_ CHAPTER VI. THE WEIRD OF THE WILD
For five days the snow fell without ceasing. Then the weather cleared and the sun shone forth, and the temperature, which had risen while the ghostly snow filled the air, dropped with a rush many degrees below zero.
Again the call of the forest came to the two men, claiming them as it ever claims those who are bred to the craft of trap and fur; and for the first time in their lives, the call was hearkened to by unwilling ears, ears which sought to turn from the alluring cry, ears that craved only for the seductive tones of love. But habit was strong upon these woodsmen, and they obeyed the voice which had always ruled their lives, although with the skeleton of rebellion in their hearts.
The days passed, and March, the worst month of the mountain winter, was rapidly nearing; and with it a marked change came over the routine of the Westleys' home. Hitherto Ralph and Nick were accustomed to carry out their work singly, each scouring the woodlands and valleys in a direction which was his alone, each making his own bag of furs, which, in the end, would be turned over to the partnership; but Aim-sa joined them in their hunting, and, somehow, it came about that the men found it necessary to work together.
They no longer parted at daybreak to meet again when the stealing night shades fell. It became the custom for a party of three to set out from the hut, and the skilled trappers found themselves willingly deferring to a woman in the details of their craft, the craft of which they were acknowledged masters.
But this was not the only change that took place with the coming of the White Squaw. For a woman of the wild, for a woman who had been bred in the mysterious depths of the northern forests, away from her fellow creatures, shut off from all associations of men, Aim-sa displayed a wondrous knowledge of those arts which women practise for the subjugation of the opposite sex. She set herself the task of administering to her companions' welfare in the manner which has been woman's from the first. She took to herself the bothersome duties with which no man, however self-reliant, loves to be burdened. She went further. She demanded and accepted the homage of each of the brothers, not impartially, but favouring first one and then the other, with the quiet enjoyment of a woman who looks on at the silent rivalry of two men who seek her smiles.
And as the days lengthened, and the winter crept on toward spring, the peace of the house was slowly but surely undermined. Eve had appeared in the Garden.
The calm that still remained was as the smooth surface of water about to boil. Beneath it was chaos which must soon break out into visible tumult. The canker of jealousy fastened itself like a secret growth upon the uncultured hearts of the men, sapping and undermining that which was best in their natures.
And Aim-sa looked on with eyes which smiled inscrutably; with silent tongue, and brain ever busy. In due course she showed signs of beginning to understand her comrades' language. She even essayed to speak it herself; and, as she stumbled prettily over the words, and placed them wrongly, she became more and more a source of delight, an object of adoration to the poor souls who had been so suddenly born to this new life. With keen appreciation she saw these things while she listened to their speech between themselves, and her great, deep eyes would wear many varying expressions, chief among which was the dark, abiding smile.
There could be no doubt that what she saw she interpreted aright. She was too clever in everything else to do otherwise. Nick, impatient, headstrong, could never long conceal his feelings. His eyes would express displeasure the moment the quieter Ralph chanced to monopolize Aim-sa's attention. Every smile she bestowed upon the elder brother brought a frown to the younger man's brow. Every act or look which could be interpreted into an expression of regard for his brother fired his soul with feelings of aversion and anger till he was well-nigh distracted. Nor was Ralph any less disturbed. In his undemonstrative way he watched Nick, and suffered the acutest pangs of jealousy at what he believed was Aim-sa's marked preference. But the woman continued to stir the fire she had kindled with a childlike naivete which was less of the wild than of the drawing-room.
And as day succeeded day, and week followed week, the companionship of these men became forced. The old tacit understanding was replaced by a feverish desire to talk; and this forced conversation only helped to widen the rift which was already gaping between them.
One night the friction almost resulted in a blaze.
Ralph was lying prone upon his back, buried to the neck in his "Arctic bag." He was smoking, as was his custom, while waiting for sleep to come. An oil lamp reeked upon the earthen floor and threw its bilious rays little further than the blankets spread out upon either side of it. For a long time Ralph had lain silently gazing up at the frosted rafters above him, while his brother sat cross-legged at work restringing his snow-shoes with strands of rawhide. Suddenly Ralph turned his face towards him in silent contemplation. He watched Nick's heavy hands with eyes that wore a troubled look. Then he abruptly broke the long silence.
"Victor don't know as she's here," he said.
Nick looked up, glanced round the room, shook his head, and bent over his work again.
"No," he answered shortly.
"Maybe he won't jest laff."
"No."
Again came Nick's monosyllabic reply.
"Guess we'd best let him know."
There was a pause. Ralph waited for his brother to speak. As no answer came he went on.
"Who's goin' to tell him?"
