The Lure of the North Part 27

"_Pren' garde!_" said Thirlwell warningly, and thrust hard with his paddle as the canoe drove past a foam-lapped rock.

"It is the chase he make," the half-breed resumed, and another figure came out of the gloom, a short distance in front of the one they had seen.

The man moved feebly, stumbling now and then, but it was obvious that he meant to keep ahead of his pursuer. As he crossed a belt of moonlight one of the _Metis_ recognized him, for he cried: "_Steve le sauage!

Regardez moi l'ivrogne!_"

Agatha thought the man was drunk. This would account for his awkwardness, but as he turned and staggered down the bank she saw him plainer and he looked ill. He dragged himself along with an effort, his gait was uneven, as if one leg was weak, but he went on towards the water's edge. A moment later he pushed off a canoe, made a few strokes with the paddle, and then let her swing out with an eddy until she was caught by the mid-stream rush. After this he crouched in the stern and the craft began to drift down the rapid. The other man stopped and threw out his arms, as if he meant to protest that he could do nothing more.

"Father Lucien!" said Thirlwell. "Black Steve's risking a capsize."

They sped past the man upon the bank and Agatha watched the crouching figure in the canoe. The craft was a short distance in front of, but outside, theirs, and she could see the danger of her being smashed or swamped. It was plain that the only safe way down was through the slack along the bank, but the man made no effort to reach this smoother belt.

He let the paddle trail in the water while the canoe rocked among the angry waves. His rashness fascinated Agatha and she could not look away, although she knew she might see him drown.

"Can't you do something?" she asked Thirlwell.

"No," he said sternly. "We're loaded and would be swamped. Steve's drunk and must take his chance."

A few moments later the canoe in front plunged down a furious rush of the current, lurched up on a white wave, rolled over, and vanished.

Agatha trembled, and felt cold, and the _Metis_ shouted: "_V'la! C'en est fait--_"

A black object that looked like a head rose from the racing foam and Agatha turned to Thirlwell imperiously--

"Go and help him."

He hesitated and she knew it was on her account. Then he lifted his paddle.

"_Au secour!_"

The canoe swerved, swung out from the slack, and plunged into the foam.

She lifted her bows high out of the water while a white ridge rolled up astern, and for the next minute or two Agatha saw nothing clearly. Spray beat upon her, whipping her face; she had a confused sense of furious speed, but felt that the canoe was controlled. Water splashed on board; the _Metis_ bent forward and his shoulders moved in savage jerks. Behind them, the other canoe plunged down the rapid, rather bounding than sliding from wave to wave. In front, the black shape of the overturned craft washed to and fro like a drifting log. Thirlwell shouted as they sped past a rock, the canoe was swung violently sideways, and they were out of the main rush. There was an eddy behind the rock and the water ran round in white-lined rings. The moonlight fell across the center and Agatha saw a man's dark head.

Thirlwell backed his paddle and as they swept round in a semi-circle the _Metis_ stretched out his arm. They were very near the man in the water and when he spun round like a cork in the revolving backwash the moonlight touched his wet face. Agatha, leaning over the side, saw that he was the man who had broken into Farnam's house. The half-breed missed him and he looked up at her as the canoe shot past. He was so close that she could almost touch him, and she saw a look of fear in his staring eyes. Then, without making an effort to reach the canoe, he slipped under Thirlwell's hand and sank.

The canoe turned and an indistinct object broke the surface. It vanished, the canoe was swept back to the edge of the main rush, and for a minute or two Thirlwell and the half-breed struggled desperately. When they reached the slack again, there was nothing but angry water and racing foam. The man had gone and Agatha shivered and felt faint.

After that she had a hazy impression of streaming woods and flying belts of gloom as they swept down through the slack, until they drove out upon the tail-pool. For some minutes Thirlwell and the half-breeds battled with the eddies, and then they floated on smoothly and a light began to twinkle among the pines.

Thirlwell steered for the bank and Scott and some of the miners met them at the landing. Agatha was glad to leave the canoe, for her nerves were badly jarred.

Thirlwell presented Scott, who took them to the shack, which looked as if it had been recently cleaned. He said Agatha must make use of it for a day or two, and he and Thirlwell would find a berth in the store-shed.

Then they began to talk about the accident and Scott said, "Driscoll came back from the bush, looking ill, a week since and shut himself up in his shack. One of the boys told Father Lucien, who went along to look after him and found him very sick. That's all I know."

Agatha asked a few questions and then told them about the burglary.

"I am sure he was the man who opened my trunk," she said.

