In the Brooding Wild Part 11

"Aim-sa--beautiful. Ah! yes--yes, I know. You speak love to me. You speak love to White Squaw."

"Ay, love," cried Nick, the blood mounting with a rush to his strong face. "Guess you don't know love, my girl. Not yet. But mebbe you will.

Say, Aim-sa, I'll teach it ye. I'll teach it ye real well, gal. You'll be my squaw, an' we'll light right out o' here. I've got half share in our pile, an' it ain't a little. Jest say right here as ye'll do it, an'

I'll fix things, an' hitch up the dogs."

Nick paused in his eloquence. The squaw's eyes danced with delight, and he read the look to suit himself. Already he antic.i.p.ated a favourable answer. But he was quickly undeceived. Aim-sa merely revelled in the pa.s.sion she had aroused, like a mischievous child with a forbidden plaything. She enjoyed it for a moment, then her face suddenly became grave, and her eyelids drooped over the wonderful eyes which he thought had told him so much. And her answer came with a shake of the head.

"Aim-sa loves not. She must not. The Moosefoot--she is Queen."

"Curses on the Moosefoot, I say," cried Nick, with pa.s.sionate impulse.

Aim-sa put up her hand.

"The man--'The Hood.' Fear the Spirit."

A chill shot down through Nick's heart as he listened. But his pa.s.sion was only checked for the moment. The next and he seized the woman in his powerful arms and drew her to his breast, and kissed her not too unwilling lips. The kiss maddened him, and he held her tight, while he sought her blindly, madly. He kissed her cheeks, her hair, her eyes, her lips, and the touch of her warm flesh scorched his very soul. Nor is it possible to say how long he would have held her had she not, by a subtle, writhing movement, slipped from within his enfolding arms. Her keen ears had caught a sound which did not come from the fighting dogs.

It was the penetrating forest cry in the brooding mountain calm.

"Remember--'The Hood,'" Aim-sa warned him. And the next moment had vanished within the dugout.

Now Nick knew that he too had heard the cry, and he stood listening, while his pa.s.sion surged through his veins and his heart beat in mighty pulsations. As he gazed over the forest waste, he expected to see the mysterious hooded figure.

But what he beheld brought an angry flush to his cheeks. He did not see "The Hood," but Ralph walking slowly up the hill.

And a harsh laugh which had no mirth in it broke from him. Then a frown settled darkly upon his brow. What, he asked himself, had Ralph returned for? He bore no burden of skins.

And when Ralph looked up and saw Nick whom he believed to be miles away, his heart grew bitter within him. He read the look on the other's face.

He saw the anger, and a certain guiltiness of his own purpose made him interpret it aright. And in a flash he resolved upon a scheme which, but for what he saw, would never have presented itself to him.

And as the gleaming sun-dogs, drooping so heavily yet angrily in the sky, heralded the coming storm of elements, so did that meeting of the two brothers threaten the peace of the valley.

CHAPTER VII.

IN THE STORMING NIGHT

The love of these men for the fair creature of the wild had risen to fever-heat with the abruptness of tropical sunshine. It was no pa.s.sing infatuation, but the deep-rooted, absorbing pa.s.sion of strong simple men; a pa.s.sion which dominated their every act and thought; a pa.s.sion which years alone might mellow into calm affection, but which nothing could eradicate. It had come into their lives at a time when every faculty was at its ripest; henceforth everything would be changed. The wild, to them, was no longer the wild they had known; it was no longer theirs alone. Their life had gathered to itself a fresh meaning; a meaning drawn from a.s.sociation with Woman, and from which it could never return to the colourless existence of its original solitude.

With the return of Ralph to the camp the day progressed in sullen silence. Neither of the men would give way an inch; neither would return to the forest to complete his day's work, and even Aim-sa found their morose antagonism something to be feared. Each watched the other until it seemed impossible for the day to pa.s.s without the breaking of the gathering storm. But, however, the time wore on, and the long night closed down without anything happening to precipitate matters.

The evening was pa.s.sed in the woman's company. Ralph sat silent, brooding. While Nick, with the memory of the wild moments during which he had held Aim-sa in his embrace fresh upon him, held a laboured conversation with her. To him there was a sense of triumph as he sat smoking his blackened pipe, listening to the halting phrases of the woman, and gazing deeply into her wonderful blue eyes. And in the ecstasy of recollection he forgot Ralph and all but his love. There was no generosity in his heart; he had given himself up to the delights of his pa.s.sion. He claimed the fair Aim-sa to himself, and was ready to uphold his claim so long as he had life.

All that long evening he heeded nothing of the dark expression of Ralph's face. The furtive glances from his brother's eyes were lost upon him, and even had he seen them their meaning would have had no terrors for him. With all the blind selfishness of a first love he centred his faculties upon obtaining Aim-sa's regard, and lived in the fool's paradise of a reckless lover.

And all the time Ralph watched, and planned. The bitterness of his heart ate into the uttermost part of his vitals, the canker mounted even to his brain. The deep fire of hatred was now blazing furiously, and each moment it gathered destructive force. All that was good in the man was slowly devoured, and only a sh.e.l.l of fierce anger remained.

But what Nick failed to observe Aim-sa saw as plainly as only a woman can see such things. Her bright eyes saw the fire she had kindled, and from sheer wantonness she fanned the flame with all the art of which she was mistress.

Slowly the hours pa.s.sed. It was Nick who at last rose and gave the signal for departure. It was an unwritten law between these two that when one left Aim-sa's presence they both left it. Therefore Ralph followed suit, and they retired to their sleeping-apartment.

