Murder Point: A Tale of Keewatin

  CHAPTER XVII

  THE FORBIDDEN RIVER

  "If we are to get back before the winter closes in upon us we muststart to-night."

  Spurling looked up from the pan of dirt which he was washing. "You'vesaid that ten times a day in the last two weeks if you've said itonce," he snapped.

  "Yes, but I mean it this time. We've got all the gold that we cancarry. If you won't come with me, I shall take the canoe and startback by myself."

  "Oh, you will, will you? And d'you think that I don't see through yourgame?" Then noticing how Granger's hand had gone instinctively to hiship-pocket, he added, "And if it comes to fighting, I go armedmyself."

  In a flash both men had whipped out their revolvers, but Spurling wasthe fraction of a second late; Granger had him covered.

  "So you're going to murder me, after all," Spurling continuedsneeringly. "You've postponed it a long time; it was at Drunkman'sShallows that you were going to do it first. Your excuse then was thatyou weren't John Granger, but your baser self. You were always a goodhand at excuses. And pray who are you now?"

  "Throw away that revolver," shouted Granger, in a voice that was thickwith anger.

  Spurling tossed it a couple of yards away.

  "No, that won't do. Throw it into the river. Don't rise to your feet;crawl to it on your hands and knees."

  Spurling looked at him surlily to see whether he dared disobey, thendid as he was commanded. There was a flash of silver as the weaponspun through the air, a commotion of spray, as though a fish hadrisen, and a distant and more distant shining as it sank down andsettled on the river-bed.

  "That's right. Now let me tell you, Druce Spurling, that you're a foolfor your pains. If either you or I are to be alive this time nextyear, however we may feel towards one another at present, we've got toact as though we were friends. There'll be time enough for quarrellingwhen we've seen the last of Murder Point, and have passed out over thewinter trail with our gold, and know that we are safe. Why, you fool,we've been here nearly four months and we've already got more goldthan we can take with us; it's October, and the river may close upalmost any day."

  Spurling began to mutter something about how, if it weren't forGranger, _he'd_ be able to get out all right.

  "What's that you're saying?" Granger interrupted him. "I've heard thattale ever since we set out and I'm sick of hearing it. You fancy thatthe Mounted Police think that you are dead, and have ceased to searchfor you, and that I'm the man they're after now. You say that I'mknown in the district, and that you are unknown, except by thathalf-breed who caught sight of you as you went by God's Voice;therefore you argue that I am a danger, a hindrance to you. You'd liketo get rid of me, so that you may get out with the gold, in safety, byyourself. It's the same old trick that you tried to play me in theKlondike; you want to reach El Dorado without me. You swine! Do youknow why it is that the Mounted Police are after me? It's because Itook pity on you, remembering old times, and tried to prevent yourbeing hanged--that's why. And you make it an excuse for deserting me.I've not told you that before, and I can see that you don't believe menow. Well, I'm not going to give you the details which would proveit--I'm not asking for gratitude from such a cur as you've turned out.All I'm going to say is this: from the first of your coming up hereI've tried to play fair by you; I've done more than that, I've comenear giving you my life--giving, mind you, not letting you take it asyou've been inclined to do many times. And I'm willing to play fairuntil the end--until we get outside and are safe; then we can each goon our separate ways, if we so decide. I know where I'm going--to ElDorado. I daresay you're going to try to get there too, but that isnone of my concern. I'm concerned with the present. That canoe ismine, and what's left of the grub is mine. The gold we share betweenus. If you don't want to come with me I'll take the canoe and otherthings which belong to me, and my share of the dust and nuggets, andyou can stay here. But if you come with me, you've got to behonourable and behave like a man--not a husky. I give you two minutesto make your choice."

  "There isn't any choice to be made," growled Spurling; "you offer meyour company or starvation. I choose your company, much as I detestit. And I'd like to know who you are to speak to me like this? Andwhat there is to lose your temper about? If you'd explained what you'dwanted, I'd have come quietly; but I'd rather cut my throat at onceand be done with it than be ordered about by a man like you--a fellowmarried to a squaw-wife."

