Chapter 6

With that the guests were forthwith yielded up to discussion, while the whole circle stared at them as if they were vegetables. In especial, the children sitting across the fire, transfixed them with eyes, under each mop of raven hair, as hard, bright and unwinking as the eyes of little birds of prey. Young Pake sat at the right hand of the principal man--a personage in frayed overalls and cotton shirt, with a scarlet handkerchief about his temples--and called attention to the points of the two _moon-i-yas_ like their showman. After all the elders had partaken of tea, somebody recollected to thrust the battered pot at Garth and Natalie, with two more than doubtful tin cups. They declined to partake.

Garth was fuming. "Let's get out," he whispered.

"Just a minute," Natalie begged, with bright eyes. "Never mind their manners. It's all so strange and different!"

Presently the preparations for retiring, which their arrival had probably interrupted, were resumed. Hideously dirty and torn comforters with protruding cotton filling, were spread on the ground; and individuals began to roll up, feet to the fire. A woman indicated a place for Garth and Natalie, side by side. When her meaning became clear, they elaborately avoided each other's eyes, and Natalie beat a hasty retreat outside. She never again expressed a wish to enter a tepee. Garth, blushing to the roots of his hair, explained that they preferred to sleep outside. The breeds let them go, with a shrug for the queer ways of the _moon-i-yas_.

Garth pitched the little tent he had for Natalie under the pine trees at a short distance, and spread her bed on balsam boughs inside, with tender hands. Natalie had suddenly half collapsed like a sleepy child. She disappeared with a murmured good night, and was heard of no more until morning. Garth spread his own bed under the stars, athwart the door of the tent. He remembered, before turning in, that they lacked water, and returned to the tepee to ask where it was to be procured. As he entered the second time, his attention was arrested by the sound of Mary Co-que-wasa's name on Pake's lips.

"Who is Mary Co-que-wasa?" he asked, recollecting his previous uneasiness.

It appeared they could understand English well enough when they had a mind to. The women visibly bridled, as women white or red will do, when an erring ewe of the flock is mentioned in company.

"Mary Co-que-wasa--one--bad--woman," said one, with the toneless enunciation of a parrot.

Another volunteered further information in Cree, in which the names of Mary and Nick Grylls were coupled.

"What's that?" demanded the startled Garth.

"Mary Co-que-wasa--Nick Grylls's--woman," said his first informant.

That was all he could get out of them. It did not conduce to the ease of his first bed in the wilderness.

* * * * *

In the morning Natalie issued forth radiant; and Garth marvelled afresh at the vision of urban perfection she made in the wilderness. He was blowing the fire at the time; a typical tenderfoot's fire, all tinder and no fuel, at which the breeds grinned askance. He soon learned better. The breeds haunted their camp, enjoying their struggles with that superior, insulting grin. Natalie, rolling up her sleeves, announced her intention of cooking the breakfast, while Garth struck camp. She who had never cooked under the best of conditions, had a sad time of it balancing a frying pan on a fire of twigs, and keeping the water in the pot long enough for it to come to a boil. They were sad-looking lumps of bacon that she offered Garth, burnt withal, and she gravely informed him there was a small slice of her thumb cooked up with it. The cocoa, too, which obstinately refused to dissolve in a cold element, was watery and full of lumps; however they still had civilized bread and butter; and Garth would have eaten Paris green with gusto, if offered with the same appealing smile.

Afterward an ancient box wagon came rattling up, drawn by two champing cayuses, guided by Pake, the "wise guy" of the bush. The duffle was thrown in; Pake and one of his brethren coolly preëmpted the box, allowing Garth and Natalie to dispose themselves as they chose among the freight; and they set off at a smart pace across the gloriously sunny meadow.

