Murder Point: A Tale of Keewatin
CHAPTER XX
SPURLING TAKES FRIGHT
If Spurling had suspected Granger before, he was doubly suspicious ofhim now. Wherever he went, his heavy treacherous eyes followed andspied upon him. In one thing only were they united--in their desire tosee the last of Murder Point. For the accomplishment of this end, theylaboured feverishly in sullen silence. On visiting the dog-pen, theyfound that of the eleven huskies which had been there, three weremissing; of the eight which remained, four were the animals left overfrom the grey team belonging to Spurling, and these were the best.This meant that they would be able to harness but four dogs apiece toa sled, and would have to leave some of their wealth behind, limitingeach outfit together with the gold to not more than three hundredpounds. On examining his clothing, Granger found that his favouritecapote was not there; he conjectured that Peggy had taken that also inher hurry.
They went to the store and selected their provisions with care, takingno flour or canned goods, but tallow and fat bacon, because this foodis least bulky and affords most nourishment. For the same reason,instead of the usual allowance for a husky of two raw white fish aday, they took lumps of grease frozen solid. Of the gold they tookmostly dust, because it packed closer than nuggets. This they dividedinto equal shares and poured into moose-hide sacks, which they lashedto the bottom of their sleds, with their outfit above.
They clothed themselves warmly for the journey, for already there wereforty degrees of frost, and this was but November. They put on threeflannel shirts apiece and one of duffel, and over them a beaded shirtof leather. They swathed their feet in duffel, covering them with highmoccasins, and encased their legs in several wrappings of duffelleggins. Their caps were of fur, the hair of which reached down overtheir foreheads, ears, and necks, giving them protection. Over allthey flung capotes, which extended to their knees and were caught inat the waist with a scarlet sash.
Having fed the huskies, Granger returned to the shack, to run throughhis belongings and destroy whatever he did not wish to be found. Heturned to Spurling, saying, "You'd better lie down now and get alittle rest."
Spurling blinked at him, and swallowed once or twice, hesitating. Thenhe said, "It's a pleasant meeting that they'll have, with two of usabsent."
Granger was sorting out old letters, dated years back--things whichbrought memories. He did not pay any attention; perhaps he had notheard.
"It's a pleasant meeting that they'll have, I say, with two of usabsent," Spurling repeated.
"What meeting? I don't understand."
"Why, the meeting you promised them on Christmas Eve--the one you wereso pressing about."
Granger raised up his head and looked at him. "Don't you be so certainof that," he said; "we may not be absent--we may be caught by Eyelidsand brought back."
Spurling cursed him under his breath.
Granger went on sorting out his papers, burning them or putting themaside. Some were from his mother; one was from his father, faded withage; and some were from girls whose very names had passed from hisremembrance. Presently he stopped, and turning round again, with adifferent look in his eyes, handed a page to his companion, saying,"Read that."
Spurling laughed harshly and took it. It was in his own handwriting."None of your softness," he said. "I've got long past sentiment."
Granger watched him as he scanned its contents, and saw his face growsolemn. It had been written seven years back, before they had leftEngland, when both their sympathies were fresher, before their soulshad grown tarnished. It read: "John, I've just seen the unemployed,about four battalions of 'em or from two to three thousandmen--unemployed, half-clothed, half-fed, and half-men. God! that sucha sight could be in this world, and here in London; our London,wealthy London, the city of luxury and at our own doors. Fourbattalions of men in real want; not a want such as you and I know whenwe run short of our damned tobacco, but a want when the belly is sickand empty and has no prospect of being filled--a want of necessities.Four battalions of men in want, and how many children and women doesthat represent? God's hooligans, God's scamps, and God's wrecks! '_Hiswrecks_,' how can I write such words. How pitiable are their physicalconditions, their privation and distress of body! But what of theirsouls, the starvation of their minds? Why, I doubt if they couldsubscribe a respectable soul among the whole four battalions.
"Males who might have been men and of some use in the world, if onlya finger had shown them the road instead of shoving 'em down intowrecks and damnation.
"I can write no more. I must go out and walk about."
Spurling gulped down a sob, and without comment crunched the sheet upin his hand, and flung it towards the stove; but it fell short androlled to where Granger was standing. He stooped, picked it up andsmoothed it out. "I'll put it in my pocket," he said, "to rememberwhat we were; we may need the reminder on our journey."
"Damn your softness," Spurling broke out. "I want to forget the past,and to live like the beast I am. How could I shoot down even an Indianto defend myself, if I were to remember things like that! It's goldthat's changed me; and now that I've got it I intend, at all costs, towin out."
"Yes, it's gold that's changed us," Granger said.
Presently he paused again. "I had intended to keep that to threatenyou with, but you can have it now," he said.
Spurling rose up from the floor, and coming over to the table took thepaper from him. It was the warrant for his arrest. His hand shook ashe read it.
