, and how easy to strike him
down. But the squaw man saw more than this. He knew full well that the
figure before him represented a power which would scour every valley,
hill and region in the whole land to avenge his death. The work of the
Mounted Police was well known to him. Years before he had reason to
dread their marvellous vigilance. Here in the far North, beyond the
bounds of civilisation, he had fondly believed he would be free from
their rule. But no, they were following him still. The awe for this body
of men which had been instilled into his heart years ago gripped him now
as strongly as ever. He thought of the dire consequences should he shoot
this lone constable. The idea unnerved him, and caused his arm to drop
by his side, while Grey strode forward unconscious of the danger which
threatened him among the trees.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p><p>A low curse breathed from Siwash Bill's lips as he watched his enemy
until he disappeared from view.</p>

<p>"I'm a d&mdash; fool, an' a coward!" he muttered as he stepped out upon the
trail. "To think that I have let that cur escape! An' yet&mdash;" He paused,
and his face wrinkled into an ugly scowl. "By G&mdash;, he won't git off
always as he did this time! He's after me, I know. But maybe he'll git
more than he's bargained fer. Oh, yes, my beauty. You got clear to-night
with your whole skin. But there are ways, an' I'll defy the whole d&mdash;
Force!"</p>

<p>Thinking thus he reached his own house, pushed open the door and
entered. The place was in darkness. He called for Nadu, but received no
reply.</p>

<p>"Where in h&mdash; are ye?" he shouted. "Why don't ye answer? Are ye asleep?"</p>

<p>But still no reply.</p>

<p>Fumbling in his pocket he produced a match, struck it and lighted a
candle lying near. Holding this in his hand he examined the room. To his
surprise the place was empty. Sticking the candle into a hole in the
table, he sat down upon a bench and began to collect his thoughts. Where
had Nadu gone? It was seldom she left the building at night. He took
good care of that. He did not wish her to be wandering around,
especially when the Indians arrived from their hunting grounds. Why had
she gone during his absence? he wondered. Anyway, she would come back,
there was no doubt of that, and he would wait for her. She would not do
such a thing again.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p><p>Throwing himself upon a rude bunk fastened to the wall, he began to
think about the events of the afternoon and night. Ere long he became
drowsy, for it was late. He tried hard for some time to keep awake, but
his efforts were all in vain, for sleep at length gained the mastery. He
did not hear the door open, nor the soft movement of moccasined feet
across the room. Neither did he see a lithe form standing by his side,
while a pair of piercing eyes, full of a triumphant gleam, gazed down
upon his face.</p>

<p>The morning light was stealing in through the little window on the left
when Siwash Bill opened his eyes and looked about the room. Realising
that he had overslept himself he sprang quickly out of the bunk, and
stood over Nadu who was lying on the floor, rolled up in her blanket.</p>

<p>"Get up!" he growled in Indian, at the same time touching her with the
toe of his boot in no gentle manner.</p>

<p>Thus rudely aroused Nadu threw aside the blanket, rose to a squatting
posture, and eyed her imperious master. The look she bestowed upon him
was one of scorn and contempt.</p>

<p>"Where were you last night?" he demanded. "What did you mean by staying
out so late? I waited a d&mdash; long time for you. See that it doesn't
happen again. You don't leave this place at night for a month, so
understand that. If you do I'll break every bone in your black body."</p>

<p>At these words Nadu's lips parted in a sarcastic smile.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> Her teeth
gleamed like polished ivory, and her eyes bespoke danger. She was no
longer afraid of this man. Her days of slavery were about over.</p>

<p>"Did Bill wait up long?" she queried. "Then Nadu is not happy. But Bill
sleeps well."</p>

<p>"Sleep well! Certainly. It was late enough for anyone to sleep well. I
want to know where you were, and what kept you out so late. Have any of
the Injun bucks come back? If I catch you with any of them, or if you go
to their tents, it won't be well for you."</p>

<p>"And was not Bill afraid to sleep well?" the woman answered in her
sweetest native tones.</p>

<p>"Afraid? Afraid of what?"</p>

<p>"Does not Bill fear the Big Lakes?"</p>

<p>"The Big Lakes? What are you talking about?" and the squaw man's eyes
opened with surprise.</p>

<p>"But does not Bill know that the Big Lakes are all same wolves and
foxes? They come up the river; they paddle soft; they wait till night.
They come to Hishu; they creep along trail; they go among the cabins;
they see much. Is not Bill afraid?"</p>

<p>A slight expression of concern swept across the squaw man's face at
these words. He knew of the trouble which existed between the two Indian
tribes, and realised what a sudden attack of the wily Big Lakes would
mean to his fur-trading business.</p>

<p>"Nadu," he demanded after a minute's thought, "have you seen any of the
Big Lakes near Hishu lately?"</p>

<p>"Ah, ah," was the reply.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p><p>"When?"</p>

<p>"They came in the night, when Bill was asleep. They paddle soft up the
river; they creep up the trail; they see the cabins empty; they laugh.
'Hishu is not strong,' they say. 'Hishu is like a gopher, easy to
catch.'"</p>

<p>"And how many of the Big Lakes came?" Bill questioned.</p>

<p>Nadu held up two fingers.</p>

<p>"Bah! Is that all?"</p>

<p>"Ah, ah; all now, but not all by and by."</p>

<p>"And you think more will come later?"</p>

<p>"Ah, ah."</p>

<p>"Did you see the Injuns? Did you speak to them?"</p>

<p>"Ah, ah."</p>

<p>"And are they near Hishu now?"</p>

<p>"Ah, ah."</p>

<p>At any other time Bill would have been furious had Nadu confessed that
she had been talking with two Indians from her own tribe, especially at
night. But now he was thinking of other things. Although the thought of
those Big Lake spies filled him with apprehension, yet they brought to
his mind a new idea. They would go back to their own people. Nadu was
one of them. She knew their ways and dialect. Why should she not take
that boy and go back with the Big Lakes? He had been racking his brain
for some plan to get him out of Hishu, and away from that meddlesome
stranger. Here was an opportunity which must not be missed. And for Nadu
to go, too, would suit his purpose well.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> She was in his way now. He had
made up his mind to win that white woman, and a repulse or two only made
him the more determined. He had no doubt about the final outcome of it
all, for mingled with Siwash Bill's craftiness and vileness was much
personal vanity. He had won Nadu, the choicest flower of the Big Lake
maidens, against numerous rivals, and who was this white woman living
with Old Meg who could withstand him for any length of time? And when he
had won her Nadu would be in the way. She would not endure a pale face
rival in the same house. No. Nadu must go&mdash;and here was the favourable
chance. He need not have her back again, and not likely would she wish
to come.</p>

<p>A smile of satisfaction crossed Bill's face as he thought of this
scheme, and the solution of two difficult questions.</p>

<p>"Where are the Big Lakes now?" he asked, turning toward Nadu.</p>

<p>"Down the river."</p>

<p>"And will they come back again?"</p>

<p>"Ah, ah, maybe so."</p>

<p>"Will you see them?"</p>

<p>"How can Nadu see them?" was the low reply. "Has not Bill spoken? Has he
not said that Nadu must not go out at night?"</p>

<p>"Yes, yes, I know I said that. But I have changed my mind. I want you to
meet those Injuns when they come back, and tell them something."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p><p>At this Bill looked cautiously around, lowered his voice, and whispered
a few words into her ear.</p>

<p>Nadu started slightly, and looked up keenly into the squaw man's face as
if to read his inmost thoughts.</p>

<p>"Is not Bill afraid to let Nadu go with the Big Lake braves?" she
queried.</p>

<p>"Why should I be afraid?" he parried. "You will be among your own
people, and think of the money you will get. You look after that brat
until I want him, and you will get the chink."</p>

<p>"How soon?"</p>

<p>"Can't tell for certain. Shifty leaves to-day for Big Glen. It may take
a little time."</p>

<p>"Maybe Shifty doesn't get money," suggested the woman.</p>

<p>"No fear of that," was the response. "When that old cuss knows it's
either the money or his child's life he'll cough up the dough quicker
than h&mdash;."</p>

<p>"But maybe Shifty get caught," persisted Nadu.</p>

<p>"No fear of that, either. If hands are laid upon Shifty it's all up with
the kid. Old Si knows that. He's had his instructions all in black and
white. He's put that d&mdash; Yellow-leg upon us, but that doesn't matter.
Now will you do as I wish; see those Big Lake spies, pinch the kid and
get out?"</p>

<p>Nadu did not reply at once, but sat very still with her head bent, and
eyes fixed upon the floor. Of what was she thinking? Had she read Siwash
Bill's heart, and the reason which prompted him to send her away with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>
the child? Did any feeling of jealousy mingle with the joy of escaping
from the life of bondage, and returning to her own people? Whatever were
the emotions contending within her breast she betrayed not a sign as she
lifted up her calm, passive face to the man standing before her.</p>

<p>"Nadu will go," she quietly remarked. "She will meet the Big Lake
braves. She will go to her own people, and the pale face baby will go
with her."</p>

<p>"Good!" responded Bill, and at once he turned to leave the room. "See
that you don't fail, or it won't be well with you."</p>

<p>Nadu waited until the door had closed, and she was sure that Bill was
some distance away. Then the expression on her face underwent a
marvellous change. The softness and the light faded like the beauty of
an evening sky before thick threatening clouds, leaving in their stead
fierceness and strange forebodings. Could the scheming squaw man have
seen her then he would not have felt so confident of the success of his
venture.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p>

<h2><span>CHAPTER XI</span> <span class="smaller">THE CAPTURE</span></h2>

<p>When Madeline opened her eyes after Grey had left she imagined it was
all a horrible dream. But the sight of Old Meg standing by her side and
her own great weakness of body told her that it was too terribly true. A
shiver shook her form as she thought of Siwash Bill, his impudence, and
insulting request. She longed to inquire about the man who had rescued
her and carried her into the house. What had become of him? she
wondered. She was tempted to ask Old Meg to tell her what she knew. But
each time she hesitated, and found herself unable to form the words
which were trembling upon her lips.</p>

<p>Meg asked no questions about the occurrence of the night. That something
more than usual had taken place she was well assured. But Madeline's
reserved manner restrained even this woman, noted for her boldness and
curiosity. There was some mystery, she believed, concerning this
stranger who had arrived so unexpectedly in Hishu. Did Madeline know
anything about him? Had she seen him before? These thoughts puzzled and
worried her throughout the day. Often she would pause in the midst of
her work and gaze for some time out of the open door.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p><p>Most of the day Madeline spent with Donnie. He had awakened feeling
much better, and the wheezing cough had disappeared. He soon became
quite friendly with the woman sitting by his side, who looked upon him
with such big pathetic eyes. Madeline told him simple childish stories,
at which he would often clap his hands with delight. When night arrived
Donnie was much like his former self. Madeline rejoiced to have the
child near her. She knew that Hishu was no place for a boy like this,
and her heart ached to think that such a delicate lad should be so far
away from his parents' tender care. As the darkness deepened, and Donnie
sat in her lap he asked for his mother.</p>

<p>"Why doesn't she tum to me, Malin?" he said. "Why does she 'tay away so
long?"</p>

<p>Such a question Madeline could not answer. She endeavoured to soothe
him, and gently stroked his curly silken hair. Long after he had fallen
asleep she sat by his side and gazed upon the little face. And so the
boy was stolen away, too, she thought. Why should an innocent child be
made to suffer by reason of cruel, wicked men? She recalled Siwash
Bill's vile proposition, and shuddered. She knew something of his
persistency, and of the length he would go to carry out his base
designs. Money and revenge the man wanted. She was sure of that, and had
torn away the lamb from the fold to further his object. What could she
do to save the boy? She longed to seize him in her arms, and hurry off
into the forest; anywhere would be better than Hishu. But this she
realised would be futile.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> Her face darkened, and her tense hands
gripped each other in her lap as she thought of her own fruitless
attempts in the past. She could not escape from the Argus-eyed Meg, and
what could she do with a little lad in a dreary wilderness, with Siwash
Bill and his gang in pursuit? She thought of Norman, and a flush mantled
her face. Would not he help her? But why should she go to him? He had
kept clear of her; had not even come to inquire after the lad. And yet
she felt it was Norman and no one else who had saved her from Siwash
Bill. Why did he leave so soon? What was the meaning of his strange
behaviour? Was it because he believed her to be&mdash;? The words would not
come to Madeline's lips. Would Norman think such things of her, of
Madeline whom he had known and loved in the happy days of old, which now
seemed so far away?</p>

<p>The next day Donnie was well enough to run about the house. Everything
interested him, and his cheery laugh caused even Old Meg's face to
soften with a new light.</p>

<p>"Donnie," said Madeline that evening, "how would you like to walk to the
river with me? I go there sometimes by myself, but would like to have
you this time to take care of me."</p>

<p>Donnie clapped his hands with delight, and chatted incessantly while
Madeline wrapped a small shawl about his body, and tied a hood, much too
large for him, upon his curly head.</p>

<p>Together they soon set off down the trail, Donnie<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> holding Madeline's
hand, and plying her with all sorts of questions.</p>

<p>"Will ou take me home some day, Malin?" he asked.</p>

<p>"I should like to do so, dear," was the reply. "I know your father and
mother must be anxious about you. But what will Madeline do without her
little boy?"</p>

<p>"Oh, ou will tum, too. Ou <i>must</i> tum, and live right wif me. We have a
big, big house. I will let ou sleep in my room, play wif my horse and
tin soldiers. Wouldn't ou like to tum?"</p>

<p>"Very much, dearie," and tears stood in Madeline's eyes at the child's
innocent prattle.</p>

<p>"Is this your home, Malin?" and the lad looked up inquiringly into her
face.</p>

<p>"Why do you ask that, Donnie? Don't you think this is my home?"</p>

<p>"I don't know. But it seems such a funny home. Is dat woman your mother?
And where is your daddy?"</p>

<p>A lump came into Madeline's throat, and she pressed Donnie's hand more
firmly.</p>

<p>"I haven't any father and mother now, Donnie. But I have a home, far,
far away, oh, so beautiful, which I have not seen for a long time."</p>

<p>"Tell me about it, Malin," and the child perched himself upon an old
fallen log which stretched itself along the trail.</p>

<p>By this time they had drawn very close to the river, where the bank was
steep. All around stood the silent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> forest of firs and jack pines, with
the cold, dark stream drifting noiselessly by. No sense of fear came
into Madeline's heart as she obeyed Donnie's behest. So often had she
come to this place that it was like an old friend, full of understanding
and sympathy.</p>

<p>Seating herself by the lad's side she told about her old home, the house
among the trees, the garden with the many beautiful flowers, where the
birds sang and the bees hummed.</p>

<p>To all this Donnie listened with wide-eyed pleasure, occasionally
interrupting with a question about the birds and flowers.</p>

<p>So engrossed did Madeline become with her story that she forgot how the
time had flown and how late was the hour. Neither did she notice a dark
form gliding silently toward her through the shadowy forest, nor a trim
canoe which had dropped down-stream and was now lying below the bank not
far away.</p>

<p>"Come, Donnie!" she exclaimed; "it's getting dark, and we must hurry
home."</p>

<p>And even as she spoke and rose to her feet, a powerful Indian leaped
from a thicket of trees a few yards away, and arrested her further
movement. Too startled to cry Madeline gave one lightning glance at the
intruder, and then caught Donnie in her arms. At once the child was torn
from her grasp, and borne swiftly to the river by the native.</p>

<p>Forgetting her own danger, and thinking only of the lad, with a cry
Madeline sprang forward. She leaped down the bank toward the canoe,
which was lying near,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> held close to the shore by a swarthy Indian. Him
she saw not, neither did she notice a figure crouched in the bow, with a
shawl wrapped about her shoulders, watching everything with cruel,
sparkling eyes. Donnie was in the canoe! He was to be taken away, and
she must save him! That was all she could think about. She saw him
struggling in the arms of his captor, and reaching out appealing hands
to her. She beheld the look of terror blanching his little face, and
heard his piercing cry of "Malin! Malin!" ere he was silenced by a dark
hand placed suddenly and roughly across his mouth.</p>

<p>Throwing discretion to the wind Madeline sprang into the canoe, nearly
capsizing it as she did so, and snatched Donnie out of the Indian's
arms. That the latter relinquished the child so readily was at first
somewhat of a surprise. It was soon explained, however, for, upon
turning to step ashore she found that the craft was several yards from
the bank, and drifting down-stream. The Indians had seized their
paddles, and the canoe was now cleaving the rippling water in its onward
sweep.</p>

<p>Madeline at once realised her desperate situation. What did it all mean?
Why was she being taken away? Had some cruel plot been formed against
her?</p>

<p>She looked at her captors. They were calm and alert, swinging their
paddles with a steady rhythmical motion. She glanced around, and the
figure crouched in the bow arrested her attention. A shiver shook her
form as she noted the fierce malicious gleam of the eyes which met her
own. What did that woman mean by glaring at her in such a manner, and
what did that look signify?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> What had she done to merit such action, and
what lay ahead of her? That great silent river flowed on down into the
vast unknown wilderness&mdash;and what then? The thought was more than she
could endure. She looked wildly toward the shore. She clutched Donnie
close to her breast. She scanned the banks for signs of life, some human
being who would come to their rescue. The helplessness of her position
overwhelmed her. Lifting up her voice she gave several wild, piercing
cries for aid, and then sank to the bottom of the canoe, forced down by
strong, rough hands laid fiercely upon her. This insult sent the blood
surging tumultuously through her veins. But what could she do? What
power had she, a woman, against these uncouth natives? She crouched
there in the bottom of the craft, her hands clinched together, and her
dry, clear eyes staring out over the water through the deepening gloom.</p>

<p>She was presently aroused by a movement near her side, and then a little
soft hand stole timidly into her own. Glancing quickly down she noticed
Donnie nestling close to her, and looking up appealingly into her face.</p>

<p>"Malin, I'm cold," he whimpered, and a slight shiver shook his frame. "I
want my mother. Oh, please take me home."</p>

<p>A throb of compunction smote Madeline's heart as she looked upon the
lad. Thinking of her own trouble she had forgotten him.</p>

<p>Drawing the warm shawl from her shoulders she wrapped it carefully about
the lad's body. Nearer and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> nearer he nestled until he felt quite
comfortable, and leaned his head against her side.</p>

<p>"Tell me a 'tory, Malin," he requested. "I'm very sleepy."</p>

<p>Tell a story! What story could she tell at a time like this, with so
many thoughts surging madly through her brain? And yet here was this
child lying so trustingly by her side, and looking up to her for
comfort.</p>

<p>"What story do you want, dearie?" she asked after a brief pause.</p>

<p>"Tell me 'bout the baby Moses in the ark of bulwushes," replied Donnie,
as he snuggled up closer than ever.</p>

<p>With an effort Madeline forced herself to the task, and there in that
great wilderness, in the midst of fears and unknown dangers, she told
gently and softly the old, old story, which in all ages has thrilled the
hearts of countless children. And as she talked the little head at her
side drooped lower until it touched her lap. The big blue eyes winked
hard in an effort to remain open. But nature was too strong, and ere
long the lad was wrapped in slumber, far beyond all worldly care. As
Madeline looked down upon the sleeping boy, and watched him lying there,
with one little dimpled hand clutching at her dress, a deep, wonderful
love for the child stole into her heart. In the telling of the story she
had been much strengthened. In ministering to another she herself had
been comforted. She knew that the same loving Father who had shielded
Moses so long ago from his enemies was as able and willing to save<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> now
as then. "Oh, Father in Heaven," she prayed, "guard us to-night. Give me
strength to defend this little child, and to restore him safely to his
parents."</p>

<p>Thus all through the long, lonely hours of darkness she remained
crouched in the bottom of the canoe. At times her cramped position was
almost unbearable. But she must not disturb that child lying so calmly
with his head resting upon her lap. But no sleep came to her own eyes.
Her brain was too active for that. The swish of the water as the canoe
sped forward almost maddened her. Occasionally the natives spoke to one
another in their strange guttural language. But Madeline understood not
what was said, and each word rasped forth only tended to increase her
watchfulness and loneliness.</p>

<p>After hours of steady paddling a sharp word of command rang out.
Immediately the canoe was turned toward the shore, and soon the keel was
grating upon the pebbly beach. It was very early in the morning, what
time Madeline could not guess.</p>

<p>Almost mechanically she watched the natives as they left the canoe and
proceeded to build a small fire upon the bank. This accomplished they
proceeded to cook some moose steak they had brought with them.</p>

<p>No one seemed to take any notice of Madeline, and for a while she
remained in the canoe. At length, arousing Donnie, she attempted to rise
to her feet, but sank down again with a slight cry, so numb was her body
from her cramped position. The boy opened his eyes and looked around in
a startled manner.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p><p>"What's the matter, Malin?" he asked. "Are you hurt?"</p>

<p>"No, dearie," was the reply. "I shall be better soon. Will you help me
out of the canoe?"</p>

<p>At once the little fellow sprang to his feet, took her hand in his, and
proudly led her ashore, and up the steep bank. With difficulty Madeline
made her way by his side, pretending to lean upon him for support. Ere
long the numbing sensation passed away, and she walked slowly around,
watching the men preparing their breakfast.</p>

<p>The Indian woman took no part in their proceedings, but sat upon a stone
a short distance away. She appeared to be gazing far off into space. But
her sharp eyes noted Madeline's every movement.</p>

<p>The latter was strangely fascinated by that silent figure. At times she
was seized with a nameless fear at the thought of what this woman might
be planning down deep in her heart. Of the men, wild and uncouth though
they were, she had little anxiety. Their faces at any rate were not
crafty or cruel. But this woman with that strange light in her eyes made
her tremble with apprehension.</p>

<p>When the breakfast had been prepared Madeline was offered some meat, and
black tea in an old filthy tin can. The sight of the latter almost
sickened her, and she turned away her head in disgust. The meat she
took, ate some, and gave a little to Donnie, who was hungry, and enjoyed
it thoroughly. It did not take them long to complete their frugal meal,
and soon they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> were all again in the canoe, moving once more down that
sombre stream.</p>

<p>Before long they entered upon a large, broad lake, and, instead of
skirting the shore, the Indians struck straight away to a point of land
dimly seen in the distance. This body of water, some thirty miles long,
by three to five wide, was dotted here and there with small wooded
islands. It was almost completely surrounded by towering, rock-ribbed
mountains, whose peaks, devoid of life, were covered with snow for the
greater part of the year.</p>

<p>Away to the left appeared a huge draw, well known for the violent gales
it frequently vomited forth. Many were the native legends concerning
this place; of the monster of the mountains who made his abode there,
and who when angry would hurl forth his overwhelming spleen upon unwary
navigators.</p>

<p>Often Tonda and his companions cast furtive glances toward the yawning
draw, and drove their paddles with greater energy than ever. On and on
they sped. They reached the mouth of the gap. They came opposite the
place. They were almost past, and the Indians breathed more freely. The
monster was not angry, or had not noticed them. Perhaps he was asleep at
that time of the morning. But, alas! they were doomed to disappointment.
Without one warning sign a gale ripped down the draw with a wild
concentrated fury, and spreading over the lake lashed the water into a
yeasty foam.</p>

<p>With dismay the Indians beheld the onrushing storm,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> and headed the
canoe for shore. How they did work, and the craft leaped on her way like
a thing of life.</p>

<p>Nearer and nearer they approached the beach. Would they win? Yes. No,
for the tempest struck them full abeam. It whirled and roared about them
in mad glee. It tossed the canoe like a cork, and dashed the water over
the crouching forms.</p>

<p>Madeline clutched Donnie in her arms, and drew him close to her breast.
His white, scared face looked up appealingly into hers, though he
uttered not a word, nor did a cry escape his lips.</p>

<p>Steadily and calmly the natives plied their paddles, and managed the
canoe with considerable skill. But as they neared the shore the large
ground swells formed a menace to their advance. Into them they ran, for
there was no other course to pursue. From crest to crest they were
hurried, each growing larger as they surged forward. When only a short
distance from land, a wave larger than usual curled angrily right
astern, broke over the canoe, completely submerging everything.
Instantly the craft was caught by another roller, which tossed it
forward, and, retreating, left it stranded upon the beach. At once a
rush ensued. Madeline with Donnie in her arms sped up the bank, with
Nadu in advance. The Indians seized the canoe, dragged it after them
just in time to escape the next breaker which broke, grinning upon the
shore.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p>

<h2><span>CHAPTER XII</span> <span class="smaller">LINKS OF STEEL</span></h2>

<p>When Norman Grey flung himself out of Old Meg's house his one burning
idea was to seek the man who had insulted Madeline. He half expected to
find him where he had left him, and was more than disappointed when no
sign of the rascal was to be seen. He hurried along the trail desirous
of reaching the store as quickly as possible, and meeting Siwash Bill
face to face. Although unarmed the thought of fear or of the possible
outcome of a personal affray with such a man never entered his head. But
as he walked swiftly forward and the cool night air fanned his hot brow,
he realised how unwise would be such a line of action at the present
critical condition of affairs. Nothing would be gained, he felt sure,
and much harm might be done by indiscreet hastiness. He would wait for a
while. Too many things were at stake. He knew how the squaw man would be
incensed by the blow he had received, and that he would, no doubt, seek
speedy revenge in some underhanded manner.</p>

<p>Thinking thus he reached the forest, and passed by the spot where
crouched his enemy with his forefinger slightly pressing the nimble
trigger of his revolver. No sense of danger from that quarter came into
Grey's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> mind, and he strode swiftly onward, unaware of the imminent
peril which had been so narrowly averted.</p>

<p>The moon was now rising full and broad. A few fleecy clouds were
drifting slowly overhead. The land lay silent and sombre. Nature was
hushed in a dreamy, mystic repose. Grey paused and gazed upon the scene.
His mind cleared, while a new strength and quietness entered his heart.
He thought of Madeline. The sight of that slight form and fair face had
awakened the vibrant chords of memory. His face had been close to hers
as she lay in his arms while he bore her into the house. A great desire
had seized him to press his lips firmly to hers, no matter what she
might be. How he longed to seize her and bear her away from such a
place. But, no, he would not do it against her will. What was she doing
here, anyway? Why should she leave a home of comfort for such a desolate
region? "Madeline! Madeline!" he breathed. "What does it all mean? Oh,
to feel that you are as I left you by that garden gate; that you are the
same pure-souled woman as of old!"</p>

<p>He entered the cabin, threw himself into the bunk, and soon fell into a
fitful sleep. He was awakened by the rattle of dishes, and a peculiar
sizzling sound. Opening his eyes he beheld Buckskin Dan standing before
the little sheet-iron stove frying some moose meat. The appetising smell
filled the room, making Grey realise that he was very hungry. For a
while he lay still and watched Dan as he worked. What an ideal life, he
thought, as his eyes roved about the cosy cabin. What<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> did such a man
need with the luxuries of civilisation? Here in the wilderness he is
free to come and go at will. The land teeming with game, and this quiet
abode as a place of retreat. Yet he must be lonely at times, he mused.
Now a pleasant companion, a woman for instance, would prove an
additional charm. She would have to be pretty and genial, or the
situation might not be so fascinating. But, then, such cramped quarters
might not suit her. She would need more rooms, and that would
necessitate extra furniture. And suppose there should not be always two?
That would certainly complicate matters, and affairs at times might not
be so congenial.</p>

<p>A slight laugh unconsciously broke from Grey's lips, which caused Dan to
turn quickly about. A smile spread over his furrowed face as he noticed
that his companion was awake.</p>

<p>"Thought ye was asleep," he remarked, "an' here I've been tiptoein'
around the room like a thief fer the last half hour."</p>

<p>"Oh, I've been quietly musing in this comfortable place for a few
minutes," Grey replied.</p>

<p>"Wall, is that so? Yer musin' must have been very amusin' from the
chuckles ye jist let out."</p>

<p>"It was," Grey replied as he sat up in the bunk. "I was thinking what a
change it would make here if you had a wife. I was wondering if it would
be as agreeable to you as living alone."</p>

<p>To these words Buckskin Dan made no immediate reply. He seemed to be
suddenly interested in the meat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> that was now becoming temptingly
browned. He laid his few meagre dishes upon the rough table, while Grey
washed his face and hands in a tin basin near the door. The latter noted
the old man's silence, and feared that he had offended him by his
jocular remark. It was only after they had sat down to their breakfast
that Dan awoke from his reverie. He looked across the table and fixed
his faded eyes upon Grey's face.</p>

<p>"Ye hit me to the quick by that question of yours, pardner," he began.
"Ye didn't mean no harm, an' I take yer words kindly. But, young man, ye
little realised how that thrust stung."</p>

<p>"I'm sorry," Grey faltered, for the man's impressive manner was
affecting him more than ordinary.</p>

<p>"That's all right, pardner. Don't ye worry one mite. Ye axed a fair
question. But, my God! how kin I answer? Would I like to have a wife?
Would I be happier? Am I happy now, d'ye think? Am I happy wanderin' out
on the hills all by meself, an' comin' back to this lonely cabin, with
never a face to greet me, an' never a word of welcome? Then, when I'm
under the weather, an' somewhat petered out, to lie all day long in this
shack with never a gentle voice to ax how I am, no one to do fer me, an'
no one to care whether I live or die&mdash;d'ye think that is happiness?
Young man, git a home, an' git it as soon as possible. Buckskin Dan's
been over the trail afore ye, an' he knows a thing or two."</p>

<p>"I'm afraid it's too late," Grey sadly replied.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p><p>Dan looked keenly at his companion as if trying to read the purport of
his words.</p>

<p>"D'ye mean to tell me," he asked, "that you too have lost?"</p>

<p>"That's about it."</p>

<p>"Dead?"</p>

<p>"No, and yes."</p>

<p>"Ah, livin' yit, then?"</p>

<p>"In a way."</p>

<p>"But she's alive, young man. Remember that's somethin'. Ye've got hope
yit; it ain't altogether crushed. Look at me, pardner. Didn't I love the
sweetest, fairest lass that ever trod God's earth? But she left me!"</p>

<p>The trapper paused, and an expression of agony came into his face. Grey
could find no words; he knew not what to say.</p>

<p>"Yes, she left me," the old man continued, "left me in the bright summer
time, forty years ago come next July. She faded like the flowers of the
garden. The roses fled her cheeks, the roundness left her face, an' the
strength desarted her body. But she loved me to the last, an' her
partin' word was to me."</p>

<p>"But surely forty years have healed the wound," Grey responded. "It's
been long since then, and many a man would have forgotten."</p>

<p>"Never, young man, never! I kin see her as plain to-day as of old. Out
on the hills, an' along the trail, my Nan, my lost Nanette, is always
with me."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p><p>"And have you lived in the wilderness ever since?" Grey queried.</p>

<p>"Most of the time."</p>

<p>"Don't you often long, though, for civilisation?"</p>

<p>"I uster have a hankerin' that way. But when I saw the young fellers
with their sweethearts it made me feel so lonely that I could hardly
stand it. I like it better out on the hills with my Nanette. But of late
I've been somewhat drawn back to this camp more'n usual. Thar's a lassie
over yon at that house which minds me much of my Nan. I caught a glimpse
of her one day which made me stan' very still. An' since then I have sot
on the edge of the woods an' watched her as she walked along the trail a
leadin' to the river. She's jist like her in form&mdash;but my Nan was never
like her."</p>

<p>"Do you mean the young woman at Old Meg's?" Grey demanded.</p>

<p>"Yes; it's her I mean."</p>

<p>"And what do you know about her?"</p>

<p>"Nothin' fer sartin. It's only suspicion. But why should sich a purty
lass be out in a hole like this with a cratur' like Old Meg unless thar
was somethin' wrong? Tell me that."</p>

<p>"But haven't you heard anything? What do the men in camp say? Don't they
go there?"</p>

<p>Grey had now risen to his feet and was standing near the table looking
straight at his companion. His heart was beating fast. He expected to
hear the truth from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> this old man. Did he know? Could he tell him
anything?</p>

<p>"Yes, the men go thar," Dan replied, noting Grey's excitement. "But I've
never axed 'em. When I see her I see my Nanette, an' I want to think
it's my Nan livin' over thar an' not&mdash;"</p>

<p>"Don't say any more!" cried Grey fiercely, bringing his fist down upon
the table with a resounding blow. "You say that you have suffered; that
you lost your Nanette long ago. But she left you, and you know she was
pure and good when she died. But listen to me. What would be the
sufferings of a man who loved a woman whom he believed to be as noble as
your Nanette? Loved her with all the true passion of a man's heart. Then
lost her, and after years of seeking to find her there, living such a
life as that? Could your suffering be compared to his? Far better, don't
you think, that your Nanette should be dead than living such a life as
that?"</p>

<p>"My God! yes," cried the trapper, as the meaning of the constable's
words dawned upon his mind. "But are ye sure she's thar? Mebbe ye've
been mistaken."</p>

<p>"Oh, no, there is no mistake. Wouldn't I recognise my Madeline
anywhere?"</p>

<p>"Sure, that's only nat'ral. An' so ye tell me she was once like my
Nanette? How d'ye account then fer her bein' away up here?"</p>

<p>"I can't. It's a sore puzzle. She was reared in a home of luxury and
loving care. Her mother died<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> when she was quite young. She was her
father's only comfort, and he planned that at his death the whole of his
property, which was large, should go to her. They had relatives in the
United States, and Madeline in charge of a trusted friend left England
to pay them a visit. On that voyage the steamer was wrecked. Several
lives were reported lost, Madeline and her travelling companion among
the number. Something always told me that the report was not true, and
that Madeline had not been drowned. I could not rid my mind of the idea.
It forced itself upon me day and night. That was six years ago, and
since then I have travelled far and wide in the hope of obtaining some
trace of her. And now to find her there! Oh, God, it is too hard!"</p>

<p>Grey sank upon the bench, and buried his face in his hands. Buckskin Dan
watched him compassionately for a while, and thoughtfully stroked his
long beard.</p>

<p>"Seems to me thar's somethin' wrong," he at length remarked. "It ain't
nat'ral fer sich a lassie, brought up as ye say she was, to be in a
place like this. Mebbe if ye had a talk with her she would explain
matters."</p>

<p>"I've thought of it," was the slow reply, "but somehow I can't. The
first time I saw her enter the house I wanted to rush to her at once.
And then last night when she lay unconscious in my arms as I carried her
into the cabin the yearning was stronger than ever."</p>

<p>"Young man, what are ye talkin' about?" Dan <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>demanded. "Did ye say she
was unconscious? What d'ye mean? What are ye sayin'?"</p>

<p>"I know you must be surprised at my words," Grey responded; then he
briefly told the incident of the past night.</p>