It was rough enough in all conscience; and in spite of every effort to brace themselves in the body of the wagon, they were shaken about like corn in a hopper. But in the bush it was worse; there, though their pace necessarily slackened, what with the holes, roots, stumps and fallen trunks, they had seldom more than two wheels on the ground; and more than once all that stood between them and a total capsize was Pake's dexterous wrist. There were deep gullies, down which they precipitated themselves, almost turning the wagon over on the horses' backs at the bottom; and the climbs up the other side were heart-breaking. Pake was often obliged to descend and chop; and on the whole progress was so slow, Garth decided they might venture to insure their necks by walking.

So he and Natalie strode on ahead, pausing here and there to pick the delicious acrid mooseberries, and discussing their problems. Their talk was chiefly of Nick Grylls. Natalie finally confessed what had happened at the Landing.

"You should have told me immediately," Garth said with a frown.

Natalie looked "poor," as she called it. "I was afraid you'd send me home," she said. "Now you can't," she added provokingly.

Garth in turn told her what he had learned the night before.

"Look here," said Natalie frankly; "what is the use of our hiding these things from each other? Let us promise to tell everything that happens after this. You wanted me to take you for granted as if I were a man. You treat me like a man and I will."

Garth smiled; and promised to try--just as she had done on a similar occasion.

"I wish I had some men's clothes," said Natalie stoutly; frowning as girls always do, when they see themselves in that character. And in the very act of wishing it, she forgot; and drove home her femininity. Tipping a palmful of mooseberries into her mouth, "Wouldn't I look nice!" she said with a sidewise sparkle.

Garth, swallowing a sigh, smiled, and allowed that she would.

They speculated on what Mary Co-que-wasa's errand might be; neither of them was experienced in villainy. There, in the matter-of-fact daylight, and, as Natalie said, on Sunday, August the fifth _now_, it was impossible for the thought of one silent old woman to cause them much uneasiness; besides, they presently expected to join forces with the Bishop's ample party. Nothing nearly so simple and devilish as the actual truth occurred to them; and it was brought home with the force of a blow, when they reached the Warehouse.

About eleven, a final descent brought them to the shore of a demure little river flowing softly between high banks--Musquasepi, that they were to know so well. Off to the left it merged into the muddier waters of the "big" river. On the further shore stood the Warehouse they had heard of so often.

"Oh!" said Natalie. "Only another little log shack! Why I imagined a--a----"

"Five-story stone front?" suggested Garth.

"Well, I don't know," she said, "but not that!"

On the hither side was a solitary cabin; and in the doorway stood a breed, outwardly of a different pattern from any they had seen--but after all not so different. He was clad in decent Sunday blacks minus the coat; and wore heavy-rimmed spectacles which he took off when he really wished to see. On the table within was ostentatiously spread an open Bible--the sharp-eyed Natalie took note that it was upside down. This young man had a heavy expression of conscious responsibility, before which the insouciant Pake visibly quailed. Pake indicated to Garth that Ancose Mackey stood before him.

"Where is the Bishop?" Garth demanded impatiently.

Ancose blandly ignored the question for the present. "How-do-you-do, sir," he said, like a mechanical doll, at the same time politely extending his hand.

Garth, shaking it hastily, repeated his question--but the young man was not to be hurried over any of his self-pleasing formalities.

"How-do-you-do, sir," he repeated to Natalie in precisely the same tone, gravely shaking hands with her.

Then they must needs come in and sit down, while their host made a remark on the weather, and informed them, with an air, that he was a very good reader. He wrapped his Bible in an end of comforter, and pulling a doll's trunk from under the bed, put it away. Natalie had a glimpse of the contents of the trunk; she said afterward, it was like the inside of his head; beside the Bible, there were sundry pieces of dried moose meat, a gaudy silk handkerchief, tobacco and a brass watch-chain of the size of a small cable. He took out the latter and put it on.

Finally he appeared to hear Garth's question. "Bishop gone up little river. Four days," he said.

"Some one was to meet me here," said Garth confidently.

An expression of genuine concern appeared under Ancose Mackey's solemn mugging. "You Garth Pevensey?" he asked.

Garth nodded.

