In the Brooding Wild Part 14

CHAPTER IX.

TO THE DEATH

The forest gloom is broken by gladdening beams of sunlight. They sketch a mazy fretwork pattern of light and shade on the dank underlay of rotting vegetation which the melting snow has laid bare. The air is weighted down with heavy, resinous odours, and an enervating warmth has descended to the depths of the lower forests. But Winter has not yet spread its wings for its last flight. Spring's approach has been heralded by its feathered trumpeters, garbed in their sober plumage. It is on its way, that is all. The transition of the seasons is at hand.

Winter still resists, and the gentle legions of Spring have yet to fight out their annual battle. The forests are astir with wild, furred life; the fierce life which emphasizes the solitude of the mountain world. The pine-cones scrunch under the feet of the prowling beast as he moves solemnly upon his dread way; there is a swish of bush or a snapping of wood as some startled animal seeks cover; or a heavy crashing of branches, as the mighty-antlered moose, solemn-eyed, unheeding, thrusts himself through the undergrowth.

Ralph was bending over a large trap. It was still set although the bait had been removed. It had been set at the mouth of a narrow track where it opened out in a small, snow-covered clearing. The blood stains of the raw meat with which it had been baited were still moist, but the flesh itself had been taken. He turned from his inspection. There were footprints in the snow, evidently the tracks of a timber-wolf. His face expressed his disgust as he rebaited the trap. Wolves were the pest of his life. Their skins were almost worthless, and they were as cunning as any dog-fox. A trap had no terrors for them. He moved away to continue on his journey. Suddenly he drew up and scanned the white carpet. His trailing instincts were keenly alert.

The snow was disturbed by other marks than those made by the wolf. In places the ground was laid bare, and broken pine-cones were displayed upon its surface as though some great weight had crushed them. Moose suggested itself. He looked keenly at the marks. No, the snow displayed no imprint of cloven hoofs. It looked as though it had been raked by a close-set harrow. To him there was much significance in what he saw.

Only one creature could have left such a track. There was but one animal in that forest world that moved with shambling gait, and whose paws could rake the snow in such a manner. That animal was the grizzly, the monarch of the mountain forest.

The man looked further over the snow, and, in a few moments, had learned all he wished to know. There were two distinct trails, one approaching, the other departing. But there was a curious difference between them.

The approach had evidently been at a slovenly, ambling pace. The raking of the trailing feet showed this. But the departing track displayed every sign of great haste. The snow had been flurried to an extent that had obliterated all semblance of footprints.

Ralph unslung his rifle. Ahead of him was the track, ahead of him also was a further break in the forest where the sun shone down with dazzling brilliancy. He pa.s.sed on and looked up at the perfect sky. Then he took the direction of the track. It struck out for the northeast.

"I wonder if Nick's lit on it," he muttered. "It 'ud be his luck, anyway."

He further examined the tracks, and the whiteness of the snow warned him they were quite fresh.

"Ain't been made more'n an hour," he added, in further soliloquy.

"Guess, I'll trail him."

And he set off hot-foot through the forest.

The trail was well marked, and he followed it with ease. And as he moved slowly on his mind had much leisure from his task. The direction the bear had taken was towards the country over which Nick was working. Also Ralph could not help recollecting that the northeast was the direction in which lay the Moosefoot camp. True there were many miles of wild country between him and the Indians, but the knowledge of the direction he was taking quickly turned his thoughts into other channels, and his quarry no longer solely occupied his mind. His eyes followed the trail, his thoughts went on miles ahead.

It was three days since Nick had first told Ralph of his meeting with Aim-sa. And ever since the latter had sought her himself, but his search had been in vain. And each of those three days Nick had returned to camp happy and smiling in a manner which maddened his brother. Now he thought of these things. He told himself, with warped reasoning, that Nick had gone behind his back, that he had taken undue advantage in his winning of Aim-sa's regard. He forgot, or admitted not, his own doings, his own secret meeting with her on the night of her flight from the dugout.

Such was his mood as he traversed the forest paths. Through dell and brake; through endless twilight maze of black tree-trunks; over moss-grown patches, and roots and stumps reeking with the growth of rank fungus. But his eyes never lost the indications of his quarry, and at intervals he paused listening for some sound which should tell him of the beast's proximity.