<p>Dan said not a word during this recital, but sat bolt upright on his
bench. His clinched hands kept moving to and fro by his side, while a
deep scowl formed upon his brow.</p>

<p>"The d&mdash; skunk!" he ejaculated when Grey ceased. "Oh, if I only had me
hands on his measly carcass! An' so he insulted the lassie did he?"</p>

<p>"I should like to know how she is getting along," Grey continued. "But
how can I go? If I could feel she is my Madeline as of old, then no
power in Hishu could keep me from her side. But I can't go unless I know
she wants me. I would like to hear, too, about the boy."</p>

<p>The trapper sat thoughtfully smoking for some time in deep silence. Then
he reached out a large hand across the table.</p>

<p>"Put it thar, young man," he said. "Yer tale of sorrow has brought ye
very close to me old heart. We're pardners now fer sure. Buckskin Dan
don't make friends easy, but when he does it's with links of steel, an'
don't ye fergit that. But, come, we've sot here long enough. I jist want
to run across to the store fer a little baccy an' ammunition. It'll take
only a few minutes. Thar's important bizness ahead of us, an' we ain't
got no time to lose."</p>

<hr />

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p>

<h2><span>CHAPTER XIII</span> <span class="smaller">THE TRAILING SERPENT</span></h2>

<p>Buckskin Dan walked slowly along the trail toward the store. The day was
young, and the sun was just swinging clear of the far eastern horizon.
It was a cool morning, and the mists of night still hung thick over
river and valley. Dan's chest expanded as he drank into his lungs great
draughts of the fresh, keen air. "It's the only tonic I need," he had
often remarked. "Pills an' tablets an' patent trash may suit some, but
give me the medicine the good Lord sends fresh from the hills an'
mountains. Thar's no p'isin in that, an' it doesn't twist yer stummick
into a groanin' hell wuss than some preachers tell us about."</p>

<p>He found Siwash Bill within the store, looking carefully over his supply
of rifles and shot-guns.</p>

<p>"Mornin', Dan," was the curt salutation.</p>

<p>"Mornin'," came the brief reply. "Any baccy?"</p>

<p>"Plenty," and the squaw man crossed the room and handed out a big black
plug. "What else?"</p>

<p>"Some ca'tridges. I'm 'bout cleaned out."</p>

<p>"Goin' out on the hills to-day, Dan?" queried the storekeeper.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p><p>"Guess likely. Saw some big sheep thar t'other day, an' I need them
bad, fer my stock of meat's gittin' low."</p>

<p>"Is the stranger goin' with ye?"</p>

<p>"Mebbe so. 'Cordin' how he feels. Wall, so long, I must be off."</p>

<p>Dan did not notice the interested look in Siwash Bill's face when he
learned that the trapper was bound for the hills. Neither did he see the
squaw man and Windy Pete engaged in an eager conversation in the back
room a few minutes later. He strode forward little realising that his
few words were acting like fire to tow in two cunning minds within the
store.</p>

<p>He reached Old Meg's house, and rapped upon the door. The owner herself
appeared, and stood looking curiously out upon the trapper.</p>

<p>"How's the lassie?" Dan blurted forth. He did not like the expression in
the woman's face, and longed to get through with his errand as soon as
possible.</p>

<p>"What business is it of yours how she is?" was the quick retort.</p>

<p>"Now don't git cranky, woman," Dan replied; "it doesn't work with me."</p>

<p>"Indeed," and Meg gave a sarcastic laugh. "Don't try any of your bluff
game here. It doesn't work with me, either."</p>

<p>"I'm not, woman, an' ye'll soon find it out if ye try any foolin'. If
anythin' happens to the lassie wot lives with ye, beware. Buckskin Dan
isn't in the habit of talkin' simply to hear his own eloquence.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> I want
to know how the gal is feelin' this mornin'. Will ye tell me? Is it yes
or no?"</p>

<p>The defiant look on Old Meg's face changed to one of concern. She was
becoming uneasy before those steady eyes which seemed to be reading her
inmost soul.</p>

<p>"What does the man know?" she mentally asked herself. "What does he mean
by such words?" She knew of Buckskin Dan, and for him to visit her on
such business was sufficient cause for anxiety. She shifted uneasily
from one foot to the other, and tried to evade his look.</p>

<p>"Is it yes or no? I won't ax ag'in."</p>

<p>"Oh, well, if you must know," she flung forth, "she's all right. It
takes a deal to upset her."</p>

<p>"Ah, is that so? An' the kid, how is he gittin' along?"</p>

<p>"Better. Out in a day or two. Now, are you satisfied?"</p>

<p>With that the woman slammed the door, leaving Dan to his own thoughts.
And those same thoughts were of no light nature which beat through his
brain as he wended his way back to his own house. As he had told Grey
the evening before, he had been trained in the wilderness to use his
eyes and ears, and he might have included his brain, too, for that
matter. He used it now right royally as he moved along the trail. His
head was bent forward, and his long beard swept his breast. Every
movement of his body bespoke a man of action, while his giant stature
denoted strength of no ordinary nature. He was a patriarchal giant of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>
the wild, where endurance and lustihood mean so much.</p>

<p>A slight sigh of relief at length escaped his lips as if some problem
had been suddenly and unexpectedly solved. He entered his cabin, and a
smile illumined his face as he beheld Grey busily engaged in putting the
room in order.</p>

<p>"What!" he cried. "My mornin's work all done, an' the dishes washed,
too! Ye've left nuthin' fer me, pardner."</p>

<p>"Didn't you say," Grey laughingly replied, "that we have important
business on hand, and that there's no time to lose? I'm still in the
dark as to your meaning, but thought it best to straighten things up
here a bit so as to be ready."</p>

<p>"Ye're right, young man, thar is important bizness on hand. But mebbe ye
won't agree to my plan."</p>

<p>"You lead on, Dan," Grey replied. "You're the Commanding Officer to-day,
and I'll follow you to the death."</p>

<p>"Good!" ejaculated the trapper, as he brought forth the plug of tobacco
from his pocket, and began to whittle off several thin slices. "I've
been thinkin' much since hearin' yer story, an' thar's only one course I
see open."</p>

<p>"And what's that?"</p>

<p>"Git out to the hills after the Hishu bunch of miners. If I kin round
'em up afore they come back and git soaked with Bill's and Meg's
p'isined whiskey mebbe I kin do somethin'. Will ye go with me? We<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> might
run across some game on the way. We'll take a blanket along an' some
grub, fer we'll have to spend the night most likely in the open."</p>

<p>"But will it be well to leave Hishu?" Grey queried. "Something might
happen to the boy in the meantime, and then how should I feel?"</p>

<p>"Not likely, not likely, young man. The boy's all right, an' the lassie,
too, fer I've jist been to inquire."</p>

<p>"What! You were over to the house?"</p>

<p>"Yes; strolled over a little while ago."</p>

<p>"And you say Madeline is all right?"</p>

<p>"Yes, chipper as a young bird."</p>

<p>"Thank God!" fervently broke from Grey's lips. "It's a great relief for
me to know that."</p>

<p>"Yes, she'll do fer a while, an' so will the kid. Nuthin' will happen as
fer as I kin see until he gits stronger, an' we'll be back fer sure by
t'-morrow night at the latest."</p>

<p>"I'll go, then, Dan. But you'll have to loan me a rifle. I left mine
over by the rapids."</p>

<p>"Oh, I'll fix ye up all right. Here's a nice light one. She'll spit fire
like a wildcat if the right man's behind her."</p>

<p>Half an hour later they emerged from the house, closed the door, and
struck a trail, leading in a northeasterly direction away from the
river. Dan bore the blanket slung over his shoulder, while Grey carried
their scanty supply of food. Little did they think that their every
movement was observed from a small <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>window in the store, and that soon
after they had headed for the hills the figure of a man stepped lightly
across the open and glided along after them. Could they have seen the
slinking form keeping so warily out of sight and have read the writing
upon the secret chamber of his heart they would not have felt so secure
as they moved steadily onward.</p>

<p>It was a beautiful fall morning. The air was clear and bracing. Not a
breath of wind stirred the tree tops. Around them stood the mountains,
vested to the girdling timber line with snowy robes of dazzling
whiteness. Nature was limning her annual masterpiece. A few delicate
touches here and there were the only signs of the picture to be
completed a few weeks later, with storms raging over the land, streams
stricken dumb, and the rasping frost-laden air biting like the whitest
of hot iron.</p>

<p>Steadily the two wayfarers sped forward with long, swinging strides.
Occasionally a timid rabbit scurried across the trail, and at times the
whirr of a startled grouse could be heard a short distance away. For
these they paused not. They were forth on a larger quest, for nobler
game.</p>

<p>At noon they rested by a small stream, ate their frugal meal, drank of
the cold sparkling water, and once more hastened onward. For hours they
did not slacken their pace. The sun dipped westward, and the numerous
trees were throwing out dark trailing shadows. But darker and more
sombre still was that silent figure ever shadowing them from behind.
Had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> they looked back at the right moment they might have caught a
fleeting glimpse of his presence as he dodged from tree to tree, from
rock to rock, or skirted the edge of some wild meadow which they had
just crossed.</p>

<p>Dan and Grey talked but little throughout the day, for the trail was
hard and not conducive to much conversation.</p>

<p>"How much farther?" panted Grey, as they toiled painfully up a steep
incline.</p>

<p>"Not fer now," was the reply. "Gittin' tired?"</p>

<p>"Somewhat. My feet are rather sore from the snags and stones."</p>

<p>"They'll soon heal, pardner, that's one comfort. Now the snags an'
stones ye strike out in civilisation hurt fer a long time. But hello!
What's this?"</p>

<p>Grey looked quickly up at this exclamation of surprise, and beheld a man
coming slowly toward them. He was bent forward, and limped painfully. A
small pack was strapped across his shoulders, and in his right hand he
carried a rifle.</p>

<p>"It's 'Crusty' Ike, I do believe!" Dan exclaimed. "He's one of the
crankiest cusses in the hull region. What in the name of goodness is he
doin' here in sich a condition!"</p>

<p>"Hello, Iky," he shouted as they drew near. "What's wrong with ye? Are
ye lost, or bughouse?"</p>

<p>The man addressed lifted his eyes and fixed them upon the trapper's face
in a mute appeal, but made no reply.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p><p>"What's wrong with ye? Why don't ye speak?" insisted Dan.</p>

<p>"Sprained ankle&mdash;left behind," came the curt rejoinder.</p>

<p>"Is that so? Too bad, old chap. But yer headin' the wrong way. Ye'd
better face about an' hike it into camp."</p>

<p>"No, no!" cried the other most vehemently. "I can't go back! The gold's
over there! Jim Stebbins found it. He brought us word. This confounded
sprain kept me back. But I'll get there. By God! I'll stake my claim
yet! The boys won't get it all."</p>

<p>"But, man alive," replied Dan, "ye're not fit to travel. Ye'll fall on
the trail. Ye'll starve. How fer are the others ahead? When did ye
start?"</p>

<p>"This morning, and the boys are hiking like the devil."</p>

<p>The trapper stroked his long beard meditatively. He knew what a stampede
meant, and the wild excitement which always ensued. No doubt the
stampeders would return in a few days, find "Crusty" and take him back
with them. He must let this man do the work he intended to do himself.</p>

<p>"Iky, set down a bit," he demanded. "'Twill do ye good. Thar's somethin'
I want to tell ye. I won't keep ye long."</p>

<p>Somewhat reluctantly the lame man seated himself by the side of the
trail, unslung his pack, and laid his rifle by his side.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p><p>"Fire away, then," he grunted, "and don't be long about it, either."</p>

<p>"Now look here, Iky," Dan began. "I'm mighty glad ye've been knocked out
to-day."</p>

<p>"The devil! Well, that's cool."</p>

<p>"Jist keep yer mouth shet fer a minute an' I'll explain what I mean.
I've known ye fer years, Iky, as a square man, even though ye are cranky
at times. Ye're true to the core, which is more'n I kin say of some I've
run ag'inst. If ye knew of a mean ugly game bein' put up ag'inst some
poor little kid ye would jist explode like a barrel of dynamite,
wouldn't ye?"</p>

<p>"My God! yes. You bet your life I would."</p>

<p>"Wall, then, thar's a poor wee lad at Hishu that's been stole away from
its home by a set of measly skunks."</p>

<p>"Who are they?" demanded Ike, half rising to his feet, while his eyes
blazed with anger. "Tell me the names of the villains, and I'll bring
the boys down to Hishu like greased lightning. D'ye know who they are?"</p>

<p>"Yes, Siwash Bill an' his gang: that's who they are."</p>

<p>"Good Lord! An' did they do that? Let me go. Oh, it's Bill, is it? Steal
a baby from his mother's arms! I had a little lad of my own once, but he
left me long ago. He's always with me in this hell of a land. I can see
his sweet face yet, hear his happy laugh, and feel his small soft hand
in mine. Oh, why was he taken from me when I wanted him so much?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> If I
had him now I wouldn't be here. I'd be a better man. But for his sake
I'd do anything for someone else's child. Let me go. I'll round up the
boys."</p>

<p>He jumped to his feet, forgetting for the instant his sprained ankle. A
cry escaped his lips and his body writhed with pain.</p>

<p>"I won't go back!" he cried, straightening himself up with an effort.
"Don't delay me any longer."</p>

<p>They watched him as he limped slowly along the trail.</p>

<p>"Poor devil!" exclaimed Dan. "His brain's half turned by that lust of
gold, an' now wot I've told him has made him completely daft. But it
can't be helped. Guess we'd better turn down into that next valley.
Thar's a small stream yonder among some heavy timber, whar we kin spend
the night. In the mornin' we'll go to the high hills fer some sheep, an'
then hike back to Hishu. I've had quite uneasy thoughts all day about
the lassie an' the poor little lad. Let's git on, pardner."</p>

<hr />

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p>

<h2><span>CHAPTER XIV</span> <span class="smaller">IN THE DEEP OF THE NIGHT</span></h2>

<p>Grey sat before the genial fire with his back propped against a large
spruce tree. He watched in a dreamy manner the curling flames sending up
countless sparks into the night. Buckskin Dan sat a few feet away,
puffing slowly at his black, short-stemmed pipe.</p>

<p>The place they had chosen for their camp was near a small stream in the
midst of a sturdy growth of soft-wood trees. The moon was rising in the
distance, but its bright beams had not as yet flooded the landscape.</p>

<p>"This is comfort," murmured Grey, as he watched the fire seizing with
avidity upon the dry pine sticks. "After the weariness of the trail what
can be more delightful than a spot such as this? It makes up for much,
does it not, Dan?"</p>

<p>"Ay, ay," was the response. "I've often thought the same thing meself as
I sat alone by me little watch-fire in the gloom."</p>

<p>"But didn't you find it lonely at times? Did you ever have a creepy
feeling that some danger was surrounding you?"</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p><p>"Can't say that I ever did. But why d'ye ax, pardner?"</p>

<p>"Oh, I don't exactly know. But as I look into the blackness around us an
uncanny feeling comes into my heart. Those great sombre trees fill me
with strange forebodings. There seems to be danger lurking within their
dark depths. I know it is all nonsense, but somehow it depresses me much
to-night."</p>

<p>"Yer tired, young man; that's what's the matter with ye. Ye've had very
little sleep fer several nights now, an' ye've been over hard trails of
late. It's no wonder yer down in the dumps. A good rest will do ye a
world of good. So curl up in yon blanket, an' ye'll soon fergit sich
things."</p>

<p>"But you must share the blanket with me, Dan. I won't touch it,
otherwise."</p>

<p>"Now don't ye bother about that. Sartinly I'll have a piece of it.
Thar's enough fer both of us. We'll need it, too, afore mornin', fer the
night is chilly."</p>

<p>Nothing loath, Grey stretched himself upon the ground near the fire, and
drew the blanket over his body. He listened for a while to the crackling
of the fire, and watched the sparks circling and shooting up into the
air. He even tried to count them ere they tumbled and disappeared
forever. Presently they faded, and in their stead he saw a face&mdash;it was
Madeline's&mdash;just where those sparks should be. She was looking at him
with fear in her large eyes. An expression of terror was depicted upon
her face. She was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>trying to come to him, but something seemed to be
holding her back. He tried to go to her, but felt himself bound by some
invisible power. He made an attempt to call to her, but words would not
come. The perspiration stood in beads upon his forehead. He must go, he
would break those bonds. He made one mighty effort, and felt the cords
loosen. Then the vision faded, and he awoke with a start. He looked
around. A few embers were still smouldering near by. Dan was lying at
his side asleep, and breathing heavily. The moon was now riding high in
the heavens, but the camping ground was shrouded by the shadows of the
tall trees.</p>

<p>Grey tried to banish the dream which was still so vivid to his mind. He
lay there looking up into the sky through the delicate tracery of
countless branches. He blamed himself for his childish apprehension.
"What a fool I am," he thought, "to be unnerved by a mere dream! But I
really wonder if anything is wrong with Madeline. There was much meaning
in dreams long ago, and why should it not be the same to-day? Anyway I
shall get back to Hishu to-morrow as quickly as possible. I shall find
out then how things are going. I was wrong to leave on this wild-goose
chase. It was all nonsense."</p>

<p>He closed his eyes, and turned over on his left side. As he did so a
slight noise among the trees arrested his attention. He lifted his head
slightly from the bunch of fir boughs which formed his pillow, and
listened intently. Hearing nothing, he resumed his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> former posture.
"It's only a rabbit or a fox," he said to himself. "Strange that such a
thing should startle me." Nevertheless, he moved his head and laid it
upon the cool smooth barrel of the rifle lying by his side. The touch
was comforting, and he was thankful that he had placed it there.</p>

<p>He now found it impossible to sleep. His eyes would not close, and he
kept straining his ears for the faintest sound. His gaze wandered out
into the woods among the trees. His eyes were becoming accustomed to the
dimness, and he could see fairly distinctly several yards away. Upon one
object there he riveted his eyes. He thought he saw it move. Perhaps it
was only imagination. It was a stump, no doubt, but it had the
appearance of a human being. Presently it moved, he was sure of that,
and came a step closer. Then another, and then another. No longer now
did Grey doubt that some person was there with malign intent. It was a
living object, and that he could face. Whoever it was he was stealing up
gradually, and but for that pair of keen, watchful eyes could hardly be
detected among the dark tree trunks. Nearer and nearer the form
approached, bending somewhat in a wary attitude. In one place a narrow
shaft of light shot through the trees. It touched for an instant the
slinking figure, and a sudden gleam from polished steel flashed forth.
The effect was as an electric shock to Grey's tense nerves. He seized
the rifle and sprang to his knees. This sudden action startled the
intruder. He paused in his tracks, and then wheeling dashed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> back among
the trees. Quickly Grey brought the rifle to his shoulder and sent a
leaden missive after the retreating form. Then all was still. Grey was
now thoroughly aroused. A burning rage filled his heart at the thought
of the coward who had attempted such a dastardly trick. Quickly
reloading his rifle he sprang into the forest in an effort to overtake
the assailant. After he had gone some distance he realised the folly of
his action. Among the shadows of the trees it would be quite easy for
the intruder to hide and shoot him down. Reluctantly he returned to the
camping ground, where he found Buckskin Dan standing erect with his
rifle in his hand.</p>

<p>"What's the matter, pardner?" he demanded. "What were ye shootin' at?
Was it a b'ar?"</p>

<p>"A bear be fiddlesticks!" Grey replied. "Do you think I'd lose a good
night's sleep for a bear?"</p>

<p>"What was it then? Ye seem mighty excited."</p>

<p>"It was a sneak, a devil with the form of a man, creeping stealthily
upon us with a gleaming knife in his hand. That's what it was."</p>

<p>"Good Lord!" ejaculated the trapper. "A man, d'ye say, with a knife, a
creepin' upon us! Are ye sure ye saw aright? Mebbe it was only a
shadder."</p>

<p>"A pretty lively shadow, then. I never saw a shadow take to its heels in
such a hurry before. A shadow doesn't generally carry a sharp,
glittering knife, does it?"</p>

<p>"Wall, no. But things are most deceivin' in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> night. I don't like to
doubt yer word, young man. But it's so mysterious. I can't savvey it
nohow."</p>

<p>"Are there any Indians in this locality, Dan?" Grey inquired.</p>

<p>"Yes, a few scatterin' ones here an' thar, though most of 'em are off in
another direction. But it wasn't an Injun, pardner, ye may set yer mind
to rest on that score."</p>

<p>"What makes you so sure of that?"</p>

<p>"Bah, the Injuns in these diggin's wouldn't stoop to sich things. When
they're on the warpath it's different. But Buckskin Dan 'ud be the last
man they'd injure. He's been too good a friend to 'em, an' they wouldn't
tech 'im."</p>

<p>"It must be a white man, then," Grey replied, "and if ever I get my
hands on his measly skull he'll need to go on the stocks for repairs.
God! How I'd like to have him here now!"</p>

<p>The trapper looked with admiration upon the sturdy form before him. He
had little doubt of the outcome should Grey meet with the assailant.</p>

<p>"Come, pardner," he commanded, "you lay down now an' git a few winks of
sleep. I've had enough fer an old man, so I'll jist stir up the fire a
bit an' keep watch."</p>

<p>"But should I not stay awake, too? That snake may come back."</p>

<p>"Let 'im come. I'd like to set me eyes on 'im jist fer an instant. Old
Spit-death here knows a thing or two," and Dan fondly stroked the barrel
of his rifle.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> "Many a foamin', frothin' grizzly she's lulled to sleep.
Oh, no, don't ye worry. Jist curl up thar, an' fergit everythin'."</p>

<p>Grey found it easy to "curl up," but hard to sleep. He was too much
excited, and though at times he did doze off he always awoke with a
start, thinking that gliding form was upon him.</p>

<p>Buckskin Dan sat silently near the fire, his rifle lying by his side. He
was thinking deeply, and occasionally a deep scowl passed over his face.
He was keenly on the alert, nevertheless, and often he peered intently
among the trees. It was only when daylight was breaking over the land
that he rose from his position, and brought forth some food from a small
bag hanging on the limb of a tree.</p>

<p>"Guess we must be movin', young man," he remarked. "Day's dawnin', an' a
long trail lies ahead. Better have a snack afore we start."</p>

<p>"I'm going to have a wash first," Grey replied; "it will freshen me up a
bit."</p>

<p>Seizing his rifle he hurried down to the stream several yards away,
leaving Dan slowly munching his breakfast. Grey had been gone but a
short time when he returned, carrying in his hand an old slouch hat.</p>

<p>"What do you think of that?" he inquired. "Do you think now that my
trouble was only a nightmare?"</p>

<p>"What is it, pardner?" and Dan paused in his eating.</p>

<p>"Don't you see? A hat with a hole through the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> crown of it. My bullet
didn't go far astray. I just strolled over to where I aimed last night,
thinking I might discover something, and here's the result."</p>

<p>"Ye don't say so! Wall, I declare!" exclaimed Dan, taking the hat in his
hand and examining it carefully. "Gee whiz, that was a close shave! I
bet that skunk's head stung whar the bullet lifted the hat. Hope to
goodness it took a slice of his scalp. Now, let me think whar I've seen
this headgear afore. Seems quite familiar. Yes, no, ah, I have it. I
have it!" and Dan sprang to his feet in the excitement of his discovery.
"It's Windy Pete's, that's whose it is! Haven't I seen him with that old
thing fer years now. Guess he's worn it ever sence he came North. Stupid
of me not to recognise it at fust sight."</p>

<p>"But what would he be doing here?" questioned Grey. "Did we not leave
him at Hishu yesterday morning? Was he not there when we started?"</p>

<p>"He was thar, that's true, young man. But ye don't know them divils.
They are here to-day an' miles away to-morrer."</p>

<p>"But what object would Pete have in coming here, and stealing upon us as
he did last night? And further, how did he know where we were going when
we left Hishu?"</p>

<p>The trapper looked intently into Grey's face, although he saw him not.
His mind had gone back to his visit to the store the previous morning,
and to the information he had imparted to Siwash Bill. He remembered how
interested the latter had been in his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> movements. It all came to him now
like a flash, throwing light upon several things which hitherto had been
shrouded in darkness.</p>

<p>"Pardner," and his words were slow and impressive, "the hull thing's as
clear to me as a rabbit's eye. It's you they're after an' not me. Yer
the game, that's sartin."</p>

<p>"After me!" exclaimed Grey. "Why would Pete track me all the way to this
place when he could have fixed me in Hishu? You must be mistaken."</p>

<p>"Ye don't know 'em, young man, as well as I do. They were shrewd enough
not to meddle with ye down thar. Oh, no, they wouldn't do that. They
would git us out in the hills together, creep up when ye was asleep, run
ye through, an' skerdaddle. Then it would appear as if we'd had a set-to
an' I stabbed ye."</p>

<p>"My God!" cried Grey, "do you think that was their object? Are they such
devils as that, to commit such a crime, and cast the blame upon an
innocent man?"</p>

<p>"Are they sich divils? Ye don't know 'em yit. Why, man, they'd do
anythin'. Thank God, their hellish plans have missed fire this time. But
we must be very keerful, pardner. We've had a warnin' which we can't
afford to neglect. So let's git out of this uncanny hole, and hit the
trail fer Hishu."</p>

<hr />

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p>

<h2><span>CHAPTER XV</span> <span class="smaller">A CRY ACROSS THE WATER</span></h2>

<p>"If we kin, we must reach Hishu afore Windy Pete gits thar."</p>

<p>It was Buckskin Dan who spoke as he and the constable swung on their way
the morning after the night of alarms. They were returning by a
different trail, which would bring them to the river a few miles below
Hishu. Along this route was a high range of hills where mountain sheep
were plentiful. Here they expected to bag a tender lamb to take back
with them to the village.</p>

<p>"Yes," continued Dan, "we must git that fust, an' then find out fer
sartin if Pete was that skunk wot distarbed us last night."</p>

<p>"We'll have to do some hustling, then," Grey replied. "If we stop for
game it will make us late."</p>

<p>"Can't be helped, pardner. Grub's mighty low with me jist now, an' if we
don't git it to-day, it'll mean another trip to-morrer, an' I don't like
to leave Hishu too often jist at present."</p>

<p>Thus for hours they continued on their way, stopping only once by a
small brook to eat their last morsel of food. The afternoon was well
advanced as the long<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> terrace-like range loomed up before them on their
right.</p>

<p>"Should find some sheep over thar," remarked the trapper. "Guess we'd
better leave the trail, and circle yon knoll. Thar's good feedin' ground
on t'other side."</p>

<p>Slowly and cautiously they wound their way over broken and twisted
rocks, keeping a sharp look-out the while. Creeping guardedly about the
side of a hill, with a deep gulch below, they beheld a small flock of
sheep feeding calmly several hundred yards away. To Grey it seemed cruel
to disturb that peaceful scene. He thought of the assailant stealing
upon him in the dead of night, and here he was doing the same to these
harmless creatures. But Buckskin Dan evidently had no such qualms of
conscience. He needed meat, and the sheep were there for man's use, so
that was sufficient. Speedily he advanced, gliding from rock to rock
with such agility that Grey, nimble though he was, found it difficult to
follow. At length they were forced to creep upon all fours, and when at
last they were as close as prudence allowed the trapper took careful aim
at a small-sized sheep and fired. The animal gave one great leap into
the air, and then dropped to the ground. Its companions, terror
stricken, gazed for an instant in the direction from whence the report
had come, and then fled wildly across the open space and disappeared
like magic among the rocks.</p>

<p>"I've snipped that critter fer sure," Dan remarked, "so I'll jist dodge
over an' bring it back."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p><p>But this was easier said than done, for they found after they had gone
a short distance that the rocks sloped down to the very edge of the
precipice like one side of the roof of a house, about fifteen feet in
width. Leaving his rifle behind, Dan slowly made his way along the
narrow ledge, holding on carefully to the wall towering above. A sharp
point jutting out partly barred his progress and as he attempted to go
around this his foot lost its hold, and he found himself slipping down
the sloping rock, which had been worn smooth by wind and rain. With a
cry of terror he clutched frantically for something upon which to fasten
his fingers. But not an object could be found. Down and down he moved,
and when it seemed as if in another instant he must be hurled to
immediate death his hand touched a jagged fissure in the surface. How
his tense fingers did dig into the friendly crevice as he hung over that
awful place. Below yawned the gulf; above stretched the merciless rock.</p>

<p>So quickly had all this taken place that Grey had hardly time to think,
much less to act. A numbing horror overspread his whole body as he
watched his companion moving down to apparent destruction. But when he
saw him gripping so desperately to the rent in the rock he quickly
roused to action. He looked about for something to stretch out to his
helpless partner. But not a branch or sapling could he behold&mdash;nothing
that would serve his purpose. He looked far down into the valley; he
might get something there.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> But it would take considerable time to go
and return, and in the meantime what would happen to Dan!</p>

<p>"How long can you hold on?" he called.</p>

<p>"'Bout a minute," came the weak reply. "Me fingers are 'most broke. Fer
God's sake do somethin', an' do it quick!"</p>

<p>Then Grey acted. He tore off the buckskin jacket he was wearing, which
Dan had loaned him, and gave it a most vigorous pull to test its
endurance. Next he unbuckled the cartridge belt which encircled his
waist. Tying one end of this to a sleeve of the jacket he fastened the
other end securely about his ankle. Finding a suitable stone lying near,
with some difficulty he made it fast to the second sleeve of the jacket.
This accomplished he stretched himself carefully down the rocky incline,
and holding on firmly with one hand to the point of a jagged flinty
rift, with the other he let out his improvised rope of salvation. The
weight of the stone bore it steadily toward the clinging trapper. Would
it reach? And if so would it be strong enough? Dan saw it coming, and a
gleam of hope came into his faded eyes. But alas! it was still too far
away.</p>

<p>"Let her out some more," he shouted. "I can't tech it yit."</p>

<p>Then Grey stretched himself out full length, and with both hands gripped
the rock above. It was all that was needed. Dan's tired fingers closed
eagerly upon the sleeve of the jacket. He tested its strength ere
letting go of his old precarious support. Finding that it held firm he
committed himself to its <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>keeping, and slowly and painfully made his way
foot by foot up from that dizzy, frowning ledge. Neither Grey nor Dan
spoke. The silence was intense. Would the connecting link hold? Would it
bear the strain to the end? Grey could feel the weight attached to his
leg, but could not see how his comrade was progressing. He half expected
at any instant to hear the jacket or belt give way. The perspiration
stood in great beads upon his forehead, and he almost held his breath in
the intenseness of the moment. But when he felt Dan's hand laid with a
mighty grip upon his other leg, and knew that the old man was scrambling
quickly up by the side of his body to a place of safety, a great sigh of
relief escaped his lips. It did not take him long to draw himself up
from his own perilous position after the weight had been removed.</p>

<p>"God bless ye, pardner!" Dan cried, reaching out a large horny hand.
"How kin I ever thank ye fer wot ye've done fer me to-day?"</p>

<p>Grey silently grasped the extended member. Words would not come. His
heart was too full for utterance.</p>

<p>The trapper stooped down, and slowly unfastened the buckskin jacket from
the leathern belt. He next held it up in both hands, and examined it
carefully.</p>

<p>"It stood the test well, that's wot it did," he remarked. "Never thought
when I made it that it 'ud be the means of savin' me life."</p>

<p>"And did you make this yourself?" Grey inquired with surprise.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p><p>"Sartin, every stitch of it. It's not made with yer measly fancy
thread, either, but with good stout raw hide. But even that wouldn't
have borne the strain if it hadn't been fer somethin' else which made it
strong."</p>

<p>"What was that, Dan?"</p>

<p>"'Twas the good Lord, that's who it was. As I kneeled thar in that awful
place, with only that slender thing to keep me from death, I thought how
I uster kneel at me mother's knees when a little child. It's been sich a
long time sence I said a prayer that I didn't know what to say. But I
remembered the prayer she taught me then, an' as I struggled up that
rock with me hands clingin' to this jacket I said over in me mind,</p>

<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<div>Now I lay me down to sleep,</div>
<div>I pray the Lord me soul to keep.</div>
</div></div></div>

<p>It wasn't altogether suitable, I own, but it was wonderful comfortin',
an' I think the Lord knew wot I meant jist as well as if it had been a
long one an' fixed up with fine words. But, thar, I've talked 'bout
enough. We must git away from here, an' hike it home as fast as we kin.
It's gittin' late, an' I'm afeered we can't reach Hishu afore dark."</p>

<p>"But what about the sheep?" Grey questioned. "Are we to leave it
behind?"</p>

<p>"Sartin. Not another step do I take after the critter. It nearly cost me
me life, an' I don't venture over yon place ag'in. It's too long a way
round, an' not worth the trouble. So come, let's git."</p>

<p>The sun had disappeared behind a tall mountain<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> peak as they descended
the slope leading to the river. Here they struck upon a well-beaten
trail leading to the village. Along this they sped through the steadily
deepening twilight.</p>

<p>Suddenly across the water came a piercing cry which stayed their steps
and held them spellbound. Again and again it came, and then all was
still. It was a cry for help. There was no doubt about that. Grey's
heart beat tumultuously, and an horrible dread overwhelmed him. It was a
woman's voice, and it sounded like Madeline's! Springing quickly up the
bank at the side of the trail he peered over the tops of the trees, and
there out in the stream he caught one fleeting glimpse of a canoe ere it
swung around a bend in the river and disappeared from view.</p>

<p>"It's the lassie! It's the lassie!" cried Dan, who had sprung to his
side. "Thar's somethin' wrong."</p>

<p>"My God, yes!" Grey replied. "What can we do, oh, what can we do?
There's some villainy in this! Do you think they've taken the boy, too?"</p>

<p>"Can't tell. But we must git into Hishu as fast as our legs'll take us,
an' find out fer sartin."</p>

<p>Grey waited to hear no more. He leaped down the bank and hurried along
the trail. That wild pathetic cry for help still rang in his ears.
Madeline was in trouble, in danger! That was enough. Forgotten now were
his old doubts and fears. He thought of her only as of old. His steps
quickened to a trot as he neared the village, then to a run. Down the
trail he sped like a greyhound, with Dan following pantingly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> some
distance behind. He flew by the trapper's cabin, the store and the
cluster of deserted shacks. He dashed across the open, reached Old Meg's
house, beat upon the door, pushed it open, and sprang into the room.</p>

<p>"Where is she?" he cried. "What has happened? For God's sake tell me,
quick!"</p>

<p>Little wonder that Meg started back with surprise, mingled with fear, at
this sudden intrusion and the towering form standing before her. Grey's
unshaven face was drawn and haggard, while his eyes glowed with a light
of wild intensity.</p>

