Part 5

I backed, and the negro followed, lurching and lunging at me every step. Round the ring we went three times, until I did not know whether the noise in my ears came from the spectators or from the lake outside. The negro’s eyes were two shining slits, and his hideous face wore an expression of stolid satisfaction, as he kept coming upon me, his fists beating and sounding on my bruised arms. He thought he was winning as he liked; I could not stand before him; he had only to break down my hard arms, and then he could smash his fist into my jaw and end the fight. He grinned exultantly when I began to gasp, but I was fooling him. I could breathe as well that way, and I gasped to let him think that I was distressed. I was as fresh as ever, and went back dancing lightly on my toes, every muscle true and elastic. But my opponent was too seasoned a fighter to grow careless. He kept smiting at me, without giving me a chance to smite back. He was exhausting himself, but he imagined, I believe, that I was at least as much spent as himself.

His opportunity came. I trod on the side of my foot, and was almost off my balance. The negro came upon me like a cyclone, and the yells in my ears resembled a February blizzard. There was no avoiding that black thunderbolt, and it seemed to me on an instant that my head might be wrenched from its trunk. A sick feeling stabbed me; my brain spun round like a wheel; every tooth ached violently, and a horrible hand seemed to clutch at and twist my spine. He had reached my jaw. Another half-inch, and I should have gone down, unconscious, perhaps a cripple for life.

The revelry around took voice, and went up with a shout, “The boy’s bested!”

I recovered in time to ward off the following blow and the negro gripped me, but I drew in my breath and escaped, his hands gliding off my well-oiled flesh, and again I ran back, my adversary following to finish me, and we were both breathing furiously.

Then a clear silver voice rang out and came upon my ears, like the note of the wavy telling its promise of spring.

“_Naspich milwashiu! Sakehanou!_”

It was the cry of the Dance of Friendship.

Again I heard the drone and whirr of the drums, the soft wind sighing in the trees. Again I saw the pale moon over the clearing, and the stars looking down, as we excitedly paced the measure round and round the fires of the lodge, our hands aloft, our hearts throbbing, our eyes flashing as they met, exchanging the vow of eternal fellowship. I snorted like a horse when he smells the coming bush fire. I sprang out, feeling a giant’s strength idealised in my body, and closing with the negro, I threw him, while the ground seemed to shake and reel about me. The madness of that strength given by the dance! As he started up I was on him, and beating down his ponderous arms smote him upon the neck, and he fell again with a rattle and a gurgle in his throat. But I could do no more, for when a man comes to his end he must stop.

We were three paces apart, each of us bent, and the negro spat blood into the sand. I could not see Akshelah, but I could guess the look of triumph on her pale, beautiful face, and I could also imagine MacCaskill biting his moustache, his arms twitching, his eyes wet with excitement.

“Get on!” the voices yelled madly, and instinctively I felt that the majority were addressing themselves to me, because I had won their sympathy. My blood trickling into my mouth revived me. I wiped my hands in the sand, and came forward towards the black, palpitating mass of flesh, while the lumbermen shouted, and sweated, and swore, letting loose their passions in the delirium of watching ours.

The negro gathered himself to meet me, and again his huge arms came out. The oily sweat rolled off his body, and his legs staggered under his bulk. I resumed my former tactics of drawing him on, but he saw my design and baulked me. He refused to act any longer upon the offensive. Unless I would have him recover himself, I should have to attack. I came at him, struck, and stepped back; my arms were longer than his. When he hit back, I jumped round to his side, bent when his arm swung round, and hit him on the remnant of his frozen ear. He growled fiercely, the first exclamation he had made, and snatched at me, but I was away, and came with the persistency of a mosquito to his other side, and so continued, until he was unsteady, and his dry tongue sought moisture from his lips.

Suddenly he gave a great groan, and bore down upon me, his arms working like hammers. Round and round he beat me by sheer weight, like a dog-wolf wearing down a jack-rabbit, and the blows came so fast that I could not distinguish one arm from another.

