Menotah Part 21

'I can walk now,' she replied. 'We must go before the wind strikes us.'

They stepped from the fort during one of the short, terribly intense periods of silence. Immediately there rang forth the sullen report of a muzzle-loader. It came from the opposite sh.o.r.e, and hung over the forest until dispelled by the thunder.

'It is Muskwah,' said the girl. 'He has hunted the moose since morning, and now returns. That is his signal. The Chief would marry me to him,'

she concluded indifferently.

They came to the edge of the cliff. The electric fire blazed with stronger fury, yet not a drop of rain fell from the copper sky to the parched ground, not a motion of air stole through the solemn pines.

Beneath, the mighty Saskatchewan swelled away, its oil-like water converted into a sea of fire, overhung by ever-changing blood shadows.

Menotah released his arm with a little cry of fear, as a narrow ribbon of flame darted along his back and struck across the rock. 'Why have you the rifle?'

Lamont feigned surprise. 'I forgot,' he said quickly. 'I will cover it with my coat.' He did so, then turned to the girl again.

'It is not far through the forest, Menotah. I wish you to go to the encampment by yourself.'

She demurred, but obeyed. He made as though he would return to the fort, but she gave a little cry, and he turned, to find her standing beside him with uplifted face. 'You forgot me,' she said pitifully.

'No, _cherie_; I was only afraid of the fire striking you.' He kissed her many times, then she stepped into the bushes with a backward glance.

So he was alone. The rifle was again uncovered, while he knelt on the rocky headland, with eyes fixed upon the dark shadows beneath the opposing bank. Minutes dragged along slowly as he crouched, like a dark statue, until eyes dimmed with the strained gaze and, in the intervals of great silence, heart-beats rose in loud pulsations. But it was not for long he waited. A canoe shot suddenly forth from the dark shadows beyond. It carried a single occupant, one who headed the frail craft with dexterous paddle strokes straight for the point. He knelt to his work; the figure was erect, rejoicing in strength and manhood. It was the bearing of one who has secured the victory, who sees happiness before him on the life pathway.

Now he had reached the centre of the great river, and the white paddle shone like a gla.s.s beneath the fire. Then the stern-faced watcher perceived in the illumination the features, the swelling muscles, the proud might of the warrior Muskwah. Another stroke, and the canoe half sprang from the water like a graceful bird, to fall back and dart along, cutting through the sanguine waters and casting aside two wide lines of ruddy waves.

'He must not land. The time has come.'

Such words were spoken by an avenging voice from the heart of the storm.

He raised and levelled that murderous rifle; the stock burnt his cheek: lightning confused the sights; then he settled himself like a rock, as the forefinger caressed the trigger. The reverberating crack was swallowed by the revelry above, the gleaming river received in its bosom the harmless missive.

'Again!' The single word circled from the red mystery of the tempest.

The warrior approached the sh.o.r.e. Should he reach that dark shelter of the cliff, he must escape beneath the forest shadows, while another life would pay the penalty of failure.

The rifle came up, with the wild lights playing and leaping along its narrow length. A bullet darted forth and pierced the brown bark at the side.

'Again!'

He could see the Indian's frightened face, as he struggled madly towards the rock-lined sh.o.r.e, the friendly shadows, where he might creep away in safety; but there was no thought of pity, no compunction at depriving mortality of its best. Only he pa.s.sed a hand across his eyes and straightened himself for a more resolute effort. Then the keen eye glanced again from sight to sight, while the storm fiend spoke for the last time,--

'The wind is coming. There will be opportunity only for two more shots.'

Half lifting the gaze from his glowing weapon, he perceived the heads of the most distant pines on the heaving sky line bend almost double, yet amid a silence most intense. That fearful calm could have no other ending. In three minutes the tornado must burst upon them.

An unearthly moaning shuddered over forest and river. At the same moment the heavens divided into a myriad fiery serpents, writhing and hissing to every point of the compa.s.s. As this avenging host convulsed the livid sky, a death bullet shrieked from the sh.o.r.e and savagely bit the warrior's left shoulder.

He dropped with a wild cry; the birch bark overturned, scarlet waters foamed and twisted like a furnace with the grim struggle. And after came the common end of all.