<p>"Where is she?" he demanded. "Why don't you speak?"</p>

<p>"W-what do you mean?" the woman replied. She felt there must be some
reason for Grey's excited manner. It disconcerted her, leaving her much
confused.</p>

<p>"I want to know what has become of Miss Normsell, who has been staying
with you, and also the boy? Where are they? Do you know?"</p>

<p>"They went for a stroll to the river some time ago, and should be back
by now. It's getting late."</p>

<p>"To the river? My God!" cried Grey. "Then it was Madeline! She's gone,
and the boy, too! There's some foul plot."</p>

<p>Grey asked no more questions. He stared for an instant at Old Meg, then
turned and left the building, leaving the woman gazing wonderingly after
him.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p>

<h2><span>CHAPTER XVI</span> <span class="smaller">THE SIGNAL FIRE</span></h2>

<p>Grey walked rapidly toward Dan's cabin. His mind was wildly agitated,
for his brief interview with Old Meg had given him no satisfaction. In
passing the store he was tempted to enter and seek an explanation from
Siwash Bill. He banished this thought instantly, however. No, he would
see Dan first, and find out what he had learned.</p>

<p>A lighted candle was burning in the cabin, showing that the trapper had
been there, although he was nowhere to be seen. Grey entered, and
seating himself upon a bench tried to collect his thoughts. What was he
to do? Madeline and the boy had been stolen away. What would the Major
say when he heard about it? To think that he, Norman Grey, should so
neglect his duty as to allow that boy to slip from his grasp! And then
there was Madeline. Duty and love were the two forces which stirred his
inmost being. He rose to his feet and paced restlessly up and down the
small room. Why did not Dan return? Why was he away so long? Without the
trapper he felt helpless. A few days before he would have laughed at
anyone who even suggested that he could not manage his own affairs. But
since coming to Hishu and meeting with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> this old man, he found how
important it was to lean upon him for assistance. Dan knew the people of
the place and the whole surrounding country, of which he himself was
ignorant.</p>

<p>Thus the moments sped by, and the trapper did not appear. Something must
have happened to him. Perhaps he had run across Windy Pete or Siwash
Bill, and had got into trouble. At this thought Grey started for the
door. He would go to the store and make inquiries. But ere he had time
to lay a hand upon the latch the door swung slowly open, and the Indian,
Hishu Sam, glided swiftly and noiselessly into the room.</p>

<p>Grey's face brightened perceptibly as he beheld the native who had done
so much on behalf of the little child but a short time before. Then he
had appeared at the moment when most needed, and now when the darkness
was so deep he had suddenly come from the unknown. Grey at once reached
out his hand to the native.</p>

<p>"Welcome," he said. "I'm glad to see you again. You're a good friend to
the white man."</p>

<p>"Ah, ah," was the reply. "Hishu Sam savvey moche. Bah-bee all sam' lost,
eh?"</p>

<p>"Yes, yes, lost," Grey exclaimed in surprise. "How did you know?"</p>

<p>"Hishu Sam see 'um. Beeg canoe go down reever all sam' wild goose."</p>

<p>"And were you along the river? You see canoe? Was the little boy along,
too?"</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p><p>"Ah, ah. Me see bah-bee head. Me see white squaw. Me come to Hishu
quick."</p>

<p>"Were they Indians who stole them away?"</p>

<p>"Ah, ah."</p>

<p>"Who?"</p>

<p>"Beeg Lake Injuns."</p>

<p>"What! The Indians who are on the warpath with the Hishus?"</p>

<p>"Ah, ah."</p>

<p>"Look here, Sam; we must get that boy and woman. We must save them
quick. What can we do?"</p>

<p>The Indian looked intently into Grey's face for a few seconds.</p>

<p>"Hishu Sam white man's friend," he at length remarked. "Come."</p>

<p>With that he turned toward the door, opened it and passed out into the
night. There was nothing left for Grey but to follow. The native took it
for granted that he would do so, and did not even once look back.</p>

<p>A short distance from the cabin the Indian turned sharply to the left,
and entered upon a rough trail. In the deepening gloom it was hard for
Norman to pick his steps, and often he stumbled, and several times fell
flat upon the ground. But Hishu Sam walked as easily as in a carpeted
room, and evidently knew every inch of the way. Up and up they moved,
and after a long hard climb reached the top of a large hill. Here the
guide paused and looked slowly around. Then he stretched out a long arm
and pointed away to the right.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p><p>"Hishu over dere," he began. "Hishu busy. Bime by Hishu all come back."</p>

<p>Grey understood not the meaning of the words until he saw his companion
go to a large pile of sticks and underbrush and touch a match to a small
piece of bark. Instantly the tiny flame leaped to the inflammable
material above, and soon the whole pile was converted into a wild,
roaring, seething mass. So intense was the heat that Grey and the Indian
were forced to retreat some distance, where the former silently viewed
the magnificent spectacle. The hilltop for rods around was illumined by
the bright flames, which would make it quite easy to see such a light
for miles away.</p>

<p>While Grey stood gazing upon the fire the Indian crouched some distance
off, intently peering forth through the darkness. At length Grey took up
his position by his side, wondering much what it all meant. Once he
questioned the Indian, but receiving no satisfactory reply he was forced
to wait. The interest caused by the fire soon waned, and the old longing
to be up and doing gripped him hard. He would ere this have hurried down
the hillside and have left the Indian alone, but that he believed there
was some definite purpose in the Indian's action. The native's silence
was to him more eloquent than many words.</p>

<p>Silently they crouched together there on the hilltop. Presently the
Indian gave a grunt of satisfaction, and pointed away to the right. At
first Grey could see nothing. But as he looked a small light like the
faintest star caught his eye. It became brighter. It glowed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> into a
leaping flame, sending blazing cinders high into the air. It was the
reply of fire to fire&mdash;the natives' crude method of signalling to one
another when any great danger was afoot. Presently to the left another
light streaked the night from a far-off hilltop, while a little later
and to the right another appeared.</p>

<p>Grey understood now the meaning of it all. He recalled, too, the
remarkable stories he had heard about the early explorers and their
encounters with the natives. Fiery signals from hill to hill had
heralded their approach, and brought about them bands of threatening
Indians wherever they advanced. So now these fires were being used for a
noble purpose. The Hishus would come in a body to his assistance. How
long would it take them to return, and in the meantime what would happen
to Madeline? He turned to his companion, who was watching the distant
fires with much satisfaction.</p>

<p>"Sam," he said, "how long will it take for the Indians to reach Hishu?
Will they come at once?"</p>

<p>"Ah, ah. Sun heem come up dere, sun heem go down dere. Hishu come."</p>

<p>"But are you sure they will come?"</p>

<p>"Ugh," grunted the native. "Injun no white man. Injun savvey moche."</p>

<p>"But will they know what the fire means? What will they think?"</p>

<p>"Injun come. Injun savvey fire. Injun savvey Hishu Sam. See?"</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p><p>"Oh, they think the Big Lakes are coming. Is that it?"</p>

<p>"Ah, ah."</p>

<p>"And you stayed behind to keep watch, eh?"</p>

<p>"Ah, ah."</p>

<p>"Did you ever do this before? Did you ever call the Hishus in this way?"</p>

<p>The native looked thoughtfully before him for a few seconds ere
replying.</p>

<p>"Ten winters ago," he at length answered, "bad Injun come up reever.
Hishu Sam make beeg fire on hill. Hishu come. Bad Injun run, all sam'
dog. Hishu make beeg potlatch. Moche glad."</p>

<p>The fire was smouldering low as Grey rose to his feet. The old
impatience was upon him. He longed to be doing. To wait all day for the
arrival of the Hishus was more than he could stand. He could do almost
anything but wait. How could he tarry at the village while Madeline was
being carried farther and farther into the wilderness? No, he must find
Buckskin Dan, and discuss matters with him.</p>

<p>Leaving the Indian he hurried down the hill as fast as the roughness of
the trail would permit. He reached the cabin, and entered. It was the
same as he had left it, but the trapper was nowhere to be seen. A piece
of paper lying on the table by the candle arrested his attention. He
picked it up, and read the few words scrawled with a lead pencil:</p>

<p>"You'll find me at the store. Dan."</p>

<p>At once Grey left the cabin, and crossed over to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> fur-trader's.
Entering the building he found the place in darkness, although a faint
glimmer of light came from the door at the rear of the room. Groping his
way slowly toward this he gave it a push, but found it was securely
fastened on the other side.</p>

<p>"Dan," he called, "are you there?"</p>

<p>Receiving no answer he stood for a space, undecided what to do.
"Strange," he thought, "that the place should be so still, and the store
in darkness. I wonder what has happened to Dan, and why he left that
note."</p>

<p>Suddenly a feeling seized him that something was wrong. He became
suspicious. Was it a scheme to lure him to the store for some evil
purpose? He peered through the darkness in an effort to see what was
there. The silence was ominous. He must get away as quickly as possible.
Acting upon this impulse he started for the door. He had taken but a few
steps forward when a heavy weight suddenly struck him and sent him
staggering to the floor. Instantly a rush of feet was heard, and strong
hands were laid upon him. Recovering himself as speedily as possible
Grey threw out one arm with all the force he could command. It struck
what he believed to be a human face, for immediately a groan was heard
as something fell heavily to the floor. Then like a tiger he closed with
the assailant whose hands were gripping him hard. It was no novice, he
at once realised, who had attacked him, but a man of skill, and great
muscular strength. But Grey himself was not to be despised when once
thoroughly aroused. The blood beat wildly through his veins, and a deep
rage<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> filled his heart at the despicable attack which had been made upon
a defenceless man, and in the dark at that. But he would show his
assailant a thing or two. He caught him with a grip of iron, and hurled
him back several steps. Then the two joined in a terrible embrace.
Backwards and forwards they surged, and strained at each other. Time and
time again Grey felt his opponent's hands reaching out for his throat.
They seemed like the slippery, clammy tentacles of a hideous octopus. No
word was spoken. Each was reserving his strength for the contest. At
length Grey's fingers touched his adversary's throat. It was all that
was needed, and almost like the spring of a trap they closed upon the
coarse, tense flesh. It was his turn now, and he made the most of it.
From his opponent's lips came a hoarse gurgling sound, while he
frantically endeavoured to tear away those death-dealing fingers. Grey
was madly triumphant now. The sense of victory possessed his soul as he
felt his antagonist sink upon the floor. No bulldog held firmer than did
he. But even in the midst of his triumph something touched him which
brought a chill to his heart. Something was passed swiftly and deftly
about his ankles, and then drawn tight. He loosened his grip upon the
throat, and tried to regain his feet. But in vain, for his legs were
fast bound, as if in a vise. Then in the twinkling of an eye his arms
were seized and he was hurled to the floor face downwards, while his
arms were fastened behind his back. He had forgotten his second
assailant, who had returned to the attack with such marked <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>success.
Frantically he struggled to tear away his hands, and to throw off the
weight pressing upon his body. But his efforts were all to no purpose,
and at last he was forced to give up from sheer exhaustion. He could not
see, but he could easily guess the identity of his captors. Two they
were, that was evident, and what two except Siwash Bill and Windy Pete
would make such a mean, savage attack?</p>

<p>"Lie there, ye young spyin' cur," one of them said, which the constable
recognised as Bill's voice. "'Tain't sich fun is it comin' to Hishu? Not
a holiday trip, eh? Ye'll think it less so before we git through with
ye."</p>

<p>"The more you do with me," Grey replied, "the worse for yourselves. If
you want to feel the noose, drive ahead."</p>

<p>"Ha, ha," laughed Pete. "We fear not the noose. All the d&mdash; Yellow-legs
in the country haven't enough wit to stretch our necks. But come, Bill,
lend a hand, and let's git out of this. Have ye the knife?"</p>

<p>"Sure."</p>

<p>Grey began to realise the seriousness of his position as the men lifted
him bodily and carried him out into the night toward Buckskin Dan's
cabin. This they entered, and laid him in the lower bunk. By the candle
light he could see their faces, and they seemed to him like two
diabolical fiends standing there in the middle of the room. They began
to whisper to each other, while Siwash Bill drew a glittering hunting
knife from its sheath at his side. Then the meaning of their action<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>
stabbed Grey's mind. They would murder him there in cold blood, in Dan's
cabin, and let the blame rest upon the innocent old trapper! He recalled
that scene out in the hills, and saw again Pete's form slinking through
the night with the bared knife in his hand. The thought almost maddened
him. Wildly he tore at his bonds, but they held firm. He sat up in the
bunk, and then rolled out upon the floor, and on his knees faced his
captors.</p>

<p>"You imps of hell!" he cried. "Would you murder a man in cold blood?
Have you no hearts in your bodies? Free my hands and feet and let us
fight it out. There are two of you, but I'll fight you both. I dare you
to do it, you cowardly dogs."</p>

<p>"Hold yer jaw," cried Pete. "Come, Bill, douse that candle. There's too
much light here fer this job."</p>

<p>Grey now felt that his last moment on earth had arrived. He saw a big
hand reach out toward the table, and then all was dark. He made one
mighty effort to rise, but failing in this he fell forward upon the
floor, while from his lips leaped the wild piercing cry of "Dan, Dan!
For God's sake, help!"</p>

<hr />

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p>

<h2><span>CHAPTER XVII</span> <span class="smaller">IN PURSUIT</span></h2>

<p>Instead of going with the constable to Old Meg's house, upon his return
from the hill, Buckskin Dan went into his own cabin. Here he lighted a
candle, and examined carefully his stock of provisions. Finding it much
lower than he had expected he slowly scratched his head in a puzzled
manner.</p>

<p>"Wall, I'll be blowed!" he muttered. "I thought thar was more meat left,
but that last moose j'int is almost gone, an' what's left is about all
bone an' gristle. Guess I'll have to go to the store, though I hate to
do so. Mebbe Bill has some on hand."</p>

<p>He was about to blow out the candle, when he suddenly paused.</p>

<p>"No, guess I'd better leave it fer the lad. He'll be back soon. Let me
see: he'll wonder whar I am. Ah, that's the idee. I'll jist leave a note
to tell 'im I'm at the store. I may be longer than I expect."</p>

<p>Finding a piece of brown paper, and unearthing a stub of a pencil from a
few simple treasures kept in an old box, he painfully scrawled the brief
sentence: "You'll find me at the store. Dan."</p>

<p>Little dreaming that this simple act would bring his partner into such
serious difficulty the worthy trapper<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> closed the cabin door, and walked
rapidly toward the store.</p>

<p>He found Siwash Bill alone in the building, smoking an old blackened
pipe. The squaw man could hardly conceal his pleasure at seeing Dan
alone. He feigned surprise, however, at his early return, and questioned
him as to his luck on the hills.</p>

<p>"Brought nuthin' back," Dan replied. "Not even a sheep. Say have ye any
meat?"</p>

<p>"No," replied the trader. "I'm clean skinned out. Not a scrap left. I've
some in the cache, though, about three miles up-stream."</p>

<p>"Three miles! Good Lord!" groaned the trapper, "an' I want it now."</p>

<p>"Why not wait till the mornin', Dan? Surely yer not so hard up as that?"</p>

<p>"No, I want it to-night. So I'm goin' after it at once. An' look ye, if
me pardner comes here tell 'im I'll be back as soon as I kin. I've left
a note in the cabin to tell 'im I came to the store. I'll settle with ye
fer the meat later."</p>

<p>Dan left the building and walked with a swinging stride along the trail
up-stream. It was well for his peace of mind that he did not see the
form of Windy Pete glide into the store a few minutes later, nor hear
the animated conversation which took place between him and the squaw
man. Had he seen them, and could he have read their thoughts, he would
have bounded back to the cabin with the great leaps of a greyhound.</p>

<p>Well accustomed to the trail he had no difficulty in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> picking his way
through the darkness. He knew where the cache was located, as he had
passed it time and time again. In less than an hour the place was
reached, and a generous portion of meat obtained. This accomplished, he
set his face homeward. Lifting up his eyes, a bright light on the hill
above the settlement arrested his steps. He paused for a few minutes,
and gazed intently upon the flames which were slowly dying down.</p>

<p>"It's an Injun signal, by jingo!" he exclaimed. "It must be fer the
Hishus. I wonder who it kin be. I must git back to camp an' find out.
Surely the Big Lakes are not upon us. God help us, if they are!"</p>

<p>Reaching the store he found the place silent and in darkness.</p>

<p>"Queer," he muttered. "What's happened to Bill? Mebbe he's heard about
the Big Lakes, an' has taken to the hills. Guess I'll git back to me own
shack and see to me ammunition. Hope to goodness me pardner's thar."</p>

<p>Reaching his cabin he paused for a moment, and watched the fire upon the
hilltop, half expecting at any instant to hear the sound of approaching
Indians. But a cry from a most unexpected quarter fell upon his ears. It
was the wild call for help within the cabin, and at once he recognised
the voice. Puzzled beyond description as to the meaning of it all he
leaped toward the door, gave it a mighty push, and dashed into the room.</p>

<p>The place was in darkness, so he could see nothing. He heard only the
scuttling of feet and felt some <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>moving object touch his shoulder. He
reached out quickly, but clutched nothing save the yielding air. Soon
all was still.</p>

<p>"Laddie, laddie," he called. "What's wrong?"</p>

<p>"I'm here, Dan," came the reply. "But for God's sake get a light."</p>

<p>With trembling hands the old man fumbled in the pocket of his buckskin
jacket, brought forth his rude match case made of two cartridge shells,
found a match and struck it. He lighted the candle upon the table, and
then glanced anxiously about the room. Seeing Grey huddled upon the
floor, he sprang to his side with a peculiar cry, half rage and half
sympathy.</p>

<p>"Are ye hurt, pardner?" he demanded. "Have the wretches knifed ye?"</p>

<p>"No, Dan," came the reply. "I'm all right now, but unloosen these cords,
quick."</p>

<p>With two swift strokes of his hunting knife Dan severed the bonds.
Instantly Grey sprang to his feet, and looked around the cabin. He
reached out his hand, and clutched a rifle leaning against the wall.</p>

<p>"Give me your revolver, Dan, and some cartridges. You stay here; I don't
want you to run any risk."</p>

<p>The trapper, however, maintained his position. He noted the flushed face
of his companion and the wild gleam in his eyes.</p>

<p>"Whar are ye goin'?" he asked. "An' what d'ye want with the guns?"</p>

<p>"Going? I'm going after those devils, who trapped,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> bound and led me
here to die. But for your timely arrival I would now be a corpse on this
very floor."</p>

<p>Across Dan's face spread an angry cloud. His rough, hard fingers
clinched with a sudden grip.</p>

<p>"Was it Bill an' Pete?" he hoarsely whispered. "Was it them varmints?"</p>

<p>"Yes, that's who it was. But come, I want your revolver. I'll take that
grinning look from their faces quicker than hell."</p>

<p>"Now look here, pardner," Dan remonstrated, "jist cool down a bit. Yer a
little excited, an' don't realise yer persition. Wot's the use of goin'
after them divils now? We've more important work on hand, an' I'm
thinkin' ye've fergotten the lassie. Guess we'd better go after her
fust, an' we kin settle with them skunks later. I admire yer spunk,
young man, but we mustn't run any risk at present. Bill an' Pete are
mighty handy with the gun, an' mebbe thar wouldn't be anyone left to go
after the lassie."</p>

<p>Grey looked hard at Dan for a few minutes without replying. He realised
the force of the words he had just heard. But the red rage of battle was
hot within him, and he found it difficult to wait.</p>

<p>"Besides," coolly continued the trapper, reading truly the struggle his
companion was undergoing, "it's yer duty to keep calm. Ye belong to a
great Force, an' I've never yit heard of a member doin' anything that
was rash, or that would upset his plans. Caution's the word now,
pardner."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p><p>"You're right, Dan," and as Grey reached out his hand and gripped that
of the trapper, a sigh escaped his lips. "I'm afraid it would bungle
matters if I went after those villains. I agree to wait."</p>

<p>"Wall said, pardner. I know how ye feel, an' I jist long meself to git
after them snakes. But, come, we must hike away from here. The canoe's
in the stream an' the meat's outside, so we kin slip away through the
darkness. We've wasted too much time already, an' have given them
redskins a big start."</p>

<p>A few minutes later a small trim canoe dropped silently away from the
shore a short distance above the cabin. She darted out into midstream
where the swift current caught her in its irresistible sweep. Neither
Dan nor Norman spoke much as hour after hour they bent to their paddles.</p>

<p>The grey dawn was breaking when at length they ran the canoe ashore, and
prepared their breakfast, principally of moose meat. Then it was up and
on again. Being on the river, protected by the banks and trees, they
escaped the furious storm which was sweeping over the lake miles below.
In the afternoon when they did burst into that fine sheet of water, the
gale had spent its fury, and only the foamy surf upon the shore, where
the long ground swells throbbed and beat, remained to tell of the
tempest that had raged but a few hours before.</p>

<p>Grey, although well accustomed to the scenery of the North, felt his
heart thrill anew at the superb spectacle which now met his gaze. To the
left and right<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> rose massive flinty walls, terrace above terrace,
culminating in numerous grand and fantastic peaks hundreds of feet above
the surface of the lake. Huge gaping crevices scarred their
weather-beaten sides, which every spring belched torrents of icy waters.
The afternoon sun touched the snowy peaks with a dazzling halo, forming
a sharp contrast to the bluest of skies overhead.</p>

<p>"My, what a sight!" Grey ejaculated, as he rested his paddle across his
knees. "I've never seen anything to equal this. Oh, for an artist's
skill to catch such a scene!"</p>

<p>"Ay, ay, it's fine, pardner," Dan replied. "But ye should see it when
thar's a storm on, an' then ye'd witness somethin'. I saw it once to me
sorrow, an' only by a miracle I live to tell the tale. But, laddie,
thar's been a storm here to-day. I see signs of it on yonder shore, an'
I'm thinkin' the lassie's had a hard time of it. I hope to goodness them
redskins made fer shore in time."</p>

<p>Grey looked anxiously into the speaker's face. A new fear seized his
heart. Suppose Madeline and the boy had gone down! How could he endure
it, and would he dare to go back to Big Glen? What would the Major say,
and the Force?</p>

<p>"Look here, Dan," and Grey spoke most impressively, "if we find that an
accident has happened, and Madeline and the boy have gone down, do you
know what I shall do?"</p>

<p>"No; couldn't guess."</p>

<p>"I shall go back to Hishu, and have it out with those<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> devils there.
They may punch me full of holes if they wish, but I don't think they'll
ever do it upon anybody else. It'll be the only thing left for me to do
in the world, and I think it will be a mighty fine service after all."</p>

<p>A grim smile crossed the trapper's rugged face.</p>

<p>"I guess ye won't have to do that yit awhile, pardner," he remarked.
"Them red divils are too cunnin' to take any risk. They know the lake
better than they do their prayers. They were sheltered somewhar ye may
be sure, an' are now hikin' on like blazes; so we must git after 'em.
Thar's a stream some distance ahead which mebbe they reached afore the
storm struck. That's their route, an' we must hustle along."</p>

<p>After two more hours of hard paddling an opening appeared upon their
right, which proved to be the mouth of a small stream, called by the
Indians "Wahsek."</p>

<p>"We'll find the current purty strong," said Dan, as they headed the
canoe for the opening. "Thar's a nasty rapids several miles up, an' I'd
like to reach the foot of it afore we stop. D'ye think ye can stan' it?"</p>

<p>"Stand it, man! Why I could paddle all night. Of what stuff do you think
I am made?"</p>

<p>"Mighty good stuff, if I'm any jedge. Ye've been through enough of late
to knock out a dozen men, an' yit yer as chipper as a whisky-jack. But
say, pardner, this current's too strong fer the paddles, guess we'll
have to pole. I brought two sticks along, fer ye kin never tell what
minute ye may have to use 'em, on these tarnel northern streams. I do
want to reach the rapids afore<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> landin'. Guess then we'll have to pack
the canoe round that rough piece of water."</p>

<p>It was necessary now to keep close to the shore, and with the long poles
they slowly and steadily forced the craft against the current, which
increased in velocity as they advanced.</p>

<p>The sun had disappeared above the tree tops, and night was settling over
the land ere the sound of rushing, swirling waters fell upon their ears.</p>

<p>"It's the rapids, pardner," Dan remarked, as he gave the canoe a
vigorous shove which sent her quivering like a thing of life against her
rushing adversary. "A little ferther, an' we'll be thar."</p>

<p>When at length they ran into an eddy close to shore and disembarked they
could discern through the gloom the white, turbulent waters but a short
distance above. Grey was tired, very tired, and after supper was ended
he threw himself upon the ground by the small camp fire they had
lighted.</p>

<p>"I could sleep for a week," he remarked. "My, this place feels good!"</p>

<p>"No wonder, pardner," was the reply. "Ye haven't had much sleep fer
several nights. So fall to now, fer we must make an early start in the
mornin'."</p>

<hr />

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p>

<h2><span>CHAPTER XVIII</span> <span class="smaller">THE CRUEL TRAIL</span></h2>

<p>Standing upon the bank Madeline clutched Donnie in her arms, and gazed
at the surf beating and chafing against the shore. She was bewildered
and her brain whirled. The wind raved about her, tossing her hair in
wild confusion. Her clothes were wet, and she shivered with the cold.
She looked at the lad lying in her arms. He was very still. It was the
silence of fear, and he gazed up wonderingly into Madeline's eyes. His
lips quivered as he noticed her drawn, tense features. He was about to
cry, when Madeline suddenly bent her head, and rained a shower of
passionate kisses upon the little white face. Tears came to her eyes and
fell upon the boy's soft cheeks.</p>

<p>"What's the matter, Malin?" he asked. "What are 'ou crying for? Why
don't 'ou take me home to my mamma?"</p>

<p>"I can't, Donnie," was the sobbing reply. "I would if I could. We are
alone here with these people, and we must cling together. I want you to
be a man, Donnie, and help me to be brave."</p>

<p>For a few brief heart-beats the little lad looked intently into
Madeline's face, his bright eyes filled with a questioning, wondering
light. Then something seemed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> to dawn across his mind, and placing one
small hand into hers he straightened himself up, and stood proudly by
her side.</p>

<p>"I'll take care of 'ou, Malin," he cried. "I'll fight for 'ou. I'll&mdash;"</p>

<p>His words were cut short by a gruff voice near at hand. They both
started and looked quickly around. The Indian woman was standing near,
ordering them to make haste as the men were about to move forward.</p>

<p>Then Madeline noticed that the canoe had been drawn ashore and hidden in
a secret place among the trees. The men were making ready to depart,
with their few belongings thrown over their shoulders. What did it all
mean? She wondered. Why were they leaving the lake, and where were they
going? The water, rough and tumultuous though it was, seemed like a
friend, and to leave it was to abandon hope. She looked away to the left
and beheld a long valley opening up between the shoulders of two
mountain ranges. Through this they were to travel. It seemed to her like
the gate of death, dark and horrible.</p>

<p>Taking Donnie's hand in her own she followed the natives. The trail,
though worn by many feet, was rough. There were rocks, and snags which
had not been removed, and over these the boy at times stumbled. He tried
bravely to keep up with his companion, but his little legs wearied, and
his breath came hard and fast. Madeline looking down saw the effort he
was making to be a man. Compunction smote her heart, so, stooping, she
lifted the lad in her arms and struggled forward.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> At times the Indians
turned and scowled darkly when she lagged too far behind. But no one
offered to assist her with her burden. When her arms ached she would
place the boy upon the ground for a brief respite, but only to lift him
up again after a few minutes. Thus all through that long day she battled
onward. How her strength endured she could not tell. Often she was at
the point of sinking upon the trail and giving up in despair. But that
little clinging form depending upon her always nerved her to action. For
his sake she would be brave and keep up. She longed to lie down and
rest, for she was very tired. The strain of the night before and the
lack of sleep were telling plainly upon her now. She thought she knew
what it was to be weary, but never anything like this. Her whole body
ached, her eyes were tired, and her long dark lashes would continually
droop. Her head throbbed, and her face was hot and feverish.</p>

<p>"Oh, God!" she mentally prayed. "Why this chastening? Why is the rod so
heavy?"</p>

<p>And still she pressed on. She walked mechanically now&mdash;a mere machine, a
human shuttle crawling through the silent web of trees, streams and
hills. And her feet, how they ached! Her shoes were but scant protection
against the cruel snags and stones. She was unaccustomed to long
marches. At times she almost screamed at the pain she endured, but
always with firmly compressed lips she crushed back the cry.</p>

<p>At one terrible moment her foot suddenly struck upon a sharp root, which
caused her to stumble and fall <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>forward full length upon the trail.
Donnie, fortunately, was walking by her side, and he tried to assist her
to her feet. She rose, and gazed about her in a bewildered manner.
Should she go on? The Indians were some distance ahead, and were
becoming impatient at her slowness. Accustomed to the trail they could
not understand such weakness, and in their hearts they despised the
white woman.</p>

<p>Standing there a scene appeared to her, clear and bright as the sun in
the heavens. It was a picture which hung upon the wall of her old home,
showing a weary, thorn-crowned man bearing a heavy cross and sinking
beneath its burden. She saw His sorrowful eyes, and they seemed to be
looking full upon her. So intense was the vision that she gave a
distinct start, caught Donnie once more by the hand and hurried onward.
But now a new courage was hers, and though the trail was no less hard,
nor did her weariness abate in the least degree, some indefinable power
possessed her heart, which wrenched away some of the terrible weight of
despair. An unseen presence seemed to be very near, upholding and
supporting her, for what purpose she could not guess.</p>

<p>It was late in the afternoon when, after climbing a steep hill, the
Indians halted by the side of a swiftly flowing stream, and prepared to
camp for the night. Mechanically she watched them as they moved about.
She could only taste the poorly cooked food thrust before her. She
wished to lie down and rest, no matter where. A small fire had been
built, but this was soon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> allowed to go out, and when night came upon
them the desolation of the scene almost overpowered her. A thin blanket
was thrown at her feet by one of the Indians. Almost mechanically she
picked it up, and began to prepare for the night. One blanket for two!
She shuddered at the thought. But there was nothing else to do. So
wrapping it carefully about the child where he lay upon the hard ground,
and taking her place by his side, she drew one edge over her own body.</p>

<p>Donnie had been wonderfully brave throughout the day, but the long
journey had made him very weary. Only a few minutes elapsed after he had
taken his place upon his earthen bed ere he was fast asleep.</p>

<p>But not so Madeline. Her eyes would not close. They kept staring up at
the great vault above. How far away seemed the stars, and how cold and
cruel they looked as they twinkled from their lofty positions. A
loneliness which was overwhelming swept upon her. She felt like crying
out in anguish of soul. Was there a God beyond those stars and did He
care? Why did He allow such misery to exist upon His earth which He had
made so beautiful? But as she mused that vision she had seen during the
day came once more to her mind. She saw His thorn-crowned head, and the
sad face and weary eyes. "He knows, He knows," she whispered to herself.
"It was He who said, 'Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy
laden, and I will give you rest!'"</p>

<p>Donnie moved in his sleep, and called "Mamma, mamma. Why don't 'ou tum
to me?" He started up in afright, looked about, and began to cry.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p><p>"Hush, dear," Madeline replied. "You are safe with me."</p>

<p>Then she placed her arms about the lad, and drew him closer to her
breast. Her heart was filled with a passionate yearning for the poor
child, who had been so cruelly torn away from his home. They were
comrades in distress. His curly head was against hers, and she felt the
pressure of his soft cheek. Ere long he was fully reassured, so lying
down again he was soon in slumber deep.</p>

<p>Slowly the time crept by, but no sleep came to her eyes. Though her body
was weary her brain was active. She found herself wondering as to the
meaning of it all. Why was she being thus borne off into the wilderness?
Was it for the sake of the child? She felt there was some other motive,
and that the Indian woman had some sinister purpose in view. Her
lowering face and cruel eyes stood out clear and distinct as she lay
there. She thought, too, of Norman. Where was he, and would he know what
had happened to her? Had he cast her aside as unworthy of his affection?</p>

<p>The night was still and cool. No sound of life broke the intense silence
except the deep breathing of the child close by her side. She longed for
something to break the quietness which reigned, which was almost
maddening her. Presently a slight noise arrested her attention. It was a
light step as of someone approaching. Her heart beat fast, and she
strained her eyes in an effort to pierce the gloom. Soon a shadowy form
became visible. It drew nearer, and then stopped.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> Slowly it advanced
until it was close by her side, when she recognised the form of Nadu,
the Indian woman. Madeline lay perfectly still now, although her heart
was thumping so loud that she thought it must be heard yards away. The
visitor stood for a few seconds like a statue. Then she stooped down and
peered intently into Madeline's face. The latter closed her eyes and
pretended to be asleep. She almost felt Nadu's warm breath, and pictured
those eyes glaring like fiery balls. When it seemed that she could stand
the strain no longer she heard the woman move away, and when Madeline
opened her eyes the intruder was nowhere to be seen. The darkness had
swallowed her up, and Madeline almost imagined she had seen a vision.
She lay awake for some time after this incident, staring up vacantly at
the stars. At length, however, the tired brain ceased to work, and she
drifted away for a time from care and fear into the beneficent land of
sleep.</p>

<p>And thus they lay, beneath the twinkling lights of heaven, the child and
the woman, two fresh fair flowers, rudely snatched from their natural
abode, to be tossed to and fro by the wild winds of passion and greed
far out into the frontier of a cold, cruel land.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p>

<h2><span>CHAPTER XIX</span> <span class="smaller">THE VENOM OF HATRED</span></h2>

<p>The banks of the Takan River, at the head of the Kaska Rapids, were
lined with tall fir trees and jack pines. It was a sombre place, this,
and the regular camping ground where from time immemorial natives had
disembarked to portage overland to the big lake below.</p>

<p>Near one of the large trees stood Nadu, the Indian woman, dark, straight
and motionless as the numerous boles around her. But, though very still,
a new light shone in her eyes&mdash;the light of indecision. For weeks past
only grim determination had been expressed in those restless orbs. At
Hishu, and all the way down the river, no change or softening gleam
could be detected. There was nothing but that savage glitter of a beast
of the forest ready to spring upon its victim.</p>

<p>But now something was disturbing that fevered brain, some counter
attraction was at work, causing those ever-varying expressions. As dark
billowy clouds roll and surge threateningly athwart the sky, while
occasionally a brief glimpse of the clear blue is seen, so it was across
Nadu's face. Now the storm of passion was seen, and again a sudden rift
telling of the violence raging within.</p>