I defended as best I could, knowing this could not last, and once he had almost done me, because my eyes were blinded with blood. Every breath seemed to be giving him pain, and I was gasping in sheer earnest, and my arms were so heavy that I appeared to be holding great weights in my hands.

We were both men who had never known defeat; but this was my first serious encounter, while my opponent had won many a hard fight. There was little advantage either way. I was stronger in wind and steadier, but I was having my weak moments, and I knew that if my enemy should get in one of his smashing blows the fight would be over, and he would have added another to a long list of victories. I could not hit with the power he was able to command, because I had not the weight to throw behind a blow. If his arms resembled the trunks of hard-wood trees, mine might have been compared to wire ropes. He could smash me, but I could not smash him.

When he staggered towards me again, a new thought took possession of my brain. If I could not smash I might break. So I went on dodging his blows, and watched my chance to seize him; but he guessed my plan, and evaded my hands with all the cleverness of his science.

I was failing. I had it in me to make one more effort, but I knew it would have to be the last. My opponent could do little beyond holding me out, and I guessed that he, too, was reserving himself for an opening to expend his last gasp of strength. He could not be sure of placing his feet accurately, and more than once I feared he might fall, holding me, and bearing me to the ground by his sheer weight. I could have dropped gladly and gone to sleep, but the thought of Akshelah steadied me. I was fighting for her. Were I to be defeated, I could never appear in Yellow Sands again.

I closed again with Jake Peterssen, though I was sobbing for breath, and a hot pain pricked each side of my body. He met me, and for a few seconds we fought as strongly as though we had come together for the first time. It was the expiring effort of both of us. We had both everything to lose. He braced himself with another groan, and smashed at me straight and strong. I was just able to get back, and then as he came towards me, following his blow with his weight, he overbalanced, and I caught him at last. I caught his arm, and bending, swung him round, though I seemed to be tearing out my heart, and in the midst of the darkness and pain following that awful effort I heard the sharp sound like the cracking of a pistol shot, and the building shook about me again. I had broken his thick right arm!

He was fight to the death. As the darkness lifted I tottered across the sand, while the universe seemed to be roaring in my ears, and he dragged himself up and staggered upright, and lurched towards me, his left arm half-raised, his eyes shut, his jaw dropping. He could do nothing. He could only stand like an ox before its slayer, and though I was stabbed and racked by every effort to find breath, I was able, by virtue of the strength I now began to realise, to come out and hit him for the last time. Full on his exposed neck came my feeble blow, and he went down again, a great heap of black flesh, and lay nearly doubled, motionless, insensible, while the twenty-five seconds were counted out by yells and oaths.

By a final effort I got the mastery over my legs, and stood upright, swaying to and fro, and groping, until the arms of MacCaskill closed in exhilaration about me, and the sweetness of the knowledge of victory breathed into my body the breath of new life.

Out of the revelry about me it dawned upon my understanding that I had won the freedom of the Camp of Gull.

THE OLD STONE RUIN OF THE BUSH

The saloon of the Tecumseh House was doing a heavy business that night, after the noisy supper-hour. I was taken in there, almost by force, to drink with the crowd, and presently the loose shape of Father Lacombe loomed large and black, and went by without stopping, but his eyes cast upon me a glance I could not analyse. One of the lumberers addressed him, and a laugh went up.

“Says he don’t want to git hit be ye!” called the big man, loosening his belt. “Might spoil his priestin’ quite a while.”

After the rest and some food I was myself again. Akshelah kept near me quietly, having done sufficient mischief for one day; but when we three were alone I tried to scold her for having followed us, only to give way when she began to cry. MacCaskill was more hard-hearted.

“Allowin’ you’ve had a hard time, you’ve done a silly trick, anyhow. You’ve done your worst to have young Rupe spoilt and our plans busted.”

“I was lonely,” said the girl defiantly. “And I was unhappy.”

“We all get dolesome,” said the old philosopher, “but we don’t want to kick against it. The trouble is you got it inter your head to come along to Gull, where you mighter known the boy would be called on to fight for ye--”

“I did not know,” began the poor girl, her eyes shining with tears.