A frozen creek crossed his way. The surface was covered with the watery slush of melting snow, and great cracks ran in many directions through the ice.

He crossed it and the forest closed about him again. The beast he was trailing had paused here, had moved roundabout as though seeking the direction he required. Ralph followed the creature's movements, understanding with the acuteness of his forest breeding.

Suddenly he started and a half-stifled cry broke from him. He dashed forward to a point where the snow had drifted and was now disturbed. He halted, and looked down. Other footprints mingled with those of the bear. They were small, and had been made by moccasin-shod feet. He had seen such footprints before. He knew the owner of the feet which had made these imprints. Aim-sa's were such as these--Aim-sa's!

His eyes took in every detail slowly, fondly. Where was she now? He must follow. Then he remembered. Something else was following, not him, but her. He straightened himself up, and a muttered exclamation broke from his lips. Now he understood. Away there, back in the distant woods, the bear must have scented the woman's presence and was tracking her down.

She had gone on through the forest, unknowing of the danger that lurked behind her, which was hard upon her trail.

Forgetful of Nick, forgetful of all else, Ralph pursued the double trail. Danger threatened the woman he loved, for aught he knew had already overtaken her. To his credit be it said, that, as he raced over the sodden carpet of the forest, not one selfish thought possessed him.

Aim-sa was in danger, and so he went headlong to the rescue. His quiet eyes were lit with a fiery determination such as one might have expected in the eyes of Nick, but not in those of Ralph. His soul was afire with anxiety. Aim-sa was an expert in forest-craft, but she was a woman. So he hasted.

The world about him might have been bathed in the blackness of night for all he heeded it; only the track of footsteps stood out to his gaze like a trail of fire. His speed was great; nor was he conscious how great. He no longer walked, but ran, and thought nothing of distance, nor the pa.s.sing of time. The trail of pursuer and pursued still lit, red-hot, before him, and the cry of his heart still rang out--On! On!

It was noon when his speed slackened. Nor was it weariness that checked him. Once in the echoing wood he had heard the distant sound of breaking undergrowth. The prospect about him had changed. The forest had become a tangled maze of low-growing shrub, dotted with giant growths of maple, spruce, and blue-gum. It was a wider, deeper hollow than any hitherto pa.s.sed, and the air was warmer. It was the valley of a wide, swift-flowing river.

The declivity was abrupt, and the rush of the river, too swift to succ.u.mb to the grip of winter, sounded faintly up from below. Suddenly he halted listening, and the sound of breaking undergrowth came to him again and again; he waited for the cry of the human, but it did not come. With beating heart he hurried on, his mind was easier and his thoughts centred upon the killing of the grizzly. His rifle was ready to hand and he looked for a sight of the dark fur through the bush ahead.

Now his movements became almost Indian-like in their stealth. Bending low to avoid the rustling branches, he crept on, silently and swiftly.

He no longer followed the tracks. He had turned off, meaning to come up with his quarry against the wind. At every opening in the bush he paused, his keen eyes alert for a sign of his prey. But the leafless branches of the scrub, faintly tinged with the signs of coming spring, alone confronted him; only that, and the noise of breaking brushwood ahead.

It quickly became plain to him that the bear was no longer advancing, but was moving about uncertainly; and as he realized this, his heart was gripped with a terrible fear. Had the brute come up with his prey? Had the tragedy been played out? He dashed forward, throwing all caution to the winds; but ere he had gone fifty yards he came to a halt, like one paralyzed.

His eyes, which had been peering ever ahead, had suddenly dropped to the ground. It seemed as though they could no longer face that which they looked upon. For a moment his face worked as might that of a man in great pain. Then its expression changed and a flush mounted to his brow; a flush of indescribable rage. Again his eyes were raised and a devilish look peered out from them.

An opening not two acres in extent lay before him. In its midst was a blackened tree-trunk, limbless, riven; a forest giant blasted by some mountain storm. Nick was standing beside it; his gun rested against its blackened sides, and, upon a fallen bough, scarcely a yard away, Aim-sa was seated. They were in deep converse, and Ralph was near enough to hear the sound of their voices, but not to distinguish their words. As he strained his tingling ears to catch the tenor of their speech, he could hear the movements of the bear in the adjacent woods.

The two in the open seemed all unconscious of what was going on so near them. Nick was gazing upon the woman, his heart laid bare in his eyes.