Ancose's English was not equal to the situation. He turned quickly to Pake, squatting in the doorway, and exploded in Cree. Pake answered in kind. It takes a roundabout course to say anything of an abstract nature in Cree. Finally Garth heard the ominous name of Mary Co-que-wasa enter into their discourse.

"What is it?" he demanded impatiently.

Ancose turned a long face to him. "Bad medicine here," he said. "Bishop send ol' Pierre Toma down from head of rapids with him team to get you," he went on, struggling manfully with his English. "Ol' Pierre stay to me three days of waiting. Las' night come boy up big river in canoe. Boy say to ol' Pierre, Cap'n Jack stuck at Caliper Island. Boy say, Cap'n Jack want tell to Bishop, Garth Pevensey no can come. Garth Pevensey him gone back outside."

Garth and Natalie looked at each other in dismay.

"Mary Co-que-wasa do this," added Ancose. "Him no speak never true."

"Of course!" said Natalie. "She knew they wouldn't believe her, so she sent the boy up, while she waited below."

"Where's the boy?" Garth demanded.

Ancose shrugged. "Gone down," he said. "No can catch now."

"When did Pierre Toma go back?"

"Early," said Ancose. "Five hours. Him horses fresh."

"Maybe we can catch them yet!" cried Garth. "How much to the head of the rapids, Pake?"

Pake had ample English to make a good bargain. However, it was finally struck; and cutting Ancose Mackey's elaborate adieus very short, they took to the road again.

They had twenty-five miles to cover. This part of the trail is considerably used in freighting goods around the rapids, and in the North it is considered a good road, though the travellers' bones bore testimony to the contrary for several succeeding days. Pake, with the prospect of a substantial bonus before him, did not spare his horses; but the grass-fed beasts had already lost their enthusiasm for the journey, and they made but indifferent progress. They were presently compelled to stop a good hour and a half to let them rest and feed.

Garth, though he strove to hide it, was now very anxious. They had laid in only two weeks' provisions at the Landing; the trails seemed to be narrowing both before and behind; and the North closing in. Moreover, he suspected Nick Grylls was not the man to stoop to mere mischief-making; and he wondered apprehensively what next move he contemplated. Looking at his charming Natalie, he could conceive of a man stooping to any villainy to possess her. However, he strove to keep her spirits up--and his own--with the oft-expressed belief that the Bishop would not leave Pierre Toma's until the next morning.

Six o'clock had passed before they turned into the rough little clearing on the river bank. The horses were done up. They had passed no other sign of habitation the whole way.

A bent old man with a snowy thatch came hobbling out of the cabin.

His look of surprise, and the quietness of the place, answered Garth's question before he put it.

"Where is the Bishop?"

The old man spread out his hands. "Gone. Four hours," he said.

VIII

ON THE LITTLE RIVER

The next day found Garth and Natalie afloat on Musquasepi, headed alone into the North. To be exact, only Natalie was afloat; she sat in the stern of a tiny boat, keeping her off shore with a paddle devised from the cover of a grub-box. Their outfit was piled amidships. Garth harnessed to the end of a towing-line, plodded through the mud and over the stones of the bank; climbing over fallen trees, and wading bodily into the river, when necessary to drag his tow around a reef.

Indecision had attacked Garth the night before--his responsibility was so great! But Natalie had said, pressing the soft curve out of her lips:

"_Any_ means to get ahead! If we have to crawl on hands and knees!"

"Any _safe_ means," Garth amended.

"Nick Grylls without doubt is counting on our being held up or driven back," she said. "I have an idea he is not far behind us."

It was Garth's own idea.

"So we _must_ keep ahead!"

"We must do whatever will best ensure your safety," Garth said doggedly.

That bright red spot had appeared in either of Natalie's cheeks. "Bother my safety!" she cried. "You will not allow me a shred of pluck! My honour is engaged on this journey, just the same as if I were a man! I said I'd do it; and I will! And if I hear another word about my comfort or my safety, upon my word, I'll go on alone!"