<p>Her form was straight and unbending. A shawl<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> covered her head and swept
her comely shoulders. Night was symbolised there&mdash;black, desolate Night.
Occasionally her eyes turned to the spot where Madeline and Donnie were
lying. Then the clouds grew dark, and the staring eyes gleamed cruelly
fierce. But anon they shifted to the left, and roamed among the silent
arches of the shadowy forest. Then the fire died down to a softer glow,
suggesting warmth rather than destruction.</p>

<p>For some time she remained in this position. At length, drawing the
loose ends of the shawl closely together about her head, she moved
swiftly forward. Down among the trees she sped, following what seemed to
be a narrow trail. No mortal eye could see this rough crooked path. But
Nadu needed not the light of day for guidance. She was on familiar
ground, and intuitively kept the way. Ere long the trees became somewhat
sparse, and soon a large clearing appeared in view.</p>

<p>Silently Nadu sped from the midst of the shadows and started across the
open. Presently she paused and looked keenly ahead. A light suddenly
shone through the darkness. For some time it held her special attention.
It fascinated and then drew her steadily on. Brighter and brighter it
shone. By this time she was quite near, close enough to see the outline
of a rude log house, with the light streaming from the one window on the
northern side. Her form was not straight now, but much bent as she crept
warily onward, fearful lest she should be observed. But so silent were
her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>movements that a watchful dog could hardly detect her approach.</p>

<p>She came close to the window, and standing somewhat to one side peered
in through the small dust-laden panes. The scene she beheld caused
Nadu's bosom to heave, and the hardness of her face to change entirely
to an expression of love. Eagerly her eyes dwelt upon various things
within that building. The rough deal table, the few stools and benches,
and the one lighted candle. But a thin white hand, steadily writing,
moved her most, and lifting her eyes they rested upon a bent head
covered with hair of snowy whiteness, while a long beard swept the
writer's breast.</p>

<p>All unconscious of the eager eyes peering in upon him, the lonely worker
continued his task through the silent watches of the night.</p>

<p>For some time Nadu stood by the window, her eyes riveted upon that
grey-haired man. After a while she turned aside, glided around the house
until she came to the door. Here she paused and looked carefully about.
But no sign of life was to be seen. The far-off eastern horizon was now
reddening above the tree tops. The light of the rising moon was slowly
stealing over the land, bringing into relief the dim outlines of various
log houses and tent frames not far away.</p>

<p>Nadu dropped upon the wooden doorstep and leaned her head against her
right hand. Occasionally her form trembled, and a half-smothered sob
escaped her lips. Some strong emotion was stirring in this Indian
woman's heart like a deep lake disturbed by a subtle,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> unseen volcano.
At length she arose and moved slowly away from the building. At times
she paused, and looked yearningly back upon the house she had just left.
But when once again among the trees her step quickened, and as she
neared the river the old hard look returned to her face. She stayed her
steps where the woman and the child were lying. Then she crept softly
forward, and peered down intently upon the silent pair. What were the
thoughts which racked her brain as she saw Madeline's face strained and
white lying there amidst the shadows? When she had gazed to her
satisfaction she once more glided away, and moving to the bank of the
river crouched down upon the ground. A canoe lying in a little eddy near
the shore chafed and tugged at its moosehide painter. The cold dark
river surged sullenly by, to leap with a roar and a swirl through the
dreaded Kaska Rapids several hundred yards down-stream.</p>

<p>Nadu did not sleep, for when the brain becomes the battlefield of strong
contending emotions the ministering angel of slumber can find no abiding
place. At length she roused to action. Having awakened the men she went
to the white woman's side, and looked for a few minutes upon that slight
form. Madeline's left arm was thrown about Donnie's body in a protecting
embrace. Her right hand pillowed her tired head, while across cheek and
brow swept a few loosened tresses of dark brown hair. About the corners
of her mouth a faint semblance of a smile was to be detected. Was she
dreaming of happy bygone days in her old home far<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> away? If so what a
terrible change to awake to her real situation!</p>

<p>Was it the crackling of the fire which one of the Indians had made or
the presence of that dark face staring down upon her which caused
Madeline to move restlessly, then open her eyes, and start up with a
little cry of fright? A malicious gleam of joy shone in Nadu's eyes as
she turned away and left the woman and the child together.</p>

<p>Donnie was much refreshed by his sleep. He was standing the ordeal far
better than Madeline. He chatted incessantly while she washed his face,
and smoothed out his tousled curly locks with her fingers.</p>

<p>Madeline could barely taste the food, and she stood silently by watching
Donnie enjoying the few morsels which were given to him. She leaned
against a large tree to support her tired and overtaxed form. Every bone
in her body ached, for she was so sore and stiff after her long walk of
the day before.</p>

<p>Although very early in the morning the moon made the whole land almost
as bright as day. The hastily prepared breakfast was soon eaten, the
small fire extinguished, and preparations made for a speedy departure.</p>

<p>Madeline and Donnie were standing on the bank near where the canoe was
floating. The Indian woman stood by the bow with her hand upon the
moosehide thong, while the men conversed together for a few minutes
several yards away. Presently they came close to the canoe and began to
talk with the woman. What they said Madeline could not tell, but they
seemed to be <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>disputing over some question. Ere long one beckoned to the
white woman, and pointed to the canoe. With her hand firmly grasping the
child's Madeline slipped down the bank and stood close to the craft.</p>

<p>"Git in," commanded Nadu, as she hesitated a moment, "me hand in
bah-bee."</p>

<p>Had she at that moment glanced at the Indian woman's malignant,
triumphant face she would have shrunk back in terror. But her eyes were
upon the rocking canoe, and carefully she stepped over the side, and was
about to turn around to receive Donnie, when she felt the craft shoot
swiftly out from the shore. The sudden motion caused her to sink upon
her knees with a cry of fright. Quickly she turned her eyes to the
shore, and there standing close to the water was Donnie with his little
arms stretched out appealingly toward her, while his pathetic cry urging
her to return smote upon her ears. Nadu was close by his side, one hand
fiercely clutching the child's arm, with her eyes full fixed upon the
departing canoe. The men were wildly gesticulating, and talking rapidly
to her in their own tongue. She heeded them not, but stood like a statue
staring out over the swiftly flowing water.</p>

<p>Then the truth flashed across Madeline's mind with a horrible stabbing
intensity. It was the Indian woman's devilish plot to get rid of her, to
send her to a speedy death into the swirling rapids below. Already their
roar sounded in her ears like the knell of doom. Swifter flowed the
stream, and the canoe trembled convulsively in its onward rush. Madeline
glanced about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> for a paddle. She would make a struggle for life; she
would die fighting. But alas, even that final hope vanished, for the
paddles had been carefully removed, by whose hand she could easily
guess. But what avail would be a pair of frail arms against that sinuous
overmastering current? It was a monster, cruel and relentless, sweeping
her onward into the very jaws of death. What earthly hand could break
its grip, or what human voice could bid it hold back, and it would obey?
Only one Hand could reach out, but there was no sign; only one Voice
could give the all-powerful command, and It was silent.</p>

<p>Nearer now were those white foaming waters. Their angry snarl as they
dashed and broke over some hidden rock sounded louder and louder.
Madeline crouched in the bottom of the canoe, her eyes fascinated by
that gleaming, grinning line ahead. She felt the craft quiver, dip, and
then with a bound it plunged into that flume of destruction. Instantly
Hell opened its horrid jaws to engulf her. She heard the jeering,
maddening roar of demons. She felt the white froth spuming her body, and
beheld ghostly, merciless claws reaching out to grip and drag her down
to their horrid abode. Trees, rocks and sky were blotted out as the
craft tore and staggered through that cloud of foam. The canoe was
rapidly filling now, and the water was pouring over Madeline's body. It
was blinding and deafening her. She rose to her knees; she staggered to
her feet; she tried to stand. Her brain reeled. She felt she was going
mad. Suddenly the mist cleared. She saw the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> blue sky above, and lifting
up her hands she gave one wild, imploring cry for help. And even as she
cried the canoe rushed with a sickening crash upon the edge of a
concealed, jagged boulder, hurling Madeline like a rocket, out into the
midst of that hissing, seething death.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p>

<h2><span>CHAPTER XX</span> <span class="smaller">OUT OF THE DEPTHS</span></h2>

<p>When Norman Grey flung himself upon the ground at the foot of the rapids
he believed that he would be asleep in a few minutes. In this, however,
he was mistaken. His body was tired enough, but his brain was too
active. The events of the past night were too vivid to allow him the
rest he needed. And ever before his mind rose the vision of Madeline.
Where was she, and what was happening to her? Was she calling for him?
he wondered, or had she given him up, banished him from her mind? While
she was near him at Hishu he was content to wait, to find out the truth
gradually. But now it was different. She was alone in the wilderness,
needing his assistance. Thinking thus he at length passed into a
restless slumber. How long it lasted he could not tell, but he awoke
with a start, and looked wildly around. Buckskin Dan was sleeping calmly
by his side. Grey laid a heavy hand upon his shoulder, and shook him
with impatience.</p>

<p>"Wake up! Wake up!" he cried. "For God's sake, wake up!"</p>

<p>With a roar of surprise and apprehension Dan leaped to his feet, and
seized the rifle lying close at hand. He looked about as if expecting to
see a blood-thirsty enemy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> almost on top of them. Then his eyes rested
upon his comrade's tossed hair and excited face.</p>

<p>"What's wrong, pardner?" he demanded. "What's up this time? Did ye see
that sarpint crawlin' among the trees ag'in? P'int me out the spot, an'
I'll riddle the place with bullets. Mebbe one will ketch 'im on the fly,
an' if it does he'll git to hell quicker than he imagined."</p>

<p>"No, no, not that beast this time," Grey replied. "But I saw her, yes,
her, my Madeline, stretching out her hands, and calling to me for help!
There she is, look!" and he clutched Dan by the arm and pointed
excitedly among the trees. "There she is! Let me go to her! My God! I
never saw her look so beautiful, but she's in the midst of serpents, and
they're dragging her down to death. Look! look!"</p>

<p>Dan's eyes followed the direction of the finger, and he carefully
scanned the forest for some distance around. Then he turned toward his
comrade, while an anxious expression crossed his bronzed face.</p>

<p>"What's wrong with ye, laddie?" he questioned. "Are ye goin' daft? I see
nuthin' over thar."</p>

<p>Grey placed his hand to his forehead, while a deep sigh escaped his
lips.</p>

<p>"Neither do I, now," he responded. "But I did a minute ago. Oh, it was
so clear, and terrible. Perhaps my brain is turning. Lack of sleep, and
the events of the two past weeks have been enough to unsettle anyone."</p>

<p>"Indeed yer right thar, pardner," responded the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> trapper. "Few could
have stood it. They'd have buckled under long since this."</p>

<p>"But I can't get that dream and vision out of my mind, Dan. I fear
there's something wrong with Madeline."</p>

<p>"Mebbe yer right, pardner, an' I guess we'd better git a move on. It's
purty light now, an' the moon makes the land almost as bright as day. If
ye'll jist bring some water from the river I'll start a fire. We'll have
a hot drink an' a snack of food afore we hike outer this."</p>

<p>Seizing the small tin pail in his hand Grey moved toward the river. He
had taken but a few steps when he paused in amazement, for a wild cry
for help winged through the crisp morning air and fell upon his ears.
His eyes sought the rapids, from which the sound came, and as he looked
a never-to-be-forgotten sight met his gaze. For an instant he thought it
must be another vision, and would vanish like the one he had recently
seen. But how real it was&mdash;the leaping billows, the dashing spray, and
that fair form with uplifted arms gliding through that channel of death.
Surely it must be a spirit, or else he was losing his reason, and it was
all the strange fancy of a mad man.</p>

<p>When, however, the shock came, and he saw the woman hurled forward he
knew it was no dream, but a terrible reality. With Grey to think was to
act. With a shout to Dan he dashed forward, leaped down the bank, and
laid his hands upon the canoe. As he did so the trapper was at his
heels. He, too, had heard<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> that cry, and had seen the wreck in the
rapids, and had bounded forward on the instant. Into the canoe they
sprang, and without a word sent it reeling from its moorings. It was
caught by the swirling current, and carried a few yards down river. But
strong arms held the paddles, and forced its stubborn and rebellious
prow against the pressing stream.</p>

<p>A nameless fear clutched at Grey's heart as he drove the paddle through
the water with great sweeps until the slender blade bent like a reed
beneath a tempest. Could it be Madeline? Who else could be in that
staring wilderness with such a form as the one he had just beheld? His
eyes noted everything ahead. Would she rise, or had she been carried
down to the bottom by some swirling eddy, to reappear bruised and
lifeless farther down-stream? Only a brief space of time had elapsed
since that cry had fallen upon his ears. Yet in that infinitesimal tick
of eternity he had endured the life of the damned. For one who has
passed through such an experience it would be easy to realise how much
is summed up in "the twinkling of an eye" of the Great Judgment Day.</p>

<p>The canoe was now close to the foaming breakers, where progress was
almost imperceptible. Grey's eyes were searching the waters to the
right, when a cry from Dan caused him to glance quickly around. As he
did so he caught sight of a dark object on the left. Then a hand&mdash;oh, so
white and small&mdash;rose above the surface. With a half-smothered cry Grey
dropped his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>paddle, flung himself into that racing stream, and in an
instant sank from view. With titanic strokes he threaded the icy
chambers of that watery world. He caught a glimpse of a whirling form a
few feet ahead. He reached out one gripping hand; it closed; it held
firm, and with his precious burden he rose to the surface with the speed
of a nimble bubble.</p>

<p>With a vigorous shake of the head Grey tossed some of the water from his
eyes, and endeavoured to look around. A gladsome shout from the left
told him that Dan was not far away. Ere long the canoe was a few yards
off, then a few feet, and soon the swimmer was able to reach out and
seize the trapper's big strong hand. And none too soon, for Grey was
almost exhausted, and the helpless form he was supporting was like a
great leaden weight.</p>

<p>"Wall done, pardner," was Dan's cheery greeting. "Ye'd better not try to
git on board, fer ye'll be likely to capsize the canoe. Jist hold on
here to the stern. Thar, that's good. I'll run her ashore now like
greased lightnin'!"</p>

<p>Thus Grey clung to the craft with his right hand, while with his left
arm he upheld Madeline's limp form. It took Dan several minutes to make
land, and by the time the shore was reached they had drifted some
distance down-stream.</p>

<p>Grey felt his feet touch bottom, and almost as soon as the trapper had
pulled the canoe upon the beach he staggered out of the water with
Madeline held tenderly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> in his arms. At once Dan relieved him of his
burden, and carried her up the bank, and laid her upon the ground.</p>

<p>Weak though he was Grey knelt by her side and peered into that drawn,
pallid face. No sign of life, however, showed in that drenched form. He
called her by name, he pleaded with her to speak, but no response came
to his passionate appeal.</p>

<p>"My God! is she dead?" he cried, looking with pitiful eyes into Dan's
face.</p>

<p>"Dead? No," was the reassuring reply. "It 'ud take more'n that duckin'
to knock out the likes of her. Let me down thar. Mebbe I kin do more
good than you."</p>

<p>Dan spoke more cheerfully than he felt in order to encourage his
comrade's sinking spirits. His years of practical experience in the
wilderness served him in good stead now. He performed the simple method
of resuscitation, which he had used on several occasions in the past,
and ere long had the satisfaction of seeing signs of returning life, and
a faint colour tinge the patient's cheeks.</p>

<p>At length Madeline slowly opened her eyes, and fixed them for an instant
upon the trapper's face. Closing them again with a deep sigh, she
drifted off into that silent land, whether of sleep or unconsciousness
the anxious watchers could not divine.</p>

<p>"We must git her outer this, pardner," Dan remarked. "In her wet
condition, and weak as she is, she can't stand much more."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p><p>"But what are we to do?" cried Grey, as the helplessness of their
position dawned upon him.</p>

<p>The joy of knowing that Madeline still breathed was now replaced by
despair. What were they to do with this helpless woman there in the
wilderness, with wet clothes clinging to her body? She must be chilled
through already, and to remain there much longer would mean certain
death.</p>

<p>"Shall I build a fire, Dan?" he asked. "We can lay her close to that,
and perhaps her clothes will dry. What else can we do?"</p>

<p>"No, pardner," was the reply. "That won't do; it would take too long to
dry clothes as wet as hers. She needs gentle care sich as we can't give
her."</p>

<p>"But what&mdash;?"</p>

<p>"Jist a moment, pardner," interrupted Dan. "We ain't got no time to
waste in words. We've got to act. The last time I was in this region
thar was an Injun encampment over thar to the right, on that old cut-off
trail, an' mebbe&mdash;But hark, what's that?"</p>

<p>"It sounds like the bark of a dog," Grey replied, now standing erect,
and listening intently.</p>

<p>"Ay, ay. Didn't I tell ye right? Whar thar's a dog ye may be sure some
human critter's not fer away. Come, let's take the lassie an' strike
through that openin' over yon. I guess we'll find somethin'."</p>

<p>Stooping, the constable lifted Madeline tenderly in his arms. Dan,
however, interposed.</p>

<p>"Ye mustn't do that, laddie. Ye're too weak after yer tryin' experience.
Let me carry the lassie."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p><p>"No, no, Dan," Grey replied, as he started to leave the place. "Let me
carry her for a while. You may take your turn later."</p>

<p>A thrill such as he had not known for years came into Norman's heart, as
he bore forward his precious burden. Her face was close to his. Oh, if
she would only wake, look into his eyes, and speak to him he would
forget and forgive everything, no matter what she had been in the past.</p>

<p>The dog still continued to bark, and by the sound they were able to
direct their steps. After a while Grey found it necessary to relinquish
his burden to Dan, for he was weaker than he had imagined. This gave him
an opportunity to speed on ahead, and in a few minutes the trees became
thin, and a clearing burst into view. Looking to the left he saw several
log houses, with one in the midst much larger than the others, with
smoke issuing from a stovepipe stuck out through the roof. Toward this
he hastened, glancing back at times to see whether Dan was following.</p>

<p>Having reached the building, he rapped loudly upon the door, expecting
to see it opened by an uncouth native. He heard someone moving within;
then a hand was laid upon the wooden latch, and great was his surprise
to see standing before him a grey-bearded white man, tall and commanding
in appearance. Kindly eyes looked full into his, and a voice musical and
soft bade him welcome, followed by an invitation to enter.</p>

<p>Briefly Grey related his story, after which the tall man hurried back
into the room. By this time Dan<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> had arrived, entered the building, and
laid his burden upon a low cot placed against the wall. Just then the
long-bearded man reappeared through a door to the left.</p>

<p>"Bring her in here," he commanded. "It will be more comfortable."</p>

<p>Lifting Madeline in his arms, Norman did as he was bidden, and entered a
little room, meant evidently for a study. The floor was bare. A rough
deal table stood by the window littered with papers. A few magazine
pictures adorned the walls, while in one corner were several shelves
filled with books.</p>

<p>"Lay her there," and the owner of the house pointed to a cosy cot
covered with the soft glossy skins of a bear, wolf and lynx. "I shall be
back in a few minutes."</p>

<p>Saying this, he disappeared, and Grey found himself alone with Madeline,
for the trapper had remained in the outer room, where he was filling his
pipe preparatory to his usual morning smoke.</p>

<p>Norman looked long and lovingly upon that white face embedded among the
furs. Within him raged a fierce contest. He desired to stay by her side,
to know how she would fare after her terrible experience. The love in
his heart told him to remain. She was all he had in the world. In her
was his life and hope. But, on the other hand, he was in duty bound to
go forward as quickly as possible after that stolen child. There was his
duty. And yet, why should he go? Did not love, the care of this helpless
woman, have the first <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>consideration? Suddenly be remembered that this
was the day of his discharge from the Force. Was he not a free man, no
longer bound by exacting, and at times galling, rules? On the other
hand, was he free? That could not be until he returned, and received his
discharge from his Commanding Officer. But, then, what was duty, when
love stood in the way? One voice whispered, "Stay with her whom you
love. This is your first duty." But another voice, clear and distinct,
could not be silenced. "You are in honour bound to carry out your
Commander's orders. He has intrusted you with a sacred commission, and
will you relinquish the quest, bring disgrace upon yourself, and
dishonour upon the Force? Hitherto no man has ever turned back when
given such a command as yours until his object had been attained, and
will you be the first? How can you return to Big Glen, face your
Superior Officer, and your comrades? You, Norman Grey, have never
shirked your duty before, and will you do it now?" "But what about
Madeline?" again insisted the first voice.</p>

<p>Grey glanced through the small window facing the south, and his eyes
rested upon the tall man hurrying from one of the cabins with an Indian
woman by his side. There was the answer to the question. Madeline would
be carefully looked after, and what good would his presence be anyway?
He would fulfil his commission, and then come back to her&mdash;perhaps she
would want him then.</p>

<p>He heard the outer door open, and knew that his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> attention would not be
needed. Swiftly he stooped over that quiet form, and his lips touched
her lips in one fond, passionate kiss. When the man and the Indian woman
entered the room they beheld the constable standing silently by the cot.
They knew nothing of the battle which had taken place within his heart,
nor of the victory won.</p>

<p>"You will do your best for her?" and Grey turned his eyes full upon the
face of the bearded man as he spoke.</p>

<p>He longed to ask him his name, and what he was doing there alone so far
in the wilderness. He regretted that he had not examined the numerous
papers on the table to see what they contained. Now it was too late. But
as he looked at the quiet man, and the clean, matronly Indian woman he
felt that he was leaving Madeline in safe hands.</p>

<p>"You need not fear," came the reply to his question. "I am somewhat of a
doctor, and Nancy du Nord here is most trustworthy."</p>

<p>"Thank you, oh, thank you," Grey responded, and with one swift glance at
Madeline, he passed into the next room where Buckskin Dan was
thoughtfully smoking.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p>

<h2><span>CHAPTER XXI</span> <span class="smaller">STRATEGY</span></h2>

<p>It did not take Grey long to change his wet clothes for the ones which
had been brought for him by the owner of the house. This accomplished,
and his cast-off garments hung by the kitchen stove to dry, he started
with Dan back to the foot of the rapids, where they had left their
outfit and scanty supply of provisions. Little was said until the river
was reached, for each was lost in his own thoughts. It was Dan who broke
the silence, as they at length stood on the bank of the stream.</p>

<p>"By the fur of a martin!" he ejaculated, "it's clear to me now."</p>

<p>"What's clear?" questioned Grey, as he stooped to roll up their one
blanket.</p>

<p>"The place whar them varmints are hikin' to. I wasn't altogether sartin
at fust, an' not quite sure that they'd headed up this way. But when
that lassie come tumblin' down yon rapids it made everything plain."</p>

<p>"But how do you think she got into that boat alone?" questioned Grey.
"That's what I've been trying to solve ever since we left the house over
there."</p>

<p>The trapper scratched his head, dove his hand deep into his pocket, and
brought forth a plug of tobacco, turned it carefully over and bit off a
corner.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p><p>"It's one of three things," he began, "an' I've thought 'em all over.
In some places it might be an accident, but not among the Big Lake
Injuns. Sich a thing 'ud not happen among 'em. Then, the gal might have
tried to escape. But as the kid wasn't with her that proposition's outer
the question."</p>

<p>"But maybe the boy is dead," Grey suggested. "He has come through much
lately, and perhaps the trip has knocked him out."</p>

<p>"No, pardner, I don't think it likely. The lassie 'ud look after 'im.
She's the kind that 'ud care fer the little chap fust."</p>

<p>"Well, then, what is your idea, Dan?"</p>

<p>"That woman was sent inter them foamin' white caps to die. That's what
it was."</p>

<p>"Dan, Dan!" Grey cried in amazement. "What do you mean? What reason
would the Indians have for doing such a deed, and especially to her?"</p>

<p>"Can't tell ye that, laddie. Ye kin never trust them varmints,
perticularly when there's an Injun woman along. But come, if we stop
here talkin' all day they'll git too fer ahead of us. We're on the right
trail, an' if we're goin' to do anythin' let's git on."</p>

<p>At once Grey bent, seized the blanket, threw the strap over his
shoulder, and strode rapidly along by Dan's side. His weariness was now
gone, and the blood surged madly through his veins. Added to his desire
to recover the child was the longing to punish the ones who had sent
Madeline through the rapids. Oh, for a dozen or more of his comrades at
Big Glen, mounted on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> their hardy steeds, and he would show the Indians
a thing or two! But then, that was not the way of the Force. It never
trusted to numbers. As in far-off Hebrew days it believed that "One
thousand shall flee at the rebuke of one," and that "One hundred shall
put ten thousand to flight."</p>

<p>Having reached the head of the rapids they carefully examined the
remains of the recent camp fire. From the few ashes lying on the ground
they could tell how pitifully small it had been&mdash;typical of Indian ways.
Grey looked down thoughtfully upon that thin black layer and the several
charred sticks scattered around. He pictured Madeline sitting at that
very spot, enfolding, perhaps, in her arms the tired, homeless child.
What were her thoughts as she sat there? Did she think of him? He
glanced toward the river flowing sullenly by. If it would only speak
what a tale it could unfold. Dan saw the look and divined the meaning.</p>

<p>"Yes, laddie," he remarked, "it was hard&mdash;it was devilish. But never
mind, yon trail will reveal somethin' afore night shets down or else I'm
much mistaken."</p>

<p>For several miles above the rapids stretched as wild and rugged a
portion of land as ever met the eye of man. A long range of hills sloped
toward the river in a terrace-like formation, terminating in an abrupt,
jagged wall of rock from ten to thirty feet in height. The narrow strip
of ground between this and the river was strewn with thousands of small
and large boulders, which had been hurled from the flinty summit of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>
range, so the Indians believed, by the Great Spirit in a terrible battle
with the monsters of the mountains.</p>

<p>Among these boulders twisted the slender trail, winding at times close
to the overshadowing wall of rock. At one of these places Grey paused,
and looked about with wonder, mingled with awe. Above him towered two
gigantic flinty columns of rock. The chisels of ages had cut strange
figures upon their hard surfaces, and rounded into rugged symmetry their
stately forms. Silent hoodoo sentinels were they frowning down upon the
trail at their feet. To the Indians they were objects of fear and
reverence, and their steps always quickened as with furtive eyes they
glided speedily by.</p>

<p>"Talk about the monuments of civilisation," said Grey, placing his hand
upon the nearer column. "But where will you find such shafts as these
cut by the hand of man? Why, the wonderful Cleopatra's needle is a pigmy
to these."</p>

<p>"Ay, ay, laddie, yer right thar. When I was in New York they p'inted out
to me a number of stones stuck up in the city, an' they showed me the
picters in their Art Galleries. But sez I to 'em, 'Come with me to the
grand North land, an' I'll show ye picters jist as the Lord made 'em,
with no smell of paint upon 'em either. An' as fer stones, I'll show ye
monements which the Lord made, with their heads playin' with the clouds,
an' their roots grippin' down inter the bowels of the arth.' That's wot
I said to 'em, an' they smiled to their selves, so they did, an' nudged
one another. They thought I was a bit daft. But, my! if they could see<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>
sich wonders as these, they'd then know it wasn't me who was daft."</p>

<p>During this speech Grey was peering around the colossal shaft, exploring
the space beyond. Something was interesting him there, and he took a few
paces forward.</p>

<p>"Come, Dan," he cried, "what a fine cave is hidden behind these
columns."</p>

<p>They both now stood at the opening, looking into the yawning mouth of
the cavern.</p>

<p>"It sartinly is great!" ejaculated the trapper. "Who'd a thought thar
was sich a hole as this!"</p>

<p>"I should like to explore it," Grey replied, for his curiosity was by
this time thoroughly aroused. "Who can tell what wonderful things lie
concealed in there. What strange pranks nature plays in this part of the
world."</p>

<p>"Seems to me nater had nuthin' to do with this," and Dan carefully
examined the opening as he spoke. "Looks as if some two-legged critters
with hands an' brains did the work. Guess them Rooshians, who once was
here, dug the place. But, come, that's not our bizness now. We've lost
too much precious time by foolin' around here, while them Injuns are
hikin' it along the trail. No more sich stoppin', mind ye, to-day,
examinin' holes an' rocks. Let's git on. I'm agoin' to set the pace, an'
ye kin foller if ye like."</p>

<p>And Dan was true to his word. How he did swing forward with that long
steady gait, which seemed never to weary. Grey found it difficult to
follow close, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> he was determined that he would not be outdone.
Across a long stretch of wild meadows they sped, up a steep hill,
through a densely wooded region, where the trees stood tall and sombre.
Grey lost count of time and distance. He was a mere machine&mdash;he was
simply a bundle of cogs, fitting into another set of cogs ahead, which
some irresistible power was driving. Could he keep it up much longer?</p>

<p>It was late in the afternoon as they climbed a hill steeper than any
they had yet encountered. Reaching the summit they involuntarily stayed
their steps, and looked down upon a body of water lying like a gem in a
setting of dark firs and jack pines. Not a ripple ruffled the surface of
this mountain lake, while all around the edge ran a fringe of surpassing
beauty, where the trees stood mirrored in its liquid depths.</p>

<p>"It's Lake Klawan," whispered Dan, "an' the Injuns are sure to stop here
fer the night. We need to be very keerful now, fer the time has arrived
when we must do somethin' that'll count."</p>

<p>The trapper was about to move forward, when he suddenly paused, gripped
his companion by the arm, and pointed down through the tops of the
trees.</p>

<p>"See, they're campin' thar!" he hoarsely whispered. "The varmints are
down yon fer sure gettin' their supper."</p>

<p>As Grey looked he could see a thin line of smoke rising above the firs.
He turned to the trapper.</p>

<p>"What next, Dan? What's your move?" he inquired.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p><p>The trapper's eyes were searching the forest to the left, while his
ears were carefully attentive to a faint sound murmuring up through the
trees.</p>

<p>"The river, pardner, is down in the valley, an' we must investigate.
We'll have to depend much, I'm thinkin' upon that stream."</p>

<p>Saying thus he plunged at once down the hillside, Grey following close
at his heels. After a hard fight through the thick underbrush they
gained the river's bank and looked carefully around.</p>

<p>"Ah, that's good!" ejaculated Dan. "Thar's plenty of driftwood here, an'
some of a fair size. We must make a small raft, laddie, fer I'm thinkin'
we'll have to trust our carcasses to it afore long."</p>

<p>Quickly they set to work, and rolled to the edge of the water a dozen of
the largest sticks. With his small axe Dan soon fashioned a number of
withes from several trees standing near. With these he skilfully bound
the logs together, placed several more across the top, and ere long the
raft was finished.</p>

<p>"Fine job that," and Dan stepped back a few paces to view his work.
"She'll run like a greyhound down the stream. We'll make her fast an'
snug in the eddy, fer we can't tell how soon we may need her."</p>

<p>"What's your plan now?" questioned Grey.</p>

<p>"We must git that kid."</p>

<p>"In what way?"</p>

<p>"Wall, I'm jist thinkin' about it. We might creep down upon 'em, an'
pick 'em off. But I don't want to do that. It 'ud stir up the hull tribe
if we knocked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> out them two bucks. Then, we might wait till it gits
dark, steal upon 'em, an' pinch the lad. But mebbe they intend to git on
over the lake, an' we'd be out of it fer sure then. They ginerally keep
a canoe handy. No, them plans won't work. But I've another. We must git
the men away. It's fer me to do that, an' it's up to you to look after
the boy. See?"</p>

<p>"Partly. But how?"</p>

<p>"You leave that to me. I'm goin' up around the lake to the right, an'
you jist creep up close like, whar them varmints are squattin'. Be very
cautious or ye might spile the hull thing. But when ye see the men leave
the kid with the woman, then you drop in like a whirlwind an' do the
rest. When ye git the kid hike back to this place, an' wait fer me. But
if the bucks git here fust, cast off, an' I'll meet ye down-stream. If
it comes to a fight, yer a match fer the hull consarn. I'm off now."</p>

<p>Left to himself Grey stood for a few minutes looking down upon the
water. He was realising how dependent he was upon this rugged frontier
trapper. He had imagined that his own strength of mind, nerve and body
was sufficient to overcome almost any difficulty. In the vicinity of Big
Glen it had sufficed. But here where the vast wilderness was the stage,
with rushing rivers, foaming rapids, wind-swept lakes, sweeping plains
and towering mountains, the setting, and dare-devil white men and roving
Indians the chief actors, it was altogether different.</p>

<p>At length he turned, and walked along the bank of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> the river up toward
the lake. There was no footpath here, and he found travelling most
difficult. But he considered it safer than on the trail higher up.
Slowly and warily he picked his way, taking care not to make the
slightest noise to warn the natives of his approach. At times he paused
and listened, but hearing nothing he advanced. Ere long, after pushing
his way through a tangled thicket of underbrush, the lake burst suddenly
into view. One glance was sufficient, and Grey dropped quickly to his
knees, and crouched behind a low scrubby bush. There on the shore, only
a few rods away, were the Indians, squatting about their camp fire. He
counted them&mdash;two men, one woman, and something lying on the ground,
which no doubt was the stolen child.</p>

<p>Grey's right hand pressed firmly his smooth rifle barrel as he peered
down upon that group. How he longed to pick off those two dusky braves.
Two quick reports and the deed would be done. He could deal with the
woman; he had no doubt of that. But another voice soon silenced this
blood-thirsty desire. "Coward," it whispered, "would you shoot them down
without giving them a chance? You call yourself a man. You a member of a
famous Force, and would you stain its honourable annals with such a
contemptible deed?"</p>

<p>At that instant a sound broke upon the still evening air. It came from
the right, around the curve in the lake. It was the hoarse cry of a
moose calling to its mate. Again it came, clearer than before.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p><p>The effect of that call acted like magic upon the two Indian bucks.
Seizing their rifles they glided to a canoe lying upon the shore, shoved
it off, and leaped in. With noiseless paddle dips they sped swiftly over
the still waters, keeping well within the dark fringe-like shadow, which
was growing larger and larger as the evening waned.</p>

<p>"How strange," Grey murmured to himself, "that such a thing should
happen at the right moment."</p>

<p>Then he thought of Dan, and as light dawned upon his mind he almost gave
a shout of delight. He restrained himself, however, in time, and turned
his attention to the camp fire. Only the woman to contend with now.</p>

<p>He was about to slip from his hiding place, rush down and seize the
child, when he happened to glance out over the lake to the left. As he
did so he stared with amazement, for coming swiftly onward was a
flotilla of canoes, driven by strong, determined arms. Spectres they
seemed, bearing down suddenly from the unknown. Grey rubbed his eyes to
make sure that he beheld aright. But there was no mistake. It was a
stern reality.</p>

<p>By this time the Indian woman had seen them, too, and had hurried to the
shore, and was wildly waving her arms. It was his opportunity, and he
must not delay.</p>