"Granger, how did you get that?" he asked in a low voice. "Was it fromStrangeways?"
On the spur of the moment, to avoid the direct answering of thequestion and that he might learn the exact truth about something else,he drew forth the locket from his breast.
"What's that?" asked Spurling. "Another reminder?"
"Come and look for yourself."
"I don't want to remember, I tell you."
"But this has something to do with the answer to your question."
Spurling came behind and looked over his shoulder carelessly, notexpecting to see anything which was of much concern. Then he started,so violently that the portrait fell from Granger's hand. "My God, it_was_ a woman!" he moaned. "A woman! A woman!"
Granger turned upon him, willing to be angry; but he saw that he hadno need of further revenge. The man's body seemed to have shrunk intoitself, and to have grown smaller. His lower jaw hung down, giving apurposeless expression to the face and mouth. The eyes were vacant andstared out on space, focussing nothing. Whatever anger he had had wasturned to pity as he regarded him. So Spurling had not known thatMordaunt was a woman! And the body which was found at Forty-Mile hadnot been clothed in a woman's dress! How Strangeways must be laughingout there, alone in the coldness, three feet beneath the snow at thebend!
Yet, for all his pity, Granger could not bring himself to touch theman--he looked too absorbed in his tragedy. Out of decency he turnedhis back upon him, hurrying his task to an end. Already he had beentoo long about it; they had no time to linger. Peggy's absence mighthave many purposes; when she returned, she might not comeunaccompanied. Before he made a start, after his night of watching hewould require rest.
Spurling had drawn away from him and was huddled in a corner,whispering to himself. He must say and do something to brace him up,and show to him that in his eyes he was still a man. If he didn'trecover quickly, they would have to postpone their journey. He was afool to have shown him that.
The last of the papers had been burned; he tied the few which he hadpreserved into a little bundle, and thrust them in his breast. Goingover to Spurling, he laid his hand on his shoulder and said, "Druce,old fellow, I'm very tired. I want to take an hour's sleep before weset out. You'd best watch and see that nothing happens. In two hoursit'll be sunset; wake me before then."
He raised up his haggard face and nodded, but he did not look at himsquarely. Granger, having made up the fire, laid himself down.
When he awoke, he found that the room was in darkness; it must havebeen night for several hours
. It was the coldness which had arousedhim, for the fire had gone out.
He supposed that Spurling must be sleeping, so he called to him,"Spurling, Spurling, are you there?"
There was no answer. He listened for his breathing, but could hearnothing. Getting upon his feet as swiftly as the stiffness of hismuscles would allow, he groped his way over to the corner where he hadlast seen him. He was not there. Then he lit the lamp, and saw thatthe room was empty.
His first thought was that, in his despair, he had gone outside andshot himself. Recalling his uncanny horror of the bend, he fanciedthat he could trace madness in all his recent actions; but then heremembered that his fear of the bend had been shared. He becamepossessed of a new and more personal dread. What if in giving him thewarrant and showing him the portrait, he had told him too much--morethan his courage and honesty could bear? He rushed to the door of theshack, and out to where the sleds and huskies had been left. One ofthe sleds was gone; his own outfit lay scattered on the snow and thegold had been taken. But he made a yet worse discovery, for of theeight huskies, only two remained; Spurling's four gray dogs and thetwo best of his own team were missing. He looked wildly round on thegreat emptiness. The night pressed down on the earth, as though toimprison it; the forest closed in on the river, menacing and silent;and the river ran on, a level, untravelled roadway, from the west. Heshouted, and cursed, and called down God's vengeance on Spurling.Then, for a moment he was quiet, and heard his own voice coming backto him as an echo from the bend. His voice had tried to escape and wasreturning to him because it could find no way out.
Crazily turning his face down-river, he shouted, "Hey, Strangeways,may God damn Spurling."
Muffled, as if the dead man were answering him from underground, thecry came back, "Hey, Strangeways, may God damn Spurling."
He covered his face with his hands and sat down in the snow laughing.It was all a cruel jest. "Oh, the hypocrite! The hypocrite!" heshrieked. "He came here hunted and I helped him with my life. He hastaken everything, and given me death."
Through his head ran maddeningly the scraps of the conversation he hadhad with Peggy: "I'll strike for the south, and, when the hunt isover, I'll send you word where you can join me." "You never will dothat." "And why not?" "Because you will be dead."
On all his thought, as if she were sitting at his side, her voicebroke in persistently, drearily and low-pitched reiterating, "Becauseyou will be dead. Because you will be dead."
A hard look came into his eyes; he ceased from his laughing andwhispering. Turning to the quarter behind his back from which he hadseemed to hear her speaking last, he said quietly, "But I shan't bedead."
Then he rose up and entered the shack.