“You’ve got your learning now. I guess you’d best set quiet and chew it. Who came along with you?”

“I came by myself,” said Akshelah proudly. “I left my canoe where Kinokumisse touches the white sand.”

“You did the portage from Waterhen on foot?”

“Yes,” said Akshelah, as though it were nothing for a young girl to half-run fifty-seven miles.

“To-morrow you’ve got to get right back again.”

“No,” cried Akshelah, “I will not go, unless you come back to the camp with me!”

“Him, you mean. You don’t give a darn about me.”

Akshelah was honesty itself.

“Yes, I mean him. I came to find him, because we promised to help one another; and if he will not have me I shall go home. But I shall not go to my people. I shall give myself to Muchumeneto at the end of Kinokumisse.”

I knew that this threat of drowning herself was no idle one, so I endeavoured to conciliate the wilful maiden.

“You will go back if I tell you.” I intended my voice to be stern. “We cannot take you with us.”

“I will not. I shall be lonely, and grow old, and you will never come again. I am coming to mend for you, and I will cook your meat, and nurse you if you are sick, and sometimes I shall sing to you; and when you are unhappy I will tell you the story of the little one who conquered the great beast that the Creator was afraid of, and then you will be glad again. I will be like the wind, and you cannot stop the wind from following.”

“Gals are all the same,” said the factor morosely. “I mind Maimie. Tell her to do a thing she didn’t want, and she’d look up and start to cry, and I’d weaken and climb down. You bested Jake Peterssen, Rupe, but you won’t best her.”

“Come here, little squirrel,” was all I said, and Akshelah came like a sunbeam and sat beside me, while the factor grunted and chopped tobacco.

The owner of the house put his head in suddenly.

“Say! there’s a feller wants to see you, Petrie. Got a message for you, and he don’t want er stop. He’s standin’ outside.”

I got up and whispered with MacCaskill.

“Don’t leave the crowd, and you’re safe ’gainst all tricks,” he said.

I went down at once, came to the doorway, and, awaiting me there in the dim light, I found that wicked, white-faced little man, Olaffson, the Icelander.

Naturally, I began to accuse him, but he stopped me by pushing a note into my hand.

“I’ve broke with Redpath,” he said. “That’ll show ye where he is. He’s away from here, an’ left me without a cent.”

I was in a dilemma. I could only read well enough to make out a few words of print, and this scrawl was something beyond me. I handed it back, declaring that it was too dark to see, and at the same time expressing my disbelief in its genuineness.

“All right,” said the Icelander, “I ain’t your friend. I told you that before. Now Redpath’s quit me. See here!”

It was a plan which he held up in the dim light--a plan of water, rocks, and hills. He lowered it quickly, with a grin upon his white face.

“Going to let me join you?” he suggested. “If you don’t move this time, I’ve got a few pards around Gull, and they’ll jump fast enough, and pool their savings.”

I kept my wits about me.

“You won’t catch me with bluff,” I said, for the plan was a different one from that hidden even then in my pocket.

“Mine ain’t a bad copy,” said the Icelander. “I was mindin’ your clothes, you see, when you was scrappin’ wi’ Jake Peterssen; but I ain’t a big man, an’ your pard never saw me at work. You won’t make an offer, eh? I’ve treated you fair. Solong!”

He stepped back from the door, while I tried to think coolly over what he had told me.

“Come up and see MacCaskill!” I called in conciliatory fashion; but the little man replied:

“Two to one in a room ain’t healthy. I’ve got what I want. See you later, maybe.”

He moved back into the rain and the darkness, and I had never a doubt but that he was taking with him the knowledge of my father’s secret. I had only to follow and bring him back, and accuse him of burning down my home. My recently acquired popularity would ensure his conviction; and the little scoundrel deserved hanging.

I ran out, and when Olaffson saw that he was being pursued he took to his heels like a coward, and made for the neck of shingle leading to the mainland. In spite of my recent struggle, I soon began to gain on him. We had drawn away from the shelters, and there was not a soul in sight, while the rain lashed continually.

