In the Brooding Wild Part 21

"Hah! An'--?"

And Jean told his story. And after that a silence fell.

"It's cursed--it's blood-money!" Davia's voice was hoa.r.s.e with emotion as she said the words.

Jean started.

"We're goin' to git," he said slowly. And he looked into the woman's eyes as though he would read her very soul.

"An' Victor?" said Davia harshly.

"Come, we'll go to him."

At the door Davia was seized with an overwhelming terror. She gripped Jean's arm forcefully while she peered along the woodland fringe. The man listened.

"Let's git on quick," Davia whispered. And her mouth was dry with her terror.

They found Victor as Jean had left him. The prisoner looked up when the door opened. His eyes brightened at the sight of the woman.

No word was spoken for some moments. In that silence a drama was swiftly working itself out. Victor was calculating his chances. Davia was thinking in a loving woman's unreasoning fashion. And Jean was watching both. At last the giant stooped and removed the gag from his captive's mouth. The questioning eyes of Victor Gagnon looked from one to the other and finally rested upon Davia.

"Wal?" he said.

And Davia turned to Jean.

"Loose him!" she said imperiously.

And Jean knew that trouble had come for his plans. He shook his head.

The glance of Victor's eyes as they turned upon Jean was like the edge of a super-sharpened knife. The trader knew that a crisis had arrived.

Which was the stronger of these two, the brother or the sister? He waited.

"What are you goin' to do with him?" Davia asked.

She could scarcely withhold the anger which had risen within her.

But Jean did not answer; he was listening to a strange sound which came to him through the open door. Suddenly he stooped again and began to readjust the rope that held his prisoner. He secured hands and feet together in a manner from which Victor was not likely to free himself easily; and yet from which it was possible for him to get loose. Davia followed his movements keenly. At last the giant rose; his task was completed.

"Now," he said, addressing them both. "Say your says--quick."

"You ain't leavin' him here," said the woman, looking squarely into her brother's eyes.

"That's so."

A strange light leapt into Davia's eyes. Jean saw it and went on with a frown.

"I'm easy, dead easy; but I guess I've had enough. He'll shift fer himself. If he'd 'a' acted straight ther'd 'a' been no call fer me to step in. He didn't. He ain't settin' you right, Davi'; he can't even act the thief decent. He'd 'a' robbed you an' me, an' left you what you are.

Wal, my way goes."

Then he turned to Victor and briefly told him Davia's story of the mountain tragedy. As he came to the climax the last vestige of the trader's insolence vanished. Nick was on his way to the store armed and--mad. Panic seized upon the listener. His bravado had ever been but the veneer of the surface. His condition returned to the subversive terror which had a.s.sailed him when he was caught in the mountain blizzard.

"Now, see you here, Victor," Jean concluded coldly, yet watching the effect he had produced. "Ye owe us a deal more'n ye ken pay easy, but I'm fixin' the reckonin' my way. We're goin', an' the boodle goes wi'

us. Savvee?" Davia watched her brother acutely. Nor could she help noticing that the great man was listening while he spoke. "I 'lows you'll git free o' this rope. I mean ye to--after awhiles. Ye'll keep y'r monkey tricks till after we're clear o' here. Then ye'll do best to go dead easy. Fer that crank's comin' right along, an', I 'lows, if I was you I'd as lief lie here and rot, an' feed the gophers wi' my carca.s.s as run up agin him. I tell ye, pard, ther's a cuss hangin'

around wher' Nick Westley goes, an' I don't reckon it's like to work itself out easy by a big sight."

Jean finished up with profound emphasis. Then he turned about and faced his sister.

"Now, gal, we're goin'."

"Not while Victor's left here."

Jean stood quite still for a moment. Then his rage suddenly broke forth.

"Not while that skunk's left?" he cried, pointing scornfully at the prostrate man. "Ye'd stop here fer him as has shamed ye; him as 'ud run from ye this minit if he had the chance; him as 'ud rob ye too; him as thinks as much to ye as a coyote. s.l.u.t y' are, but y' are my sister, an'

I say ye shall go wi' me."

He made a step towards her. Then he brought up to a halt as the long blade of a knife gleamed before his eyes. But he only hesitated a second. His great hand went out, and he caught the woman's wrist as she was about to strike. The next instant he had wrenched the weapon from her grasp and held her.

Now he thrust her out of the hut and secured the door. He believed that what he had done was only right.

As they pa.s.sed out into the bright spring daylight again a change seemed to come over Davia. Her terror of Nick Westley returned as she noted the alert att.i.tude of her brother. She listened too, and held her breath to intensify her hearing. But Jean did not relax his hold upon her till they were once more within the store. Then he set her to a.s.sist in the preparations for their flight. When all was ready, and they stood outside the house while Jean secured the door, Davia made a final appeal.

"Let me stop, Jean," she cried, while a sob broke from her. "I love him.

He's mine."

"G.o.d's curse on ye, no!" came the swift response, and the man's eyes blazed.

Suddenly a long-drawn cry rose upon the air. It reached a great pitch and died lingeringly away. It was near by and told its tale. And the woman shuddered involuntarily. It was the wolf cry of the mountains; the cry of the human. And, as if in answer, came a chorus from wolfish throats. The last moment had come.

Davia caught Jean's arm as though seeking protection.

"I will go," she cried, and the man took her answer to be a final submission.

The stillness of the day had pa.s.sed. Life thrilled the air although no life was visible. Davia's fear was written in her face, Jean's expression was inscrutable; only was it sure that he listened.

But Jean was not without the superst.i.tious dread which madness inspires.

And as they raced, he bearing the burden of the treasure-chest, for the wood-covered banks of the creek, he was stirred to horror by the familiar sounds that pursued him. It was their coming, at that time, in daylight; and in answer to the human cry that had first broken up the silence of the hills. How came it that the legions of the forest were marching in the wake of that other upon the valley of Little Choyeuse Creek?

Jean halted when they stood upon the rotten ice of the creek. Now he released his sister, and they stood facing each other well screened from view from the store.

The sullen peace of the valley had merged into the deep-toned, continuous howl of hoa.r.s.e throats. A terrible threat was in the sound.

Jean unslung his rifle and looked to his pistol.

"Ther's six in this gun," he said deliberately. "Five of 'em is fer them beasties, if ne'sary. The other's fer you if you git playin' tricks.

Mebbe ye'll thank me later fer what I'm doin'. It don't cut no figger anyway."

Then he prodded the ice with his iron-shod staff.

Davia watched him while she listened to the din of the forest world. At length the staff had beaten its way to the water below.