And Aim-sa was smiling up into his face with all the arch coquetry of her s.e.x, with that simple, trusting look which, however guileful, must ever appeal to the strong man.

For awhile Ralph looked on. The exquisite torture of his heart racked him, but he did not turn away to shut out the sight. Rather it seemed as if he preferred to thus hara.s.s himself. It was the working of his own angry pa.s.sion which held him, feeding itself, fostering, nursing itself, and goading him to fury.

Suddenly the sound of movement close at hand broke the spell which held him. He looked, and saw the bear less than twenty yards off.

He gripped his rifle, and his first thought was to slay. It was the hunter's instinct which rose within him. But something held him, and his weapon did not move from his side; somewhere in his heart a harsh voice whispered to him, and he listened to words of evil counsel. Then a revulsion of feeling swept over him, and he shook himself as though to get rid of something which clung about him and oppressed him. But the moment pa.s.sed, leaving him undecided, his brain maddened with bitter thoughts.

The dark form in the bush beyond moved. There came no sound, and the waiting man wondered if his eyes deceived him. No cat could have moved more silently upon its prey. Not a twig creaked. It moved on stealthily, inexorably, till it paused at the edge of the opening.

Ralph's eyes turned upon the dead tree. Nick's back was turned, and Aim-sa was intent upon her companion. She seemed to be hanging upon his every word. And Ralph's heart grew harder within him. His hand held his rifle in a nervous clutch and his finger-nails scored the stock. A shout from him would avert disaster; a shot would arrest that terrible advance. But the shout remained unborn; the trigger still waited the compressing hand. And the unconscious brother stood with death stealing upon him from beyond the fringe of the woods.

Solemnly the great grizzly advanced. Once in the open he made no pause.

The lumbering beast looked so clumsy that the inexperienced might have been forgiven a smile of ridicule. Its ears twitched backward and forward, its head lolled to its gait, and though its eyes shone with a baleful ferocity they seemed to gaze anywhere but at its intended victims.

Ralph stood watching, with lips compressed and jaws set, and a cruel frown darkening his brow. But his heart was beating in mighty pulsations, and somewhere within him a conflict was raging, in which Evil had attacked in overwhelming force, and Good was being beaten back.

Within ten yards of the tree the bear halted and reared itself upon its haunches. Thus for a moment it towered in terrible menace.

It was the last chance. Ralph's lips moved as though to shout, but only a low muttered curse came from them. Suddenly the air was split with a piercing scream. Aim-sa stood erect, one arm was outstretched pointing, the other rested against the tree as though she would steady herself.

Her eyes were staring in terror at the huge brute as it came towards them.

Nick swung round. He was too late. There was no time to reach his rifle.

His right hand plunged at his belt, and he drew a long hunting-knife from its sheath, and thrust himself, a shield, before Aim-sa.

The cry smote the savage heart of Ralph, smote it with the sear of white-hot iron. A wave of horror pa.s.sed over him. It was not of his brother he thought, but of the woman he loved. Nick's death would only be the forerunner of hers. In a flash his rifle sprang to his shoulder.

A second pa.s.sed while his keen eyes ran over the sights, the compressing hand was upon the trigger. A puff of smoke. A sharp report. The grizzly swung round with a lurch. He had not stopped, he merely changed the direction of his steps and came straight for the forest where Ralph stood.

But the magnificent brute only took a few strides. Ralph went out to meet him, but, ere he came up, the creature tottered. Then, reeling, it dropped upon all fours, only, the next instant, to roll over upon its side, dead.

Ralph gave one glance at the body of the great bear; the next moment its presence was forgotten. He pa.s.sed on, and confronted those whom he had unwillingly rescued. The depression of his brows, and the glint of his eyes and merciless set of his jaws, all gave warning of a danger that dwarfed to insignificance that which had just pa.s.sed.

"I 'lows I hadn't reckoned to find you wi' company," Ralph said, addressing his brother with a quietness that ill-concealed the storm underlying his words. "Mebbe I didn't calc'late to find you, anyway."

There was no mistaking the challenge in his look. Nick saw it. His impetuous temper rose in response. The bear was forgotten. Neither alluded to it. The two men faced each other with the concentrated jealous hatred of weeks' growth uppermost in their hearts.

"Wal, I guess y've found me. What then?"