<p>But now there fell upon his ears another sound. It was the voice of a
child crying out in its loneliness.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p><p>"Mamma, mamma," it called. "I wants 'ou, mamma."</p>

<p>Grey hesitated no longer. He sprang forward, bounded like a tiger down
the slope, seized the lad in his arms, and speeded back to cover.
Scarcely had he reached the shelter of the forest ere the wild shrieks
of the Indian woman made the evening hideous. Well did Grey know its
meaning, and he smiled grimly, as, pressing the child to his breast, he
once again threaded the tangled maze of underbrush, and reached the
place where the raft was floating. Here he placed his burden upon the
ground, and listened attentively.</p>

<p>"My! this is getting hot!" he panted. "We'll have the whole tribe after
us now. I hope to goodness Dan will show up soon."</p>

<hr />

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p>

<h2><span>CHAPTER XXII</span> <span class="smaller">AT BAY</span></h2>

<p>So intent was Grey upon listening for any sound from the Indians that he
did not notice Donnie rise to his feet and toddle toward him. But when a
small hand touched him, he started and looked quickly down upon the
forlorn little figure standing near.</p>

<p>"Hello, laddie," he said, placing one hand upon the boy's shoulder.
"What's wrong now?"</p>

<p>But the child did not reply. He only stood there looking intently
upward. Then Grey noticed how drawn and pinched was his face, while his
large eyes gazed straight into his with the pathetic expression of a
dumb animal. Stooping, he lifted the waif in his strong arms, and
pressed him close to his heart.</p>

<p>"Poor laddie! poor laddie!" he murmured. "Your lot is certainly a hard
one. But never mind, I'll defend you to the last."</p>

<p>"I wants my mamma. Oh, take me to my mamma," moaned the child, as he
laid his head trustingly on his rescuer's arm.</p>

<p>"I shall take you to your mamma, little one," Grey replied. "All the
Indians and white men in the North will not take you from me now."</p>

<p>"Dood man," whispered Donnie sleepily. "I love<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> 'ou, dood man. I'll pray
to Dod for 'ou, dood man."</p>

<p>In a few minutes the weary, tired eyes closed, and then Grey laid him
upon the ground, and taking off his own jacket he wrapped it carefully
about the child. This done he paced slowly up and down listening
anxiously for any sound from the silent forest around. Once he thought
he heard the Indians coming, and he was about to place Donnie upon the
raft, and hurry down-stream. But hearing nothing more he decided to wait
a while longer. Night had by this time deepened, and the whole forest
was brooding in a sombre shade. Upon the alert ear must he now depend.
What was keeping Dan? he wondered. Why this delay? Had something
befallen the trapper?</p>

<p>While Grey thought on these things a slight noise to the right aroused
him. Grasping his rifle he tried to peer into those gloomy reaches. A
twig snapped, and then silence. He was sure that someone was
approaching. Presently a peculiar low call of a bird sounded upon the
air, and Grey's heart lightened, for he recognised the signal which Dan
had taught him some time before to be used in time of need. At once Grey
responded with the same call, and a moment later the trapper appeared
before him.</p>

<p>"Gee whiz!" he panted. "I got mixed up somehow, an' lost me bearin's,
an' have been flounderin' around fer some time. I nearly ran full
ag'inst a bunch of Injuns on the shore up yon, an' jist had time to
creep back under cover. They're gittin' ready to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> come down-stream after
us in their canoes to head us off, so we must git outer this like
lightnin'. But say whar's the kid; did ye git 'im?"</p>

<p>"Yes, he's right here," and Grey stooped and lifted the sleeping child
in his arms. "But can we run the stream through the darkness? Would it
not be better to let the Indians pass, and try to evade them on land?"</p>

<p>"An' starve in the meantime wanderin' about with this kid? Not on yer
life. If the Injuns once git ahead of us we might as well give up fust
as last. But we're not goin' to give up. We're goin' down this river,
dark as it is. Then, if they do overtake us we'll give 'em the hottest
reception they ever got. Is yer gun all right?"</p>

<p>"Yes, the magazine's full."</p>

<p>"How many ca'tridges?"</p>

<p>"Belt full, except for the ones in the rifle."</p>

<p>"Good. Mine's jist the same. Aha, we'll show 'em a thing or two if
they're not keerful. They're not foolin' with jack rabbits this time."</p>

<p>In a few minutes they had loosened the raft from its moorings, and were
bearing steadily down-stream. Provided with two long slender sticks Grey
and Dan managed to steer their frail craft without much difficulty. The
current was strong, which held the raft in deep water, and swung it
safely around the numerous sand-bars which lined the river. Donnie slept
soundly on his hard rough bed, covered with Grey's jacket, with his head
pillowed upon Dan's buckskin coat. Little did the bereaved and
heart-broken mother at Big Glen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> know where her darling boy was sleeping
this night, nor the efforts of two brave and great-hearted men on his
behalf.</p>

<p>No sound broke the stillness as steadily the raft surged forward at the
rate of three miles an hour. Slowly the moon rose and swung clear of the
horizon. The river for the most part lay wrapped in shadow from the
closely crowding forest. But here and there where the trees were low and
thin, bright shafts of light shot downward, which falling athwart the
rippling water caused it to glitter like polished steel.</p>

<p>Dan, who was standing well astern, kept his eyes fixed upon those
gleaming places. In fact ever since embarking his eyes and ears had been
strained to their utmost in an effort to detect some sign of their
pursuers. At length he started, and reached instinctively for his rifle
lying close at hand.</p>

<p>"They're comin'!" he hoarsely whispered to his companion. "The divils
are after us!"</p>

<p>Grey looked back, and was able to see dark specks in the distance where
the moon shone bright. Fleeting spectres they were, appearing and
disappearing, yet drawing steadily nearer.</p>

<p>"What are we to do?" he replied. "We can't fight here, and they'll be
upon us in a few minutes."</p>

<p>"Make fer the shore, quick," Dan commanded, and suiting the action to
the word he gave the raft a vigorous shove which sent her reeling toward
the bank.</p>

<p>With some difficulty they were able to make a landing, and while Dan
held the raft Grey carried <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>Donnie quickly ashore. There was now no time
to lose, for the Indians were almost abreast of the place. Then a wild
blood-curdling yell of derision fell upon their ears. The pursuers had
expected to overtake the raft in midstream. They feared the deadly
rifles of the pale faces, and followed silently and cautiously. But when
they saw them make for land, and disappear among the trees they gave
full vent to their savage delight. What could two men and a little child
do against such overwhelming odds?</p>

<p>And as Grey and Dan sped forward, carrying Donnie by turns, they felt
how almost hopeless was their position. But they determined to fight to
the last, and looked anxiously as they ran for some place where they
could make a firm stand. Ere long several large boulders were seen, and
the sight brought a new hope into Dan's heart.</p>

<p>"We're somewhar near that cave," he panted, "an' if we once git in thar
I'll riddle some of them d&mdash;d redskins like a sieve."</p>

<p>Presently they reached the open trail, and to the left appeared the dim
forms of the two giant shafts of stone.</p>

<p>"Run fer it!" breathed the trapper to Grey, who was now carrying the
child. "I'll foller a little behind to cut off them varmints if they
come too near. Give me yer gun."</p>

<p>With Donnie enfolded in his arms, and head bent, Grey ran as he had
never run before. So much depended upon that last lap&mdash;the honour of the
Force,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> the safety of a little child, the happiness of a home far away,
and their own lives. And he could run as well as fight, this hound of
the North. He was not running because he was afraid, but that he might
fight the better later on. How interminably far away seemed those huge
columns. Would he ever reach them? He felt his strength growing weaker,
for his burden was heavy. Suddenly a report split the air, and a bullet
whistled past his head. The effect was magical. Forgotten was his
weariness. It nerved him to greater effort, and his feet fairly spurned
the ground. How he maintained his footing on that rough and crooked
trail he could not tell. But not once did he fall, and at last to his
relief he beheld the cave but a few rods away. He glanced back, and saw
Dan nimbly speeding after. He was near to shelter now, and as he hurried
by the nearer column a bullet spat against the hard stone, telling
plainly that the Indians were not far behind, although somewhat astray
in their aim.</p>

<p>Having deposited Donnie within the mouth of the cave, he leaped back,
seized his rifle from the trapper, and took up his position on the
opposite side of the column. Peering cautiously forth he was able to
discern several forms lurking in the distance, which he knew to be the
baffled Indians.</p>

<p>"What do you say if we pick a few of them off, Dan?" he remarked. "It
might teach the others a lesson, and send them back wiser than they
came."</p>

<p>"Don't do it, pardner," was the reply. "Ye don't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> know them Big Lakes.
We mustn't shoot unless they come at us fust."</p>

<p>"But, man, we can't stay here very long. We haven't a scrap of grub
left, and what about that poor child? Listen to him now crying there in
the cave as if his heart would break. What are we to do?"</p>

<p>"I don't really know, pardner," and Dan ran the fingers of his right
hand through his long hair. "Seems to me we're in a trap."</p>

<p>"Can't we make peace with the Indians?" Grey questioned. "What have they
against us? We never harmed them."</p>

<p>"We pinched the kid, though. Give 'im up, an' mebbe, then, they'd leave
us alone."</p>

<p>"Not otherwise?"</p>

<p>"Ye bet yer life, no."</p>

<p>"But they won't have him," cried Grey fiercely. "At least not as long as
there's any life in my body."</p>

<p>Dan looked grimly around, and his eyes rapidly scanned the beetling wall
of rock towering high above them.</p>

<p>"In a place like this," he slowly drawled, "with grub, water an'
ammunition, two of us could stand off a bunch of redskins without any
trouble. They can't come down atop of us, an' if they begin pokin' their
noses around the front door we'll hand 'em somethin' purty hot. But
seems to me they won't come very close. They don't like this place, as I
told ye afore, so I guess they'll keep at a distance an' try to starve
us out."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p><p>"I'd rather face the whole bunch of them, and die fighting like a man,
than starve to death here."</p>

<p>Gloomily Grey uttered these words. He was weary after his long tramp and
want of sleep. Little food had he eaten since the night before, and
there was now no prospect of any for the coming day. He thought of
Donnie, who would certainly cry for something to eat. He and Dan could
stand starvation and hardships, but to listen to an innocent child
pleading for a mere morsel of bread which could not be supplied, would
be maddening.</p>

<p>The trapper surmised the thoughts which were throbbing through his
companion's mind. He glanced at the tall, erect figure standing before
him, and noted the expression of determination upon his strong, tense
face. He realised how hard it was to keep such a spirit as his within
bounds. He had often secretly marvelled why this sturdy limb of the law
should follow him, an old trapper, so implicitly, and yield so readily
to his will. But Dan did not know that Grey had been trained to obey as
well as to command, and that the former is at times the wiser course to
pursue.</p>

<p>The sobbing of the child at the mouth of the cave still continued. It
was a pleading, pathetic cry, and sounded strangely unnatural from those
dark depths.</p>

<p>"Ye'd better go to the laddie, pardner," Dan remarked. "Ye might be able
to comfort the poor chap a little. I'll keep watch, an' call ye if
necessary."</p>

<p>Grey found Donnie standing just within the deep shadow of the high wall
of rock. The blackness of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> cave had frightened him, and he had moved
toward the light outside. His little form was quivering with deep sobs,
and he gave a cry of joy as Grey drew near, and dropped upon the ground
by his side. Placing his arms tenderly about the boy, he drew him to his
heart, and tried to soothe his fears.</p>

<p>"I wants my mamma," Donnie moaned. "Take me to my mamma."</p>

<p>"Yes, dear, just as soon as I can," comforted Grey. "You will trust me,
will you not?"</p>

<p>"Ya. But I wants my mamma. Why doesn't she tum to her 'ittle boy-boy?"</p>

<p>"She can't come just now, but she will after a while."</p>

<p>"Then I wants Malin. Oh, where is Malin?" and he started suddenly up.
"Me saw her go away, and she would not tum back to Donnie."</p>

<p>"You love her, do you not?" Grey queried.</p>

<p>"Ya, me love Malin. Do 'ou?"</p>

<p>"Yes, yes, little one, I love her, too."</p>

<p>"Den me love 'ou," and Donnie threw his arms about Grey's neck. "But I
wants Malin, too. Oh, please take me to Malin."</p>

<p>"She is not far away, dearie, and is waiting for you."</p>

<p>Grey spoke bravely for the child's sake. There was no need to alarm the
lad now. But his heart was heavy. He thought of the Indians prowling
around outside. Then his mind turned to Madeline. What was her
condition? he wondered, after her terrible experience<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> in the river.
Suppose she&mdash; He crushed back the thought. No, it could not be possible.
He could not imagine Madeline, his Madeline, lying in that house cold in
death. All his old doubts and fears were swept away like chaff before
the wind. His love for her filled, his heart with an overwhelming
intensity. Let her be what she might, he loved her still, and would love
her to the end. She had been sinned against, cruelly and wilfully, he
felt sure of that. He saw her as in days gone by; the trim lines of her
form, her dark-brown hair, and large affectionate eyes, looking up so
trustingly into his. His hands clinched, and his teeth ground hard
together.</p>

<p>"Some villain has done this," he muttered. "There has been dark work in
connection with this matter. Surely there is a God in Israel who will
avenge that innocent woman and this poor child."</p>

<p>Listening attentively he found that Donnie was fast asleep, with his
curly head leaning against his breast. Grey's arms closed slightly in a
loving embrace. The feeling of affection which had stolen into his heart
when he had rescued him from the icy waters below Klikhausia Rapids
burned now like a flame. He realised that this child was unconsciously
playing an important part in his life. The boy had suffered much, and
been cruelly wronged, but for all that he had been the guiding star
which had led him to his long-lost loved one.</p>

<p>And while Grey crouched upon the ground with the child in his arms, the
trapper stood outside with rifle<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> in hand, and eyes keenly alert. The
sun rose slowly above the tree tops, and at its appearing the slinking
Indians crouched back among the trees, like tigers lying in wait for
their prey.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p>

<h2><span>CHAPTER XXIII</span> <span class="smaller">THE HAVEN</span></h2>

<p>Slowly Madeline opened her eyes, and looked wearily around. The swirl of
raging water still sounded in her ears. Dimly she saw two forms standing
by the bed, and then oblivion. When she again awoke the morning was well
advanced. Her sleep had been deep, and she felt much refreshed. But how
pleasant it was to be there in that quiet room! Her mind went back with
a rush to the terrible experience in the rapids. She remembered standing
for an instant in the reeling canoe, calling for help, ere she had taken
that mad plunge into the icy water. How had she been rescued? Who had
dared to snatch her from that horrible place, and what was she doing
here in this room? Where was Donnie? She recalled his pathetic figure
standing upon the shore, holding out to her his little pleading hands.
What had become of the boy? And the Indian woman, Nadu, where was she? A
sense of fear smote her heart as she saw again that sinister dusky face,
and those cruel, glaring eyes. She was her bitter enemy, she realised
that now. In what way had she offended the Indian woman? Why had she
tried to destroy her? And she had been saved<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> from the rapids! Who had
done it? She must know. She must find out. Perhaps the Indians did it.
But why was she lying in this quiet room? Her bed was a small cot placed
against the wall. The coverings were only dark blankets, but they seemed
perfectly clean.</p>

<p>The room was simply furnished; a large bear skin on the rough floor, a
rude table close to the window, littered with papers, and a small bench
near by. Her eyes rested upon a few books on a shelf upon the wall. The
owner of the place, she thought, must do some reading. Several pictures
tacked to the roughly hewn logs attracted her attention. Some were
evidently taken from magazines, while others were crayon drawings, and a
few were done in water colours by no mean hand. One of the latter
aroused her interest. It was that of a young Indian woman, with bright
eyes, with a gentle smile upon her lips, and her black hair, parted in
the middle, was combed smoothly back. The expression upon her face
exhibited confidence and sweet peace. As Madeline studied this picture
something told her that she had seen that face before, and she started
as Nadu flashed into her mind. Why had she thought of her? she wondered.
What connection had such a creature with that fair vision before her? In
those clear, trusting eyes there was no resemblance to the fiery orbs of
jealousy upon which she had recently gazed, and those slightly parted
lips had no suggestion of the cruel smile of hatred. No, it could not
be. The two faces were so different. It must be her own<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> fancy which was
deceiving her. And yet, why did she think of Nadu when looking at the
picture?</p>

<p>Her musing was interrupted by a light step on the right. Turning her
head she saw a middle-aged Indian entering, and in her hands a small
wooden tray upon which were several dishes. This she placed upon the
table, and then came to the bedside. Her lips parted in a pleased smile
as she gazed down upon the white face enwreathed with loose tresses of
dark-brown hair. To Madeline it was pleasant to look into those kindly
eyes, and to feel that she was among friends. With this clean and neatly
dressed native near she knew that she had no cause to fear.</p>

<p>"I am so glad to see you," she faintly murmured. "Will you tell me how I
came here?"</p>

<p>But the Indian woman only smiled, and crossing the room brought over the
tray and placed it upon the edge of the bed.</p>

<p>"Soup," she said. "Eat. Good."</p>

<p>Rising on her elbow Madeline dipped the spoon into the dish and tasted
the broth. It was certainly pleasant after the horrible stuff which had
been tossed before her on that dreadful journey. Seeing that her patient
was doing justice to the food she had brought, the Indian woman again
smiled and left the room.</p>

<p>A few minutes later the long-bearded, white-haired man entered. His tall
commanding figure was drawn to its full height, and to Madeline he
seemed like a veritable giant. Sad grey eyes, somewhat faded, gazed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>
into hers from beneath beetling brows. Little did Madeline know that
those same eyes had for forty years faced death unflinchingly many a
time in the far Northland. Swiftly the visitor crossed the room and
stood by her side.</p>

<p>"I am so glad you are better."</p>

<p>It was a soft, low voice which spoke, accompanied by a slight accent of
embarrassment. The speaker did not appear to be perfectly at ease, and
this Madeline noted.</p>

<p>"I am feeling stronger now," she replied, holding out to him a firm
white hand. "This soup has done me much good. Won't you sit by my side,
for I wish to ask you some questions? There, that's better," she
continued, as he quietly obeyed.</p>

<p>"Do you feel strong enough to talk?" questioned the man. "You are very
weak."</p>

<p>"But I must talk," Madeline pleaded. "Oh, please tell me how I came
here, and what has happened to Donnie. Is he safe?"</p>

<p>"I can tell you but little. You were brought here early this morning by
two men, but I saw nothing of any boy."</p>

<p>"Oh, where is he&mdash;the poor darling!" cried Madeline as she half started
from the bed. "I last saw him standing on the shore, stretching out his
little hands to me as the canoe swept me down toward that horrible
place."</p>

<p>"Do not excite yourself," remonstrated the man. "You must reserve your
strength."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p><p>"I know it. I know it. But I have been through so much to-day."</p>

<p>Then she briefly told the story of the capture, the journey overland,
and the base act of the Indian woman. "When I shot from the canoe," she
concluded, "I gave up all hope. I cannot understand how I was saved."</p>

<p>"Those men must have been near."</p>

<p>"Do you know who they were?"</p>

<p>"No. I asked no questions. They left so quickly that I really had no
opportunity."</p>

<p>"But you saw them, though. What did they look like?"</p>

<p>"One was an old man of powerful build, with a long beard and white hair.
He wore, I think, a buckskin jacket."</p>

<p>"And the other?" Madeline's heart beat fast, for an idea had suddenly
seized her mind.</p>

<p>"He was a young man, tall, and straight as an arrow."</p>

<p>"And did he have dark-brown eyes?" she questioned.</p>

<p>"I believe he did. As a rule I am not good at remembering such things. I
noticed his, however, for they were so full of trouble, and looked as if
they had not closed in sleep for several nights."</p>

<p>"And his hair, was it dark and wavy?"</p>

<p>"It was dark, but soaked with water, as were his clothes."</p>

<p>"And you did not ask him his name," she mused. "That was strange. Were
you not curious to know?"</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p><p>"As I said before, there was little time for that. Besides," and here
he hesitated, "we learn in the North not to ask too many questions."</p>

<p>Madeline noted his hesitation, and glanced quickly up. What did he mean?
she mentally asked herself. What did his words signify? There was
something about this tall, reserved man which filled her with
confidence. He was so different from many she had met. He seemed to
belong to another world from the one which had been hers for years. It
brought back memories of other days. A mistiness filled her eyes, and
despite her efforts tears flowed down her cheeks. She tried to repress
her emotion, but in vain. Burying her face in her hands, she sobbed like
a child, while the man looked at her in wonderment. At length she
brushed away the tears, and tried to smile.</p>

<p>"Forgive me," she simply remarked. "But you know not what I have
suffered. You believe me to be one of those creatures you sometimes see
in the North. But I am not! Before God, I say I am not! Listen! I had a
home, surrounded by loved ones. I left on a visit to America. The ship
was wrecked. I was rescued by a woman, who has held me in bondage for
years. I have tried time and again to escape, but without avail. We came
North, and at last to Hishu. I had given up all hope when suddenly one
day, over a week ago, a man came to the place, bringing in a child he
had rescued from death. He was a Mounted Policeman, and I knew him to be
Norman Grey, a friend of mine in the dear old happy days. He saw<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> me,
and believed me to be a fallen woman. I believe it was he who saved me
from death this morning."</p>

<p>"And who was the other?" came the question.</p>

<p>"It must be Buckskin Dan, a fine old trapper living at Hishu."</p>

<p>"You are a long way from Hishu," the man quietly remarked. "Were the
Indians Hishus who stole you away?"</p>

<p>"The woman belongs there," Madeline replied. "She is the wife of Siwash
Bill, and her name is Nadu. I cannot imagine what she has against me. I
saw her only occasionally at Hishu."</p>

<p>It was now the man's turn to start, while a pained expression crossed
his face. He was about to reply, but instead he moved a little and
looked long and silently at the picture of the young Indian maiden
hanging on the wall near the table.</p>

<p>"And you say it was Nadu?" he at length asked, while a deep sigh escaped
his lips. "Are you sure?"</p>

<p>"Certain. I have good reason to know, have I not?"</p>

<p>"Yes, yes. Indeed, you have. But, oh, this is a blow to me. Could you
believe that was once Nadu?" and he pointed toward the picture.</p>

<p>"I did think of her," Madeline replied, "when I saw it first, but
thought I must be mistaken."</p>

<p>"No, you were not. Would to God that you were. That was Nadu when she
was a sweet, innocent child, the flower of the Northland. Her father, a
chief, was killed in a fierce battle. We loved her&mdash;my dear wife<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> and
I&mdash;and it almost broke our hearts when we gave her to that white man.
They were joined in holy wedlock, but we feared, yes, we feared, for
her. And oh, how changed must she be! My poor Nadu! My darling child!"</p>

<p>"Is that your wife who brought me this delicious broth?" Then seeing the
astonished look upon the old man's face she hastily added, "Forgive me.
I fear I have made a mistake. But as trappers are sometimes married to
Indian women in the North, I took it for granted it was so in your
case."</p>

<p>"But with me it was not so," and the old man placed his hand to his
forehead in an abstracted manner as he replied. "I had a wife, good and
true. We came to the North together forty years ago. It's five years now
since she left me, and she lies over yonder in the Indian Cemetery. It
was she who made those drawings, and painted that picture. She was ever
skilful with the pencil and brush. She loved Nadu dearly, and never
could become reconciled to the girl marrying that fur-trader. I believe
it had much to do with her death."</p>

<p>"Have you really lived as a trapper and hunter for forty years in the
North!" exclaimed Madeline in astonishment. "And to think of your wife
being here for most of that time! How lonely she must have been when you
were away from home."</p>

<p>A slight expression of amusement shone in the old man's eyes as he
listened.</p>

<p>"I have been a hunter for forty years," he replied<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>, "but I have trapped
very little. I have followed the chase, but have had meagre success."</p>

<p>"Is game scarce? I should think it would be plentiful here."</p>

<p>"Miss&mdash;" Here the old man paused. It was the first time that he had even
hinted as to her name.</p>

<p>"Normsell&mdash;Madeline Normsell," she added.</p>

<p>"Well, Miss Normsell, there is an abundance of game, but the hunters are
few, and scattered. I think it was expressed much better many years ago
by One when He said, 'The field is already white unto the harvest, but
the labourers are few.'"</p>

<p>Madeline had been looking straight before her during the greater part of
this conversation. But now she glanced quickly up, while a new light of
understanding overspread her face. These last words set her thinking.</p>

<p>"Have I made a stupid blunder?" she asked. "I mistook you for a
trapper."</p>

<p>"It was quite natural, Miss Normsell."</p>

<p>"And you are really a missionary."</p>

<p>"Yes. That is why I am here."</p>

<p>"Oh, now I see. Now I comprehend."</p>

<p>"Are you a bishop? You look like one."</p>

<p>"No; merely Charles Nordis&mdash;who is trying to do some work for the Master
among these Northern natives."</p>

<p>"And you have been here for forty years?"</p>

<p>"Not on this side of the mountain. Thirty years<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> were passed on the
great Mackenzie River&mdash;and only the last ten here."</p>

<p>"And all that time among the Indians! How they must love you."</p>

<p>"If they do they seldom show it. This want of response has so often
discouraged the missionaries. They look for some gratitude for what they
have done. I have learned not to expect it, and so am never
disappointed. I think the Indians beyond the mountains loved me in their
own way, and were sorry when I left. But the natives here are hard and
cruel. I cannot seem to make any impression upon them at all. They are
held in thrall by the crafty Medicine Men, and are fond of tribal wars."</p>

<p>"But you have one faithful Indian in that woman who brought me the
soup," Madeline remarked.</p>

<p>"Ah, Nancy du Nord, you mean. Yes, she is a good soul. But she is from
the Mackenzie River. She and her husband followed me across the
mountains, and have been here ever since. My dear wife did much for
her."</p>

<p>"Are the Indians away now?" Madeline asked.</p>

<p>"Yes, although they may return at any moment. There are nasty reports
abroad, and I fear there will be trouble with the Hishus. They have been
trespassing, so it seems, upon the Big Lakes' ancestral hunting-grounds.
From time immemorial this has been the cause of strife. The Hishus are
ugly people when once aroused. Oh, for a missionary to work among them!"</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p><p>"There is one of the Hishus," Madeline replied, "who appears to be
rather a superior Indian. That is, Hishu Sam. He has been very good to
me."</p>

<p>"Hishu Sam, did you say?" and the missionary leaned forward. "I remember
the name. When did I meet him? Ah, yes, now I recollect. It was several
years ago. I was up the river in the direction of Hishu. I camped near
him one night. He had a very sick child, a little girl, and I was able
to give her some medicine so that she recovered. You see here in the
North one has to be a doctor as well as a missionary. I had forgotten
the incident until you mentioned the name."</p>

<p>"Was that all you did?" Madeline queried.</p>

<p>"Yes; I can't think of anything else."</p>

<p>"Did you talk any with the Indian? Did you teach him anything?"</p>

<p>"Why, yes, to be sure. I stayed with him and his wife for several days,
and during that time I told them the old, old story, to which they
listened most attentively. But I fear it was of little use."</p>

<p>"Indeed it was, Mr. Nordis," Madeline replied. "I have often wondered
about that Indian; he is so different from the other Hishus. Several
times when he came to our house he asked me questions in broken English
about Christ, and was so anxious to learn. Now I understand. It was the
little seed you sowed in his heart which did so much for him."</p>

<p>The missionary did not reply to these words, but sat very still with
head bent forward, as if in deep<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> thought. Madeline lay there, and
watched him with much interest. She felt tired after this conversation,
and wished to think over what she had heard. Her mind turned to Norman,
for she firmly believed it was he who had rescued her. Had he gone after
Donnie, she wondered, and would he come back to her?</p>

<p>Presently she was aroused from her reverie by the sudden entrance of
Nancy du Nord. Upon her face was a look of fear, and her agitated manner
plainly showed that something was wrong. She spoke rapidly in the Indian
tongue, and all that Madeline could understand was the one word "Hishu."</p>

<p>The effect upon the missionary was magical. Deep concern gave place to
the meditative expression as he started to his feet and hurried from the
room.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p>

<h2><span>CHAPTER XXIV</span> <span class="smaller">THE MEDIATOR</span></h2>

<p>As Charles Nordis passed out of the house into the open he met an old
Indian with a look of intense fear stamped upon his face. He was
trembling violently, and his staring eyes were directed toward the
river. As the missionary appeared he turned and began to speak rapidly
in the native tongue.</p>

<p>"The Hishus!" he cried, while a shiver shook his form. "They come up the
river. They carry their canoes around the rapids. They are cruel men,
and will kill us."</p>

<p>"Hush, hush, du Nord," commanded the missionary. "If all the Big Lakes
are like you there will be little done to oppose the Hishus. You cower
and fear like a cur."</p>

<p>"I am old, Master," replied the native. "How can I fight? If the Big
Lakes were only here!"</p>

<p>Charles Nordis looked intently at the poor creature standing before him,
and his face softened. He remembered how faithful the man had been to
him through long years. He, too, had been brave. But now in his old age
it was only natural that he should fear a scene which years before had
been all too common in his life.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p><p>"Poor du Nord," said the missionary to himself. "Who am I that I should
feel contempt for him?"</p>

<p>Then he began to pace up and down before the house. His steps were long
and rapid, a sure sign of his agitated thoughts.</p>

<p>"And is this the end of it all?" he murmured. "After years of patient
toil and prayer, has it come to this&mdash;a deadly battle between these two
tribes? What fond hopes were mine ten years ago. How I trusted that
these Indians would lay aside their strife forever. But now they are at
it again. And Nadu&mdash;poor child&mdash;of whom we hoped so much. Little did I
think she would fall so low. Have all the teaching, prayers and patient
care amounted to nothing? What have I to show for all these years of
work?"</p>

<p>The report of a rifle in the distance startled him. Then another, and
still another.</p>

<p>"I feared it! I feared it!" the missionary hoarsely breathed. "The
battle has begun, and oh, what horrible things will happen! God in
Heaven," he cried, falling upon his knees on the hard ground, "stop this
fight! Let not these people engage in deadly conflict. Show Thine arm,
put forth Thy strength, and let them have a glimpse of Thy glory, that
they may turn to nobler, higher things."</p>

<p>Presently his lips ceased to move, and across his face spread a
wonderful transforming light. His eyes gleamed with a new lustre, and he
gazed before him into space. His surroundings were forgotten, neither
did he see old du Nord standing awe-stricken a few<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> yards away. Another
series of shots ripped through the air like messengers of woe. The
missionary sprang to his feet. He listened intently. Again came those
ominous reports. With not a look behind Charles Nordis sprang forward,
crossed the open, and disappeared among the trees.</p>

<p>Meanwhile over at the mouth of the cave, behind the giant pillars, the
two weary men maintained their long watch. Dan continued on guard until
the dawn had ripened into day. Donnie still slept, while Grey remained
by his side. He, too, had fallen asleep, but it was only a fitful
slumber, and he awoke with a start thinking the Indians were upon them.
At length he went to the trapper's side, where he stood leaning upon his
rifle.</p>

<p>"The Indians are quiet, Dan," he began.</p>

<p>"Quiet now," was the reply. "Guess they kin afford to be quiet, fer it
seems they intend to starve us out."</p>

<p>"Do you really think so?"</p>

<p>"Feel quite sartin about it. If not they'd've rushed us long afore
this."</p>

<p>"But it was almost as bright as day, Dan. Perhaps they'll wait until
to-night and come upon us ere the moon rises. It will be dark then."</p>

<p>"I was thinkin' of that, pardner. It's one thing or t'other, mark my
word."</p>

<p>"But what shall we do in the meantime?"</p>

<p>"God only knows. But we might make a rush fer it when night shets down.
That's our only hope, an'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> what will that poor child do in the meantime
without grub? We kin stand it; but a child is different. He wants to eat
about all the time."</p>

<p>"Look here, Dan," and Grey picked up his rifle lying on the ground.
"It's my turn now. You go and lie down awhile, for I intend to watch."</p>

<p>"An' ye'll be sure to wake me if the Injuns come?"</p>

<p>Grey almost laughed outright at such a request, and even a smile flitted
across the trapper's face as he slowly wended his way to the dark
entrance of the cave.</p>

<p>"An' so he thinks I'll sleep, does he?" he mumbled. "Wall, I'll see
about that."</p>

<p>Thrusting his hand into a pocket in his jacket he brought forth a small
candle. This he deliberately lighted with a match produced from his
match case of two cartridge shells fitted neatly together. Glancing
first at the constable and then at the sleeping child, he moved forward
within the cave. The flickering light of the candle showed up dimly the
rugged wall about him. Here and there large wooden logs, much decayed,
were seen sticking forth where the earth had tumbled in.</p>

<p>"Ha, ha! I thought so," he muttered. "This has been a mine as sure as
sunrise. Hello! what's this?"</p>

<p>Stooping, he picked up a piece of iron against which his foot had
struck.</p>

<p>"A pick, by jimminy, an' a queer old one at that. None of yer
new-fangled ones. My! the man wot swung that must have been a monster.
He was a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> Rooshian, that's who he was. Now it's sartin that they dug
this place."</p>

<p>Holding the candle high he slowly advanced, the passage becoming
narrower all the time, owing to the falling earth.</p>

<p>"Guess I've gone fer enough from the entrance," he muttered, "an' had
better go back."</p>

<p>He was about to turn when a glitter on the right wall caught his eye.
Stepping quickly forward, he thrust the candle close to the spot, and
with an exclamation of surprise reached out and grasped a big handful of
gravel.</p>

<p>"Good Lord!" he gasped. "It's gold! Nuggets of 'em!"</p>

<p>The prospector's fever now possessed him, and holding the candle in his
left hand he clawed into the bank, and exposed to view the precious
gravel. And rich it was, he could tell at a glance, and it seemed to be
the beginning of a rich vein which had been unearthed. Forgotten for a
few brief moments were the Indians as he stood there with staring eyes
looking upon his discovery.</p>

<p>"I wasn't fer wrong in my surmise," he mused. "Jist think how much them
Rooshians must have scooped outer this place. But they left some behind,
an' it took Buckskin Dan to find it, ha, ha!"</p>

<p>Suddenly he thought of the Indians, and the light of discovery faded
from his face.</p>

<p>"Yes, I've got the gold, but the Injuns have got me, an' the lads out
yon. This is sartinly a purty fix fer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> an old trapper to git into, ain't
it now?" and he scratched his head in perplexity. "With all this gold
mebbe I could make some dicker with them redskins, an' buy 'em off. But
no, darn it! I won't give 'em the satisfaction, nor Siwash Bill either.
He's at the bottom of this hull hellish bizness, an' we've got to git
more'n even with 'im. I'm goin' back to me pardner now, an' see how
things are shapin' out thar."</p>

