The Frontiersman Part 20

"Well, you see, it's this way. I left Pete asleep, as he was tired after his long trip, and went to get the roots of which I told you at Siwash Creek. I found the old chief asleep, and when he was awake and I told him what I wanted it took me one hour to answer all the questions he asked. Then he made a long speech about his ancestors, and how the wonderful roots had cured so many of them. By the time he was through another hour had slipped by. But at last I got what I wanted and here it is, so I am going to begin at once upon that racking cough."

"Mr. Steadman," said Constance, "will you please tell me where all these things came from which we found in this room?"

"What things?" queried Keith, as he carefully unwrapped the precious roots from their thin bark covering.

"Why, this splendid bear-skin rug on the floor; that large wolf skin on my father's cot, and those pictures on the walls; they do not belong to us."

"Do you mind very much, Miss Radhurst? If you are offended I'll take them away, for it was I who brought them here."

Receiving no reply, he continued: "When I came to light the fire, so as to have the building warm for your arrival, I noticed how bare the room looked, and turned over in my mind how to improve its appearance, and so brought these over. That bearskin rug is from one of the finest grizzlies ever seen in the North. I brought him down one morning when he was about to make a breakfast of me."

Keith did not tell that in killing the animal he had risked his own life to save an Indian youth, who was in the creature's grip. The lad was a stranger to him, and when he was released he gave one quick, searching glance of grat.i.tude at the missionary and then sped like a deer up the long, deep ravine. He had never seen the lad since, but his bright face and manly figure were often in his mind.

To Keith, the days that followed were full of peace and happiness. The Reading Room was well attended and, more important still, the church was filled every Sunday with an orderly number of men. It now appeared that the turn of affairs on the night of the debate had discouraged Pritchen entirely from his opposition.

Keith became a regular visitor at the Radhurst cabin, and Constance always awaited his coming with pleasure. They read aloud from some favourite author, during the long evenings, when Mr. Radhurst was an eager listener until he fell asleep.

"I wish I had my copy of Browning," said Keith one night, "but I have lost it somewhere. I had it on the trail, and well remember the last time I read from it. It was in an open camp, where I must have left it."

"He seems to be your favourite author," replied Constance.

"One of my favourites. He deals with the deep, serious things of life, and has such a virile faith."

One afternoon, instead of reading, they went out for a short snow-shoe tramp. The day was clear and fine, and the myriads of snowy crystals gemmed the whole landscape with surpa.s.sing glory. They climbed the hills, chatting like happy children, while at times their voices rang out in joyous peals of laughter. When they returned to the cabin their faces glowed with the keen exercise, and Keith, looking at Constance, thought he never beheld a fairer picture of health and beauty.

"You will come in to see father," she said, when they had reached the door.

"No, not to-day, thank you," Keith replied. "I have had so much enjoyment this afternoon, that I feel quite intoxicated. I must get back to my cabin and do some translationary work. Spring will soon be here, so I want to get the task finished and off in the first boat."

Keith had been engaged for some time upon the Psalms, and had reached the one hundred and twenty-first. Generally it was easy for him to concentrate his mind upon his task, and hours would slip quickly by.

But to-day it was different. "I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills," he began, and then tried to write. Instead of the Indian words slipping from beneath his pen, he found himself sketching a fair face upon the white sheet before him. So absorbed was he at this pleasant occupation that time moved unheeded by. He was at length startled by a loud rap upon the door, and quickly turning the sketch face downwards upon the table called to the visitor to come in. At once a young man entered, and cast a curious glance around the snug room.

"Mr. Steadman," he began, "you're wanted at the store. There's trouble on hand. Tim Fleeters had a poke of gold stolen from his cabin, and a miners' meeting has been called to see what's to be done."

"Certainly I will go," replied Keith. "Will you wait for me?"

"No, I must hurry on; I have more calls to make," and with that he was away.

Before leaving, Keith lifted the drawing from the table and placed it in a strong chest in one corner of the room.

"There, if anyone should enter during my absence nothing will be left to tell how I have spent the afternoon."

As he moved along the path leading to the store, Pritchen crept out from behind an adjacent building and watched the missionary until his tall figure was out of sight. Then with a low chuckle he moved towards the light shining through the window from the candle which Keith in his hurry had forgotten to extinguish. Drawing near he peered cautiously into the room, but could observe no one within. To be surer, he knocked, and, receiving no response, opened the door and entered.