  Granger's face went white and his lips trembled; his finger closedupon the trigger, then with an effort he controlled himself. "I thinkI've heard enough from you on that point," he said; "suppose we dropthis discussion and get the canoe ready?"

  He turned upon his heel and walked into the hut, followed more slowlyby Spurling.

  This was by no means their first falling out in the past four months;from the night that they left Murder Point things had been going frombad to worse. Given two men who set out into the forest together,bound by the strongest ties of friendship, who travel in one another'sfootsteps and sleep side by side for days and nights at a stretch,without seeing any other face but one another's and their ownreflected visage, with nothing to break the silence but their ownvoices, and the cries of the wilderness, which have becomeirritatingly monotonous because of their sameness and frequentreiteration, and it is a thing to be marvelled at if they do not comeback enemies. But when they set out each with his own hidden secret,each with his own private suspicion of his companion, with a gnawingenmity between them which has been changed into a show of friendshiponly by force of circumstance, when the object of their journey is apossession over which they have quarrelled before and parted company,concerning which they are already secretly jealous, then the finalrelationship of those two men can be forecast without any fear oferror.

  Before they had reached the Forbidden River they had ceased toconverse. By the time that they had landed at the hut, their nerveswere jangled. Before they had been working there many days they hadthought their way over all their old grievances, and, like petulantchildren, were on the lookout for any new cause of offence. The causehad come when Spurling, tired with rocking the cradle, his face andhands swollen by the sun and mosquito-bitten, had said, "I don't seewhy we should take all this trouble. I'm going to quit work."

  Granger was attending to the flume which they had constructed. "You'regoing to do no such thing," he had said.

  "Yes, I am; you're not my master and I shan't ask your permission.There's as much gold as we shall require in those two sacks which theMan with the Dead Soul washed out. If you've got such a scrupulousconscience, you can dig out your share; but I'm not going to helpyou."

  "So you've turned thief now, in addition to your other profession,"was the retort which Granger had thrown back.

  Out of such small foolishnesses had arisen quarrel after quarrel, sothat it had become only necessary for Spurling to make a statement forGranger to contradict him, or for Granger to express a desire forSpurling to thwart its accomplishment. Day by day they would toiltogether, digging out the muck, emptying it into the sluice-boxes ortesting it in the pan, without exchanging a word; then some triflingdifficulty would arise, for which, perhaps, neither of them wasresponsible, and they would seize the opportunity to goad one anotheron to murder with the evil of what they said. On one point only werethey agreed--the gathering of the most wealth in the shortest time;for wealth meant to them escape and the preserving of their lives. Tothis end they feverishly laboured both day and night, reserving nospecial hours for sleep and rest. Yet, even in their escape, as hasbeen seen, they did not necessarily include one another; so far asSpurling was concerned, when once the gold had been acquired, it was"each man for himself." There was no loyalty between them; they werekept together only by a common avarice, and by fear of the wideness ofthe Northland.

  Yet there were times when Granger would waken to a sense of somethingthat was better. By the end of August they had washed out all the dustand nuggets that they could possibly carry, and it was then that hehad recognise
d that greed, regardless of consequence, had become themaster-passion of both their lives. The words which the Dead Soul hadspoken to him would come back, "I will make a man more precious thanfine gold; even a man than the golden wedge of Ophir"--and he wouldlook at Spurling and, bending down above the water, he would regardhimself. Going over to Spurling he would say, laying his hand upon hisshoulder, "Druce, in spite of the harsh things which we have spoken,we must still be friends, and seek out El Dorado together."

  After such a reconciliation they would talk together of their plansand the various ways in which they would amend their lives; butgradually they came to know that, while they lived, their hatred nevercould be dead, and, defiant of whatsoever resolutions they might make,would surely reassert itself. It was the spirit of the North whichspoke through them, and not they themselves--the spirit of silence,striving to utter itself, and of enmity to all the world.