In the last interval of stillness, Lamont wiped the sweat from his forehead, and again covered the rifle. The wind approached. He prepared to move towards the fort, but the small bush behind trembled with motion. Then a figure crept forth and caught at his arm with soft fingers. He cried aloud, when the frightened face and wide-open eyes appeared in the strange lights.

'Menotah! You here!'

She pointed below to the fire-like river, while her lips moved. At length words dropped forth. 'Why did you kill him?'

There was time for a hasty reply, though the trees across the water bent and cracked. Flinging down the weapon, he caught her in his arms and pressed her to him, until heart beat with heart. Then he whispered against her ear, 'Because I love you.' Then the wind came.

With a mad fury it drowned the sonorous bursts of thunder. The Saskatchewan was lashed into white billows of foam; a drifting canoe was torn into fragments by sharp rocks. Trees groaned and tossed appealingly heavy plumes to the violent sky; branches and small stones hurtled on the wings of the tempest.

It was the murderer's storm, and for him alone. As he clasped Menotah, beneath the raging bush, it poured all its message of retribution around his head, and shrieked the red words of fate into his ears. His unworthy love was blood purchased. It was a thing accursed. It would end in blood.

And, after the wind, came the rain.

CHAPTER V

PACTOLUS

The following morning dawned with clear light in a radiant softness.

Bright sunshine glistened joyfully upon dripping pine needles, drawing fragrance from the damp ground and dew-lined bushes.

Dave, sulky and forgetful of events closely preceding, partook of a greasy breakfast prepared by Justin, then slouched outside, where he might relieve his feelings by swearing at the slowness of his half-breed a.s.sistants. The Factor was abroad yet earlier. Half a bottle of black H.B. had little subsequent effect upon his vigorous const.i.tution. He ate with Dave, continually disburdening himself of badly-received jokes at his companion's expense.

The Captain rose presently with a curt farewell, and blundered finally from the fort. But McAuliffe was not to be shaken off. He followed, borrowed a plug of T.& B., then walked along, peeling off thick strips and reminding Dave of several commissions to be executed prior to a next meeting. 'Shouldn't have taken so much liquor, Dave. You've got a sore head this morning, sure.'

The other mumbled an indistinct reply. Then they came down to the river's edge. Here the boat was lying, bales of furs for English shipment ready stowed, an Icelander waiting to cast off the last rope.

Dave swore at this latter, then stepped on board. The next minute the black monster drew slowly away. The Captain took up a stolid position in the bows, and lifted the torn flag he was grasping in response to McAuliffe's parting shout. Then the unwieldy craft gurgled round the bend and disappeared. The Factor turned, to discover Lamont approaching him from the forest. 'Where you been?' he called, as the young man came up.

'Around early. Tracked a musk.a.w.k, but couldn't get in a shot.'

'That was the old bull's luck. Say, we had a bit of a jamboree last night, eh?'

'I reckon you did. What with liquor splashing and a tornado howling, it was a fairly wild night.'

'Don't often get off on a jag,' said the Factor. 'When I do, I'm a rocket. Bound to go off full rip. Guess you found me a bit of a teaser, eh?'

'Not so bad as Dave. I've no use for him.'

'He's not much of a chap. Told him that straight lots of times. I shouldn't have cut such an everlasting dido if he hadn't been monkeying around. Drank more than I did, too. Dirty mean trick that, for he can get lots across lake. Quite a little storm rustling most of the while, eh?'

Lamont smiled feebly. 'Just a bit,' he said slowly.

The Factor looked at him critically. 'Darn it, Lamont, a fellow might think you'd been on the jag stead of me.'

He was right. The young man's face was colourless and heavy; his eyes dull and deeply marked with black lines; his appearance thinner and older. The Factor, on the other hand, represented the perfection of health. His great face glowed with colour beneath a wide straw bonnet; his eyes shone; his step was firm and vigorous.

'I'm a bit played out. Up most of the night; out first thing without grub.'

'That's what,' returned McAuliffe, heartily. 'Come off now; there's a decent chunk of moose steak lying inside.'