"Ha, ha," he muttered half aloud, as he glanced swiftly around the room. "Snug place this. Nice books there. But you'll learn something soon, my hearty, not found in those pages. Now a place for these."

As he spoke he drew from beneath his coat a heavy poke of gold, and also an empty one, on which appeared the two letters, "K. R."

Presently his eye caught sight of the chest.

"That looks good; a most likely place, so in you go."

Lifting the cover, which was not locked, he beheld the picture lying in full view.

"h.e.l.lo! what in h-- is this? A picture, and a woman's! It's too dark here to see clearly. I must have more light. Ah, now I see," and he held the candle close down to the chest. "Well, well, I didn't know it had gone that far, but it only makes bigger game for me. Down underneath is the place for these, snug away in that corner, beneath this stuff. There, that's good."

No sense of shame or pity struck the villain's heart, as he gave one more swift glance at the sweet face before him ere he slammed down the cover. Then locking the chest he was about to put the key into his pocket.

"No, that won't do," he thought. "The stove's the best place for you.

There, down among the coals and ashes, away out of sight."

He then started to leave the building, and had almost reached the door, when his eye fell upon a picture standing upon the rough deal table.

He stopped and went back. The photograph was that of a sweet-faced woman and two lovely children, a boy and a girl.

Pritchen looked at them curiously for an instant. "Long time since I've seen you, Nellie. I expect you don't look so young and fresh now, and the kids must be well grown up. Here's to the d-- breed, with all their saintly, pious ways. I'm done with you all--all except one, by G.o.d, and he'll soon be finished."

Seizing the picture in his hand, he tore it to pieces, threw the fragments into the stove, and, turning, left the building.

CHAPTER XVI

THE MINERS' MEETING

Of all criminals in the unwritten code of mining camps in the early days in the Yukon, the sneak-thief was the most despised. A man might live as he pleased, as a squaw-man, or with several paramours; he might shoot a man down in his tracks, if for honour or self-defense. But for a man who robbed sluice boxes or stole from cabins there was no term of condemnation strong enough in the English language. Cabins in those days were seldom locked, and a man who secured his door at night, or when he left the place, was viewed with suspicion, and often shunned.

Anyone might enter another's abode, borrow what he needed, and, if hungry, help himself. It was the law, the unwritten verdict of the place.

When Keith reached the store he found most of the men congregated there, discussing the whole affair in no light terms. Some were sitting on rude benches, others were standing. The room reeked with tobacco and whiskey fumes. As he gazed around and noticed how the scent of blood had aroused their pa.s.sions, a sigh escaped his lips. A number who at the debate had talked the strongest about temperance, who were so quiet in the Reading Room, and orderly in church, were among the most vehement talkers, and expressed their views in the strongest manner.

They reminded him of a certain Sunday School cla.s.s in his old home town. When separated each was quiet and manly, a typical little saint, who said "yes, sir," and "no, sir," most carefully, and could tell about Moses and David with evident pride. But when together, the mob instinct seemed to possess them, and to carry them beyond all bounds of reason in thought, word and deed.

As he listened to these miners and heard their rash remarks he shuddered. "G.o.d help the poor fellow!" he thought, "whoever he may be, if he once gets into such brutish hands."

"Yes," he heard Tim Fleeters saying, "it was only yesterday that I went out to cut fire-wood. The poke of gold was in my chest, at the foot of my bunk. When I returned, and lifted the lid to get some tea which I kept there, the poke was gone--gold and all."

"The sneak!" spoke up another, "shooting's too good for him."

"Hanging would be better," remarked a third. "Shooting'd be a cinch."

In the meantime the rest of the men had arrived, among whom was Pritchen, and joined in the conversation.

There were several miners in the room calmer than the rest, of whom Caribou Sol was one. He had watched the whole proceedings, and listened to the talk as it drifted along. Seeing that nothing definite was being done, he at length rose slowly to his feet, and mounted the bench on which he had been sitting.

"B'ys," he began, rolling a wad of tobacco in his cheek, "let's git down to bizness. We've met here, as I understand it, to see about that poke of gold, and all the talk seems to be about what to do with the thief. Now, who is he, and how are we to find him? I suggest that fust of all we appoint a chairman to this here meetin', an' git down to bed rock."

"Right ye are, Sol," said one, "and I move that you take the chair, or, I should say, bench."

"Hold right thar, pard," broke in the old man. "I don't want that persition, an' I won't take it. Appint some one else."