Still there was no reply. The silence was broken only by the "ping" of the rawhide strands which Nick tested as he drew tight.
"We need some fixin's fer her," Ralph went on, a moment later. "Wimmin, I 'lows, has fancies. Now, maybe, Victor's got a mighty fine show o' print stuffs. A bit o' Turkey red wouldn't come amiss, I dessay. Likewise beads."
"Maybe."
"Why don't you take the dogs an' run in?"
Nick's hands suddenly became motionless; his eyes were raised until they looked into the face of his brother. His seared, weather-beaten skin flushed a desperate hue, and his eyes were alight and shining angrily. His lips twitched with the force of the passion stirring within him, and for some seconds he held himself not daring to trust to speech.
When at last he answered it was in a tone of fiery abruptness.
"Guess not," he said. And it was Ralph's turn to hold back the anger which rose within him.
"Why?"
"Say, brother," said Nick, with a biting distinctness, "quit right there. Ther' ain't no need fer another word."
For a moment Ralph peered into the other's face; but he remained silent. Then he turned over upon his pillow with a sound very like a muttered curse. And from that moment the gulf between them became impassable. Aim-sa was a subject henceforth tabooed from their conversation. Each watched the other with distrust, and even hatred, full grown within him.
And soon there came a further disturbing element in that mountain home. It awoke all the dormant atmosphere of mystery, which, in the minds of the two men, surrounded the lovely Aim-sa. It awoke afresh the "Dread of the Wild" that had assailed them on their journey north.
It came in the early morning, when the world about them was cloaked in the grey shroud of daylight mists; when the silent forests above and below them were rendered even more ghostly and sepulchral by reason of the heavy vapour which depressed all on which it settled. Nick was standing, rifle in hand, preparing to sling it across his back. Ralph was stooping to adjust his snow-shoes. Aim-sa had been left within the hut.
A gentle breeze, like the icy breath of some frozen giant on the peak above the hut, came lazily down the hillside. It broke the fog into a turmoil of protest. The heavy vapour rolled in huge waves, sought to return to its settled calm, then slowly lifted from the flustered tree-tops. Another breath, a little stronger than the first, shot forcefully into the heart of the morning fog and scattered it mercilessly. Then the whole grey expanse solemnly lifted. Up it rose; nor did it pause until the lower hills were bared, and the wintry sun shone splendidly down upon the crystal earth.
And as the air cleared the keen eyes of Nick flashed out in a swift survey of the prospect. Suddenly his breathing was sharply indrawn. His rifle never reached his shoulder, but remained gripped in his hand. His eyes had become riveted upon a low hill far out across the valley. It looked as though it rose sheer out of the forest below, but the watching man knew full well that it was only a spur of the giant that backed it. It was the summit of this clear-cut hill, and what was visible upon it, that held his fascinated attention. Suddenly a half-whispered word escaped him and Ralph was beside him in a moment.
"Look!" And Nick's arm was outstretched pointing.
And Ralph looked in time to see the ghostly form of the Hooded Man as it slowly passed from view over the hill.
"The Hood!" exclaimed Ralph, in awestruck tones.
"Ay."
"What's--what's he doin' here?" Ralph asked, more of himself than of his brother. Then he added: "He's on our trail."
There was a slight pause.
"It's somethin' on her account," Nick said, at last, with uneasy conviction.
As if actuated by a common thought, both turned and looked back at the hut. Nor was their uneasiness lessened when they beheld Aim-sa standing directly behind them, gazing out across the woodland hollow with eyes distended with a great fear. So absorbed was she that she did not observe the men's scrutiny, and only was her attention drawn to them when she heard Nick's voice addressing her. Then her lids drooped in confusion and she hastily turned back to the house. But Nick was not to be denied.
"Ye've seen him," he said sharply; "him wi' the hood?" And he made a motion with his hand which described the stranger's headgear.
Aim-sa nodded, and Nick went on.
"We seen him up north. On the trail to the Moosefoot."
The woman again nodded. She quite understood now, and her eyes brightened suddenly as she turned their dazzling depths of blue upon her questioner. She understood these men as they little thought she understood them.
"It is the Spirit--the Great Spirit," she said, in her broken speech. "The Spirit of--Moosefoot Indian. Him watches Aim-sa--Queen of Moosefoot. She--White Squaw."
Ralph turned away uneasily. These mysterious allusions troubled him. Nick could not withdraw his fascinated gaze. Her strange eyes held him captive.
They took her words without a doubt. They accepted all she said without question. They never doubted her identity with the White Squaw. Primitive superstition deeply moved them.
"You was scared when you see him just now?" said Ralph, questioningly.
Aim-sa nodded.