Garth had smiled at the threat, and given in; because on the whole it seemed safer to press ahead, than to attempt to return. Secretly, he was delighted with the spirit she showed.

They had bought the boat from Pierre Toma, a breed of the more self-respecting elder generation, in whose aged eyes still twinkled the spirit of the voyageurs. Pake's magnanimous offer of the wagon and team at only twice their real value was declined; inasmuch as the trail was impassible for wagons beyond Toma's place, and ceased altogether at Caribou Lake. They counted on the boat to carry them as far as the lake; there, Pierre Toma had assured them, they might very likely overtake the Bishop, if he were delayed by contrary winds, or christenings. In any case Wall-eye Macgregor, said Pierre, had a strong boat at the lake that could take them the eighty miles across. According to the haphazard measurements of the breeds, Caribou Lake was twenty-five miles from Pierre Toma's.

Their own boat was but crazily hung together. Natalie had christened it the _Flat-iron_ from its shape. It was of extremely simple construction--two planks laid V-shape, with a shorter plank to close the end, and boards nailed on for a bottom. Pierre Toma had said with pride, there was no other boat in the country like it; and after using it a day they were prepared to agree. It was designed to be propelled with a pole; and they had started in that manner; but the _Flat-iron_ showed a perverse disposition to travel in any direction save the desired one; and her favourite manoeuvre under the impetus of the pole was to swing on her centre without moving ahead at all. So Garth, after some study, had constructed the tracking apparatus.

It was a simple, park-like, little river with brown, foam-flecked water flowing moderately through a country of small timber; and occasionally there were natural meadows starred with flowers, where children in their white dresses should have been picnicking, so intimate and peaceful it seemed. None the less, it was the strange and lonely North into which they were thrust, on their own unaided resources--like the babes in the woods, Natalie said. They were abruptly cast back on the great and simple verities of existence, where a man, be his wits never so sharp, must be strong, to survive. Natalie looked at Garth's broad back, as he slowly put the miles behind him one after another; and considering the impatient vigour, with which he attacked the multitude of obstacles strewn along the river, thanked God for sending such a one to her aid.

The wonder of the unknown was in them both; and their breasts throbbed a little, as they looked to see what each bend in the stream would have to show. Only once in the course of the afternoon was there any reminder of human life; a breed boy suddenly appeared on the bank, only to duck behind a bush like a little animal, at the startling sight of white strangers on the river. Tempted forth at last, in response to Garth's question, he said they were twenty-five miles from the lake. Garth, who had been doing his best for seven hours to reduce that distance, felt distinctly aggrieved.

Natalie insisted on camping early; for it had been a gruelling afternoon on Garth. They chose a little promontory running into the water; and once he had started a fire, and put up her tent, she made him lie at length in the grass, where he stretched his limbs in delicious weariness, and watched her settling the camp for the night and cooking the supper. She was proud in the acquisition of a new accomplishment, that of baking bannock before a fire in the open, learned that morning from Mrs. Toma. The sight of her, bustling and cheerful, working for him, had a strange and painful pleasure for him. They two, alone together in the wilderness, cut off from all their kind!--the thought squeezed his heartstrings; she was so much his own there--and so little!

With the sinking of the sun, the awful stillness came stealing to envelope them; and with insistent fingers seemed to press upon the very drums of their ears. The little river flowed as stilly and darkly as the water of Lethe at their feet; and the gaunt pines over the way stood transfixed like souls that had drunk of it. Under the spell of the silence they instinctively lowered their voices; and they broke sticks for the fire with reluctance; so painful was the crash and reverberation up and down. But there is always one sound that accompanies this stillness; hardly breaks it, so smoothly it comes stealing on the suspended evening air--the quavering howl of the coyote. They heard it throb miles off; and it was answered from immeasurable distances side to side. Little by little, attracted by the smell of cooking food, the animals drew closer, and at last stationed themselves in a kind of wide-drawn circle about their camp on both sides of the river, wailing back and forth like souls inconceivably tormented. Natalie shuddered.