Coming to a great rock, the Icelander stopped short and dodged round it. I followed, sure of having him; but as I was about to make the turn, a shock came upon me out of the darkness, and before I could recover I was caught from behind, a sack went over my head, and I was borne to the shingle, with the bitter knowledge that I had been tricked, and that Olaffson had been used as a bait to draw me away from the settlement.

I had to abandon the struggle, for there were certainly three men against me. My arms and legs were strapped; a hand sought for and found the plan, and I heard the splutterings of a match, and knew that the paper was being burnt. After a terrible interval I heard the tramp of a heavy beast, followed by the deep snorting of a pack-ox. I was dragged up, and seated upon this beast, one ankle was joined to the other underneath its body, and the ox was started, and tramped on, as it seemed, for hours, until I knew we were well away in the forest, because the ground was hard, and there was no more rain. The ox was prodded constantly, but my captors only spoke in deep whispers, which did not reveal their identity. Olaffson I knew, and Redpath I knew; but who was the third?

I was cold, racked, and half-dead when the beast stopped. I was taken down, too helpless to stand, and carried through scrub and long grass. I was dragged up a wall, and let down upon soft, dry ground. Finally my legs were released, the sack round my body unfastened, and I was abandoned, but so utterly exhausted that I fell at once into a dead sleep, indifferent as to what ill-use might be in store for me.

When I awoke, the first thing that startled me was the utter silence which told me of my isolation. I worked my head and shoulders clear of the sack, and got upon my feet with many a twinge of pain and stiffness. My back was one huge bruise, and my bandaged head throbbed fearfully.

Between a few lengths of lumber, placed above a small aperture in the corner, came the sunlight to laugh at me. This hole was quite three feet above my head. The walls were great blocks of solid masonry, and I wondered at them, because I had never before seen any building which had not been built of wood. I did all I knew to free my wrists, drawing in my breath, dragging, pulling, wearing the straps upon the rough wall; but my pinioners had made no mistake, and I was not the strong man I had been yesterday. Anyhow, a man is a poor creature when his arms are tied behind him.

After a time--how long an interval I do not know, because I think I must have slept again--the silence became broken, the lumber was pulled away, and strong light emptied itself into my prison, making me start and wince, and my eyes run. This new light was again obscured as a big figure let itself through the hole, and descended by means of a rope-ladder, which did not quite reach the ground. My eyes cleared, and I saw under the light the great body and flabby face of the adventurer Redpath.

With one hand clutching the rope, he nodded at me in an altogether friendly fashion, and began at once:

“Good morning, Petrie. Pardon me for intruding upon your privacy; but you may possibly remember that you were not--er--over-courteous to me upon the occasion of our last meeting.” He put out his hand quickly. “I do not wish to recall an unpleasant incident. I have always been a man of forgiving nature, but I will, nevertheless, ask you to place your own small discourtesy against any apparent indiscretion I may now be guilty of.”

He spoke in the easy, well-trained voice of the educated gentleman. He waited, but when I did not speak, he went on:

“I trust you slept well. You must really have been exhausted after that fight. Allow me to congratulate you upon your well-earned victory. Your exhibition of science and strength was an education. The little affairs at a certain London Club which I once attended were quite fifth-rate performances in comparison.”

My tongue was loosened at that, and surprise conquered everything.

“You were watching?”

“And most profoundly interested,” said the adventurer, with soft emphasis. “I was so fortunate as to secure an extremely favourable position from which to view the spectacle. Your blows were perfect models for any--er--prize-fighter to imitate. Concerning their power and their accuracy, this unfortunate mark upon my own forehead furnishes ample testimony. You do not see it? Ah, the light down here is somewhat bewildering. By the way, you must have been wondering how these stone buildings ever came to be here. Perhaps you are interested in archæology? These stone remains take us, I assume, very far back into the past, and I fancy you and I are the first men of culture to light upon them. I should say, from a distinctly elementary knowledge of paleontology, that they were originally erected by fire-worshippers; but as your local knowledge is possibly extensive, I am quite prepared to defer to your opinion.”