<p>When he reached the mouth of the mine he found Donnie awake and crying
piteously. He glanced toward the constable, and noted that he was not
heeding the child, but was keenly intent upon something beyond. Having
soothed the lad's cries, he hurried to Grey's side.</p>

<p>"What is it, pardner?" he whispered. "Are the Injuns comin'?"</p>

<p>"Look," and Grey pointed to the left. "I saw several forms moving among
the trees. There they are, see, creeping up behind those boulders. They
are Indians, it strikes me, but they do not seem to be the Big Lakes,
and they are not coming directly toward us either."</p>

<p>Dan looked keenly at the creeping figures, and then an expression of
satisfaction crossed his face.</p>

<p>"They're the Hishus, pardner!" he whispered. "An' they mean bizness at
that. They're divils when they're on the warpath. Mark my word,
somethin's goin' to happen in the twinklin' of an eye. The Big Lakes
haven't seen 'em yet. But when they do we'll see sparks a flyin'. Thank
God, they've arrived in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> the nick of time! We'll just wait until they
git busy with the Big Lakes, an' we'll hike it outer this."</p>

<p>The Big Lakes had certainly been caught napping. They little expected
the arrival of the Hishus, and merely kept a vigilant watch lest the
prisoners behind the big columns should escape. They were delighted that
they had the fugitives in such a trap. They could afford to wait until
hunger drove the pale faces from their hiding place, and that this would
not be long they felt sure. So while several kept strict guard the rest
lolled around, laughing and chatting about the imprisoned whites.</p>

<p>But when several sharp reports ripped the stillness of the day, and as
many bullets sang their menacing danger about their heads, they sprang
to their feet in dismay, seized their rifles and dashed for cover. At
first they imagined the volley came from the besieged, but when yells of
derision followed the shots they knew that the Hishus were upon them.</p>

<p>When the first shock of surprise had passed their coolness and cunning
returned. The wild savage nature was aroused. Their old implacable enemy
was before them, and now old scores were to be settled. Creeping
cautiously from boulder to boulder they watched their opportunity.
Whenever a head showed for an instant it became a target for sure
marksmen. At first they returned yell for yell, but now they were
silent! Both sides realised how deadly was the game, and like tigers
they crouched and watched.</p>

<p>From their rocky fastness Dan and Grey looked out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> upon the scene of
conflict. Owing to their somewhat elevated position they were able to
obtain a good view of all that took place. The two tribes were much
closer together now, and the shots became more frequent. It seemed to be
only a matter of a few minutes ere they would be engaged in a
hand-to-hand encounter. The wild hatred of their savage nature would be
unleashed, and terrible would be the lot of the vanquished. This Dan and
Grey knew. Their fate depended upon which side should win.</p>

<p>"If the Hishus conquer," said the trapper, "we are safe; but if the Big
Lakes, God help us! We must be ready to step outer this at the fust
opportunity. Ye'd better keep the kid close."</p>

<p>Scarcely had Dan finished speaking ere he leaned forward, while a roar
of surprise broke from his lips.</p>

<p>Grey looked, too, and what he saw caused his eyes to open wide with
amazement. Speeding across the open, and not far away from where they
were hiding, they beheld the old man whom they had met the day before.
His arms were lifted in an imploring attitude. He seemed not to mind the
unevenness of the ground, nor the danger to which he was exposed. He
appeared to lead a charmed life as he sped into the midst of that rain
of death. Grey almost held his breath as he watched. What did the man
mean? Surely he must be crazy! But still he kept on. Presently he fell,
and when he rose he was seen to be limping painfully. With much
difficulty he scrambled to the top of a big boulder, and lifting up his
arms began<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> to speak in the Indian tongue. What he said neither Grey nor
Dan could tell. That his words had little effect was evident, for the
shots were as frequent as ever. How he escaped for so long was
marvellous.</p>

<p>Grey now realised the old man's purpose. He would stop the fight between
these two tribes. He was willing to act as a mediator, to lay down his
life that their strife might cease. Surely the man must be crazy, or a
fanatic, he thought, to risk his life in such a way for no apparent
purpose. But he was no coward, that was certain, and Grey felt a thrill
of admiration as he watched him standing erect in the face of that
deadly fire. Then an overwhelming pity possessed him. He could not see
the old man die without an effort to save his life. He longed to hurry
him away, if possible, from such danger. Only a few wild heart-beats had
passed since the missionary mounted the boulder, but it was sufficient
time for Grey to think, and to make up his mind.</p>

<p>Forgetting his own peril and without one word to Dan he sprang from his
hiding place, and bounded across the open. He had almost reached the old
man when he saw him reel and then pitch headlong with widely extended
arms among the rugged rocks. Grey was by his side in an instant. He
seized the man and raised him somewhat from the ground with the hope of
carrying him away. But, strong though he was, he had not sufficient
strength to bear such a burden. Rising to his feet he lifted up his
hands to the natives. Would they not understand&mdash;would they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> not heed
such an appeal? Surely their hearts were not altogether turned to stone.
There must be some spark of nobleness mingled with their savage nature.
In fact the fire did slacken, and it seemed as if the Indians were about
to cease their strife for a while. But alas! his hope was in vain. He
suddenly felt the ground reel beneath him. A horrible blackness rose
before his eyes. He tried to stand. He groped about for an instant. He
tottered, and then fell forward unconscious upon the prostrate form at
his feet.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p>

<h2><span>CHAPTER XXV</span> <span class="smaller">THE HEART OF A WOMAN</span></h2>

<p>After Charles Nordis, the missionary, had hurriedly left the room
Madeline listened intently for a few minutes. Hearing nothing more she
concluded that the matter was of little importance. She knew how easily
Indian women were excited and ready at times to believe almost anything,
whether an unsubstantial dream or the wild imaginings of an overheated
brain. Her mind gradually turned to other things. She thought of the old
man and of the lonely life he must have led since his wife's death; of
Nadu, and often her eyes would turn toward the picture upon the wall.
But she thought mostly of Norman and Donnie. What had happened to them?
How she longed to have the child close by her side again. It grieved her
to think that he was somewhere out in the wilderness among the Indians,
with no one to comfort him or to soothe his cries. But surely Norman
would find him&mdash;he would if it were possible&mdash;she felt sure of that.</p>

<p>During the past six terrible years the hope that Norman would come and
save her had buoyed her up. She clung to the idea like a drowning
person. He had always been her hero, and often she had pictured him
seizing her in his strong arms and carrying her away<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> from her
uncongenial surroundings. And he had come, had looked upon her, and
believed her to be unworthy of his love. He had saved her from the icy
waters, but that was only by chance. He had followed her, but only for
the sake of the child whom he was in duty bound to seek. He would
return, no doubt, bringing the lad with him. Then he would take the
little one to Big Glen, and leave her in the wilderness. Why had he not
left her to die in the rapids? It would have been more merciful. But
would he speak to her when he returned? she wondered. Would he give her
a chance to explain or would words be unnecessary? He had seen her
living with Old Meg, and perhaps that would be sufficient to poison his
mind against her. But he had touched her in the water. He had enfolded
her in his arms as he carried her to the house. Did he look into her
face, and loathe the burden that he bore? The thought was almost more
than she could endure. She felt so tired, and she closed her eyes in an
effort to shut out the many scenes which were moving like horrible
spectres before her mind.</p>

<p>A pretty picture she presented as she lay there. Her loose dark-brown
hair was tossed over cheek and pillow. Her face was white and worn, for
the experiences of the last few days had left their mark. She had
struggled hard, and had endured without a murmur. Her prayers during the
whole of this ordeal of years had been a pitiful, intense pleading to
the Great Father for help. And what was the answer? Nothing but silence!
Thrown among savages, and cast off by the very one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> upon whom she had
most relied, what was left to her now? Hope gone, to return no more
forever!</p>

<p>She lay very still for a time, and was only aroused by Nancy du Nord
entering the room. Fear was still depicted upon the Indian woman's face,
and she cast furtive glances around as if expecting pursuit.</p>

<p>"What is it, Nancy?" Madeline questioned, surprised at her agitated
manner.</p>

<p>"Hishus! Hishus!" she cried. "Dey come! Dey kill! Oh! Oh! Oh!"</p>

<p>Madeline, who had no fear of the Hishus, for they had always been
friendly to her, could not understand the poor creature's fright.</p>

<p>"They will not harm us, Nancy," she soothed. "They have been good to me.
Why are you afraid?"</p>

<p>"Hishu bad; all same black bear. Ugh!"</p>

<p>Then she started violently, and laid a sudden hand upon Madeline's arm.</p>

<p>"Hark!" she gasped. "Dey meet Big Lakes! Dey shoot! Dey fight!"</p>

<p>Listening, Madeline could hear faint rifle reports away in the distance.
That there was trouble she had no doubt. But what did it matter to her?
It made little difference which side won. She might as well live with
the Big Lakes as among the Hishus. If they killed her the sooner would
her troubles end. But this terrified woman appealed to her. She felt
sorry for her, and longed to do something to calm her distress. And,
besides, it might do herself good to move around a little, for she felt
stronger now.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p><p>"Nancy," she said. "I want to get up. Are my clothes dry?"</p>

<p>"Clothes no dry," the native replied, slowly shaking her head.</p>

<p>"But did you hang them by the fire?"</p>

<p>"Ah, ah, me hang 'um."</p>

<p>"Right after you put me here?"</p>

<p>"Ah, ah."</p>

<p>"Surely, Nancy, they must be dry by this time. Has there been a good
fire on ever since?"</p>

<p>"Ah, ah, good fire."</p>

<p>"Well, then, Nancy, I'm going to see for myself," and Madeline started
to rise.</p>

<p>"No! no!" cried the old woman. "No get up!"</p>

<p>"But why?" insisted Madeline. "Why do you not want me to get up?"</p>

<p>"Heem say she stay in bed. She no get up."</p>

<p>"Who told you that?"</p>

<p>"De meesion man."</p>

<p>"Oh, I see. So you thought you would make me stay here by saying my
clothes were not dry?"</p>

<p>"Ah, ah."</p>

<p>Madeline's heart was touched by this woman's faithfulness to her
master's orders.</p>

<p>"Well, look here, Nancy," she at length remarked. "I am going to get up
anyway. You have done your best to make me stay in bed, so your master
cannot blame you, see?"</p>

<p>"Ah, ah, me see."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p><p>"Bring my clothes, then, Nancy, or I shall go for them myself."</p>

<p>After a brief hesitation the old woman shuffled across the room, and a
few minutes later returned with the dried garments.</p>

<p>"Thank you, Nancy. You are very kind," said Madeline. "Will you help me
now, for I do not feel very strong yet."</p>

<p>After Madeline was dressed she walked for a few minutes slowly around
the room, examining the pictures more closely, but especially Nadu's.
Her eyes rested on the papers lying upon the table. A Bible lay open
where the missionary had left it. The papers contained writing which she
could not understand, but which she surmised to be a translation of the
English into the Indian dialect. The portion upon which the old man had
been working when Nadu had watched him through the window the night
before was the latter half of the tenth chapter of St. Matthew's Gospel.
It was not finished, and he had ceased with the thirty-ninth verse. He
had sat meditating upon the closing words for some time: "And he that
loseth his life for My sake shall find it." He had remained for a while
lost in thought ere retiring to rest. Madeline next went into the
kitchen, and was looking out of one of the small windows at the log
buildings beyond, when she saw a man hurrying toward the house bearing
something in his arms. She started as she recognised Buckskin Dan, and
knew that his burden must be none other than Donnie. Moving to the door
she opened it just as the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>trapper was about to knock. The latter
uttered not a word as he placed Donnie upon the floor, and wiped the
perspiration from his forehead with his sleeve. Instantly Madeline
caught the child in her arms, and pressed him close to her breast.</p>

<p>"Donnie, Donnie!" she cried. "Oh, thank God, you are safe!"</p>

<p>She could say no more. Words would not come as she placed her face
against the boy's soft cheek and held him tight. Donnie squirmed a
little, freed his arms, threw them about Madeline's neck, and kissed her
lips.</p>

<p>"I love 'ou, Malin," he simply said. "Don't leave me again. Don't let
the bad men det me. I'm hungry, Malin."</p>

<p>Dan watched the two in silence for a few minutes. He was not accustomed
to such a scene, and he hardly knew what to say. He was delighted to see
Madeline alive and so well, but he wondered what effect the news he
brought would have upon her. He wished to prepare her, but how should he
begin? Twice he cleared his throat in an effort to speak, but the words
would not come. It was Madeline who at length helped him out of the
difficulty.</p>

<p>"You did well," she said, turning to the trapper and placing Donnie upon
the floor. "Did you have much trouble? And where is&mdash;?"</p>

<p>She hesitated, and her face flushed. It had been the first thought which
had flashed into her mind when she saw Dan from the window. She longed
to ask him the moment he entered the building, but something held her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>
back. Why should she inquire? Why should she care? She did not intend to
speak about him, but the question partly came almost before she was
aware of it. Dan noted her hesitation and the flush which suffused her
cheek.</p>

<p>"This ain't none of them craturs," he said to himself. "She's as
innocent as any babe, I kin tell that at a glance. An' she cares fer
'im, too. Poor lassie, it'll be hard for her when she hears."</p>

<p>When Dan did not answer Madeline's question immediately, the colour fled
her cheeks, and taking a step forward she laid her hand lightly upon the
trapper's arm.</p>

<p>"Tell me," she began, in a voice scarcely above a whisper, "what has
happened."</p>

<p>"Thar was a fight, miss, an' the old man who ran out atween the Injuns
went down."</p>

<p>"Oh! Is he dead?"</p>

<p>"Can't tell fer sartin."</p>

<p>"But did no one go to help him?"</p>

<p>"Yes, me pardner leaped out like a wildcat, an'&mdash;oh, well."</p>

<p>"He was shot, too," Madeline interrupted, as Dan floundered around in an
attempt to find some suitable word. "Don't be afraid to tell me. I saw
it in your face."</p>

<p>"Why bless ye, miss, so ye did. I never thought of that. It's wonderful
what sharp eyes some people have."</p>

<p>"So you left him there, did you, without trying<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> to find out whether he
was dead or alive, and came away?"</p>

<p>Across Dan's face spread a crimson flush. Madeline's words cut deeper
than she imagined. Did she think that he was a coward and would leave a
partner to die? He had been accused of many things in the past, but
never of that! How he loathed even the name. And here was this beautiful
woman standing before him with flashing eyes saying as much.</p>

<p>Madeline saw the injured look upon his face, and hastened to explain.</p>

<p>"Forgive me," she said. "I spoke too quickly. I should have waited to
hear more."</p>

<p>"Sartin, miss, I fergive ye. But yer words stung hard. If ye'd been a
man I know what the answer 'ud have been, but what kin one say to a
woman? When I saw me pardner fall I was agoin' after 'im like a
whirlwind. But jist then several Injuns jumped forward, with Hishu Sam
in the lead. It was lucky fer 'em that the Big Lakes stopped firin'.
Whether their ammunition gave out, or whether their hearts took a sudden
kink of marcy, I can't tell. Anyway, Sam an' the ones with 'im got me
pardner an' the old man out from behint the rocks, an' are bringin' 'em
in. I grabbed the kid, and hiked on ahead. I wasn't sure that you was
livin', but if I foun' ye was, a bit of warnin' wouldn't be outer the
way."</p>

<p>"Thank you, it was good of you," and Madeline placed her hand to her
forehead. Suppose Norman were dead! How could she bear to look upon him?</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p><p>"Malin, I'm hungry."</p>

<p>She stooped and put her arms about the child.</p>

<p>"Poor little lad," she replied, "I forgot all about you. Nancy will give
you something, will you not?" and she turned to the Indian woman who was
standing by the stove trying to comprehend the meaning of the
conversation. Hunger the native could understand, so going to a small
pantry she brought forth a piece of cold meat and a slice of bread.</p>

<p>Dan's eyes looked longingly upon the food, and he was about to ask Nancy
for some, too, when Madeline gave a cry and rushed to the door. Through
the window she had caught a glimpse of several Indians approaching the
house, bearing some heavy burden between them. Ere they reached the
building she had the door open, and was standing watching them with
fast-beating heart. There were four men, and Hishu Sam was one of them.
Madeline stood aside to let them enter. Questions were unnecessary, for
she saw at a glance Norman's unconscious form in their arms. Quickly and
without a word they glided over the threshold, and placed their burden
upon the small cot near the wall&mdash;the same one upon which Madeline had
been laid by Grey the day before.</p>

<p>As the Indians stepped back Madeline moved swiftly forward and looked
down searchingly into Grey's face. How he had changed since the evening
he had brought Donnie to Old Meg's. His beard was days' old, and his
face drawn and haggard. His eyes were closed, and he had all the
appearance of a dead man. Madeline<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> stooped and put her ear close to his
face, but could detect no sign of life.</p>

<p>"He is dead!" she cried, turning suddenly to the men standing near. "Oh,
he is dead!"</p>

<p>At once Dan stepped to the cot and placed his fingers upon Grey's wrist.</p>

<p>"No," he replied, "thar's life in 'im yit, but it's mighty weak. We must
examine 'im a bit an' see what's wrong."</p>

<p>Then he paused and looked intently at something.</p>

<p>"See," he said, "thar's the trouble, right on the side of his head.
That's whar the bullet grazed 'im an' knocked 'im out. My! it was a
close call that. Sixteenth of an inch more an' it 'ud have shattered his
skull. As it is, it burnt away some hair, an' has left a nasty, bloody
scar. Ye'd better step inter the next room, miss, while we undress the
poor chap an' put 'im to bed. I'm somewhat handy at docterin', havin'
had to do quite a lot of it to meself an' the Injuns, so if ye'll jist
leave me fer a while I shall see what I kin do."</p>

<p>Madeline realised the wisdom of this injunction, although it grieved her
to quit Norman's side for even a few minutes. Entering the next room and
closing the door she walked slowly up and down, listening anxiously for
the faintest sound which came from the kitchen. She was surprised at her
own strength, for the weakness she had felt upon rising from the bed
seemed to have left her entirely. Her mind was upon Norman. She thought
of nothing else. "Was he to die?" she asked herself over and over again.
"Would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> he never look upon her more, nor open his lips to speak to her?"</p>

<p>As she slowly walked, heeding nothing around her, a small soft hand
slipped gently into hers. She started, and looked quickly down. It was
Donnie, standing there, with a mute, wistful appeal upon his small
shrunken face. He appeared like a little old man instead of a mere
child. His eyes were unnaturally large, and the fear of a hunted
creature lurked in their clear depths. Stooping, Madeline placed her
arms about the boy and drew him close to her.</p>

<p>"Poor laddie," she said, "I'm so sorry I forgot you. But I won't do so
any more."</p>

<p>"You'll 'tay wif me, Malin?" he whispered, looking up into her face.
"You won't leave Donnie any more?"</p>

<p>"No, no, dearie. Nothing shall separate us until you get back to your
mother."</p>

<p>"Will 'ou take me to my mamma, Malin? Oh, I'm so glad!"</p>

<p>"Somebody will take you, Donnie. You are sure to go back to her now."</p>

<p>"But 'ou must tum, too, Malin. 'Ou must go wif Donnie. Will 'ou?"</p>

<p>"I should like to go, dearie. But then you will not want me. You will
have your mother to take care of you. You will not need Malin any more."</p>

<p>The thought of going back to Big Glen brought to her no gladness. Why
should she go? Why should she leave the wilderness? Would it not be
better for her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> to throw in her lot with the Indians? She shuddered at
the thought. If Norman got better he, too, would go away, and then what
would life contain for her? What would she do in Big Glen? She had no
money, and no friends. People would hear in some way about her. They
would shake their heads, and shun her. Donnie's parents would thank her,
no doubt, but they would not care to have much to do with a woman about
whom there were strange stories.</p>

<p>"Malin."</p>

<p>"Yes, dearie."</p>

<p>"Why do 'ou look dat way, Malin? 'Ou make me 'fraid."</p>

<p>"Do I, darling? I'm sorry," and Madeline gave the boy a closer hug.</p>

<p>"An' 'ou won't leave me, Malin? 'Ou won't let the bad men det me?"</p>

<p>"No, no, Donnie. You are safe with me. So don't be afraid."</p>

<p>"Dis is a funny house. I was never here before. Whose house is it,
Malin?"</p>

<p>"A good man lives here. He will take care of us."</p>

<p>"Will he tum soon? I want to see 'im. Maybe he'll take me to my mamma
an' papa."</p>

<p>Madeline did not answer. She was thinking of what Dan had told her about
the missionary. She had not forgotten him. But why had he not been
brought back to the house? she wondered. Where had they taken him? Would
he ever return? Had he given his life for the sake of the Indians?</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p><p>And even as these thoughts filled her mind a knock sounded upon the
door. Opening it she saw Dan standing there. She looked keenly into his
face. But it told her nothing.</p>

<p>"Ye may come now, miss," he said. "I've done me best; the good Lord'll
have to do the rest."</p>

<hr />

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p>

<h2><span>CHAPTER XXVI</span> <span class="smaller">WITHIN THE DEEP SHADOW</span></h2>

<p>Madeline said not a word as she hastened to Norman's side, and looked
down anxiously into his face. She had hoped to behold some sign of
returning consciousness, to see him look up and recognise her. But she
saw no change, nothing but that deep, terrible stupor which seemed so
much like death.</p>

<p>Dan had carefully washed the wound and applied bandages which the Indian
woman had procured from a small closet where the missionary kept his
medical supplies. It was a rough, clumsy bandage, but Madeline felt
grateful to the trapper for the trouble he had taken. She little knew
how anxiously he had examined the wound, washed it, and applied some
soothing oil he found among the neatly arranged bottles on the shelf.
His hands had trembled as he wound the bandages around Grey's head, and
he wondered why his fingers were so awkward as he tied the ends
together. He thought little of the scratch; it was the blow which
worried him.</p>

<p>"It's a wonder, miss," he remarked, "that he escaped at all. It sartinly
'ud be a pity to see sich a fine feller knocked out. I haven't seen his
like in many a day. He's got real spunk, an' is all man."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p><p>"Do you think he will recover?" Madeline asked as she turned toward the
trapper. "Isn't there anything that we can do?"</p>

<p>"Wall, I'm hopin' he'll come outer this stupor. But if he doesn't we
must try to git 'im back to Big Glen, whar he will have treatment from
the doctors. I understan' they have purty skilful ones thar."</p>

<p>"But when can we start? How can we take him all the way over that hard
trail?"</p>

<p>"We can't leave jist yet, miss; thar's important work on hand. We must
lay that poor old man to rest, an'&mdash;"</p>

<p>"Oh! is he dead? Do you mean to tell me that he was shot?"</p>

<p>"Yes, miss; it's only too true. A bullet passed through his body, an' he
went down like a log. I'm mighty sorry."</p>

<p>Madeline pressed her left hand to her heart. It did not seem possible
that the venerable man who had talked so kindly to her but a short time
before should now be lying cold in death. What would happen next!</p>

<p>"Where is he?" she faintly asked. "Why did they not bring him in here?"</p>

<p>"They've taken 'im inter the church, miss. The Injuns thought it would
be the best place. I guess I'll have to read the Burial Service
to-morrer. My! it was a sight to see 'im stand thar in the midst of that
rain of lead, an' try to git them Injuns to stop their fightin'! I've
seen some brave deeds in me life, miss, an' things<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> that 'ud make yer
blood turn to icicles. But that scene beat 'em all."</p>

<p>"And were you hemmed in by the Indians the whole day?" Madeline
questioned.</p>

<p>"Only fer part of the night and mornin'."</p>

<p>"How did you manage to find Donnie and get back to the cave?"</p>

<p>"It was this way, miss," and in a few words Dan related the experience
through which they had passed the night before. It was a simple tale,
told in his own quaint style, with all embellishment left out. It
thrilled Madeline's heart, and she looked fondly into the honest, rugged
face. She had known him only as Buckskin Dan, the trapper. Formerly he
had figured little in her thoughts. But she saw beneath his rough
exterior now and knew him as never before.</p>

<p>"And you did all that for the little child!" she mused when he had
finished. "You risked your own life to find him and to bring him back to
his mother! You are a noble man."</p>

<p>"Tut, tut, miss; that was nothin'. Anyone 'ud have done that much, an'
more. But come, we've been talkin' too long, seems to me. This poor chap
needs grub. He hasn't tasted a bite fer some time."</p>

<p>"Nor you, either," interposed Madeline.</p>

<p>"Oh, I kin stand it, miss, although I do feel somewhat holler. Mebbe
that Injun woman out thar in the yard will be able to throw some stuff
together."</p>

<p>"No, I intend to do it myself," Madeline calmly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>replied. "You call for
Nancy. She can show me where the provisions are kept, and will be able
to give me a hand. I shall feel better when doing something. It will
keep me from worrying too much."</p>

<p>With the Indian woman's aid Madeline was soon busy at the sheet-iron
stove. From the larder, which led off from the kitchen, were brought
several pieces of moose meat, and these were soon sizzling in the frying
pan. Cold beans were warmed up, and some desiccated potatoes prepared,
with a little water and salt added. Tea, too, was found, and a loaf of
sour-dough bread. For Norman a piece of meat was placed in a kettle upon
the stove, for the preparation of soup.</p>

<p>With admiring eyes Dan sat back and watched Madeline moving about the
room. He noted her lithesome figure, the erect poise of her head, and
the flush which now animated her face, caused partly by the heat, and
partly by the exercise. He saw, too, how occasionally she glanced toward
the unconscious form lying upon the cot, and the look of deep concern
expressed in her eyes.</p>

<p>"She's a good woman," he said to himself; "thar's nothin' wrong about
her. She's been badly treated in some way. That's clear as light. Eyes
an' face sich as hers speak fer themselves."</p>

<p>It suited Madeline to be busy. She could not bear to remain quiet and
watch Norman lying there so very still with that blank look upon his
face. And yet her heart was somewhat fearful. Suppose he should open his
eyes, see her, and turn away his head in disgust!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> When the food was
prepared she placed it upon the table, and sat near watching the hungry
trapper as he ate.</p>

<p>"My, this is fine!" he ejaculated. "I haven't enjoyed sich grub in a
long time. It was sartinly good of ye, miss, to think of an old man like
me. I don't desarve it."</p>

<p>"You deserve more than I can ever do for you," Madeline replied. "Just
think what you have done for me and that poor child. The Lord will
reward you, I am sure of that. I cannot imagine why you have done so
much for us. We were such strangers to you."</p>

<p>"Don't say that, miss; please don't. Why shouldn't I do it fer you an'
the kid? Didn't I once have a lassie of me own, long years ago it was,
an' ye remind me much of her. But she was taken away from me, an' I was
left all alone. I did it at fust, miss, fer her sake, an' also to help
me pardner out. But now I'd do anything fer yer own sake, 'cause I know
yer worthy of it."</p>

<p>"And you thought I was not a true woman?" questioned Madeline. "You
imagined I was one of those poor fallen creatures who so often come
North?"</p>

<p>"I had me doubts, miss. Sometimes I thought ye was, an' ag'in I thought
ye wasn't. But I couldn't tell fer sartin. Appearances was ag'in ye."</p>

<p>"I know it! I know it!" Madeline cried almost fiercely. "Everything has
been against me for the last six years. Oh, my life has been terrible!"</p>

<p>"I believe ye, miss. I believe ye. But thar's an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> end to that now. I'll
take ye outer this, an' back to yer own people."</p>

<p>"But what will he think?" and Madeline glanced toward the cot. "Oh, if
you only knew! If you only understood!"</p>

<p>"I do understand somethin', miss. I know a thing or two."</p>

<p>"And did be really tell you? Did he explain?"</p>

<p>"He told me a little, an' I guessed the rest."</p>

<p>"And did he think I had fallen; that I was a disgrace to womankind?"</p>

<p>"He didn't know what to believe, miss. Poor feller, I was sorry fer 'im.
He took it mighty hard."</p>

<p>Madeline was leaning anxiously forward now, with her eyes fixed full
upon Dan's face.</p>

<p>"Did he say that he loathed me, that he had cast me off forever?"</p>

<p>It cost her an effort to ask this question, which for days had been
beating through her brain.</p>

<p>"No, miss, he said nuthin' of the kind. His heart was almost broke when
he found that ye was livin' with Old Meg. But he thought mebbe ye was
thar cause ye wanted to be. He wasn't sartin, however, an' said he was
agoin' to find out. If he larned that ye was thar of yer own free will
he would jist leave ye alone. But if he discovered that ye was thar
ag'inst yer will he said nuthin' on arth 'ud stop 'im from savin' ye."</p>

<p>"Oh!"</p>

<p>Madeline drew a deep breath of relief as she listened<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> to these words.
So he did care. He wanted to know the truth.</p>

<p>"Yes, miss," Dan continued, "never ye doubt that young man alyin' thar,
an' if ye'll excuse a rough old trapper I'll jist tell ye that his love
fer ye is like a blazin' fire. Haven't I watched 'im fer days now, an'
heerd him murmur yer name in his sleep? I tell ye he was most wild when
he found that the Injuns had stole ye away."</p>

<p>Madeline asked no further questions just then. She wished to think over
what Dan had told her. A new hope and joy came into her heart. So Norman
really cared for her after all. She repeated the words to herself time
and time again.</p>

<p>Dan finished his meal, and pushed back the stool upon which he was
sitting.</p>

<p>"I'm agoin' to leave ye fer a while, miss," he said, slowly drawing his
pipe from his pocket. "I've been a wonderin' what them Injuns are up to
over thar, an' so I'll jist stroll cautiously around an' size things up
a bit."</p>

<p>"Do you think the Indians will continue their fighting?" Madeline
anxiously asked.</p>

<p>"Can't tell what them varmints 'ill do, miss. They're very unsartin
critters. But if they do git at it ag'in an' the Big Lakes win out I'm
afeered it'll go purty hard with us. We got outer their clutches by a
close shave, an' I'm thinkin' they're rather sore over it. It seems to
me it's that Injun woman, Nadu, wot's doin'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> much of the mischief. She's
a vixin, that I kin tell it by her eye."</p>

<p>"Oh, don't speak of her!" and a shudder shook Madeline's body, while her
face turned pale. "She is terrible! It was she who sent me adrift in the
canoe. She hates me, and I do not know why."</p>

<p>"An' did she do that deed?" Dan cried. "Did she send ye through the
rapids?"</p>

<p>"Yes; it's only too true. But please don't speak about it again. I want
to forget it."</p>

<p>Madeline rose and examined the meat cooking upon the stove.</p>

<p>"I think we might give our patient a little of this soup now," she said;
"it's not very strong, but he should have something nourishing as soon
as possible."</p>

<p>"Right ye are, miss," Dan replied, as he sprang to his feet. "I'll jist
hold his head up a little while ye feed 'im. Thar, that's good!" he
exclaimed, when the task had been accomplished. "That's the fust taste
of food he's had since I don't know when. I'll jist hike off now, an'
leave ye a while on watch."</p>

<p>When the door had closed, and Dan's footsteps had died away in the
distance, Madeline drew a stool up close to the cot. Nancy du Nord had
left some time before, so she was alone with Norman. Quietly she sat by
his side, and looked down earnestly into his face. How often she had
seen it in her day and night dreams through those long, terrible years.
It had been an inspiration to her when hope had almost fled. Oh, if he
would only open his lips and eyes, speak to her, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> look upon her! She
longed to tell him everything, to clear the cloud of doubt from his
mind. But no sign did he give. He lay there helpless and unconscious.
His right hand was lying by his side. Reaching over she held it in her
own. A thrill shot through her heart as she did so, and a flush suffused
her cheeks. It was the same hand that had pressed hers so fondly one
night at the little garden gate so long ago, and it was the same strong,
firm hand that had reached out, gripped her, and drew her from the icy
waters of death. Suddenly she bent her head, lifted the hand to her
lips, and kissed it fervently. Then she quickly dropped it, and looked
around, fearful lest someone had seen her.</p>

<p>Thus she sat keeping faithful watch as the hours wore slowly away.
Occasionally she arose and gave Norman some of the soup, which by this
time was much stronger and contained more nourishment. When at length
Dan returned she was still at her post and smiled upon the trapper as he
entered the room.</p>

<p>"You've been away a long time," she said. "You must have found much to
occupy your attention."</p>

<p>"Indeed I have, miss," Dan replied, glancing toward the constable. "The
Injuns are havin' a big pow-wow. They can't decide whether to have
peace, or fight it out. Guess they'll keep it up all night by the look
of things. I watched 'em fer some time, an' made out the drift of their
harangues, which are sartinly mighty long. Hishu Sam had the floor, or I
should say, the ground, when I left. He's got a purty level head. Anyway
I do hope it will be peace, fer I'm gittin' mighty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> anxious to be away
an' take this poor chap back to Big Glen. I see thar's no change in 'im
yit."</p>

<p>"None," Madeline replied. "He's just the same as when you left."</p>

<p>"An' ye've been watchin' 'im ever since? Ye look tired, miss. Don't ye
think ye should have a bite to eat, an' take a little rest? But whar's
the kid? He must be hungry."</p>

<p>At these words Madeline sprang to her feet in alarm. So intent had she
been with thinking of other things that she had forgotten all about the
child. It was not natural for him to be so quiet. She had left him
playing in the next room, and he had always come to her when he needed
anything. Hurrying to the door she looked at the place on the floor
where she had left him. He was not there. She glanced about the room
until her eyes rested upon the bed, and there among the tossed blankets
nestled the little lad fast asleep. Madeline gave a sigh of relief as
she stood and watched him.</p>

<p>"Poor, wee chap," she remarked, turning to the trapper. "He was
certainly worn out, and crawled into bed himself, and fell asleep."</p>

<p>"Ay, ay, indeed he needs rest," Dan responded. "An' so do you, miss.
Jist swaller some of yon grub, an' take yerself off, or else I'll have
two patients on me hands. Ye'll need all yer strength fer what lies
ahead."</p>

<p>"I know it, I know it. You are kind to think of me," and Madeline gave
the old man a bright smile of gratitude as he turned and left the room.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p>

<h2><span>CHAPTER XXVII</span> <span class="smaller">THE COST</span></h2>

<p>All through the night Dan kept watch by the constable's side. His pipe
was seldom out of his mouth as he sat silently on the rough bench with
his back against the wall. Twice Grey had moved a little, and once a
moan escaped his lips. But otherwise there was no perceptible change.
When Madeline appeared in the morning she looked much refreshed after
her sleep. An expression of pleasure crossed Dan's face as he saw her
standing before him. Her presence revived him after his long vigil, like
the inspiring breath of dewy morn over a drowsy world. The room did not
seem so close and sombre when she was present. A new spirit pervaded the
place, which made it a restful abode.</p>