"They are cowardly beasts," Garth said reassuringly. "They won't come any closer."

They spoke but little to each other. Night, solitude and that spirit of woe abroad, filled them with a mighty longing for each other's arms. At last she crept away to her tent.

As the darkness deepened; and the clear-eyed Northern constellations looked out, one by one, there were other sounds; a peevish growling and whining at the top of the bank above them; a frantic scurry when Garth heaved a stone. The better to ensure Natalie's peace of mind, he weighted the tent all around with rocks; and heaped wood on the fire.

Natalie stuck her head out of her cosy refuge. "I can't bear to have you sleeping unprotected outside," she said anxiously.

Garth's heart paused breathlessly at the thought of the alternative. He sprang up and thrust the thought aside. "Nonsense! I'll be all right!" he cried. "To please you I'll keep the fire going all night."

Later, he rolled himself in his blankets across the door of her tent, as before; and lay there smoking, gazing at the fire, picturing Natalie asleep within; and assuaging his hungry heart as best he might with the sound of her child-like breathing.

The day broke gloriously; and shortly after sunrise they were on their way again, under a sky as tenderly blue as palest turquoise, over which were flung bright, silken, cloudy scarves. As they ascended, the character of the river changed; the trees disappeared, giving place to wide, flat meadows of blue grass as high as a man's waist; the current slackened, and its course became more circuitous. Along the shores, steep cut-banks alternated with muddy shoals; and a new set of problems faced Garth.

These chiefly took the form of stout willow bushes overhanging the cut-banks--diabolically malicious, sentient beings, they became to Garth. He tried crawling underneath with his tow-line, whereupon the earth gave way, precipitating him in water up to his middle; he tried crashing bodily through, and the line would invariably knot itself around the most inaccessible twig. The _Flat-iron_, too, seemed to rejoice in his discomfiture; and at every interruption of her progress took the occasion, in spite of Natalie's paddle, to turn about and stick her nose stupidly into the mud of the bank. Every bush in turn offered a different and more complicated obstacle than the last; in three hours they made perhaps twice three hundred yards. Natalie, alarmed by the spectacle of Garth's set lips, and the swollen veins of his temples, besought him for goodness' sake to swear and not mind her.

He finally decided to change his mode of going; and contriving a second little paddle, he embarked with Natalie. They progressed but slowly against the current; for the short paddles had about the same effectiveness as two of those little instruments for making butter pats, which they strongly resembled. Garth figured they would be making a mile an hour--but this way was easier on his temper.

To-day, the little river, placidly flowing between its grassy banks, had an oddly pastoral look. With the familiar shapes of the overhanging willows, and the brilliant marsh marigolds on the shallows, all drenched in the opulent sunshine, they found themselves looking for cows on the bank; and it seemed incredible that no church spire rose above any of the distant clumps of trees. They could not rid themselves of the feeling that this was no more than a day's picnic, with a house awaiting them just ahead, and company and good cheer. But instead of that, silently rounding a bend, they were unexpectedly introduced to the true genius of the country. In the mud of one of the flats at the edge of the water, sat a large brown bear on his haunches, soberly licking his paws. He was no more than twenty feet from them--a room's length. At Natalie's slight gasp of astonishment, he turned his head; and stared at them agape, with hanging paws, like a great baby. He looked so homely and comical Natalie burst out laughing. At the sound, Bruin promptly fell to all fours; and with a great "woof!" of astonishment and indignation, bundled over the bank out of sight.

To-day, the delicate, heady air of the Northern summer inspired their veins like wine. As Olympians, they lunched on the greensward carpeting the bank of a little inlet; while their shallop floated among tiny white lilies at their feet. All afternoon their spirits soared into the realms of incoherent enthusiasm; they filled the air with their full-throated laughter and foolish, glancing speech. Garth's old friends would have been astonished then to see how he could "let himself go"; but no one in the world ever really saw that besides Natalie.