Snowdrift Part 21

"I went to school at the mission on the Mackenzie. I went there for a good many years, and I worked hard, for I like to study. And books! I love to read books. I read all they had, and some of them many times. Do you love books?"

"Why yes," answered Brent, "I used to. I haven't read many since I came North."

"Why did you come North?"

"I came for gold."

"For gold!" cried the girl, her eyes shining, "That is why we are here!

Wananebish says there is gold here in the barrens. Once many years ago she found it--but we have tried to find the place again, and we cannot."

"Who is Wananebish?"

"Wananebish is my mother. She is an Indian, and she has tried to keep the band together through many years, and to keep them away from the hooch, but, they will not listen to her. It was hard work to persuade them to come away from the river. And, have you found gold?"

"Yes," answered Brent, "Way over beyond the mountains that lie to the westward of the Mackenzie, I found much gold. But I lost it."

"Lost it! Oh, that was too bad. Did it fall off your sled?"

"Well, not exactly," answered the man dryly. "In my case, it was more of a toboggan."

"Couldn't you find it again?"

"No. Other men have it, now."

"And they won't give it back!"

"No, it is theirs. That part of it is all right--only I would give anything in the world to have it--now."

"Why do you want it now? Can you not find more gold? I guess I do not understand."

Brent shook his head: "No, you do not understand. But, sometime you will understand. Sometime I think I shall have many things to tell you--and then I want you to understand."

The girl glanced at him wonderingly, as she threw a handful of tea into the pan. "You must sharpen some green sticks and cut pieces of meat,"

she said, "And we will eat our supper."

A silence fell upon them during the meal, a silence broken only by the roar of the wind that came to them as from afar, m.u.f.fled as it was by its own freighting of snow. Hardly for a moment did Brent take his eyes from the girl. There was a great unwonted throbbing in his breast, that seemed to cry out to him to take the girl in his arms and hold her tight against his pounding heart, and the next moment the joy of her was gone, and in its place was a dull heavy pain.

"Now, I know why I like you," said the girl, abruptly, as she finished her piece of venison.

"Yes?" smiled Brent, "And are you going to tell me?"

"It is because you are good." She continued, without noting the quick catch in the man's breath. "Men who hunt for gold are good. My father was good, and he died hunting for gold. Wananebish told me. It was years and years ago when I was a very little baby. I know from reading in books that many white men are good. But in the North they are bad.

Unless they are of the police, or are priests, or factors. I had sworn to hate all white men who came into the North--but I forgot the men who hunt gold."

"I am glad you remembered them," answered Brent gravely. "I hope you are right."

"I am sleepy," announced the girl. "We cannot both sleep in this robe, for we have only one, and to keep warm it is necessary to roll up in it.

One of us can sleep half the night while the other tends the fire, and then the other will sleep."

"You go to sleep," said Brent. "I will keep the fire going. I am not a bit sleepy. And besides, I have a whole world of thinking to do."

"I will wake up at midnight, and then you can sleep," she said, and, taking off her moccasins, and leggings, and long woolen stockings she arranged them upon sticks to dry and rolled up in the thick robe.

"Good night," called Brent, as she settled down.

"Good night, and may G.o.d keep you. You forgot that part," she corrected, gravely, "We used to say that at the Mission."

"Yes," answered Brent, "May G.o.d keep you. I did forget that part."

Suddenly the girl raised her head: "Do you believe we have known each other always?" she asked.

"Yes, girl," he answered, "I believe we have known each other since the beginning of time itself."

"Why did you come way over here to find gold? I have heard that there is much gold beyond the mountains to the westward."

It was upon Brent's tongue to say: "I came to find you," but, he restrained the impulse. "All the gold claims that are any good are taken up over there," he explained, "And I read in a book that a man gave me that there was gold here."

"What kind of a book was that? I never read a book about gold."

"It was an old book. One that the man had picked up over in the Hudson Bay country. Its t.i.tle was torn off, but upon one of its pages was written a man's name, probably the name of the former owner of the book.

I have often wondered who he was. The name was Murdo MacFarlane."

"Murdo MacFarlane!" cried the girl, sitting bolt upright, and staring at Brent.

"Yes," answered the man, "Do you know him?"

The girl reached out and tossed her belt to Brent. "It is the name upon the sheath of the knife," she answered, "It is Wananebish's knife. I broke the point of mine."

Brent took the sheath and held it close to the light of the little fire.

"Murdo MacFarlane," he deciphered, "Yes, the name is the same." And long after the girl's regular breathing told him she was sleeping, he repeated the name again: "Murdo MacFarlane. I don't know who you were or who you are, if you still live, but whoever you were, or whoever you are--here's good luck to you--Murdo MacFarlane!"

CHAPTER XV

MOONLIGHT

The wind had died down, although the snow continued to fall thickly the following morning, as Brent and Snowdrift crept from the wikiup and struck out for the river. It was heavy going, even the broad webbed snowshoes sinking deeply into the fluffy white smother that covered the wind-packed fall of the night. Brent offered to break trail, but Snowdrift insisted upon taking her turn, and as he labored in her wake, the man marveled at the strength and the untiring endurance of the slender, lithe-bodied girl. He marveled also at the unfailing sureness of her sense of direction. Twice, when he was leading she corrected him and when after nearly four hours of continuous plodding, they stood upon the bank of the river, he realized that without her correction, his course would have carried him miles to the southward.

"Good bye," he smiled, extending his bared hand, when at length they came to the parting of the ways, "I don't want but one of the caribou I shot. Divide the other two between the families of the Indians that skipped out."

Slipping off her mitten, the girl took the proffered hand unhesitatingly and an ecstatic thrill shot through Brent's heart at the touch of the firm slender fingers that closed about his own--a thrill that half-consciously, half-unconsciously, caused him to press the hand that lay warm within his clasp.

"Yes," she answered, making no effort to release the hand, "They need the meat. With the rabbits they can snare, it will keep them all winter.

I have not much fur yet--a few fox skins, and some _loup cervier_. I will bring them to you tomorrow."

"Bring them to me!" cried Brent, "What do you mean? Why should you bring them to me?"