He pulled out a cigar, standing before me, and went on smoothly:

“You reserve your judgment? Well, I believe you are wise. These ruins happen to be here, and they serve the sufficiently useful purpose of affording you with shelter, and there can be no conceivable advantage to either of us from determining what people or age saw them spring up. I hope the rain did not come through last night. The roof seems solid enough. Will you smoke? Ah, excuse me! I had not noticed that your arms are temporarily unavailable.”

His manner stunned me. I wanted to shout at him, to curse him, and threaten him, but I was frozen and unmanned by his cynicism, and all I did say was merely, “What do you want with me?”

He seemed surprised.

“I am, like you, my dear Petrie, most desperately dull, and it occurred to me that it would be pleasant to drop in for a chat. There are absolutely no gentlemen in this God-forsaken country. Besides, your father and I were very intimate friends, before he went wrong. I remember your birth well; indeed it was only a slight difference with your father which prevented me from becoming your godparent. You were a fine child, yes, a distinctly fine child, but I remember you would never let me nurse you. In fact, you always showed a remarkable aversion for me.”

His flabby face shook with laughter as he fumbled for a match.

That woke me up, and I said deliberately:

“I guess you’ve got me, Mr. Redpath. You took me foul last night, and you brought me here for your own ends. What’s going to happen to me now, only you and Olaffson know; but unless you covered your tracks well through the forest you’ve done a bad piece of work--”

“My dear fellow,” interrupted the adventurer, “really you must not suggest such things. It is not my fault if I happen to be entirely dominated by that vile little brute Olaffson. It is a disgusting confession for an Englishman to make, but it is none the less a fact. That Icelander does what he likes with me. He twists me round and round his little finger. He insisted on bringing you here, and for my life I dared not cross him. Of course, you find it tedious here,” he went on, relapsing into his former mood; “and it must be decidedly annoying having your arms tied--tightly, if I mistake not? Should you be leaving this place I must, as a friend, warn you against Olaffson. He is a dangerous man, and what is worse, an utterly unscrupulous man.”

“Are you two going to starve me?” I said.

“My dear Petrie, you are indeed in a morbid mood!” was the answer I received.

In my sheer impotence I could have thrown myself against the stone wall. My anger ran away with my prudence at last, and I swore at the man, and cursed him, daring him to approach me, pinioned though I was. He looked really disturbed, and when I had done, for lack of strength, continued softly:

“Too bad, Petrie! That excitement yesterday was too much for you. I fear you suffer from fighting on the brain. But why speak of fighting with me? My dear man, if you and I met in a little friendly bout I am sure I should be unrecognisable to my friends in less than two minutes. But since you have introduced the subject, what is your opinion of this compact little protector?” He pulled a little plated revolver from his hip pocket, and extended it towards me smilingly. “I bought it in Winnipeg as I came through. It is said to be the best, as well as the latest, thing in quick-firing. I carry it loaded, of course, though I understand I am breaking the law of the country by doing so; but I am sure you would be the last to condemn my action, because you know what rascals there are about this land--it contains the scum of the earth, Petrie, I do assure you. Then, you see, I am elderly and weak, and almost as nervous as any old woman.”

He finished this speech with a deprecatory smile, and returned the weapon to its accustomed place in a dexterous fashion, as though well accustomed to the use of it.

“I guess you’re going?” I said, keeping down my madness by a great effort.

“Well, I suppose so. These partings are included among the petty troubles of living. Ah, Petrie, if I were you! Lucky man! young and strong, with all your life ahead. Look at me, old and poor, though, by Gad! it seems only a year ago that I was sent down from Oxford for defying the dons, as they termed it, in their injustice. Well, good-bye, my boy. Take care always to steer clear of Olaffson. By the way, I’m thinking of crossing the lake to hunt for gold.”

He stood in the light, looking down at me slowly.

I could not answer him--I could not! I had no learning and no wit to make reply to this calm, cynical gentleman, who had come merely to enjoy the sight of my degradation. He stepped upon the rope-ladder, pushed himself out, the smoke of his cigar lingering; but before replacing the lumber, his loose face appeared again, and he said: