CHAPTER VII

AN INCIDENT

The sun had almost reached the tree line along the horizon, when the Factor, accompanied by Justin, left the fort and switched off to the trail which led to the bigamist Que-dane's shack. McAuliffe was in splendid spirits, for the prospect of a tough wrestling bout--the stalwart half-breed was unlikely to obey command without persuasion--suited him to the finger tips. He could use thews and muscles to good advantage, even though the eye and hand steadily refused to work together whenever there was any shooting to be done. By his side trotted Justin, dog-like, his jaws working as usual, and a secret satisfaction lurking at his heart. For, an hour or so earlier, he had forcibly ejected Peter Denton from the riverside hut. The Icelander's condition on his return had inspired suspicion, and upon questioning, he discovered who was the guilty cause of the man's prostration. Thereupon he had furnished himself with a cudgel and bestowed attention upon the ex-minister, who, with his unfailing discretion in time of danger, had promptly evacuated his former position, and wandered forth to seek other shelter.

Justin had sufficiently trespassed upon taciturnity to jerk forth this incident for the benefit of the Factor, who but expressed sorrow that Denton had escaped the 'pounding' he was legally entitled to. 'I'd have gone to work and kneaded him up if I'd been around,' he said, then inquired who was tending the sick man.

'Rosalie--she look after him.' This lady was wife to a friendly Indian, who could be trusted.

They proceeded for some time in silence. Strangely enough it was Justin who re-opened conversation with the question, 'You going to fight Que-dane?'

'Bet your life,' returned McAuliffe, promptly. 'Going to give him a first-class hiding. You'll see some fun, boy.'

A feeble interest spread over the other's dusky countenance. A light crept into his small eyes. 'He great big man, and strong. No man beat him yet.'

The Factor laughed loudly. 'Don't trouble about that, boy. Tell you I shall knock the spots off him in short order. He's never had a fellow around him who could wrestle before.'

'What you beat him with?'

'Goldam. I never thought of that.' He stopped in the centre of the rough trail and scratched the thick hair at the back of his head for inspiration.

'Say, boy, who lives in the shack yonder?'

'Old wife--by herself.'

'That's good. Hustle over there; scare the old woman into lending you her axe. If she don't want, I'll forgive you if you steal it.'

The half-breed was very nearly astonished. 'Surely,' he exclaimed, 'you not going to kill the man with the axe?'

'My racket, boy. You hump along and fetch it.'

Justin obeyed, and presently returned with the implement, followed at a distance by the inquisitive old wife herself. He came upon his master standing in a thicket of young oaks, which had sprung up in a small fire clearing. The Factor grabbed at the axe and severed three saplings at the roots, then rapidly trimmed them down to a four foot length. This accomplished, he took each stick--they were about three inches in diameter--placed his big foot on the large end, and twisted violently, until they were like ropes. Then he grimly handed them to Justin, the two continued their journey, and later halted before the closed tent of Que-dane, bigamist and robber.

McAuliffe pulled aside the hanging flap, and immediately came upon his quarry within. Indeed, he had taken him red-handed, for the half-breed was seated on the ground in the centre, between his two wives, clothed in nothing more pretentious than a small breech-clout. He had just been oiling his body. The limbs shone like dull copper, emitting an odour evidently not displeasing to a waving cloud of mosquitoes, which hovered around and filled the hot tent with their thin note of defiance.

The malefactor, who was not entirely surprised at the visit, stared heavily at the Factor, while the two wives followed his example. The stolen one appeared perfectly contented with her wrongful owner; the lawful wife seemed to be untroubled by any qualm of jealousy; but McAuliffe had no compunction about destroying the peace of this domestic circle.

'Guess I've caught you all right,' he said, with unction.

Que-dane had no doubt whatever, and began to look a little troubled. He feared the Factor more than any man in the district. So he merely made an awkward movement nearer his legal wife, and discreetly remained mute.

'Come out of it now,' continued the visitor; 'I'm going to talk to you.'

The half-breed did not appear anxious for the conversation, so he added deafness to other defects, and refused to budge.

The Factor frowned capaciously. 'Well, come out you' he ordered, apostrophising the wives, who obeyed with alacrity.

Then McAuliffe rolled up his shirt sleeves--coat he had none--and continued, 'If you won't come when you're called, darned if I won't have to make you.'

He sprang inside the tent, and, knowing the advantage of getting 'first hands,' closed upon Que-dane as he rose from the ground to repel the assailant.

But McAuliffe quickly discovered that he was not to down his opponent at a first onslaught. The half-breed was chiefly himself, and the well-oiled flesh was as difficult to clutch as an eel's body. There was no purchase for the hands, which glided and slipped along the greasy surface in ineffectual fashion. Having the advantage of first catch, the Factor succeeded with his great strength on forcing Que-dane to his knees. But here the profit ended, for the other, with cool deliberation, dived at his opponent's ankles, bringing him down heavily, to the stolid perturbation of Justin, who began to reflect whether, after all, his master would emerge from the struggle with untarnished reputation.

But the Factor, as he himself would have expressed it, was 'wonderful tough.' In spite of years and bulk, the sturdy old northerner received no material damage from his fall, for he was up again in a breath, as full of energy as before.