"He come to--take me," she said, halting over the words. "The Moosefoot--they angry--Aim-sa stay away."
"Hah!"
Nick thrust his rifle out towards her.
"Here take it. It shoots good. When 'The Hood' comes, shoot--savvee?"
Aim-sa took the gun and turned back to the hut. And the men passed out into the forest.
Aim-sa left the hut soon after the brothers had departed. For long she stood just beyond the door as though not sure of what she contemplated doing.
And as she stood her eyes travelled acutely over the silent valley. At last, however, she moved leisurely down the hill. Her easy gait lasted just so long as she was in the open; the moment she entered the forest her indifference vanished and she raced along in the dark shadow with all the speed she could summon. The silence, the heavy, depressing atmosphere, the labyrinth of trees so dark and confusing; these things were no deterrent to her. Her object was distinct in her mind and she gave heed to nothing else. She ran on over the snow with the silent movements of some ghostly spirit, and with a swiftness which told of the Indian blood in her veins. Her dilating eyes flashed about her with the searching gaze of one who expects to see something appear, while not knowing whence it will come. Her flowing hair trailed from under her cap with the speed of her going, and the biting air stung her face into a brilliant glow. Her direction was plainly in her mind, for, though dodging her way through trees, she never deviated from a certain course; all her thoughts, all her attention, were centred upon the object of her quest.
Nor did she pause till she came to the low hill which stood on the far side of the valley. As she came to the edge of the forest which skirted its base she drew up and stood for a moment hesitating. Once she raised a hand to her mouth as though about to give voice to a prolonged mountain call, but she desisted, and, instead, set out to round the hill, always keeping to the shadow of the forest edge.
At length she stopped. Her hand went up to her mouth and her head was thrown back, and out upon the still air rang a cry so mournful that even the forest gloom was rendered more cheerless by its sound. High it rose, soaring upwards through the trees until the valley rang with its plaintive wail. As if recognizing the distressful howl of their kind, the cry came back to her from the deep-toned throats of prowling timber-wolves. The chorus rang in her ears from many directions as she listened, but the sound? had little effect. As they died down she still waited in an attitude of attention.
The moments slipped by. Presently she again sent the call hurtling through the trees. Again came the chorus; again she waited. And the sounds of the chorus were nearer at hand, and a crackling of undergrowth warned her of the presence of the savage creatures she had summoned. The deep blue eyes were alert and watchful, but she showed no signs of fear; nor did she move. Suddenly a less stealthy and more certain crackling of the bush made itself heard; and the roving eyes became fixed in one direction. Beneath the shadow of the laden boughs a tall grey figure appeared moving towards her. But this was not all, for several slinking, stealing forms were moving about amongst the barren tree-trunks; hungry-looking creatures these, with fierce burning eyes and small pricked ears, with ribs almost bursting through the coarse hides which covered their low, lank bodies.
But all the woman's attention was centred upon the form of the other--the hooded figure she had seen in the morning. He came with long, regular strides, a figure truly calculated to inspire awe. Even now, near as he was to her, there was no sign of his face to be seen. He was clad in the folds of grey wolfskin, and a cowl-like hood utterly concealed his face, while leaving him free to see from within.
As the man came up Aim-sa plunged into voluble speech.
They talked together long and earnestly; their tones were of dictation on the part of the woman and subservience on the part of the man. Then the Spirit of the Moosefoot Indians moved away, and the White Squaw retraced her steps to the dugout.
A look of triumph was in Aim-sa's blue eyes as she returned through the forest. She gave no heed to the slinking forms that dogged her steps. She saw nothing of the forest about her; all her interest was in the dugout and those who lived there.
When she came to the house she received a shock. Nick had returned during her absence. He had come for the dog sled, and had since brought the vast carcass of a grizzly into camp. Now he was stripping the rich fur from the forest king's body. The five huskies, with shivering bodies and jowls dripping saliva, were squatting around upon their haunches waiting for the meal they hoped would soon be theirs.
The man, still kneeling over his prize, greeted Aim-sa without pausing in his work.
"Wher'?" he asked, sparing his words lest he should confuse her.
The unconcern of the query reassured her.
"The forest," replied Aim-sa easily, pointing away down the hill.
There was a long pause while the woodsman plied his knife with rough but perfect skill. The thick fur rolled under his hands. The snick, snick of his knife alternated with the sound of tearing as he pulled the pelt from the under-flesh. Aim-sa watched, interested, then, as Nick made no further remark, she went on. She pointed back at the forest.
"The wolves--they very thick. Many, many--an' hungry."
"They've left the open. Guess it's goin' to storm, sure," observed the man indifferently. He wrenched the fur loose from the fore paws.