<p>That morning after breakfast Dan started forth and walked slowly to the
little church. He was joined there by three natives who had returned to
the village. A few moments later they came out bearing the body of
Charles Nordis, the missionary. A single blanket enshrouded that
stiffened form, for a coffin was out of the question. Silently they bore
their burden down a gentle slope, across a narrow valley, then up a
steep hill to the cemetery at the summit, for Indians choose high
places<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> in which to bury their dead. Here a grave had been dug the day
before, and by its gaping mouth they laid the body down.</p>

<p>Dan stood for a few moments looking at the white face of the old man
lying at his feet, and then glanced at the expressionless features of
the three natives standing near. Deep, bitter thoughts were surging
through the trapper's mind as he stood there. Was this all that the
missionary had gained? A lifetime spent in the wilderness for the sake
of a wandering people, and was this all&mdash;a violent death, a lonely grave
in the wild, without one mourner to shed a tear? What was the use of
such a life? he mused. The Indians had not responded to his care and
teaching; but seemed to be as hard and cruel as ever.</p>

<p>A startled exclamation from one of the Indians aroused him. He lifted
his head, and saw the three men looking anxiously away to the left. Dan
turned sharply around to ascertain the cause of their excitement. It was
certainly a magnificent view which met his eyes. Down below stretched
the valley, partly wooded. Beyond, glimpses of the river gleamed like
burnished silver beneath the sun, while away in the distance towered the
rugged mountains to their tapering coronets of snow. At another time Dan
would have drunk in the beauty with a true lover's ardent admiration.
But now something else occupied his mind. Shading his eyes with his
right hand he soon discerned a long, black, sinuous line trailing out
from the forest beyond the Mission House. It held him spellbound<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> for an
instant, and then an exclamation of fear and concern burst from his
lips. They were Indians, coming from their recent pow-wow, for what
purpose he could not tell. Were they heading for the Mission House to
carry away the woman and child? His first impulse was to rush down the
hill, hurry to meet them, and guard the defenceless ones. This he at
once realised would be folly. He could not get there in time, and what
could one man do against so many?</p>

<p>He watched them with almost breathless interest as they drew near the
house, and when the foremost ones had passed without turning aside he
gave a deep sigh of relief. Through the village they threaded their way,
then down the slope straight toward the hill upon which they were
standing.</p>

<p>"They're comin' here!" he ejaculated, turning to his now thoroughly
frightened companions. "What kin they be up to, anyway?"</p>

<p>His hand slipped to his hip and rested upon the butt of his revolver.</p>

<p>"If they're after mischief an' want me," he muttered, "they'll git a
warm reception from my old comrade here. She's never failed me yit, an'
I guess she won't now."</p>

<p>Up the hill the Indians swung with their easy, tireless gait, and soon
the leaders were but a few hundred yards away. As Dan looked he drew his
hand from his revolver, and meditatively stroked his long beard.
Although armed the Indians showed no signs of hostility. On they came
and without a word reached the top of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> the hill. Here they paused and
waited for the rear to come up. Then from the midst stepped Hishu Sam.
He gave one word which sounded like a command, and at once he walked
over to where the dead man was lying, gave one quick glance at the cold,
white face, and moved on. Others now came forward, stopped, looked, and
moved away. It took them some time to do this, and Dan stood silently by
wondering at the meaning of this unusual procedure.</p>

<p>The Hishus and Big Lakes were there&mdash;some bent and withered by the
weight of years, others were young in the full strength and flush of
virile manhood. But not a word was uttered, and not a movement of their
impassive faces revealed the hearts within.</p>

<p>As the Indians moved away they turned to the right and formed in a
circle several lines deep around the grave, where they stood silently
leaning upon their rifles. At the end of the procession came Nadu, the
Indian woman. She advanced slowly with bent head, over which a scarf had
been carelessly thrown. She stopped before the body, gazed for an
instant upon the face, and then sinking on her knees upon the ground
remained silent for a few minutes. A stillness as deep as death pervaded
the onlookers, while Dan stared in amazement. Then from the woman's lips
came a low wail which steadily increased in intensity. Once Dan had
heard such a sound. He had been in an Indian village where a little
child had just died. He had heard the mother's cry ringing out upon the
night air from the rude cabin. It had haunted him for days&mdash;that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> low,
plaintive wail of a bereaved heart, which swelled to a wild, piercing
shriek. Until then Dan had not believed that so much pathos and agony
could be expressed in the human voice. And here was this woman kneeling
on the ground giving vent to the same heart-rending cry. What did it all
mean? Why should she, from Hishu, feel so keenly the death of the old
man? What was he to her?</p>

<p>As he listened and wondered the sounds grew fainter and fainter until
they ceased altogether, and she knelt as before with bowed head. For a
few moments an intense silence reigned on the hilltop.</p>

<p>Dan was about to give orders to lower the body into the grave when Hishu
Sam stepped forward and stood close to where Nadu was kneeling. His tall
commanding figure was drawn to its full height as he surveyed the silent
natives before him. Then he began to speak in the Hishu tongue, which
made it quite easy for Dan to understand what he was saying.</p>

<p>"The sun shines in the sky," he began, "the mountains stand as of old,
the rivers flow through the land, the fish swim in the water, the moose
roam the forest; but the hearts of the Indians are sad. The Hishus and
the Big Lakes are all of one family. But they have not lived as
brothers. They have been always fighting as did their fathers before
them. They lived for war. Their hearts were hard and cruel. They thought
only of evil, of killing one another. Ten winters ago a pale face came
from the great river beyond the big mountains. With his own hands he
built those houses down<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> there. He learned to speak our language. He
taught our little ones from a book he brought with him. He made more
books, and he gave them to our children to read. He lived with us. When
we were sick he healed us, when we were hungry he gave us food, when we
were cold he gave us clothes. But our hearts were hard. He worked for
us, and loved us, but when he asked us to give up fighting we laughed at
him. When he would teach us a better way we would not listen. One night
my little child was sick. The pale face came. He made her well. He
taught me wonderful things. He told me of the Great Chief who died to
save us all. I listened, and my heart, which was like a frozen river,
thawed. I became a new man. The pale face came into our land. He did not
come to rob us. He did not come to give us fire-water. He did not come
to ruin our young women. He came to help us, to save us. And what have
we done to him?" Here the speaker paused, and raised his right hand in
an impressive manner. "We killed him, and he now lies before us. We were
fighting. We wished to kill one another. But the pale face came between
us. He tried to stop us, and he died. Now our eyes have been opened. We
see what he has done for us, and how he loved us. We have had a great
meeting. We have talked much. Our hearts and mouths spoke peace. We have
given up fighting with one another. We have promised to be friends as
long as the sun rises in the sky and the water flows in the river. We
will have a big pot-latch&mdash;the tribes will all come to witness our
agreement of peace. The pale<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> face has done it. He is dead. We cannot
speak to him. But if another teacher comes from beyond the great
mountains we will listen."</p>

<p>Hishu Sam paused, and from the assembled Indians came the murmur of
assent. Several others stepped forward and spoke. They were natural
orators, and with much gesticulation they emphasised the greatness of
their race. But they all agreed with the first speaker that they had met
with a deep loss in the death of the pale face, and were anxious now for
peace.</p>

<p>During these harangues Dan stood silently by. He was accustomed to the
ways of the Indians. In his heart he was most thankful at the happy
termination of the trouble. When the speakers were through he gave the
signal, and the body was lowered into the ground. Seizing a handful of
gravel he stepped close to the grave, and bared his head.</p>

<p>"Great God in Heaven," he prayed, "listen to the words of these people.
They have killed this old man, but punish 'em not fer the sin they have
committed. They are sorry now, O Lord, an' want to do better. This old
man has died fer 'em, an' by his death they've been united. I can't make
a long prayer, O Lord, nor tell ye all that's in me heart jist now. But
I ax ye to bless these Injuns fer the sake of the old man who died fer
'em, an' in their presence I commit his body to the ground, arth to
arth, dust to dust, ashes to ashes, sartin that sich a man as this'll
rise ag'in to the life etarnal. Hear an old trapper's words, O Lord.
Amen."</p>

<p>Dan stood long and silently by the grave and watched<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> the three Indians
toss in the earth upon the body. The Big Lakes and the Hishus remained
for a few moments, and then filed quickly away. When at last the grave
had been filled, the trapper, too, turned and walked slowly back to the
Mission House. His heart was deeply touched by what he had heard and
seen. Much had been accomplished, but, oh, at what a cost! It was the
story of history repeated here on this far-off frontier, that without
the shedding of blood there is no advancement, no remission of sins.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p>

<h2><span>CHAPTER XXVIII</span> <span class="smaller">THE LIFTED VEIL</span></h2>

<p>After Dan had left the Mission House Madeline was kept busy for a while
getting breakfast for herself and Donnie. The latter had slept soundly,
and awoke much refreshed, with more of the old healthy colour in his
cheeks. He opened his eyes, and looked around. Hearing sounds in the
kitchen he tumbled out of bed, and standing in the doorway gave a
chuckle of delight when he saw that Madeline was really there, and had
not left him again. Soon he was enfolded in her arms, and his lips and
cheeks showered with fervent kisses of welcome. Then he was carried off
bodily to have his face and hands washed, and his tangled hair combed
into something approaching order. He was hungry, too, and could hardly
wait until Madeline had finished before beginning his breakfast. His
little tongue wagged incessantly as he sat at the side of the table
opposite Madeline. He asked many questions, especially about the
unconscious man lying on the cot.</p>

<p>"What's the matter wif 'im?" he asked. "Why is he so still? Is he
asleep?"</p>

<p>"He was hurt, dearie," was the quiet reply.</p>

<p>"Who hurt 'im, Malin?" and Donnie's eyes opened wide.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p><p>"The Indians, dear. They shot at him."</p>

<p>"Oh, I'm sorry. He was so dood to me. He said he loved 'ou, Malin, an'
would take me to 'ou."</p>

<p>"Did he say that, dearie? Are you sure?" and Madeline leaned eagerly
forward.</p>

<p>"Ya, me sure," was the simple response.</p>

<p>Madeline sat silently for a while lost in thought. Then it must he true,
she said to herself, while a sweet joy stole into her heart. She had
meditated much over what Dan had told her, and wondered if the old
trapper had said those things merely to cheer her drooping spirits. But
such words from the lips of a little child she could not doubt. Norman
must have told him. They were surely true.</p>

<p>After breakfast was over Madeline washed the few dishes, put them
carefully away, and then tidied up the room. This done she took her
place by Norman's side. She could see no change, nothing but that deep
heavy stupor. She felt now in her heart that he had loved her during
those terrible days when she thought he had cast her away forever. But
if he would only awake and tell her so. What joy to hear the blessed
truth from his own lips.</p>

<p>For some time Donnie had remained seated upon the floor, looking over
several picture books Madeline had found for him on one of the shelves.
These satisfied him for a while, but at length, wearying of this
amusement, he rose and came to Madeline's side.</p>

<p>"Tell me a 'tory, Malin, pleath."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span></p><p>"What shall it be, dearie?" was the reply, as Madeline lifted him upon
her lap.</p>

<p>"When 'ou was 'ittle, Malin. I like dat."</p>

<p>It was not so hard for Madeline to tell of her old home life now. She
remembered how she had first told it to Donnie on that terrible night
when he had been torn from her arms. How much had happened since then!
Slowly and simply she told again of her happy home across the great
water, the big house, the garden with the beautiful flowers, and the
many kind people she knew. To all this Donnie listened with wondering
ears, his little head leaning against her arm.</p>

<p>"There," Madeline at length said, "I've told you enough now. Are you not
satisfied?"</p>

<p>"I like dat 'tory, Malin. 'Ou will tell it again some time, won't 'ou?"</p>

<p>"Yes, dearie."</p>

<p>"An' 'ou will sing to me, Malin, won't 'ou?" he pleaded. "I like to hear
'ou sing. 'Ou sounds just like my mamma."</p>

<p>"What shall I sing, dearie? A hymn? It must be only one, and short, too,
for it might hurt him," and she nodded toward the cot.</p>

<p>"Oh, do 'ou fink it would?" and Donnie's eyes opened wide. "But maybe a
'ittle one wouldn't hurt 'im; dat one about de star. 'Ou sang it one
night when I was tired, an' I went to sleep."</p>

<p>"So I did, Donnie, and you shall have it now. But you mustn't go to
sleep, you know. I want you to watch with me and keep me company."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></p><p>"All right, Malin. I won't go sleep."</p>

<p>In a low, sweet voice Madeline sang the simple song she had learned
years before:</p>

<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<div>"Lead me, O Thou Star of Heaven,</div>
<div>Guide me through the world's dark night,</div>
<div>Lead me to the restful haven,</div>
<div>Bring me to the morning light.</div>
<div>Star of Heaven, bright and fair,</div>
<div>Keep me ever in Thy care.</div>
</div><div class="stanza">
<div>Brighten, O Thou Star of Heaven,</div>
<div>Death's dark valley deep and wide,</div>
<div>Lighten up the way before me,</div>
<div>Till I reach the other side.</div>
<div>Star of Heaven, lead me on,</div>
<div>When the light of earth is gone."</div>
</div></div></div>

<p>Scarcely had Madeline begun to sing ere an invisible veil lifted from
the brain of the wounded man by her side. He came forth from the blank
world of darkness, and a voice fell upon his ears which made him lie
very still. It was so sweet and familiar. He had heard it before, and it
led him into gardens of the most beautiful and fragrant flowers. And in
the centre&mdash;the fairest flower of all&mdash;stood Madeline as of old.</p>

<p>Presently the singing ceased, and Grey opened his eyes, and fixed them
full upon the bright scene before him.</p>

<p>Madeline turning, saw him, noted the look of intelligence upon his face,
and her heart bounded with joy. Grey tried to speak, but words would not
come. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> gave a weary smile, and stretched out his hand. Madeline
seized it, and pressed it gently.</p>

<p>"Hush," she whispered. "Don't try to talk. You are weak, so go to sleep
now."</p>

<p>Again he smiled, and gave her such a look of love and gratitude that she
trembled with emotion, while a deep blush suffused her cheeks. She
longed for Norman to speak, to hear the truth from his own lips. She
read it in his eyes, however, and was happy. But she did not wish to
excite him in his present condition, and knew that a deep refreshing
sleep would be the best thing for him.</p>

<p>"My head!" Grey faintly murmured, as he lifted his hand to the wound.</p>

<p>"Yes, I know," she replied. "Go to sleep, and it will feel better."</p>

<p>With a deep sigh of extreme weariness he closed his eyes in a slumber
which Madeline knew was natural and refreshing.</p>

<p>"Thank God! Oh, thank God!" she breathed to herself. "The veil is
lifted. He knew me, and did not turn away from me in disgust."</p>

<p>She sat watching him for a few minutes, and then some subtle influence
caused her to turn her face toward the door. It was partly open, for the
morning was mild, and the room warm. And as she looked out upon the
world beyond in a half-abstracted manner, she became aware that someone
was approaching the house. Then she started, placed Donnie upon the
floor, rose to her feet, and took a few steps forward. Her face,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> which
but a few moments before had flushed with joy, was now as white as
death. The person coming toward her was the Indian woman, Nadu. She
recognised her in an instant, and her first impulse was to close and
securely fasten the door. But something seemed to hold her spellbound.
She was unable to move and stood perfectly still, fascinated by that
slowly advancing figure.</p>

<p>Nadu walked with her eyes fixed upon the ground, and her head covered
with the old scarf. She was moving as in a dream, heeding nothing about
her. Was she coming to visit for the last time the house in which she
had passed so many happy days, to look upon the scenes so familiar to
her? Was she thinking of the missionary and his wife who would never
live there again, the two who had been so kind to her, and who had
taught her about the nobler things of life? Was there any feeling of
remorse in her heart for the woman she had sent so ruthlessly through
the swirling rapids? She reached the door, placed a foot upon the
threshold, and lifted her head. As she did so a look of wonder, quickly
succeeded by a wild fear, leaped into her eyes. She started back and
threw out her arms as if to drive away the scene, while from her lips
came a piercing shriek of terror. There before her stood the white
woman. It could not be, she was drowned in the rapids, and was this her
ghost returned to confront her? The teaching she had received at the
Mission House and the years she had spent among white people could not
altogether eradicate from Nadu's mind the ingrained <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span>superstition of her
race. The roaring of the wind, the roll of thunder and the rippling of
the stream were to her so many voices of the unseen spirits. Only in
times of extreme passion were the voices silent. She heeded nothing
then, but rushed madly forward like some impetuous torrent. Only when
the violent force had been exhausted did the voices return as before. So
on this day her passion of jealousy and hatred was subdued by the sight
of her old friend and teacher lying cold in death. And then to be
confronted by this spirit, as she thought, of the very one she wished to
banish from her mind was most startling. Pain, hardship and even death
she would have suffered without a complaint. But this vision of the
supernatural, this spirit of the woman she had sent to her death, was
more than her sturdy stoicism could endure. Sinking to her knees upon
the floor, she buried her face in her hands to blot out that strange
sight. And as she knelt there Madeline stepped forward and laid her hand
gently upon the bowed woman's shoulder. The touch caused Nadu to shrink
back with a gurgling, inarticulate cry.</p>

<p>"Don't be afraid," Madeline said, half surmising the cause of the Indian
woman's fear. "I won't hurt you. I forgive you."</p>

<p>Lowering her hands and lifting her head Nadu looked slowly up, while her
eyes scanned the white woman's face intently for an instant. Then she
reached out fearfully a trembling hand and touched Madeline's dress.</p>

<p>"You not dead?" she gasped. "You not speerit?"</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p><p>"No, no," came the laughing reply. "Do I seem like a dead person? Get
up, and take a good look at me."</p>

<p>Realising how she had been mistaken, Nadu quickly regained her feet,
while the old expression of hatred leaped back into her eyes.</p>

<p>"Don't look at me that way!" Madeline cried, laying her hand upon the
woman's arm. "Why do you hate me? I have not hurt you. Why do you want
to kill me?"</p>

<p>"White woman steal Bill's heart, savvey?" came the quick response.</p>

<p>"Steal Bill's heart!" repeated Madeline. "What do you mean?"</p>

<p>"White woman no savvey?" and Nadu gave a sarcastic laugh. "No savvey
Siwash Bill at Hishu?"</p>

<p>In an instant the truth flashed upon Madeline's mind. Why had she been
so dull of comprehension? she wondered. She recalled now the squaw man's
numerous advances, and his protestations of love that night she had
fainted at the door of Old Meg's house. So here was the secret of it
all. The Indian woman believed it was her fault, which caused the hatred
to burn like a wild, consuming fire.</p>

<p>"Look at me, Nadu," she commanded, drawing closer, "and know that I am
telling you the truth. I did not try to steal the heart of your husband.
It is a lie! He came to me, but I would not listen. He is bad, bad! You
see that man lying there?" and she pointed to the constable. "I knew him
a long time<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> ago. I never forgot him. See? Why should I want Siwash
Bill?"</p>

<p>Nadu's eyes turned toward the cot, and for the first time she saw the
sleeping man lying there. She remained silent for a few minutes, and
then a new light shone in her eyes as she turned them upon Madeline's
face.</p>

<p>"You no love Bill?" she asked. "You no steal his heart?"</p>

<p>"I tell you, no," was the emphatic reply. "You are wrong. You have tried
to kill me when I did nothing to you. It is that man, Bill, who is bad;
oh, he is terrible!"</p>

<p>Madeline hardly expected to convince this woman that what she said was
true. It was, therefore, a great surprise when Nadu suddenly dropped
upon the kitchen floor, seized Madeline's right hand in hers, and
pressed it to her lips.</p>

<p>"Me sorry. Me sorry," she moaned. "Nadu once happy here. But Bill take
Nadu away. Nadu savvey now."</p>

<p>Then she sprang to her feet with a look of wild determination in her
face.</p>

<p>"Me hate heem! Me hate heem!" she cried, while her hands clinched hard.
"Heem bad, ugh!"</p>

<p>With that she turned and hurried out of the house, leaving Madeline
standing gazing wonderingly after her. She felt that Nadu's hatred would
now be turned toward Siwash Bill. What course her anger would take she
could not tell, but a sigh of relief escaped her lips<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> as she realised
that she herself was no longer the object of this strange woman's
revengeful moods.</p>

<p>She was still standing there when Buckskin Dan crossed the threshold. He
glanced at Madeline, and then toward the cot. His eye brightened as he
noted the natural expression upon Norman's face.</p>

<p>"So the change has come fer the better, miss," he said.</p>

<p>"Yes, and he is sleeping quietly now," was the reply. "But you have been
away most of the morning. I did not think a funeral, especially here,
would take so long."</p>

<p>"Set down, miss, while I tell ye all about it, an' then ye must give me
an account of when yon laddie come to."</p>

<p>Grey slept for the remainder of the day, and did not awake again until
early the next morning. He started up and looked around. Daylight was
streaming into the room, and the objects within were quite discernible.
He saw Dan lying on the floor a short distance away, and wondered what
he was doing there. Then slowly his mind cleared and the past stood out
vividly before him. He remembered the stand they had made behind the
columns of stone, and how he had rushed forward to rescue the old man.
But where was Madeline? He had a faint idea that she had been close by
his side, had held his hand, and spoken to him. But he now believed it
was all a dream. He wished to get up, for he felt strong enough for
that. He was also hungry, and longed to explore the room to see what it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span>
contained in the way of food. But he did not wish to disturb the old
trapper, who must be very tired. So he lay quietly on the cot, thinking
and wondering about many things.</p>

<p>At length Dan opened his eyes, and with an ejaculation of annoyance
sprang to his feet.</p>

<p>"Wall, I'll be blowed," he exclaimed. "I only intended to rest a bit
thar on the floor, an' didn't I go fast asleep."</p>

<p>His delight knew no bounds when he saw Grey's improved condition, and he
set hastily to work getting breakfast. But occasionally he cast his eyes
in the direction of Madeline's room, and when at length he heard her
moving across the floor toward the door he slipped quickly and quietly
out of the kitchen into the fresh morning air.</p>

<p>"Guess I'm better out here," he chuckled with delight. "They don't want
an old humbug hangin' around at sich a critical time like this. I'll
jist slip over to whar the Injuns are camped, an' have a few words with
'em. I've been thinkin' things over a bit lately, an' want thar help.
They're a queer lot of varmints, but they kin help us to git outer this
hole."</p>

<p>When he returned a half hour later the jubilant expression had left his
face, and his furrowed brow was troubled. He noted the happy scene in
the Mission House, Norman and Madeline sitting close to each other, with
Donnie playing near by.</p>

<p>"They're gone!" he exclaimed. "Them Injuns, the mean wretches, have
cleared out."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p><p>"Well, what does it matter, Dan?" Grey replied. "We don't need them
now, do we?"</p>

<p>"Don't need 'em? Don't need 'em, do ye say? It's jist the time we do
need 'em. Jist as soon as ye git a little more strength into yer body
we've got to hike outer this back to Hishu. I wanted them Injuns to go
with us, fer I'm thinkin' thar'll be trouble up yon with Siwash Bill an'
his gang. With them Injuns at me back I'd soon settle thar hash. But now
they've hiked off to the interior&mdash;both Hishus an' Big Lakes&mdash;to hold a
great pot-latch. Blame their dusky skins. They're jist as troublesome
an' unsartin as a hull nest of fleas."</p>

<p>"But we can face them, Dan," Grey insisted. "I feel stronger every
minute, and I have good cause for it, too, have I not? Oh, Dan, this is
the happiest day of my life. The veil is not only lifted from my mind,
but the veil so dark and terrible which separated Madeline and me is
lifted, too. Come, banish that gloom from your face, and be happy with
us for to-day. We've had enough darkness and hardship together of late,
Dan, so let us enjoy the sunshine and joy for a few hours at least.
To-morrow we can start back to Hishu. I do not fear those vile serpents
now, though, they were ten to one."</p>

<p>"Very wall, pardner," and Dan scratched his head doubtfully. "I don't
want to spile yer pleasure to-day. So I'll jist think me thoughts, an'
hold me tongue fer a change."</p>

<hr />

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p>

<h2><span>CHAPTER XXIX</span> <span class="smaller">STRENGTH FROM THE HILLS</span></h2>

<p>The night Siwash Bill and Windy Pete had been foiled in their dastardly
work within Buckskin Dan's cabin, they sat late in the store scheming
for a speedy revenge. They were tigers in human forms, and by the
flickering candle light their faces expressed the rage burning in their
hearts. Oaths of the most blood-curdling nature poured in a sulphurous
stream from their foul mouths. There was nothing about their appearance
to arouse even the slightest feeling of sympathy or approval. Through
years of baseness, guile and debauchery, they had extinguished the
faintest spark of nobleness within their hearts. Subject to no
restraint, free to follow the dictates of their own passions, they found
it now unbearable to be checked in their mad career.</p>

<p>They sat for hours, and the candle spluttered low ere they ceased.
Neither did they see two forms speeding swiftly and quietly from Dan's
cabin to the canoe by the river's bank.</p>

<p>At length Windy Pete yawned, rose and threw himself into a bunk in the
adjoining room, leaving Bill alone with the dying candle. The squaw
man's eyes often turned toward the door as if expecting it to open<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> at
any minute, and that Nadu would enter. But as the night lengthened and
she did not appear, a sigh of relief escaped his lips. He was sure that
she had fulfilled his command, and had sped with the child down-stream.
A sense of elation swept over him as he mused upon the success of his
scheme. How easily he had cleared himself of the troublesome, suspicious
squaw. He had the field to himself now, and there was no one to
interfere with his design upon that woman at Old Meg's. She had repelled
him, it was true, but what of that? There were other ways, and he
thought with satisfaction upon her daily, lonely walk down the trail to
the river. There would be no Nadu prowling around, either. He would have
the beautiful woman to himself, and then he would see if she would scorn
him again. To-morrow she would be there. He would wait no longer. And so
he sat in the darkness, for the light had gone out. That kindly
ministrant had slowly flickered down to nothing, and night mercifully
blotted out the coarse passion-inflamed features of the wretched squaw
man sitting alone in the room.</p>

<p>No sleep came to his eyes, and at the earliest break of day he arose,
lighted the fire and prepared breakfast. Windy Pete still slept on,
unheeding the noise his companion was making. Occasionally the squaw man
went to the door and looked intently toward Buckskin Dan's cabin. The
trapper was an unusually early riser, and when an hour or two had
passed, and no smoke was seen issuing from the stovepipe stuck through
the roof, the squaw man was much surprised. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> talked it over with Pete
when he awoke, and together the two watched the cabin for some sign of
life. They waited and watched for the greater part of the morning, and
observing nothing they went over to the building, and looked cautiously
through the small window into the room. Seeing no one, they tried the
door, and found it fastened.</p>

<p>Then from Bill's lips broke an exclamation of triumph.</p>

<p>"They've hiked, Pete! Ha, ha!" he cried. "We've routed the d&mdash; skunks at
last. The place was gittin' too hot fer 'em. Oh, this is a good one.
Say, old man, let's go over to the store an' have a drink on it. That
was the best job we've done in a long time. I didn't think that spyin'
Yellow-leg would show sich a chicken liver so soon. How he did squak
last night when the light went out. Oh, oh, this is rich."</p>

<p>They retraced their steps, and had almost reached the store when their
attention was arrested by the clatter of hoofs some distance away.
Looking around they beheld Shifty Nick tearing down the trail, mounted
upon his lean and wiry cayuse. He reined up close to where they were
standing, with his characteristic brutality and string of oaths.</p>

<p>"Got the dough, Nick?" queried Bill.</p>

<p>"Dough be d&mdash;!" was the reply, as the rider leaped to the ground, tore
off saddle and bridle, and turned the much-abused animal loose to seek
for a meal as best it could. "Come inside, and we'll talk it over. I'm
dead beat, an' almost starved."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p><p>"They didn't bite," growled Shifty, as he gulped down his food. "How
many times have I got to tell ye that?"</p>

<p>"But didn't ye see anybody?" insisted Bill. "Did no one come near the
place where we ordered the money to be left?"</p>

<p>"Come? No. But I kept well out of sight, an' saw several d&mdash; Yellow-legs
in the distance. They were on the lookout, but I kept close. They
thought somebody'd be squattin' like a fool by the rock, with folded
hands, an' meek eyes, waitin' fer the money. But Shifty knows a thing or
two. Good Lord! How my fingers itched and quivered to draw a bead on
their numbskulls."</p>

<p>"Oh, well, Nick," Bill replied, "don't feel too bad about it. We've got
the kid, an' as that old cuss Si didn't fork out, but set those hounds
of hell on us, it'll be some consolation to make 'im squirm. But I'd
like to see his face when he gits the news of what has happened to his
little tootsy-wootsie boy."</p>

<p>"Where is the kid, anyway?" questioned Nick. "I halted at Old Meg's, an'
she told me the news."</p>

<p>"Ha, ha," and Bill laughed outright. "We've got 'im cinched all right.
He's gone down to the Big Lakes. They'll keep 'im until called fer."</p>

<p>"An' ye sent the gal along to look after 'im, eh?"</p>

<p>"Sartin. I didn't want her pryin' around. She's been somewhat suspicious
of me lately, so I sent her to her own people with the two Injuns who
came spyin' upon Hishu."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p><p>"Oh, I don't mean your squaw, Bill. But the gal over yon."</p>

<p>"Why, what about her?" and the squaw man's eyes opened wide in wonder.</p>

<p>"She's gone, too. Haven't ye heard?"</p>

<p>"The divil!" and Bill leaped to his feet. "What are ye givin' us? Who's
stuffed ye with all this nonsense?"</p>

<p>"Ask Old Meg, then. She'll tell ye, fer she's more'n worked up over it;
said that the gal went away with the kid in the canoe. Guess them Big
Lakes must have an eye fer beauty, too, Bill, an' one of 'em needed a
white squaw. Ha, ha, that's a good one."</p>

<p>Siwash Bill hardly heard these closing words. He stood as in a dream. So
she was gone, and his plans were all upset. But why did they take her?
What did it all mean?</p>

<p>"How did Old Meg know of this, Nick?" he hoarsely asked. "We didn't hear
a word."</p>

<p>"Oh, that d&mdash; Yellow-leg told her. He burst into her cabin like a
tornado. His eyes were starin' wild, an' his voice was like a roar of
thunder, so she said, when he asked her about the gal. Where is the cur
now, anyway?"</p>

<p>Siwash Bill was more mystified than ever. He stood looking at Shifty in
an abstracted manner, and then an angry snarl of rage broke from his
lips.</p>

<p>"We're fools, d&mdash; fools!" he cried. "While we've been gloatin' over
Buckskin Dan an' that Yellow-leg, callin' 'em cowards an' all kinds of
names, they've been<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> hikin' after them Injuns to save the boy an' that
gal. Oh, I see it all as plain as day."</p>

<p>The squaw man had been outwitted at his own game. His companions knew
when to be silent, and discreetly left him to his own thoughts. They
sauntered from the building, and discussed the matter outside. Within
the store sat Bill, alone, the very incarnation of baffled rage and
hatred. The day wore on, and he prowled around waiting for something to
happen. Mingled with his rage was a feeling of insecurity. He had
formerly believed that his word was law at Hishu; that his plans could
not be overturned, and that his commands would be obeyed. But his eyes
were being slowly opened. There was some undercurrent which was working
against him. The very air seemed ominous with unforeseen events.</p>

<p>The feeling of dread was deepened when toward evening he saw canoes
gliding down the river, filled with natives. He believed they would stop
at Hishu, but, instead, they pushed steadily on in deep silence. He ran
to the bank of the river, and watched them until they had disappeared
around a bend in the distance. He noted that one craft ran close to the
shore, and a tall, lithe figure stepped lightly in. He could not tell
who this passenger was, but it increased his anxiety. Why had not the
Hishus stopped? What did they mean by going by without a word? Had they,
too, turned against him? He felt that their action had something to do
with the stolen woman and child. But how could they know about it so far
off in the wilderness, while<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> he, only a few hundred yards away, had
been in entire ignorance?</p>

<p>Anxiously now he discussed the whole question with his companions. Would
Dan and the constable return, and the Hishus with them? If so, their
position at the village would be unenviable. Or had the Indians gone
down to meet the Big Lakes? This latter idea gave them some relief.
Anyway, they considered it safer to be prepared, and if the worst came
they could fade away into the wilderness. A couple of cayuses, grazing
in a wild meadow, several miles from Hishu, were caught and brought to
the village to be held in readiness, while packs of food were made up
for a speedy departure. In addition to these precautions Shifty Nick
each day patrolled the river for miles below Hishu. He lived upon the
trail. By day he scanned the river for the slightest object, while at
night his alert ears were strained for the faintest paddle dip. It had
often been said that Shifty could sleep in the saddle, and could see
with his eyes closed.</p>

<p>Days passed and nothing happened. The river gave no sign, and the air
breathed no secrets. But late one afternoon Shifty rode madly into
Hishu, leaped from the cayuse, and burst into the store.</p>

<p>"They're comin'!" he shouted. "Five miles down river."</p>

<p>Siwash Bill dropped the rifle he was cleaning and stared.</p>

<p>"How many?" he gasped. "Injuns, too?"</p>

<p>"No, only one canoe. Injuns nowhere in sight. All<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> whites but one, an'
that's Nadu. Now we've got to act, an' what's yer plan? Are ye goin' to
let 'em git through Hishu?"</p>

<p>"How long 'fore they'll git here, Nick?" questioned the squaw man, who
was now thinking deeply.</p>

<p>"'Bout two hours. Heavy tide that."</p>

<p>"Two hours. It'll be quite dark then," Bill mused, as he glanced toward
the window. "Two hours. Let me see. Thar's Dan; he's a divil, an' the
Yellow-leg's 'bout as bad. The rest'll be easy to handle, eh?"</p>

<p>"What's yer plan, Bill?"</p>

<p>"Listen," and the squaw man leaned over and spoke low. "See? Dead men
tell no tales. Night. Confusion. Cries of fright. River swift. Good
grave, eh? Easy. What? We kin do it. Three to one. It's our only way,
Nick. We'll have to do it later, so might as well settle the job now."</p>