  They carried out their treasure from the hut and placed it in thecanoe. It was done up in all kinds of packets, in flour-sacks, emptytobacco-tins, torn strips of blanket which they had sewn together, andabandoned clothing tied up at the arms and legs. Before they hadplaced it all in, together with what remained to them of their outfit,the little craft sat so low in the water that it was evident that itwould be swamped if there was added to its burden the weight of twomen. They were compelled to sit down and consider how much of theiroutfit could be abandoned. Even then, when they had rejected all theprovisions, save those which were necessary for a five days' journey,and their blankets and their rifles, the canoe was still unsafe.

  At Spurling's suggestion they limited themselves to half rations andtook off all their clothing except their trousers and shirts; andstill it was too heavy. Very reluctantly they set to work to take outsome of the gold, commencing with the smaller amounts. When they hadfinished, they had thrown out all their last month's work, and stillthe canoe was by no means steady.

  Spurling, with the foresight and thrift of a man who has a long lifebefore him, went into the hut and, bringing out a spade, commenced todig. When he had made a hole of sufficient width and depth, he buriedthe abandoned nuggets and gold dust.

  Granger watched him to the end. Then, with a touch of bitterness inhis tones, he asked, "And what's that for?"

  "In case I should ever be able to come back," said Spurling, "and sothat no one else may find it."

  "Don't you worry yourself, you'll be in El Dorado before that time,or else hanged. In either case, a trifle like that won't matter."

  He scowled; Granger's flippancies on the subject of death, especiallydeath with a rope about his neck, always made him feel unhappy. Hetried to take his place in the stern, but Granger would not trust himthere; he signed to him to take the forward paddle, where he wouldhave no opportunity of making a surprise attack. They pushed off andquickly lost sight of the hut, the discovery of which had meant somuch to them. Now that they had procured their wealth and abandonedtheir diggings, all their eagerness was for escape.

  The sunset lay behind them, and before, like a black-mailed host,preparing to dispute their passage, the shadows of night weregathered. During the past month the forest leaves had turned fromgreen, and gray, into copper, yellow, and flaming red. The branches ofthe tallest of the underbrush were already bare and, clusteredtogether beneath the tree-trunks, created the effect of scarves ofmist which shifted from silver to lavender. The floor of the forestwas of gold, where the fallen foliage had scattered; but, where thescrub-oak grew, it was golden splashed with blood. The dominant toneof the landscape was of gold and blood; through the heart of which ranthe river, changing by infinitesimal, overlapping shadings from yellowinto red, from red into night-colour, from night-colour intonothingness. Down this roadway passed the trespassers, with the thingwhich they had stolen weighing down their canoe to the point ofdanger; murder was in their hearts, and grey fear ran before them.Instinctively they bowed their heads, suspicious of one another,peering ahead into the distance for an enemy who awaited them, andfrom side to side or behind for one who followed.

  During their stay at the hut, nothing had come near to disturbthem--nothing in human guise. But from the first they had been awareof the timber-wolf, which Spurling had seen on his first visit and haddescribed to Granger. It had not shown itself in the daytime and hadrarely been seen in its entirety at night; but they had known that itwas near them by the rustling of the bushes, and had at times caught aglimpse of its shadow, or of its eyes looking out at them from undercover.

  Even when they had not heard it, they had come across its footprints.Towards the dawn, had one of them risen early and strayed far fromcamp, he had sometimes seen it cross his path ahead, or had heard ittracking him. So nervous had they become, that they had never stirredfar from one another; while one had slept, the other had kept watch.Perhaps this dread of a constant menacer, and the more terrible fearof being left alone in its presence, had prevented bloodshed whentheir more furious quarrels were at their height. Of a mere wolf, noman who is armed need have terror; their discomfort arose from thesuspicion that this creature, which watched and lay in wait for them,was more than an animal.

