The Barrier Part 39

At this final desperate effort to fix the crime upon his rival, Burrell turned on him with loathing.

"It's no use, Stark. We heard you say she killed herself. We were standing outside the door, both of us, and got it from your own lips."

Until this moment the man had stood on his own feet, but now he began to sag, seeing which, Poleon supported him to the bed, where he sank weakly, collapsing in every joint and muscle.

"It's a job," he snarled. "You put this up, you three, and came here to gang me." An unnatural shudder convulsed him as his wounds bit at him, and then he flared up viciously. "But I'll beat you all. I've got the girl! I've got her!"

"Necia!" cried Burrell, suddenly remembering, for this affray had driven all else from his mind.

Stark crouched on the edge of his bunk--a ghastly, gray, grinning thing! One weapon still remained to him, and he used it.

"Yes, I've got my daughter!"

"Where is she?" demanded the trader, hoa.r.s.ely. "Where's my girl?"

The gambler chuckled; an agony seized him till he hiccoughed and strangled; then, as the spell pa.s.sed, he laughed again.

"She's got you in her head, like the mother had, but I'll drive it out; I'll treat her like I did her--"

Gale uttered a terrible cry and moved upon him, but Burrell shouldered the trader aside, himself possessed by a cold fury that intensified his strength tenfold.

"Stop it, Gale! Let me attend to this. I'll make him tell!"

"Oh, will you?" mocked the girl's father.

"Where is she?"

"None of your d.a.m.ned business." Again he was seized with a paroxysm that left him shivering and his lips colorless. The blankets were soaked and soggy with blood, and his feet rested in a red pool.

"Ben Stark," said the tortured lover, "you're a sick man, and you'll be gone in half an hour at this rate. Won't you do one decent thing before you die?"

"Bah! I'm all right."

"I'll get you a doctor if you'll tell us where she is. If you don't--I'll--let you die. For G.o.d's sake, man, speak up!"

The wounded man strove to rise, but could not, then considered for a moment before he said:

"I sent her away."

"Where?"

"Up-river, on that freighter that left last night. She'll go out by Skagway, and I'll join her later, where I can have her to myself. She's forty miles up-river now, and getting farther every minute--oh, you can't catch her!"

The three men stared at one another blankly.

"Why did she go?" said Gale, dully.

"Because I told her who she was, and who you are; because she thinks you killed her mother; because she was glad to get away." Now that he was grown too weak to inflict violent pain, the man lied malevolently, gloating over what he saw in the trader's face.

"Never mind, old man, I'll bring her back," said Burrell, and laid a comforting hand on Gale's shoulder, for the fact that she was safe, the fact of knowing something relieved him immensely; but Stark's next words plunged him into even blacker horror than the trader felt.

"You won't want her if you catch her. Runnion will see to that."

"Runnion!"

"Yes, I sent him with her."

The lover cried out in anguish, and hid his face in his hands.

"He's wanted her for a long time, so I told him to go ahead--"

None of them noticed Poleon Doret, who, upon this unnatural confession, alone seemed to retain sufficient control to doubt and to reason. He was thinking hard, straightening out certain facts, and trying to square this horrible statement with things he had seen and heard to-night. All of a sudden he uttered a great cry, and bolted out into the darkness unheeded by Gale and Burrell, who stood dazed and distraught with a fear greater than that which was growing in Stark at sight of his wounds.

The gambler looked down at his injuries, opened and closed the fingers of his hand as if to see whether he still maintained control of them, then cried out at the two helpless men:

"Well, are you going to let me bleed to death?"

It brought the soldier out of his trance.

"Why--no, no! We'll get a doctor."

But Gale touched him on the shoulder and said:

"He's too weak to get out. Lock him in, and let him die in the dark."

Stark cursed affrightedly, for it is a terrible thing to bleed to death in the dark, and in spite of himself the Lieutenant wavered.

"I can't do that. I promised."

"He told that lie to my girl. He gave her to that hound," said the trader, but Burrell shoved him through the door.

"No! I can't do that." And then to the wounded man he said, "I'll get a doctor, but G.o.d have mercy on your soul." He could not trust himself to talk further with this creature, nor be near him any longer, for though he had a slight knowledge of surgery, he would sooner have touched a loathsome serpent than the flesh of this monstrous man.

He pushed Gale ahead of him, and the old man went like a driven beast, for his violence had wasted itself, and he was like a person under the spell of a strong drug. At the doctor's door Burrell stopped.

"I never thought to ask you," he said, wearily; "but you must be hurt?

He must have wounded you?"

"I reckon he did--I don't know." Then the man's listless voice throbbed out achingly, as he cried in despair: "She believed him, boy! She believed his lies! That's what hurts." Something like a sob caught in his throat, and he staggered away under the weight of his great bereavement.

CHAPTER XVII

THE LOVE OF POLEON DORET