The Heart of Unaga Part 64

In the reaction from his disappointment Marcel's generous nature a.s.serted itself. He saw himself at last admitted to that which he considered the work of manhood. And he sought to embrace it all.

"But you, Uncle," he cried earnestly. "Is there need? Why should you have to go on? Think of all you've done. Why, say--pa.s.s the work to me, and take an easy."

Steve's eyes promptly denied him.

"Easy?" He shook his head. "Why should I? Guess the north country's mine for keeps, boy. And when my time gets around I hope it finds me beating up the dogs at 40 below, with a h.e.l.l fire blizzard sweeping down off the Arctic ice."

Steve was abroad early next morning. He had talked long and late with Marcel over-night, and their talk had been mostly of Keeko and her life, as the lover knew it. Never, to the moment they parted for the night, did Steve display weariness of the subject of their talk. To Marcel it seemed natural enough that this should be so. But then he was little more than twenty, and in love. Steve's urgency for detail must have been pathetic to any onlooker. To Marcel it was only another exhibition of his goodness and sympathy for himself.

Steve had little enough sleep after he left the boy. For once in a hardy lifetime he lay under his blankets with a mind feverishly alert. He was yearning for the pa.s.sing of night. He was well-nigh crazy for the sun of the morrow. Yet withal a wonderful happiness robbed him of all irritation at his wakefulness.

So it came in the chill dawn of a perfect spring morning, in which only the melting snow had reason to weep, he was moving abroad in heavy boots wading through the slush which would soon be past. He watched the sun rise from its nightly slumber, and its brilliant light amidst the pa.s.sing clouds of night was a sign to him. It was the dawn of his great day. It was the pa.s.sing of his years-long night.

As the clouds dropped away and vanished below the horizon, leaving the sun safely enthroned, an amazing jewel set in the world's azure canopy, he pa.s.sed again into the store. Even on this great day habit remained.

He replenished the stoves, and set the boilers of water in place for An-ina. After that he pa.s.sed out again, and made his way to the store-house that held his secret.

He adjusted a mask upon his mouth and nostrils and tasted again the sickening drug he had learned to hate. He unfastened the door and pa.s.sed within. For a long time he remained with the door closed behind him.

Later he reappeared, and, removing his mask, pa.s.sed out into the pure air of the morning. He secured the door behind him.

Absorbed in thought, his eyes unsmiling, he was making his way back to the main building. It was not until he had almost reached the door that he became aware of An-ina's presence. It was her voice that caused him to look up.

"Look," she cried in her soft tones, and pointed.

Steve followed the direction of her lean brown finger. Marcel and Keeko were standing in the great gateway of the stockade.

Steve's smile was good to see and An-ina responded in sympathy.

"They love. Sure. Oh, yes," she said.

Steve nodded. He was gazing at the tall, graceful figure of Keeko. He seemed to have no eyes for the boy at all. Keeko, in her mannish clothes of buckskin, her beaded, fur-trimmed tunic which revealed the shapeliness of her youthful body. The vision of it all carried his mind back so many years.

"Keeko for Marcel. Marcel for Keeko. Yes?"

Steve drew a deep breath.

"Yes. Thank G.o.d."

He moved away. There was no ceremony between these two. Steve's love for An-ina was built upon the unshakable foundations of perfect understanding. He strode out towards the gates, and the lovers heard the splash of his boots as he waded the melting snow. They turned. And it was Marcel who made half-shamefaced explanation.

"I was telling Keeko of the weed," he said. "I was telling her of the fire country which I guess she got a peek at last summer--from a distance. She was asking to know the trade Lorson Harris was yearning to steal, and the feller Nicol was ready to murder for. She guesses it's most like a fairy yarn."

Steve's eyes were steadily regarding the girl's smiling face. He noted the beautiful, frank, wide eyes, the perfect lips that so reminded him--

The fresh, clear, transparent cheeks forming so perfect an oval. Then there was her fair hair escaping from beneath the soft edges of her fur cap. She was prettier even than he had first thought.

"I allow it maybe sounds that way," he said. Then he shook his head.

"But there's nothing unreal to it. No. There's no more unreal to Adresol than there is to the h.e.l.l fires raging away out there in the heart of Unaga, where the whole place is white like a lake of pure milk with the bloom of the plant that breathes certain death, but which holds in its heart the greatest benefit the world's ever known. It's all queer, I allow. But--say--" He turned and pointed at the store-house. "It's all there. It's baled ready for Lorson Harris to buy. You can get a peek at it, at the stuff these folks reckoned to steal. Will you----?"

The invitation stirred Marcel to prompt anxiety. He laid a hand on Keeko's soft shoulder as she prepared to move away.

"Is it safe, Uncle Steve?" he demanded hastily. "You see, Keeko's not like----"

"Safe? Sure." Steve produced two masks. "I've worked in there for weeks, boy, with these things set on my face. I've worked all day and haf the night--baling. Sure it's safe. You go, too. There's a mask for each, and I guess they aren't just things of beauty. We'll go along over, and I'll fix 'em for you. I kind of fancy Keeko should see what's hid up in that store-house."

Steve led the way, and, hand in hand, like two children, the others followed him. At the door of the store-house he paused and turned. He stepped up to Marcel and adjusted his mask. And while he adjusted it his eyes remained unsmiling. He was careful, infinitely careful, in the adjustment, and in reply to the youth's protest at the nauseating taste of the drug he was forced to inhale his retort was briefly to the point.

"Sure it's no bouquet," he said. "But it's that or a--halo, and wings and things."

Keeko offered no protest at all. She was impressed far more than she knew. It seemed to her that the simple trust which prompted the man's action in revealing his secret to her, the secret Lorson Harris was willing to pay a hundred thousand dollars for, was something too simply wonderful for words.

With the adjustment of the masks Steve removed the fastenings that barred the door. He held it closed a moment and turned to Marcel.

"You'll go first, boy. You'll go right in. I guess you've got the masks so I can't come with you. I want you to take Keeko, and show it all.

Maybe you'll find things there you don't understand. That don't matter.

Maybe you can figger them out between you."

Then he turned to Keeko and his steady eyes regarded her seriously under the disfiguring mask.

"Get a look at it all, my dear. All. But say, as you value your life--and Marcel's and my peace of mind--don't shift that mask a hair's breadth, no matter how you feel--looking around. When you come out you can tell me about things."

He set the door ajar, and leading the girl by the hand Marcel pa.s.sed into the house of death.

Steve stood guard. He listened with straining ears. There came the faint sound of m.u.f.fled voices from within, and the sound of movement. The moments dragged slowly. Once he thought he heard a series of sharp exclamations. But he could not be sure. He expected them. That was all.

After awhile the voices ceased, and there only remained the shuffling of feet whose sound drew nearer. The visit was short, as he expected it would be. He understood. A moment later he felt pressure against the door.

He opened it, and Keeko and Marcel returned to the open air. Without a word Steve re-fastened the door. Marcel dragged the mask from his troubled face and Keeko followed his example.

Steve turned from the door and stood confronting them. His eyes were hard. They were almost fierce as he looked into the startled faces before him.

"Well?" he demanded. Then his gaze rested on the girl. "You saw--it?"

Keeko inclined her head. She hesitated. A curious parching of throat and tongue left her striving to moisten her trembling lips.

"Yes," she said, at last.

"And it was--Nicol?"

"Yes."

Quite suddenly Steve laughed. It was a mere expression of relief, but it succeeded in robbing his eyes of a light which so rarely found place in them. He pointed at the closed door.

"He came here in the night," he said. "I don't know how he came. I never saw a sign of his outfit. Maybe they left him, as he didn't get back."