The Peace of Roaring River Part 7

"I can't vait a moment. Good-by, leddy, I must go. You tell Hugo why I hurry so."

The man had jumped on the toboggan and he was already being borne away, swiftly, by his team of wild s.h.a.ggy brutes that seemed never to have known a weary moment in their lives. And she stood there, at the foot of a great blasted pine, terror-stricken, wondering what further torture of mind and body the world had in store for her.

But for that hut the place was a frozen desert, with no other sign of man. And she was alone--alone with him--and the fierce-looking dog was now running towards her. She leaned back against the tree, feeling that without some support she must collapse at its foot.

CHAPTER V

When Gunpowder Speaks

Hugo Ennis, a man well under thirty, tall and spare of form, with the lithe and active limbs that are capable of hard and prolonged action, had stood for a time by the tough door of his little shack. It was a single-roomed affair, quite large enough for a lone man, which he had carefully built of peeled logs. Within it there was a bunk fixed against the wall, upon which his heavy blankets had been folded in a neat pile, for he was a man of some order. Near the other end there was a stove, a good one that could keep the place warm and amply sufficed for his simple cookery. The table was of axe-hewn cedar planks and the two chairs had been rustically designed of the same material. Between the logs forming the walls the s.p.a.ces had been c.h.i.n.ked with moss, covered with blue clay taken from the river-bank, above the falls. Strong pegs had been driven into the heavy wood and from them hung traps and a couple of guns, with spare snowshoes and odd pieces of apparel. In a corner of the room there were steel hand-drills, heavy hammers, a pick and a shovel. Against the walls he had built strong shelves that held perhaps a score of books and a varied a.s.sortment of groceries. More of these latter articles had been placed on a swinging board hung from the roof, out of reach of thieving rodents.

He had been looking down, over the great rocky ledge at one side of his shack, into the big pool of the Roaring River, which at this time was but a wild jam of huge slabs of ice insecurely soldered together by snow and the spray from the falls. Beneath that jumbled ma.s.s he knew that the water was straining and groaning and swirling until it found under the thick ice the outlet that would lead it towards the big lake to the eastward. Although the middle of March was at hand there was not the slightest sign of any breaking up. He knew that it would take a long time yet before the snows began to melt, the ice to become thinner on the lakes and the waters to rise, brown and turbid with the earth torn from the banks and the sand ever ground up in the rough play of turbulent waters with rolling boulders.

Yet the coming of spring was not so very far off now and the days were growing longer. It would take but a few weeks before the first great wedges of flying geese would pa.s.s high above him in their journey to the shallows of the Hudson's Bay, where they nested in myriads. And then other birds would follow until the smallest arrived, chirping with the joy of the slumbering earth's awakening.

It was a glorious country, he truly believed. The winter had been long but the hunting and trapping had kept him busy enough. The days had seemed too short to become dreary and he had slept long during the nights, seldom awakening at the rumblings of the maddened pent-up waters or the sharp explosions of great trees cracking in the fierce cold. But he was glad of the prospect of renewed hard work upon his claim, of promising toil to expose further the great silver-bearing veins of calcite that wound their way through the harder rock. He knew that his find was of the sort that had flooded the Nip.i.s.sing and the Gowganda countries with eager searchers and delvers, and created villages and even towns in a wilderness where formerly the moose wandered in the great hardwood swamps and the deer were often chased by ravening packs of baying wolves.

His attention had reverted to the great sharp-muzzled dog that had been crouching at his feet, and he bent down and began to pull out small porcupine quills that had become fastened in the animal's nose and lips.

"Maybe some day you'll learn enough to let those varmints alone, Maigan, old boy," he said, having become accustomed to long conversations with his companion. "I expect you're pretty nearly as silly as a man. Experience teaches you mighty little. Dogs and men have been stung since the beginning of the world, I expect, and keep on making the same old mistakes. Hold hard, old fellow! I know it hurts like the deuce but these things have just got to come out."

Maigan is the name of the wolf, in some of the Indian dialects, and Hugo's friend seemed but little removed from a wolfish ancestry. He evidently did his best to bear the punishment bravely, for he never whimpered. At times, however, he sought hard to pull his muzzle away.

Finally, to his great relief, the last serrated quill was pulled out and he jumped up, placing his paws on the man's shoulders, perhaps to show he held no grudge. After his master had petted him, an excitable red squirrel required his immediate attention and, as usual, led him to a fruitless chase. He returned soon, scratching at the boards, and his master let him in and closed the door. A moment later the animal's sharp ears p.r.i.c.ked up; the wiry hair on his back rose and he uttered a low growl.

"Keep still, Maigan!" ordered his master. "Wonder who's coming? Maybe one of Papineau's young ones."

The fire was getting low and he put a couple of sticks of yellow birch in the stove. A few seconds later he heard a shout that came from behind the saplings which, in some places, concealed the old tote-road from his view. No one but Big Stefan could bellow out so powerfully, to be sure. He opened the door and Maigan leaped out. In more leisurely fas.h.i.+on he followed and stopped, in astonishment, as he caught sight of the dog-team flying back towards Carcajou.

"That's a queer start!" he commented. "First time I ever knew him not to stop for a cup of tea and a talk."

He thought he saw something like a black box through the branches and went up. It must be something Stefan had left for him. He walked up the path in leisurely fas.h.i.+on. There was evidently no hurry. He was feeling a little disappointment, for he had become fond of Stefan during his long prospecting trip and would have been glad of a chat to the invariable accompaniment of the hospitable tea-kettle. He had just made some pretty good biscuits, too. It was a pity the Swede wouldn't share them with him. He reached the black box which, to his surprise, turned out to be a small corded trunk lying on the hard dry snow, with a cheap leather bag on top of it. He looked about him in wonder and stopped, suddenly, staring in astonishment at the form of a woman, shapeless in great ill-fitting garments too big for her. She was leaning back against the great bare trunk of the old blasted pine and the dog was skulking around her, curiously. Then he hurried towards her, calling out a word of warning to Maigan, who seemed to realize that this was no enemy. And as he came the woman, deathly pale, seemed to look upon him as if he had been some terrifying ghost. She put out her hands, just a little, as if seeking to protect herself from him.

"Are--are you Hugo Ennis?" she faltered.

"That's my name," he said. "Every one knows me around here. What--what can I do for you?"

"My--my name is Madge Nelson," she Stammered. "I--I'm Madge Nelson from--from New York."

"How do you do, Miss Nelson?" he said, quietly, touching his fur cap.

"You--I'm afraid you've had a mighty cold ride. What's happened to Stefan to make him go back? Lost something on the road, has he?"

"I--I'm afraid I'm the only lost thing around here," she said, seeking to hold back the tears that were beginning to well up in her eyes.

"Oh! I think--I think I'm becoming mad!" she suddenly cried out, bitterly. "Is--is that your--your house, the--the residence you spoke of?"

"The--the residence!" he repeated. "And I spoke of it, did I? Well, I suppose that anything with a roof on it is a residence, if you come to that. Yes, that's it, the little shack among the birches, and you'd better come in till Stefan gets back, for it's mighty cold here and--and if you're from New York you're not used to this sort of thing. It's the best I can offer you, but I really never thought it worth talking about. It's the slight improvement on a dog-kennel that we folks have to be contented with, in these parts. Come right in; you look half frozen."

"And--and that is the sort of place you've brought me to?" she cried, her eyes now flas.h.i.+ng at him in anger.

"Well, it seems to me that it's Stefan that brought you," he replied, rather abashed.

"That--that's only a mean quibble," she retorted, hotly. "And--and where's the town--or the village--and the other people, the friends who were to greet me?"

The young man was beginning to feel rather provoked at her questions.

"The nearest settlers are a short mile away,--the Papineaus, very decent French Canadians. Tom Carew's shack you must have pa.s.sed on your way here. The only village, of course, is Carcajou, and that's twelve long miles away. But Mrs. Papineau is a real good old soul, if that's where you expect to stop. A dozen kids about the place but they're jolly little beggars. Her husband's trapping now, I believe, but of course I'll take you up there."

At this she seemed to feel somewhat relieved. It was evident that she was in no great peril. Yet she looked again at his shack, with her lower lip in the bite of her teeth.

"You--you didn't really believe I'd come," she said, her mouth quivering. "You--you were just making fun of me, I see, with--with that residence and--and the ladies who were ready to welcome me. Where are they?"

Ennis was scratching his head, or the cap over it, as he stared again at her. He realized that some amazing, terrible mistake must have been made, as he thought--or that this girl must be the victim of some dreadful misunderstanding, if not of a foul plot. He began to pity her. She looked so weak, so helpless, in spite of the anger she had shown.

"There--there are no ladies," he said, lamely, "except Mrs. Papineau and Mrs. Carew. They're first-rate women, both of 'em. And of course Mrs. Papineau is your only resource till to-morrow, unless Stefan is coming back for you."

"He isn't," she declared. "I said nothing about going back."

"That's awkward," he admitted. "You'll tell me all about this thing later on, won't you, because I might be able to help you out. But you'll be all right for a while, anyway. I'll take you there."

"Please start at once," she cried, desperately. "I--I can't stay here for another instant."

"I can be ready in a very few minutes," he told her, quietly. "But won't you please come over to the shack. I'm sure you're beginning to feel the cold. You--you're s.h.i.+vering and--and I'm afraid you look rather ill."

She had insisted on Stefan's taking back some of the things she had borrowed from his wife, and had been standing there in rather inadequate clothing. Ennis pulled off his heavy mackinaw jacket.

"You must put this on at once," he told her, gently enough, "and come right over there with me."

Madge shrank from him, as if she feared to be touched by him, and yet there was something in the frank way in which he addressed her, perhaps also in the clear and unembarra.s.sed look of his eyes, that was gradually allaying her fears and the fierce repulsion of the first few moments. Finally, chilled as she was to the very marrow of her bones, she consented to accept his offer and submitted to his helping her on with the coat.

"There's a good fire in the shack just now," he told her. "It's absolutely necessary for you to get thoroughly warmed up before you start off again. A cup of hot tea would do you a lot of good, too, after that long ride on Stefan's toboggan. It's no joke of an undertaking for a--a young lady who isn't used to such things."

Madge was still hesitating. The suffering look that had come into her eyes moved the young man to greater pity for her.

"I--I give you my word you have absolutely nothing to fear," he a.s.sured her, whereupon she followed him meekly, feeling very faint now. She half feared that she might have to clutch at his sleeve, if her footsteps failed her, for she felt that at any moment she might stagger and fall. She gasped again as she looked at the shack they were nearing, but, as she beheld the scenery of the great pool, something in it that was very grand and beautiful appealed to her for an instant. Yet she felt crushed by it, as if she had been some infinitesimal insect beside that stupendous cras.h.i.+ng of waters, before the great ledges whose tops were hirsute with gnarled firs and twisted jack-pines. She stopped for a moment, perhaps owing to her weakness, or possibly because of awe at the majesty of the scene.

"I just love it," said the man. "It grows more utterly splendid every time one looks at it. See that ma.s.s of rubbish on the top of that great hemlock. It is the nest of a pair of ospreys. They come every year, I've been told. Last summer I saw them circling high up in the heavens, at times, and they would utter shrill cries as if they had been the guardians of the falls and warned me off. But we had better hurry in, Miss--Miss Nelson."

For an instant she had listened, wondering. This man did not speak like a common toiler of city or country. His manner, somewhat distant, in no way reminded her of the coa.r.s.e familiarity she had often been subjected to in shop and factory. But a moment later such thoughts pa.s.sed off and she followed him, resentfully, feeling that she was to some extent forced to submit to his will. As Ennis pulled the door open and held it for her to walk in, he looked at her keenly. He had suddenly remembered hearing that exposure to intense cold had sometimes actually disturbed the brains of people; that it had brought on some form of insanity. He wondered whether, perhaps, this had been the case with her? It was with greater concern and sympathy that he felt he must treat her. The vagaries of her language, the reproaches she seemed to think he deserved, were doubtless things she was not responsible for. And then she looked so weary, so overcome, so ready to collapse with faintness!

Madge entered the shack. It had been swept, neatly enough, and everything was arranged in orderly fas.h.i.+on, except some loose things piled up in one corner, out of the way. The little stove was glowing, and the draft was purring softly. The girl pulled off her mitts and held her reddened hands to it while Hugo brought her one of his rough chairs. Then, without a word, he placed a kettle on the fire, after which he brought out a white enameled cup and a small pan containing some of his biscuits. After cogitating for a moment he also placed on the table a tin of sardines.

Madge had dropped upon the chair, and began to feel more unutterably weary than ever. The heat, close to the stove, became too great for her and she moved her chair to the table, a couple of feet away, and placed her arms upon it. Her head fell forward on them, and when, a few moments later, Hugo spoke to her and she lifted up her face he was dismayed as he saw the tears that were running down her cheeks. The man could only bite his lips. What consolation or comfort could he proffer? It was perhaps better to appear to take no notice of her distress. But the weeping of genuine suffering and unhappiness is a hard thing for a youth to see. The impulse had come to him to cry out for information, to beg her to explain, to question her, to get at the bottom of all this mystery. He was held from this by the renewed thought that her mind was probably affected. He might further irritate her or cause her still deeper chagrin. Even if he erred in this idea the moment was probably ill-chosen. It would be better for her to tell her tale before others also. He would wait until after he had taken her over to Papineau's. She looked so harmless and weak that the idea that she might prove dangerous never entered his head.

The kettle began to sing and a moment later the water was boiling hard.