  There had been a night when it was Spurling's turn to keep guard, andhe had slept. Granger had wakened with a nervous sense of peril.Through the open door of the hut he had seen the silver of themoonlight in the tree-tops across the river and had seen the outlineof his companion stretched along the ground. As he watched, he hadseen a shadow fall across the threshold, followed by a head. It wasgrey in colour, the ears were laid back, and the fangs were bared asif with hunger. But it was the eyes which had absorbed his attention.They were angry and reproachful; he had seen them before--they werethe eyes of a man whose soul is dead. They recalled to him that nightwhen Beorn had declared himself. That he recognised them, as headmitted to himself when daylight was come, may have been only fancy;but the impression which he had while he gazed on them was very real.Moreover, he saw distinctly the scar of the wound which Spurling hadinflicted in his fight at the cache. Then the head had been withdrawn,and the hut had been darkened by a huge form which stood across thedoorway. He had heard Spurling turn over on his side, rouse up and cryout.

  The form had crouched and sprung, and the light shone in again. Therewas a sound of scuffling outside, followed by a thud. Leaping to hisfeet, dazed and bewildered, he had run out in time to see atimber-wolf of monstrous size, with Spurling's arm in its mouth,dragging him away into the forest. Careless of his own safety, he hadgone after the animal, belabouring its head with the stock of hisrifle, for he was afraid to shoot, lest he should wound his companion.It had dropped its prey and fled, bounding off into the dusk betweenthe tree-trunks, leaving Spurling a little mauled but not muchinjured. This experience had served to prove to them that, howevermuch they hated, they were still indispensable to each other's safety,and must hold together.

  Granger, for his own peace of mind, had sought to find an explanationfor this happening. If the beast was indeed Beorn's soul, then whywas it exiled there, on the Forbidden River? Had Beorn killed theminers, in his underground fights on the Comstock, not out ofrighteous indignation, as he had stated, but only for the pleasure ofdestroying life and out of envious, disappointed avarice? Had hemocked God consciously in making Him responsible for those crimes, andin attributing to Him their inspiration? If these things were so, thenthis might have been his fitting punishment, that, when by his ownwickedness he had made himself an outcast from the company of mankind,and had been compelled to banish himself, for the sake of his ownpreservation, to a land where nothing was of much value, money leastof all, there he had discovered the gold in the profitless search ofwhich he had made himself vile. The power over gladness, which itwould have represented to another man, had been of no use to him now,for he had not dared to take it out of the district to where it wouldacquire its artificial worth; yet he had not dared to remain on theForbidden River: for there was no food there. So his body and soul hadparted company; his body going south to God's Voice, while h
is soulstayed near to the thing after which it had lusted, for which it hadexchanged its happiness, to guard it, that it might not become thepossession of a freer man and bring him the gladness which to amurderer is denied.

  This had seemed to Granger to be the only explanation which fitted inwith all the facts. In accepting it, he had found room for thesuspicion that he also had laid waste his life not for the sake ofromance, not for his dream's sake, but for the sake of greed alone.Having made gold his hope, having said to the fine gold, "Thou art myconfidence," he had committed an iniquity to be punished by the judge.

  Had he suffered all that punishment as yet, or was there worse tofollow? Would the worst that he could expect be death? Once, when hewas poor, he had only feared life; but now, with his treasure beneathhis feet, with the canoe gliding southward on the journey out, therewas added this new terror--the fear of death. He desired mostpassionately to live now.

  Darkness had fallen and the air was growing colder. Presently, flakeby flake, the first snow of winter drifted down. The two men saidnothing, but they paddled faster, for the chill struck into theirchests through their shirts, making them repent the folly which hadled them to abandon their clothing that more gold might be carried.Every now and again, Spurling broke out into a fit of coughing and, ashe shivered, the canoe trembled. As for Granger his hands were heavy,his arms ached, and his fingers were numb; he dimly wondered at hisown perseverance that he still continued to ply his paddle. As thecold spread through him, his senses took to sleeping. He was arousedby a sudden jerk and a shout from Spurling, "Curse you. Back water.Turn her head out into the river."