<p>"But what about the Yellow-legs at Big Glen?" questioned Shifty.</p>

<p>"What about 'em? I care not fer the hull bunch. They can't prove
anything. We're desperate men, anyway, so a few lives more or less won't
matter, eh? Now you had better git down-stream early, in case they come
faster'n we expect. I'll be along later, fer I've got some things to
look after around the store. We'll have a big blowout when we git this
affair settled. I'll stand treat to-night, an' a good one it'll be, too.
So ye'd better be off at once."</p>

<p>Slowly the darkness deepened as the squaw man moved around the store. He
felt confident now that his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> plans would not miscarry. He could trust
his two companions to do the deed from which his cowardly heart shrank.
He had really nothing to detain him, and his excuse of work was only a
weak sham. But he resolved to be near, watching within the shadows, at
the right moment. Occasionally he went to the door to listen, hoping to
hear the report of rifles and the sounds of clamour down-stream. At
last, thinking it about time the canoe should be near, he seized his
cap, and was about to blow out the candle standing on the table, when a
peculiar noise fell upon his ears. He paused and listened. It was the
steady tramp of numerous feet approaching the building. He started, and
his face grew ashy white, for he recognised that sound. The prospectors
and miners had returned from the hills! But why were they coming so
soon? Formerly their arrival had always filled him with joy, for it had
meant big sales, and much drinking. Now, however, it was different. He
did not wish them near at this critical time, and, besides, something
warned him that they had returned for a special purpose.</p>

<p>He glanced quickly around, with the idea of flight, but at that instant
the store door was thrust open with a bang, and a number of men surged
into the room. To the squaw man trembling by the counter they seemed
like a veritable army of giants. And in fact they were splendid types of
men physically. No carpet knights these, but rugged pioneers and
pathfinders, who for long years had followed the lure of gold wherever
it beckoned with its mystic charm.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span></p><p>They entered without a word, and almost filled the store. Their silence
to the shrinking man was most ominous. Why had he remained behind? he
asked himself. Why had he not gone with his companions? He would have
had their assistance at any rate, and here he was alone to face these
men!</p>

<p>"Evenin', men," he at length blurted out. "It's g-good t' see ye. Yer
back early from the hills. Have a drink, eh? Free to all. It's my treat
t'night."</p>

<p>If he thought in this manner to win the good will of these men he was
sadly mistaken. He partly turned toward the black bottles standing on
the shelves, when certain sickening clicks caused him to wheel suddenly
about, and he found his eyes looking straight down the smooth barrels of
a dozen levelled revolvers.</p>

<p>"Fer heaven's sake!" he gasped. "What does this mean? What d'ye want?"</p>

<p>"Throw up your hands," came the stern command. "There, that's better.
Now look here, Bill," and the speaker took a step closer. "Where's that
kid you pinched from Big Glen?"</p>

<p>"K-kid! What kid?"</p>

<p>"Look, none of that. You can't fool with us. We've come too far to
listen to nonsense. So out with it at once."</p>

<p>The squaw man was in a trap, and he knew that to parley was useless.</p>

<p>"He's down river," he muttered. "I don't know whar he is now."</p>

<p>"But ye do know. Ye sent 'im, an' if ye don't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> cough up at once we'll
leave your d&mdash; carcass here on the floor in the twinkling of an eye.
D'ye hear?"</p>

<p>Siwash Bill heard, and shaking with fear told briefly what he knew.</p>

<p>Muttered oaths and agitated movements greeted this contemptible story.
The speaker lifted his hand for silence.</p>

<p>"You mean, cowardly sneak," he cried, turning to the prisoner. "You
deserve to be tied to a stake and tortured to death. The men here are
just in the right mood for such a job, too. They left their claims,
tramped the whole distance to Hishu, and are hungry enough to be mad for
action."</p>

<p>"No, no, fer God's sake, don't do that!" gasped Bill.</p>

<p>"No, we won't do it just now. We'll reserve that for a little later.
There are two others to be dealt with, and we'll make one job of the
whole nasty affair. So you say Shifty and Windy are lying in wait
down-stream, eh?"</p>

<p>"Yes. They've been thar fer some time."</p>

<p>"Well, then, boys," ordered the speaker, "some stay here, and guard this
cur. The rest of us will step over to the landing. We'd like to have a
hand in that racket. I hope to God we're not too late."</p>

<p>At that instant the faint report of a rifle fell upon their ears. Then
another, and still another. At once a mad rush was made for the door,
while Siwash Bill was left in the safe-keeping of half a dozen
able-bodied prospectors.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p>

<h2><span>CHAPTER XXX</span> <span class="smaller">UPHOLDING THE LAW</span></h2>

<p>All day long the pointed prow of the little canoe had disturbed the
surface of the Hishu in its steady progress up-stream. The monotonous
swish of the paddle continued hour after hour as Buckskin Dan and Grey
bent to their task. The latter was still somewhat weak after the trying
experiences through which he had recently passed. But the energy and
fire of manhood, now intensified by a new hope within his breast,
converted toil into play. Madeline was sitting well astern, with Donnie
seated comfortably by her side. Upon her face a new light had dawned.
She thought much of the terrible journey she had made down that same
river but a few days before. Then she was helpless. But now the two
strong forms bending and swinging before her were near to shield her
from harm.</p>

<p>Her eyes often roamed to Nadu's muffled figure sitting so quietly in the
bow. The Indian woman had suddenly appeared below the Kaska Rapids as
they were about to embark, and implored to be taken back to Hishu. After
careful consideration Dan and Grey had conceded to her request. Why she
wished to go they could not tell. Neither did they ask her, well knowing
that questions would be useless.</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p><p>It was a weary way up that crooked stream, and the shadows of a second
night were gathering ere they neared the end of their voyage. They had
hoped to arrive at Hishu before dark, but in this they were
disappointed. Grey's mind was somewhat troubled as he thought of the
reception which probably awaited them there. What had Siwash Bill and
his companions been doing during the past week? Would they oppose them,
and strive to wrench the child from their grasp? He glanced at his rifle
lying near his side, and thought of the revolver at his hip. His teeth
closed firmly together as he pictured the gang surrounding them. He
would show them a thing or two if they attempted any of their vile
tricks. There was also that cabin affair, and their dastardly attempt
upon his life to be settled. How he longed to be at them.</p>

<p>He was roused from his reverie by a low cry from Nadu. Glancing quickly
up he saw the woman pointing excitedly ahead to the left bank.</p>

<p>"See, see!" she cried. "There, there!"</p>

<p>Following the pointed finger Grey was able to discern in the distance a
horseman speeding along the trail close to the river. At times he was
lost to view behind a clump of trees, only to reappear farther on. Ere
long he was lost to sight amidst the forest and the deepening gloom. Dan
ceased paddling, turned and looked into Grey's face.</p>

<p>"It's that skunk, Shifty Nick!" he exclaimed. "He's spotted us, an' is
hikin' back to Hishu with the news! He's been waitin' fer us to appear,
that's sartin.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> What mischief are them villains up to now, I wonder?"</p>

<p>"They haven't given us up, then," Grey replied, heading the canoe
up-stream. "We're in for it, and there's nothing else for us to do but
to drive ahead as fast as we can and have it over with them as soon as
possible. I'm tired of this hide-and-seek game. It's getting on my
nerves."</p>

<p>Dan did not reply, but bent to his paddle with more determination than
ever. How the canoe did thrill along through the water. Nearer and
nearer they came to the village, and after a while dim forms of the
cabins could be discerned in the distance. Instead of following the left
bank of the stream, Dan headed the canoe to the right. Grey wondered at
this, but said nothing. He believed the trapper had some purpose in mind
which he would soon explain. When almost opposite the village Dan ran
the canoe sharply ashore, and when its keel grated gently upon the beach
he laid down his paddle and stood up.</p>

<p>"If yez don't mind," he commenced, "I'll jist leave yez here fer awhile
an' slip over to Hishu alone an' size things up a bit. We must be
cautious."</p>

<p>"And I had better go with you, Dan," Grey replied. "You may need my
help."</p>

<p>"No, pardner. You stay here an' guard the lassie an' the kid. It's best
not to leave 'em alone. Ye can't tell what might happen."</p>

<p>"Oh, don't go, Norman," pleaded Madeline, leaning<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> forward and laying
her hand gently on his arm. "Stay with us. So many things have happened
lately that I dread to be alone."</p>

<p>"Well, I'll stay then," Grey assented. "Only I don't like to have Dan go
over there by himself. Two are better than one."</p>

<p>All had now left the canoe except Nadu, who made no effort to move.</p>

<p>"Come," commanded Dan, as he was about to shove the canoe back into the
water. "Ain't ye goin' to git out, too?"</p>

<p>"No. Me go to Hishu," was the brief reply.</p>

<p>Dan hesitated only for an instant, and then sent the craft reeling into
the current. It was nothing to him whether the woman stayed or went.
Seizing a paddle he headed the canoe for the opposite shore, intending
to land about one hundred yards below the store. The evening was still,
and hardly a sound did he make as he paddled swiftly forward.</p>

<p>As he neared the shore a rifle report suddenly broke the silence,
followed immediately by a second, while a bullet whistled past his head.
A scream of pain and fright came from Nadu, and looking quickly in her
direction Dan saw her lift herself to her feet, reel and fall with a
sickening splash into the dark water. A feeling of wild rage possessed
the trapper. He realised now the cowardly nature of the attack, in which
the Indian woman was the victim. He wheeled the canoe around in an
effort to see some sign of Nadu. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> nothing could he observe, although
he drifted some distance down the river in the hope of seeing her body
rise to the surface.</p>

<p>Resolved to search no longer he headed the canoe for the place where the
others were waiting, when again the rifles spoke. Dan threw himself
forward, and the bullet whistled harmlessly overhead.</p>

<p>"Them villains! Them sarpints!" he cried, as he ran the canoe upon the
beach and leaped out. "I'll git me hands on 'em afore long, see if I
don't," and he shook his fist in the direction of Hishu.</p>

<p>When Madeline heard about Nadu's death she sank upon the ground and
buried her face in her hands. Her heart had held no bitterness for the
poor distracted Indian woman since that day she had talked with her in
the Mission House. And now Nadu was gone! All her earthly troubles over
in an instant.</p>

<p>"Oh, it is terrible, terrible!" she cried, springing to her feet. "When
will these things end! Can nothing stop those horrible men?"</p>

<p>Ere an answer could be made a noise from the opposite shore arrested
their attention. Shouts, yells and oaths fell upon their ears. They
listened, and at length the sounds moved up-stream toward the store.</p>

<p>"The miners! The miners!" exclaimed the trapper, now much excited.
"They've come from the hills, an' none too soon. Oh, if they'd only
arrived a few minutes earlier, that poor creature 'ud not be lyin' out
thar in the river. We'll go over now, fer the miners have got things in
their own hands, an' Buckskin Dan wants a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> finger in the mess, too. He's
got a few words to say. Hurry up. Let's go, quick."</p>

<p>As they paddled rapidly across the river straight toward the store, a
bright light suddenly sprang up right before them. Larger and larger it
grew, until huge forked flames were leaping wildly into the air. It was
a bonfire which had been built, and the light was illumining the village
for some distance around.</p>

<p>"We must keep back in the shadders," Dan remarked as they landed upon
the shore, "an' git the lassie an' kid inter my cabin. It's no place fer
'em outside on sich an occasion as this. You take 'em thar, pardner," he
said, turning to Grey, who was carrying Donnie. "I can't wait any
longer. I want to jine the crowd. Here's the key to me shack."</p>

<p>Heeding not the confusion near the store, Norman turned somewhat to the
left, and keeping well within the shadows gradually worked his way
around toward Dan's cabin. Madeline followed close behind, and after
what seemed to be a long time they came upon the shack on the opposite
side from the store. The light from the fire was broken by the building,
up to which they were able to creep unnoticed. It took Norman but a
minute to place the child upon the ground, unlock the door, and throw it
open. When once inside he breathed a sigh of relief.</p>

<p>"Thank God, we are here at last, Madeline," and he turned as he spoke to
the woman by his side.</p>

<p>The small window faced the store, and the light shining through
illuminated the whole room. It showed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> Madeline's face, white and tired
after the journey and the trying ordeal of the evening. Grey laid
Donnie, who had fallen asleep in his arms, gently in the lower bunk, and
turned to the woman standing quietly near.</p>

<p>"Madeline," he said, taking her hands in his, and looking into her weary
eyes, "you are tired and need food and rest. Sit in this big chair,
while I build a fire, and we shall soon have a lunch together."</p>

<p>"I am tired," Madeline replied as she took the seat and watched Norman
as he at once applied himself to his task.</p>

<p>The large chair was Buckskin Dan's special pride. He had made it big and
luxurious, and had covered it with skins of wild animals. To Madeline it
was the essence of comfort to nestle among the soft furs and lean her
head against the high back. She watched Norman as he moved about the
stove piling in dry wood, pouring water into the kettle, and laying the
few dishes upon the table. Neither spoke, for words were unnecessary. To
each that humble cabin was more beautiful than a gorgeous palace. Love
pervaded the room. It had a language without words, and a music without
sound.</p>

<p>But Grey's mind was not at rest. The gathering near the store worried
him. He realised what those men might do when carried away in the heat
of excitement. He thought of the whisky on the shelves, and what the
result would be should the men get hold of it. Once he went to the door
and listened. Siwash Bill and his companions were standing with their
backs<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> against the store, surrounded by the miners. Dan was speaking,
and ever and anon above the crackling of the fire Grey could catch a few
words. He was telling in fiery language of the murderous attack made by
Windy Pete out in the hills that dark night, and of the cowardly attempt
at murder in his own cabin.</p>

<p>As the speaker proceeded the cries of rage became fiercer, and it was
quite evident to the listening constable that the whisky had been
liberally sampled. When he re-entered the cabin his face was graver than
usual. He had depended upon Dan, and now he was stirring these men to
passionate action.</p>

<p>"Is anything wrong, Norman?" Madeline asked, noting the expression of
concern upon his brow.</p>

<p>"I'm afraid so," was the reply. "We can't tell what the miners will do
to-night. They are almost beside themselves now. That cursed whisky has
let loose the evil demon within them. It always does."</p>

<p>Yells and cries more vehement than before caused Grey to hurry again
outside. He heard several shouting for ropes, and noted that the miners
had formed more closely about the three wretched men. He realised that
there was no time to lose. Hastening across the opening he reached the
circle of men, pushed his way through, and stood for a moment and viewed
the situation. Several ropes had been found within the store, and nooses
had been quickly formed. Extending for several feet from the eaves of
the building were two rough-hewn log plates, upon which the roof rested.
These, as is often the case, had not been cut off, and on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> them the
storekeeper had often hung articles for safety from the numerous
starving Indian dogs which frequented the place when the natives were at
Hishu. Over one of these a rope was now thrown, and the noose in the
other end was about to be slipped over the head of the terrified squaw
man, when Grey stepped quickly to his side.</p>

<p>"What's the meaning of this?" he cried, facing the miners. "Surely
you're not going to string these men up?"</p>

<p>"That's what we're going to do, pardner," shouted several. "They deserve
more'n that. They stole the kid, an' tried to kill you, didn't they?
Step back, and don't interfere."</p>

<p>"But I will interfere," insisted Grey. "I know they deserve severe
punishment, but you must not take the law into your own hands. They'll
be dealt with, so don't you stain your hands with their blood."</p>

<p>"Come, come, don't stand there preachin' to us," came the cry as the men
surged closer. "We want to see 'em go up now. Our law is quicker, an'
there's no chance of their gittin' away."</p>

<p>It was a critical moment, and Grey knew it. Before him stood these men,
mad and inflamed by the poisonous trash they had been drinking. They
were certainly not in a fit condition to hearken to reason. Yet
sometimes such hearts could be stirred by sentiment.</p>

<p>"Listen," he cried, raising his right hand for silence. "In the name of
the Queen, I demand protection for these men."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span></p><p>His words had some effect upon several of the miners.</p>

<p>"The Queen; God bless her," they shouted. "Long may she live."</p>

<p>But some had been born under other flags, and this appeal to loyalty
moved them not.</p>

<p>"That won't do," they cried. "The Queen's all right, but she'd do the
same as us if she was here. So stand back, an' let us to our job."</p>

<p>"Then you'll do it in the barking mouth of this," Grey calmly replied as
his hand slipped to his hip, and ripped forth his revolver. "As a member
of a Force whose duty it is to uphold the law of our land I shall stand
by these men. Lay hands upon them at your peril."</p>

<p>A yell of anger burst from the miners at Grey's words and action. Their
rage for the moment was diverted from Bill and his companions to the
constable. They were not men to be startled or cowed by the gleam of a
revolver. Instantly their hands slipped to their hips, and as many
weapons flashed in the firelight.</p>

<p>"We kin play at that game, too, pardner," said one sturdy miner in the
front row. "Ye can't bully us, an' it ain't no use tryin'."</p>

<p>"I'm not trying to bully you," Grey responded. "I'm only trying to bring
you to your senses. Though you're forty to one, I'll make your number
less if you're not careful."</p>

<p>At that moment Buckskin Dan sprang to Grey's side. He had watched the
proceedings for a while without interfering. But he knew that his words
had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> done much to cause this disturbance. He longed to see the three
rascals strung up. But now that his partner was in danger it was a
different matter, and he must help him.</p>

<p>"Have a care, pardners," he roared. "If yez touch this man, yez'll
answer to the hull Force, an' the British Empire back of 'em. I'll stand
by the laddie here, and yez know what Buckskin Dan's like when he gits
his gun to work."</p>

<p>On any other occasion the men would have listened to these words of
reason. But they were in no mood for that now. They were mad, clean
crazy for something, they hardly knew what, and their passion was like a
furiously blazing fire.</p>

<p>"Come out of that, Dan," yelled several. "We don't want to hurt you.
Let's git at that d&mdash; cur. We're not afraid of the whole British
Empire."</p>

<p>"Hear, hear," roared the rest. "Down with them, and let us at our men."</p>

<p>They surged nearer, and in an instant more the rush would take place.
Grey's finger was upon the trigger. The revolver was all ready to spit
messages of death, when suddenly his hand dropped, and his eyes stared
in amazement. There at his side stood Madeline, confronting the men
before her. How she had got there he could not tell. Her slight form was
drawn to its full height, while her face was as white as death. Had an
angel dropped suddenly into their midst the miners could not have been
more surprised. They hesitated, lowered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> their weapons, and surged back
a pace or two. For ten heart beats no one spoke, and the roaring fire
was the only sound heard. Then Madeline took a step to the right, and
placed herself directly in front of the constable, keeping her face to
the miners.</p>

<p>"You are men," she began in a trembling voice, "and will respect a
woman, for your mothers were women. But if you shoot this man you will
do it through my body. He saved my life, and I love him."</p>

<p>"Madeline! Madeline! What are you doing here?" Grey demanded. "This is
no place for you. Oh, please go away for my sake."</p>

<p>"For your sake I shall stay," was the reply.</p>

<p>But there was no need for Madeline's fear. She was safe in the presence
of those men. Where reason and appeal to loyalty had failed, the
presence of this woman had succeeded. Their hearts were stirred by the
scene before them, and the true chivalry of their nature conquered.</p>

<p>"Three cheers for the lady," shouted one.</p>

<p>"Three cheers," was the cry, and how they did roar out the three rounds
and a "tiger."</p>

<p>"Thank you very much," Madeline responded. "But you will prove that you
are in earnest by sparing those men."</p>

<p>"An' let 'em escape the noose?" roared one. "Not a bit of it."</p>

<p>"Wait until the morning, then," Madeline pleaded. "Not to-night. For my
sake."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span></p><p>"Come, Jake, don't be stubborn," was the cry. "Let's do as the lady
wishes. But we'll take good care they won't git away. Come, boys, let's
make 'em fast, an' tie 'em up good an' tight till mornin'."</p>

<p>In the confusion and cries which followed Grey seized Madeline by the
arm, and hurried back to the cabin. Neither spoke until they were within
the building and the door shut. Then Grey reached out and took
Madeline's hands in his.</p>

<p>"God bless you, darling!" he murmured. "You have saved my life
to-night."</p>

<p>"Oh, I am so thankful," Madeline replied. "But it was terrible to face
those men!"</p>

<p>At that instant Dan entered the room. A smile crossed his rugged face as
he saw the two standing before him.</p>

<p>"Wall, that job's over," he exclaimed. "An' mighty glad I am, too."</p>

<p>"Are they securely tied?" questioned Grey.</p>

<p>"Like rats in a trap. They'll be thar in the mornin', never ye fear."</p>

<p>"But will the miners leave them alone?" asked Madeline. "They may change
their minds."</p>

<p>"Not a bit of it, miss. They've come to their senses somewhat, so don't
worry."</p>

<p>"But I'm not going to run any risk," Grey replied. "Those three men must
go back to Big Glen alive, and I'm going to keep guard to-night. You
need a good rest, Madeline, so you and Donnie will have the cabin to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span>
yourselves. Dan can sleep in the store. So come, I'm off."</p>

<p>Madeline said not a word, but her eyes spoke all that was necessary,
causing Grey to go forward to his watch with a spirit of joy and
elation.</p>

<hr />

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p>

<h2><span>CHAPTER XXXI</span> <span class="smaller">OLD TRAILS AND NEW</span></h2>

<p>It was late ere the confusion in Hishu subsided. The miners from the
hills remained around the store until after midnight. They wished to be
sure that Siwash Bill and his two companions had no possible means of
escape. When they saw them fast bound within the building, and guarded
not only by several of their own men, but by the constable and Buckskin
Dan, they gradually drifted away to their little shacks in the village.
Grey breathed a deep sigh of relief when he saw the last depart, and
quietness settle down over the place. He could not trust the miners on
guard, for he felt quite sure that as the night wore on sleep would
overcome them. They were tired men, and he could not blame them if they
slept. Dan, he knew, would not fail him, but he must not leave him
alone.</p>

<p>In separate corners of the room huddled the three wretched prisoners. By
the faint glimmering light of the candle their dim forms could be seen.
Their heads, bowed almost to their knees, told their own tale of
miserable despair.</p>

<p>At times Grey opened the door and looked at Dan's cabin. All was still
there, and he knew that Madeline and Donnie were resting after the
fatigue of the day.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> As morning dawned he stepped out into the open, and
paced up and down before the store. The fresh air was invigorating, and
his body throbbed with new life. Slowly the night waned, the east
brightened, and the sun rose big and red above the tree tops. Then the
village stirred to action. Sounds of axes could be heard as the men
prepared their firewood, and smoke could be seen curling from a score of
stovepipes stuck through the cabin roofs.</p>

<p>Grey wondered what the day would bring forth. He wished to get away from
Hishu as speedily as possible. He knew the trapper would go along to
assist with the prisoners. But when he considered the distance to Big
Glen and the difficulties of the way he realised what a task it would
mean. As he was debating with himself whether he should ask several of
the miners to accompany them his attention was aroused by the clatter of
hoofs on the trail. Looking up, what was his joy to behold two men of
the Force mounted on weary horses riding slowly toward him! They greeted
him as one from the dead. Blackbird had wandered back to Big Glen, so
they told him, and the Major, fearing the worst, had sent them out to
find some trace of the lost rider.</p>

<p>Grey told them very little of what had taken place&mdash;he would report
first to his Commanding Officer. He told the constables to look after
the prisoners, and be ready to start back to Big Glen in a few hours.</p>

<p>During the morning Madeline's mind turned often to Old Meg. She felt
sorry now for the poor creature alone in her cabin. Should she go away
without one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> word of farewell? There was another reason why she wished
to see her. Perhaps at last she might prevail upon her to reveal the
mystery of the past six years, and why she had been kept away in the
wilderness. Old Meg had never told her. Perhaps she might tell now.</p>

<p>She and Grey were standing at the door waiting for the trapper and a
couple of miners to return with the cayuses, which the gang had rounded
up for their own retreat if necessary.</p>

<p>"Norman," said Madeline suddenly, "I should like to see Old Meg before
leaving Hishu. Will you go with me?"</p>

<p>"Yes, Madeline," was the reply, "if you wish it. But I should think you
had seen enough of that woman."</p>

<p>"I have, Norman. But there is a reason. We have time to go, have we
not?"</p>

<p>"Certainly. We shall make time, especially for you."</p>

<p>Donnie was delighted with the walk along the trail, and his little
tongue kept up an incessant chatter as he trotted by Madeline's side.
Reaching Old Meg's cabin Grey knocked upon the door. Receiving no
answer, he pushed it open and entered. All was silent within the
building, and Madeline wondered what had become of the old woman. She
looked first into the kitchen, then into her own room. Next she softly
and timidly opened the door of Old Meg's private room. As she did so, a
cry of fear fell from her lips, which caused Grey to spring quickly to
her side. There, lying upon the bed,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> they saw her, with eyes staring
wildly before her. Her features were contorted with agony, while her
hands clutched convulsively the worn grey blankets.</p>

<p>"Meg, Meg!" cried Madeline, rushing to her side. "What is the matter?"</p>

<p>The sufferer rolled her eyes, and fixed them upon the young woman's
face.</p>

<p>"You here?" she replied. "Do you come to mock me?"</p>

<p>"No, no. I only came to see you before going away."</p>

<p>"And so you're going?"</p>

<p>"Yes; to-day."</p>

<p>"I thought so. And that man; he would like to take me. But he won't, no,
he won't!" and her voice rose to a shriek. "I knew he would come to take
me. But I won't go. He'll never take me alive&mdash;oh!"</p>

<p>Here the pain again convulsed her body, and silenced her speech.</p>

<p>"Can't I do something for you?" Madeline asked, taking the sufferer's
cold, bony hand. "You know I want to help you. I am sorry for you."</p>

<p>Into Old Meg's eyes came a faint expression of softness. She turned them
upon the face of the fair woman at her side.</p>

<p>"I'm bad," she replied. "I've wronged you, and do you wish to help me?
Are you sorry for me?"</p>

<p>"Yes, indeed I am. And if there is anything I can do to assist you, tell
me at once."</p>

<p>"You can't do anything for my body, or to give me peace of mind. But
there's something I want you to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> know before I die. Look. Put your hand
under the pillow. You'll find something there."</p>

<p>Madeline did as she was commanded, and brought forth a package of papers
tied with a string.</p>

<p>"Open it," Meg ordered. "Yes&mdash;no&mdash;Ah, that's the one. See the name.
That's the man who put me up to this job. He sent me in the ship to
spirit you away when we reached America. I thought it would be a hard
thing to accomplish, but the storm and the wreck helped me out."</p>

<p>Madeline only dimly realised what the woman was saying, for her eyes
were fixed upon the name written upon the paper. It was that of her
cousin, living in England.</p>

<p>"What is the meaning of this?" she asked. "What had he to do with my
trouble?"</p>

<p>"Can't you guess? Were not you the only one standing between him and
your father's vast estate?"</p>

<p>"Yes. I know that, but&mdash;"</p>

<p>"You don't see yet? Your cousin needed money&mdash;was bankrupt&mdash;driven to
the verge of despair&mdash;a desperate man&mdash;and you alone stood in his way.
With you gone, everything would be his."</p>

<p>Swiftly now the horrible truth flashed into Madeline's mind. It almost
overpowered her.</p>

<p>"And he hired you to kill me?"</p>

<p>"No, no, not that," cried the woman. "But you were young, and many
things can happen in a big city. Young girls can disappear&mdash;there are
places they can enter, and the world will hear of them no more. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span>
that wreck came. There was a girl drowned. Money did the rest. Money
will do anything. There were men willing to swear that you had been
drowned&mdash;that they saw you go down. The story was believed, and your
cousin got what he wanted. Wait," she commanded, as Madeline was about
to interrupt her. "Don't stop me. I want to tell my story, for I can't
last long. Your cousin knew the truth. I told him everything, and he
supplied me with money. But I could not ruin you. I am bad, God knows,
but I could not put you into those dens of hell. I fled with you from
place to place. But I was always fearful lest I should be discovered.
Farther and farther North I sped&mdash;to Winnipeg&mdash;and beyond, ever
Northward&mdash;always away from the crowded cities&mdash;until we came here.
People thought I kept you for an evil purpose. I have fought with men. I
have threatened to shoot them. But I kept you safe&mdash;and&mdash;and&mdash;you are
pure. You may think it strange, but I loved you. I tried not to show it.
I struggled to crush back the feeling. I scolded you. I spoke sharply to
you, but I loved you. When you were stolen away by the Indians my heart
almost broke. Then when I heard that you were going back to Big Glen,
and that I should lose you forever, I could stand no more. How could I
live here in this lonely cabin&mdash;and you gone! The thought is terrible. I
don't deserve your pity&mdash;your sympathy, for I am a bad woman. But when
you say your prayers to-night put in one little word for Old Meg&mdash;the
outcast. And see, I wrote it all out before I took that stuff. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span>
thought no one would come to me until I was dead. It's all there&mdash;my
story is on that paper, though I'm glad I've told you with my own lips,
for it makes me feel better."</p>

<p>Tears were streaming down Madeline's cheeks as she listened to the poor
creature. She now bent forward, and imprinted a kiss upon the sufferer's
brow. Old Meg's face brightened, and she seized the young woman's hands
in a firm clasp.</p>

<p>"Don't leave me!" she cried. "I'm afraid to be alone. I'm afraid to die.
God, have mercy upon my wretched soul!"</p>

<p>There was a struggle, a gasp for breath, and in a twinkling all was
over. Old Meg was dead.</p>

<p class="center">*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*</p>

<p>One week later a little company moved slowly through the principal
street of Big Glen. Horses and riders were weary, for the journey had
been a hard one. The three shackled prisoners shuffled along on foot,
with heads bent forward and downcast eyes. They had fondly cherished
hopes of escape on the trail, but they were doomed to a bitter
disappointment. Now they knew that their last chance was gone.</p>

<p>Madeline rode her horse with much ease and grace. Although tired, her
cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright. She was again back to the
ways of civilisation. No more loneliness in the great wilderness, with
all the many longings and heartaches. The stores interested her, and the
people on the streets. Men, women and children paused to gaze upon the
spectacle. Word<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span> passed from lip to lip that Silas Farwell's child had
been found, and the kidnappers had been captured. The excitement grew,
and the crowd increased. Men left their stores, women their homes, and
followed the little cavalcade. Madeline shrank from the curious gaze
bestowed upon her, and her face paled. Grey, riding with Donnie before
him, noting her embarrassment, reined his horse to her side.</p>

<p>"They are friendly, Madeline," he whispered. "They are overjoyed at
seeing us back again."</p>

<p>Turning into a side street they at length reined up before the finest
residence in Big Glen. Presently a pale face appeared at one of the
windows, then the door was flung open and a tall woman with a cry of joy
rushed down the steps, seized Donnie in her arms, and fairly smothered
him in a sea of rapturous kisses. For an instant only there was a
death-like silence, and then from the watching crowd arose three rousing
cheers of joy. The people remained until Mrs. Farwell, Madeline and
Donnie had entered the house, the constables had marched the prisoners
off to the Guard Room, and Grey and Buckskin Dan had headed their horses
for the Barracks Square. Then they dispersed to discuss the news, and to
await anxiously the detailed account which they felt sure would be
published in the local evening paper.</p>

<p>An hour later Grey sat alone with his Commanding Officer. He presented a
more respectable appearance than upon his entrance into Big Glen. He
gave the Major a complete account of his experience in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> wilderness,
embellishing nothing, and speaking of himself as little as possible. To
Buckskin Dan he gave great credit, and only in speaking of the trapper
was he at a loss for suitable words in which to express his gratitude.
When he finished the Major stroked his moustache thoughtfully for a few
moments. Then he reached over and brought down a letter from a
pigeon-hole above his desk.</p>

<p>"It is strange," he began, "how things do work out. Only yesterday I
received this letter, and I have been puzzling my brain over it ever
since. It says that several months ago a man died suddenly in England,
of heart trouble. Among his papers were found letters which aroused
suspicion. A cousin of his, and the heiress to a large estate, was
supposed to have been lost in the wreck of the <i>Tampan</i> about six years
ago. This man, who was next of kin, therefore came into possession of
the property. The letters, however, told a far different story. The girl
had not been drowned, but had been stolen away by an old woman who was
paid liberally by the girl's cousin for her services. The letters of the
latest date told that they were somewhere in Northern Canada, and word
was accordingly sent to the Mounted Police wherever there is a Division,
and in fact to every city or town of any size in Canada, asking for
information concerning the missing one. There is now not the shadow of a
doubt that the Madeline Normsell mentioned in this letter is the one
with the same name you found in Hishu. You knew her in England, so you
tell me, and can swear that she is the same person. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span> cannot commend
you enough, Grey, for what you have done, and I am very sorry to lose
you from the Force. You may consider yourself discharged with special
honours."</p>

<p>Grey found it hard to free himself from his comrades as they gathered at
the Canteen to hear the story of his experiences from his own lips.</p>

<p>He escaped at length, however, and made his way to Silas Farwell's
house. Many were the thoughts which surged through his mind as he walked
along the street. He was free, and Madeline was near, and his.</p>

<p>His footsteps upon the verandah of the house were heard by one who was
anxiously awaiting his arrival. Suddenly a vision of beauty stood before
him. It was Madeline, dressed no longer in her old tattered garments of
the trail, but in a dress more becoming to her trim form. For an instant
Grey looked into her flushed happy face, and then enfolded her in his
arms.</p>

<p>There was no one to see this sacred meeting, for Mrs. Farwell had taken
Donnie away to his own little cot upstairs. Madeline led Grey to a cosy
room to the left of the hall, where burned a bright fire in an open
grate. In front of this they sat while Grey related his interview with
the Major.</p>

<p>"Oh, it is wonderful!" exclaimed Madeline. "To think that Cousin Rob
would do such a thing, and that all has come out right at last."</p>

<p>"And we shall go home at once, darling," Grey replied. "We must not
delay too long. We can set the wedding day now, and talk and plan for
the future."</p>

<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span></p><p>"But what will become of Buckskin Dan?" asked Madeline. "Perhaps he
will go with us."</p>

<p>"Not a bit of it, dearie. His mind is too full of the gold he discovered
in that old abandoned mine. He's going back to work it as soon as
possible. He wants me to return after affairs are settled in England.
He's at the Sergeants' Mess now, and will be here this evening to talk
the matter over with us. You won't mind coming back, darling, will you?
We shall have a fine house like this in Big Glen, and be so happy here."</p>

<p>"I shall go to any part of the earth with you," and Madeline placed her
hand in Norman's as she spoke. "We must never be parted again."</p>

<p>The twilight deepened, and the fire burned low as the two lovers sat and
talked of the future. The weary trails of the past were ended, and new
ones opened up before them, winding far into the unknown future,
shimmering clear and golden in the mystic light of eternal love.</p>

<p class="center space-above">THE END</p>
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