"Ah!" said Scott. "Do you think he knew you?"

"I believe he did. It's curious, but I thought he was afraid."

"Perhaps he was afraid," Scott agreed, with a meaning look at Thirlwell, who got up.

"I had better go to meet Father Lucien. He'll come down to the landing after us."

He found the missionary hurrying along the bank, and stopping him, sat down.

"Driscoll's gone; we did our best to pick him up," he remarked and related what had happened. "We may find him in the tail-pool to-morrow, but I imagine he'll be washed away down river, like his victim."

"Then you think Strange was his victim?"

"I can't doubt it now. But how did Steve get out of the shack?"

"Perhaps that was my fault, but he had been delirious for a day and night; and in the afternoon, when he was calmer, I went to sleep. One is apt to sleep too long when one is tired. When I wakened he was not in bed and a whisky bottle I had taken from him was nearly empty. I think he must have disturbed me as he moved about, because when I went outside I saw him making for the river. I ran, but I came too late, and you know the rest."

"You are not to blame," said Thirlwell. "You have twice taken pity on a man who tried to starve you. He meant you to die of hunger the night he stole into your camp."

"He is dead. One must be charitable. What would he gain by leaving me to die?"

"Don't you know?" Thirlwell asked. "We can talk frankly now the matter has been taken out of our hands. When he got better after the first attack, the time I kept watch with you, he had probably some remembrance of his ravings. Anyhow, I expect he remembered he'd got a fright and may have talked. He thought you knew too much."

"It's possible," said Father Lucien, very quietly.

Thirlwell was silent for a few moments and then resumed: "I hesitated about going to his help. We were heavily loaded, the risk was great, and I thought Miss Strange's life worth more than his. She made me go and I believe I could have saved him, but he saw her and let himself sink. She declares he looked afraid!"

"It is very strange."

"I don't find it strange," said Thirlwell. "There's a touch of dramatic justice about the thing that appeals to me. I suppose you know what day it is? _Driscoll knew_."

Father Lucien shook his head. "What is one day more than another, when all wrongs are put right and crimes punished in the end? Justice is not theatrical, but the obstinate offender cannot escape." He paused and then resumed: "Well, we shall never know all that happened, and as you have said, the matter is no longer in our hands. Perhaps for the girl's sake--"

"Yes," said Thirlwell, "she has borne enough. You can imagine the shock she'd get if we found out, and had to tell her. The thing's done with.

It's some relief to feel that my responsibility has gone."

Father Lucien made a sign of agreement. "I will come to see her to-morrow," he said, but Thirlwell knew that Agatha would never learn from him that Strange's canoe had not been accidentally capsized.

Early next morning Thirlwell went to the tail-pool, but nothing except some driftwood washed about in the eddy. The latter had worn out a deep hollow and he scrambled over the rocks in order to look down into its revolving depths. There was nothing there, and when going back he made his way across some worn slabs that had been covered until the water sank to an unusually low level. By and by he stopped at the edge of a pool. A small round object that was not the color of the stones lay at the bottom.

Thirlwell knelt down and rolling up his sleeve got the object out. It was made of white metal that had tarnished but not corroded, and looked like an old-fashioned pocket tobacco-box. The thing was well made, for he could hardly find the joint of the lid and below the latter there was some engraving. He rubbed it with a little fine sand and then started as he read a name. It was Strange's tobacco-box and a light dawned on him.

He knew now why Driscoll had haunted the reefs when the water was low, and thought he knew what was inside the box. This was the thing Strange _had taken with him_. But Driscoll had looked in the wrong place. The box was heavy, but perhaps a flood had rolled it down the rapid, or it had fallen from Strange's pocket when the stream washed his rotting clothes away.

Thirlwell shook the box and something rattled inside, after which he noted a dark smear round the edge of the lid. He sc.r.a.ped this with his knife and thought the stuff was a waterproof gum the freighters used to caulk their canoes. It looked as if Strange had carefully made the joint watertight, and Thirlwell's curiosity was strongly excited, but the box was not his. It was too early to look for Agatha, and he waited with some impatience until she came out of the shack and sat down in the sunshine after breakfast.

"I think this was your father's," he said, putting the box in her hand, and told her how he had found it.

Agatha started. "Yes; I gave it him on his birthday long since. It was bright then; old English pewter, I think. I saw it in a little store where they sold curiosities, and had it engraved."

Somewhat to Thirlwell's annoyance, Scott came up with Father Lucien, whom he presented to Agatha, but she did not put the box away.