Outside the night was fine, but the threat of storm hung heavily in the air. The temperature had risen, a sure indication of the coming blizzard. Ralph was the last to leave the woman's presence, and, ere he closed the door, he looked back at the smiling face, so beautiful to him, so seductively fair in his eyes; and the memory of the picture he looked upon remained with him. He saw the dull-lit interior, with its rough woodsman's belongings; the plastered walls of logs, coa.r.s.e and discoloured; the various utensils hanging suspended from five-inch spikes driven in the black veins of timber; the blazing stove and crooked stovepipe; the box of tin dishes and pots; the sides of bacon hanging from the roof; the pile of sacks containing biscuit and dried fish, the latter for the dogs; the outspread blankets which formed the woman's bed; and in the midst of it all the dazzling presence of Aim-sa, fair as the twilight of a summer evening.

The door closed softly, and as it closed Aim-sa rose from her blankets.

Her expression had changed, and while the men went to their humble couches she moved about with feverish haste, attentive to the least sound, but always hurried, and with a look of deep anxiety in her alert eyes.

No word was spoken as the men rolled into their blankets. The thick wall shut out all sound from within the hut. The night was intensely still and silent. Not even was there a single wolf-howl to awaken the echoes of the towering hills. It was as though all nature was at rest.

Nick was soon asleep. Not even the agitation of mind caused by a first love could keep him long awake when the hour for sleep came around. With Ralph it was different. His nature was intenser. His disposition was capable of greater disturbance than was that of the more impetuous Nick.

He remained awake; awake and alert. He smoked in the darkness more from habit than enjoyment. Although he could see nothing his eyes constantly wandered in the direction of the man beside him, and he listened for the heavy breathing which should tell him of the slumber which would endure till the first streak of dawn shot athwart the sky. Soon it came; and Nick snored heavily.

Then, without sound, Ralph sat up in his blankets. He bent his head towards the sleeper, and, satisfied, rose softly to his feet. Opening the door he looked out. All was profoundly quiet and black. Not a star shone in the sky, nor was there a sign of the dancing northern lights.

And while he stood he heard for the first time that night the cry of some distant forest creature; but the timber-wolves kept silent in the depths below the hut. He drew the door to behind him and moved out into the night.

Cold as it was he was consumed by a perfect fever of agitation. His thoughts were in a state of chaos, but the one dominant note which rang out with clarion-like distinctness was that which drew him towards Aim-sa's door. And thither he stole softly, silently, with the tiptoeing of a thief, and with the nervous quakings of a wrong-doer. His face was wrought with fear, with hope, with the eagerness of expectancy.

He pa.s.sed from the deeper shadows in which the lean-to was bathed, and stood at the angle of the house. He paused, and a flurrying of the snow at his feet warned him that he had stepped close to the burrow of one of Nick's huskies. He moved quickly aside, and the movement brought him beyond the angle. Then he stood stock-still, held motionless as he saw that the door of the dugout was open and the light of the oil-lamp within was illuminating the beaten snow which fronted the house. He held his breath. Again and again he asked himself the meaning of the strange phenomenon.

From where he stood he could see only the light; the doorway was hidden by the storm-porch. But, as he strained his eyes in the direction and craned forward, he became aware of a shadow on the snow where the lamp threw its dull rays. Slowly he scanned the outline of it, and his mind was moved by speculation. The shadow was uncertain, and only that which was nearest the door was recognizable. Here there was no mistake; some one was standing in the opening, and that some one could only be Aim-sa.

He was filled with excitement and his heart beat tumultuously; a frenzy of delight seized upon him, and he stepped forward swiftly. A moment later he stood confronting her.

Just for one moment Aim-sa's face took on a look of dismay, but it pa.s.sed before Ralph had time to read it. Then she smiled a glad welcome up at the keen eyes which peered down into her own, and her voice broke the silence in a gentle, suppressed tone.

"Quiet--quiet. The night. The storm is near. Aim-sa watches."

Ralph turned his face out upon the blackness of the valley, following the direction of the woman's gaze.

"Ay, storm," he said mechanically, and his heart pounded within his breast, and his breath came and went heavily. Then, in the pause which followed, he started and looked towards the lean-to as a sound came from that direction. He was half-fearful of his sleeping brother.

Aim-sa's eyes turned towards the rugged features before her, and her gaze was of an intensity such as Ralph could not support in silence.

Words blundered unbidden to his lips, uncontrolled, and he spoke as a man who scarce knows what he is saying. His mind was in the throes of a fever, and his speech partook of the irrelevance of delirium.

"You must live with me," he said, his brows frowning with the intensity of his pa.s.sion. "You must be my wife. The white man takes a squaw, an'

he calls her 'wife,' savvee? Guess he ain't like the Injuns that has many squaws. He jest takes one. You'll be my squaw, an' we'll go away from here."

A smile was in the woman's blue eyes, for her memory went back to the words Nick had spoken to her that morning.

Ralph went on.

"Guess I love you that bad as makes me crazy. Ther' ain't nothin' to life wi'out you." His eyes lowered to the ground; then they looked beyond her, and he gazed upon the disordered condition of the room without observing it. "Nick don't need me here. He can have the shack an' everything, 'cep' my haf share o' the money. Guess we'll trail north an' pitch our camp on the Peace River. What say?"

Aim-sa's eyes were still smiling. Every word Nick had spoken was vivid in her memory. She looked as though she would laugh aloud, but she held herself in check, and the man took her smile for one of acquiescence and became bolder. He stretched out his hand and caught hers in his shaking grasp.

"The white man loves--Aim-sa," the woman said, softly, while she yielded her two hands to him.