"Yes--it storm--sure." And Aim-sa gazed critically up at the sky. The usual storm sentries hung glittering upon either side of the sun, and the blue vault was particularly steely.
Nick rose from his gory task. He drew the fur away and spread it out on the roof of the dugout to freeze. Then he cut some fresh meat from the carcass, and afterwards dragged the remainder down the hill and left it for the dogs. The squabble began as soon as he returned to Aim-sa. A babel of fierce snarling and yapping proceeded as the ruthless beasts tore at the still warm flesh. And in less than a minute other voices came up from the woods, heralding the approach of some of the famished forest creatures. Nick gave no heed. The dogs must defend their own. Such is the law of the wild. He had Aim-sa to himself, and he knew not how long it would be before his brother returned.
And Aim-sa was in no way loth to linger by this great trapper's side. It pleased her to talk in her halting fashion to him. He had more to say than his brother; he was a grand specimen of manhood. Besides, his temperament was wilder, more fierce, more like the world in which he lived.
She hearkened to the sounds of the snarling wolves and her blue eyes darkened with the latent savagery that was in her nature.
"The dogs--they fight. Hah!" she said. And a smile of delight was in her eyes.
"Let 'em fight," said Nick, carelessly. Then he turned upon her with a look there was no mistaking. His whole attitude was expressive of passionate earnestness as he looked down into the blue worlds which confronted him.
She taunted him with a glance of intense meaning. And, in an instant, the fire in his soul blazed into an overwhelming conflagration.
"You're that beautiful, Aim-sa," he cried. Then he paused as though his feelings choked him. "Them blue eyes o' yours goes right clear through me, I guess. Makes me mad. By Gar! you're the finest crittur in the world."
He looked as though he would devour the fair form which had raised such a storm within his simple heart. She returned his look with a fearlessness which still had some power to check his untutored passion. Her smile, too, was not wholly devoid of derision; but that was lost upon him.
"Aim-sa--beautiful. Ah! yes--yes, I know. You speak love to me. You speak love to White Squaw."
"Ay, love," cried Nick, the blood mounting with a rush to his strong face. "Guess you don't know love, my girl. Not yet. But mebbe you will. Say, Aim-sa, I'll teach it ye. I'll teach it ye real well, gal. You'll be my squaw, an' we'll light right out o' here. I've got half share in our pile, an' it ain't a little. Jest say right here as ye'll do it, an' I'll fix things, an' hitch up the dogs."
Nick paused in his eloquence. The squaw's eyes danced with delight, and he read the look to suit himself. Already he anticipated a favourable answer. But he was quickly undeceived. Aim-sa merely revelled in the passion she had aroused, like a mischievous child with a forbidden plaything. She enjoyed it for a moment, then her face suddenly became grave, and her eyelids drooped over the wonderful eyes which he thought had told him so much. And her answer came with a shake of the head.
"Aim-sa loves not. She must not. The Moosefoot--she is Queen."
"Curses on the Moosefoot, I say," cried Nick, with passionate impulse.
Aim-sa put up her hand.
"The man--'The Hood.' Fear the Spirit."
A chill shot down through Nick's heart as he listened. But his passion was only checked for the moment. The next and he seized the woman in his powerful arms and drew her to his breast, and kissed her not too unwilling lips. The kiss maddened him, and he held her tight, while he sought her blindly, madly. He kissed her cheeks, her hair, her eyes, her lips, and the touch of her warm flesh scorched his very soul. Nor is it possible to say how long he would have held her had she not, by a subtle, writhing movement, slipped from within his enfolding arms. Her keen ears had caught a sound which did not come from the fighting dogs. It was the penetrating forest cry in the brooding mountain calm.
"Remember--'The Hood,'" Aim-sa warned him. And the next moment had vanished within the dugout.
Now Nick knew that he too had heard the cry, and he stood listening, while his passion surged through his veins and his heart beat in mighty pulsations. As he gazed over the forest waste, he expected to see the mysterious hooded figure.
But what he beheld brought an angry flush to his cheeks. He did not see "The Hood," but Ralph walking slowly up the hill.
And a harsh laugh which had no mirth in it broke from him. Then a frown settled darkly upon his brow. What, he asked himself, had Ralph returned for? He bore no burden of skins.
And when Ralph looked up and saw Nick whom he believed to be miles away, his heart grew bitter within him. He read the look on the other's face. He saw the anger, and a certain guiltiness of his own purpose made him interpret it aright. And in a flash he resolved upon a scheme which, but for what he saw, would never have presented itself to him.
And as the gleaming sun-dogs, drooping so heavily yet angrily in the sky, heralded the coming storm of elements, so did that meeting of the two brothers threaten the peace of the valley. _