After more dodging around the narrow space, McAuliffe came in again, this time getting two arms, like a couple of iron bands, round the greasy body of his antagonist. They linked behind, while the pressure soon became sufficient to remind the half-breed that breathing was a chief necessity for existence. So he replied by hurling himself forward with careless violence, succeeding by this manoeuvre in breaking the Factor's grip.

A fresh struggle for supremacy was long and fierce. Que-dane's naked flesh was marked with scarlet lines and patches, where catching fingers had dug in vain; McAuliffe's face glowed with sweat and oil drippings from the half-breed's body. Still they fought and swayed across the narrow space, while the evening shadows began to creep along the ground, and mosquitoes blinded their eyesight.

The round ended abruptly and disastrously for the Factor. He was thrown with considerable force. His body was pressed firmly against the caked mud floor, held down by Que-dane's lubricated limbs. The right arm was free, but bent beneath his body. The position was serious. 'Wouldn't surprise me to hear I was fixed,' he muttered to himself. 'Darn it, every _nitchi_ in the place will start to kick me if I am.'

The two squaws were watching the contest, without displaying the smallest show of interest. Justin had been hovering round the writhing figures, continually expectorating in firework fashion. Now he presented the hammer side of the axe, with a suggestion that he should with it gently tap the victor's skull.

'Git away, boy,' shouted McAuliffe, suddenly. 'Gold am! haven't been trying yet.'

He saw his opportunity. As he finished speech, the tent shook with a convulsive effort. This was followed by a furious howl of disappointed rage--the first sound Que-dane had given utterance to.

Skill had come to the front with valour beaten. The half-breed's hair, which was long and thick, had been plaited by the hands of an obedient wife into a single tail, which fell in a straight black line down his back. When Justin approached with his axe and suggestion, Que-dane half turned, apprehensive of attack from behind. Then McAuliffe made his effort. He forced his body slightly above ground, freed the right arm, then, before the half-breed could turn again upon him, seized the pigtail in his great fingers. With a rapid motion he wound it round the owner's neck, and, with a fresh effort, brought him prisoner to the ground at his side. The next second they rolled over once more, then the Factor assumed the more comfortable position. He knelt upon the captive's chest, and triumphantly called to Justin for one of the oak saplings.

'Told you so, boy. I was only fooling first part. Tell you, it's no trick at all to diddle this chap.'

With deep-throated chuckles, Justin selected one of the twisted sticks and handed it over, while the wives gravely seated themselves to watch further proceedings. These were interesting chiefly to Que-dane, for the Factor at once commenced to bring the stinging fibres across his naked flesh with measured strokes of a muscular right arm. While administering justice, he lectured. 'This'll teach you. It'll be a kind of hint for you not to monkey around after other fellows' wives. Do you catch on, Que-dane?'

The half-breed struggled furiously, howled fiercely, and poured imprecations upon the head of the chastiser. But he could not release himself, and the Factor flogged on, until the tough sapling flew to pieces in his hand.

The wives began to chatter and laugh widely, when the fragments were discarded, and Justin imperturbably handed over the second torturing implement. This was a spectacle of delight not presented to the eyes every day.

Dull reverberations echoed out into the still solemnity of the evening. Indeed, the flagellation was continued with such unfailing energy that even Justin gave an exclamation of dismay.

'Surely I you kill the boy.'

'It'll do him good,' panted McAuliffe. 'Goldam! it'll show him I'm going to be boss around here.'

'See! he jump like a frog,' said the half-breed, more interested than merciful.

'He'll jump like a derned locust before I'm through with him. Pass over t'other stick, boy. This one's getting sort of used up.'

Justin obeyed, but wagged his head. 'You kill him. He not jump any more. He lie quiet now.'

It was as he said. Que-dane had ceased struggling and profaning. Now he lay along the ground, limp and motionless.

'He's right enough. Only shamming a bit.' Then he ceased his muscular exercise, and bent over the prostrate figure. 'See, here, Que-dane, are you going around wife stealing again?'

There was no answer nor motion, while Justin shook his head again.

'You're right, boy. I've chloroformed him, so he's missed the lecture I was going to let him have. It'll be a wonderful good lesson, I reckon.'

'You beat too hard,' said Justin, bending over the bruised body, and touching the injuries with dark, deft fingers.

McAuliffe stretched his limbs luxuriously. 'Pshaw! don't trouble about that, boy. You get to work and take the woman back to her husband. Tell him he's got me to thank for seeing her again. I'm going down to the river to wash some of this dirt and oil off my hide. Give me the axe; I'll leave it with the old wife as I come along.'

Justin gave a grunt of compliance, then walked over to the rescued woman and pulled her up by the arm. Accustomed to obedience she followed him, but whether she was anxious to return, or willing to stay, did not appear. None could have told. Such a thought, likely enough, did not trouble her own brain.

The two disappeared along the forest trail as the moon came up over the ledges. McAuliffe prepared to descend to the river, but first he paid attention to the half-breed's lawful wife.

'There's a job for you,' he said, looking over the bowl of his pipe, and raising a sulphur match, which spluttered with blue light in the darkness. 'Guess 'bout best thing it can do, is to look after what's left of your darned thief of a husband.'