The Wilderness Trail Part 5

Whatever might be the blackness hidden in his heart, the half-breed's outer seeming was one to command respect... In quick appreciation of the truth, Donald was constrained to admit that his own conduct thus far had not been of a sort to match the courtesy of his jailer.

"What do you want to say to me about myself?" he questioned, finally; his voice came milder than hitherto.

Seguis answered immediately, with directness.

"After an hour in council, I come here, delegated by the brotherhood, to make you a proposition." His gaze met that of his prisoner fairly, as he continued: "The Hudson Bay Company is a hard master, as you know very well. It expects more, and gives less, than any other organization in the world. If it's hard to us, then it's also hard to you. After your years with the Company, do you think you've achieved the position you deserve? Certainly not! We're all agreed on that." The half-breed appeared to hesitate for a moment, then threw back his head proudly, in a gesture of resolve, and continued with a new emphasis in his words.

"Can't you see that your superior, the factor at Fort Severn, hates you bitterly? I, myself--I've seen things there. Last summer, I was at the fort, you remember. I was there all the time you were.

I watched you--and Miss Jean--"

"Stop!" Donald interrupted, furiously... He fought back his rage as best he might, and went on less violently. "Now, no more of this beating about the bush. Just say what you have to say, and begone!"

Seguis remained wholly undisturbed by the outburst. At once, he went on speaking, imperturbably:

"I was about to state," he said evenly, "that I have noticed the factor's expression behind your back, and I want to warn you against him. He's your superior, you know, Captain McTavish. Well, then, how can you expect to rise in the Company, when he's your enemy?"

He paused, waiting for a reply.

Again, Donald experienced a sensation that was akin to dismay. He had not expected such perspicacity on the part of one whom he had contemptuously esteemed as merely a savage. Moreover, in addition to his indignant confusion over the introduction of Jean's name into the conversation, there was something vastly disturbing to him in realization of the fact that his own belief of hostility on the part of the factor was thus proven by the observation of the half-breed. To hide his disconcertment, the young man ignored the question of Seguis, and spoke sharply:

"Get to the point--if there is one!"

"The point's this," came the instant reply, uttered with a slight show of asperity; "that we, the Brotherhood of Free-Traders, offer you a position with us--at our head, if you'll take it. In other words, I'll step down to second place--if you'll step up to first."

Donald stared at the speaker in amazement that any one should dare in such fas.h.i.+on to suggest the possibility of his turning traitor.

Seguis, however, endured his angry scrutiny without any lessening of the tranquillity that had characterized him throughout the interview. So, since silent rebuke failed completely, the Hudson Bay official was driven to verbal expression of his resentment.

"What cause have I ever given for you to believe that I was anything but loyal to the Company?" he demanded, harshly.

"None," Seguis admitted.

"If I've given no cause for such an idea," Donald went on, fiercely, "what reason have you to come here and insult me with such a proposition as you've just offered?"

In his shame over a proposal that in itself contained an accusation of disloyalty, the young man had thought only for himself. He gave no heed to the significance of the suggested plan in its bearing on the one who offered it. He failed altogether to appreciate the sacrifice that Charley Seguis stood ready to make. The half-breed was, in fact, as he had just declared, at the head of the organization that called itself the Brotherhood of Free-Traders. Now, from his own announcement, he was prepared to withdraw from the chief place, in order to make room for Captain McTavish. It might well be believed that the man had gratified his life's ambition in attaining such eminence among his fellow foes of the Company, yet he was willing to renounce his authority in favor of one whom he deemed worthy to supersede him. Here, surely, was a course of action that had no origin in selfishness, but sprang rather from some ideal of duty, rudely shaped, perhaps, but vital in its influence... Yet, to all this, Donald gave no concern just now, even though at his question Seguis shrank as if from a physical blow.

Then, the half-breed straightened to the full of his height, and spoke with coldness in which was a hint of scorn under unjust accusation.

"I come to you, a prisoner and a burden on us," he said, bitterly.

"I come with courteous words, and, in return, I get insults. In spite of your att.i.tude, I'll give you another chance for your life... Will you come into the brotherhood as its leader?"

The threatening phrase in the other's words had caught and held Donald's attention with sinister intentness.

"What do you mean?" he demanded. "A chance for my life?"

The explanation was prompt, unequivocal.

"I mean that, if you don't accept this offer, your life isn't worth--that!" With the word, Seguis snapped under his heel a twig from the little fire. "Either you stay with us, and know everything--or you go from us, to die with the secret!" The voice was monotonous in its emotionless calm, but it was inexorable.

At the saying, a chill of fear fell on Donald, a fear formless at the first; then, swiftly, taking malignant, fatal shape. Out of memory leaped tales of terror, unbelieved, yet hideous. Now was born a new credulity, begotten of dread. His face whitened a little, and his eyes widened as he regarded the half-breed with growing alarm. His voice quavered, despite his will, when he put the question that was tormenting him:

"You don't mean that you'd send me on the--on the Death Trail?"

he cried, aghast. The enormity of the peril swept over him in a flood, set him a-tremble. Though he questioned so wildly, he knew the truth, and the awfulness of it put his manhood in revolt, made him coward for the moment. The Death Trail! ... He had not been prepared for that. To back against the wall, and fight to the end like a trapped animal were one thing--a thing for which he had been prepared... But, the Death Trail--!

Suddenly, with the incongruity that is frequent in a highly wrought mind, his memory slipped back through the years to the time when first he heard of this half-mythical thing, which was called the Death Trail. He had run away from his nurse in Victoria Square, in Montreal, and, after his recapture, the girl had threatened him with the Death Trail as a punishment, should he ever repeat his offense. That night, he had questioned his father, the commissioner of the Company, as to this fearsome thing... And the commissioner had merely laughed, unconcernedly.

"Oh, that, my boy!" he had exclaimed. "Why, that's an exploded yarn. Some people say the Company sent free-traders to their deaths that way. But who knows? Who can tell? I can't."

Then, the father had added some description as to the nature of this rumored Death Trail: how a man with a knife, but no gun; snowshoes, but no dogs; and not even a compa.s.s, was turned loose in the forest with a few days' food on his back, and told to save himself--how he wandered, starving and weakened day by day, until the terrible cold snuffed out his life, or he was pulled down by a roving wolf-pack.

And it was this fate that faced Donald now... The words of the half-breed in answer to his question confirmed the dread suspicion.

"So the council has decided," came the quiet statement, in reply to the prisoner's startled question. "We can't kill you outright.

To do that would be more than flesh and blood--even Indian flesh and blood--could stand in your case, Captain McTavish. You've been our friend for three years. You have never harmed us. We've traded with you peaceably. But we can't keep you, and we can't let you return with our secret. All that's left is the Death Trail. It's the only way out for us... It has been decided on."

"No--oh, no!" Donald cried imploringly, suddenly impa.s.sioned by the stark horror of this thing that stared at him out of the darkness. "No, I beg of you. Anything but that! Tell off a squad; take me out, and shoot me... Or, better yet, let me fight for my life, somehow!"

Seguis shook his head in denial. There was commiseration in his steady glance, but there was no suggestion of yielding in his voice as he answered.

"For our own sakes, we can't," he explained concisely. "Any of those things would bring us to the gallows, and we can't afford that."

"Why should you care?" Donald retorted vindictively, with futile fierceness. "You're going to swing anyway, as soon as another man can get on your trail." He spoke with all the viciousness he could contrive, hoping by insults to arouse the fury of the half-breed, and thus provoke the fight for he longed.

But the keen mind of Seguis detected instantly the ruse, and he merely smiled by way of answer, a smile that was half-pitiful, half-mocking.

"You might try suicide," he suggested, with an intent of kindness.

"That way would spare the feelings of us all."

It was Donald's turn to shake his head in refusal now. As yet, such an action on his part appeared impossible to him. The love of life was too strong to permit the conceivability of such a choice. He was too much the fighter to confess defeat, and so lay down his life voluntarily. The McTavishes were not in the habit of giving up any struggle before it was fairly begun... But the antagonism aroused in him by the suggestion steadied his nerves, restored him to some measure at least of his usual self-control.

"When do I go?" he asked. Face to face with the inevitable, a desolate calm fell upon him.

"To-morrow morning," Seguis replied, stolidly. Then, abruptly, the half-breed's manner softened, and he spoke in a different tone.

"We're all disappointed, Captain McTavish, that you won't join us.

We've been hoping for that--not for your death. And, perhaps, you don't quite understand, after all. We're starting this brotherhood honorably, with no malice toward any man. There's still hope for you, if you'll give your oath not to divulge what you've learned here, and not to follow me in this Cree Johnny affair. If you'll do that, we'll give you your belongings, and set you on your way, and--"

Donald held up his hand, with a gesture of finality.

"You know I can't do that," he said, drearily. "Don't make it any harder for me. I understand your position now, in a way, and I suppose I'll have to take my medicine. But let me warn you." His tones grew menacing. "If I get out of this alive, though the chance that I shall isn't one in a thousand, you will pay the penalty for your crime."

The half-breed showed no trace of disturbance before the threat, but moved away toward the door.

"I'll take the risk of that," he said quietly; and he went out of the room.

Left to himself, Donald fell a prey to melancholy brooding for a few brief moments, then resolutely cast the mood off his spirit.

He was little given to morbid reflections. Men whose lives are daily liable to forfeit rarely are. It was characteristic of him that, in this supreme hour of peril, his chief distress was over the injury wrought on the Company he served, for which he was about to lay down his life. If only he might send warning! If only, even in his last minutes of life, he might meet a friendly trapper, tell the great news, and send a messenger speeding north to Fort Severn, or east to Fort d.i.c.key! That much accomplished, he could resign himself to die. ... Such the loyalty and devotion that this grim, silent, far-reaching thing, the Company, breeds in its servants!

Of a sudden, another thought brought new bitterness to his soul, for, despite all the masterfulness of his loyalty to the Company, he was yet a man and a lover with a heart br.i.m.m.i.n.g over fondness for the one woman. Now, it came to him that, were he indeed to die somewhere out there in the wilderness, starved, frozen, alone, Jean would never know how his last act had been in the faithful following of her command. No, she could never know the truth concerning his fate. There was poignant torment in the thought. It might be months, years even, before his bleached, unrecognizable skeleton would be found somewhere in the remotest waste, with the bones of a wolf or two beside it, to indicate his desperate last stand.

With difficulty, McTavish shook off the evil thoughts that preyed upon him, and stretched his blankets and robes on the hard earth.

Then, he cast more wood on his fire, and wrapped himself snugly, covering his head completely, Indian fas.h.i.+on, to prevent his face from freezing.