  Looking up, he saw that they had struck the bank and come nearcapsizing. And he saw more than that; scarcely two yards away a pairof glowing eyes shone out at him.

  "For the sake of God, make haste," cried Spurling; "the brute's aboutto pounce."

  With a twist of the paddle he swung the canoe's head round, and withthe help of Spurling drove her out. They were none too early, for,just behind them, where a moment since the canoe had been hanging,they heard a splash.

  For the rest of the night they kept watch over themselves lest theyslept. Till the dawn broke, whenever they turned their eyes toward thebank, they could discern the grey streak of the timber-wolf, dodgingin and out between the tree-trunks, keeping pace with them. So long asthey were on the Forbidden River they journeyed both day and night,allowing themselves scant time for rest. If they had been eager to getthere, they were still more anxious to get away. When in the middle ofthe third night they swung out into the Last Chance, they stopped andlooked back. The moon was shining; sitting squarely on its haunchesthey could see the timber-wolf, which had run out on the spit of landto the water's edge, gazing after them malignantly.

  Breaking the long silence, Spurling said, "Thank God, he can come nofurther."

  "But his body awaits us at Murder Point," Granger replied.

  "I can deal with men's bodies," Spurling said. Then they moved onward,pressing up against the current.

  At the first hint of daylight they landed and hid themselves, lest, inthat deserted land, their presence should be detected. The precautionproved wise, for about noon a party of belated voyageurs passednorthward en route for the Crooked Creek. They were singing, keepingtime with their paddles; their careless gladness made the hunted men,for all their gold, feel envious.

  They dared not kindle a fire, and at last, that they might save thelittle warmth they had, were compelled to lie down together, breast tobreast, clasping one another closely as though they were friends. Atsunset they again set out. All night long to Granger the sky seemedfilled with uncouth legendary animals, which trooped across thehorizon file on file. Sometimes they were Beorn's camels, sometimesthey were timber-wolves or brindled huskies with yellow faces, butmore often they were creatures of evil passions, for which there areno names. To avoid looking at them, he would keep his eyes in thecanoe or would stare at Spurling's back. But the sight of hiscompanion's monotonous movements, compelling him to go on working whenhis arms ached and his body seemed broken, caused such mad fury toarise within him that he feared for his own actions, and was glad toreturn his eyes to the clouds. At dawn, as though a golden door hadbeen opened, the creatures passed in and disappeared, and he saw themno more till sunset.

  For himself, he would gladly have lain down, and died, had notSpurling with the same indomitable courage which he had displayed onthe Dawson trail, roused him up and compelled him with his brutaljibes to play the man. By the end of the first day on the Last Chancetheir food gave out, and since leaving the hut all their meals hadbeen scanty; then they would willingly have given a third of the goldwhich they carried in exchange for a hatful of the flour which, intheir greed for nuggets, they had left behind on the Forbidden River'sbanks. If a bird flew over their heads, they dared not fire a gun lestits report should be heard, so great was their fear of possiblearrest.

  As their weakness increased, the downward rush of the current seemedto gather strength; there were times when their progress was almostimperceptible. Sufficient snow had already fallen to cloak the land inwhiteness, and they were very conscious that every day thetemperature, was sinking lower. In the middle of the seventh night oftheir journey they felt something grate against their prow, and theyknew that the river was freezing over. They had only five more milesto traverse; they were too exhausted and stiff with cold to attempt toreach their destination by walking along the bank, even if they hadbeen willing to abandon their treasure; so there was nothing for itbut to make one last effort. So nerveless were they with fatigue that,when they went by the bend, Spurling forgot to be afraid of the thingwhich he had seen there; he had not the strength to remember. Theyreached the pier when the dawn was breaking, so faint that they couldnot rise and crawl out. They would have drifted back over the waywhich they had travelled, had not the ice closed in and held them.

  Two hours after their arrival, Eyelids looked out from the window atMurder Point and, seeing them, came to their rescue and lifted theminto the shack.

  They had arrived none too early, for that day the river froze over,the snow fell in earnest, and the Keewatin winter settled down.