Murder Point: A Tale of Keewatin

  CHAPTER IV

  SPURLING'S TALE

  Granger from his place beside the red-hot stove said nothing, butbowed his head. Spurling saw his action through the darkness and tookcourage.

  "There is not much to tell," he said. "After you left us, my luckseemed to vanish. My great bonanza pinched out, as Mordaunt's haddone. I spent the spring and summer in washing out the gold from mywinter's dump, and in sinking shafts to locate another streak which Imight follow in the winter to come. I found none, but at first I didnot lose confidence. I had plenty of capital and could well afford tospend some of it in exploration. I was quite sure that my two claimscontained a hundred times as much gold as I had taken out--all I hadto do was to find its location.

  "What Mordaunt said to you about me was true--my sudden good fortunehad turned my head; I flung my earnings right and left, spending themon the most foolish extravagances, and still remained avaricious. Ideveloped a mania for asserting my power and getting myself talkedabout. You know that in those days a new 'millionaire' in the Klondikewas expected to do some of that; if, when he came to Dawson, he wassparing, and refused to treat the town to half-dollar drinks tilleveryone was drunk, they'd take him by his legs and arms and batterhim against a wall until he gave in and cried, 'Yes.' Why, I've seenmen set to and pan out from the sawdust on the floor of a saloon thegold which I had scattered. I performed such follies as madeSwiftwater Bill famous when, after he had squabbled with his'lady-friend,' and he saw her ordering eggs, of which she happened tobe fond, he bought up every egg in town at a dollar a piece, ninehundred in all, and smashed them, to spite her, against the side ofher house. I was a confounded fool; if I hadn't been, I shouldn't havequarrelled with you, and we shouldn't have been here now--we mighthave been in El Dorado, perhaps.

  "Well, when I'd blown a good part of my money over stupidities forwhich I scarcely received even pleasure in return, I awoke to the factthat my workings had ceased to bear. Already the Sleeping River hadgot a bad name and was deserted; it was a commonplace that 'Drunkman'sShallows was played out.' I wouldn't acknowledge it. I took pride inthe Shallows because I had discovered them; I wasted the remainder ofmy money in buying up other men's useless claims, and in engaging mento work them. Towards the end, even I had to own to myself that thestreaks had pinched out and the Shallows were barren; but out ofdesperate bravado I kept on until my money was at an end. Then, when Iwas clean broke, I chose out a partner and went prospecting onceagain.

  "At first we found nothing, for, as I say, when you left me my luckdeparted. For months we wandered, finding only pay and colours, tillwe entered the Squaw River and discovered what we wanted at Gold BugBend. We stayed there working and testing the dirt till well intoJanuary; then one day we drifted into a streak which panned outtwenty dollars to the pan, and so we knew at last that we had struckit. We eyed one another suspiciously, for we each of us remembered howyou had been treated, and we began to talk about the necessity ofrecording our claims and discovery. Neither of us would trust theother to go alone, for we both wanted the claim on which we had beenworking, where the rich streak had been located, so we set outtogether. At first we travelled leisurely, speaking to one another;but soon we grew silent, and began to race. My partner was a lighterbuilt man than I, and had the better team of dogs, and carried no gun.Very soon he began to draw away from me; but I relied on my superiorstrength to catch him up, for the journey was long. Then, somehow, ashe ran farther and farther ahead, the belief grew up within me, that,whatever I might do, God meant him to get there first as a punishmentto me for what I had done to you. At that thought all my lust afterpower, and the memory of the mastery which I had lost, came back, andI said, 'I will outwit God this time, however.'

  "Mechanically, almost without thinking, I levelled my gun andfired--and saw my partner drop. When I came up with him, he was lyingface-downwards, with his arms stretched out before him along theground. I turned him over and called on him to rouse. I kicked himwith the toe of my snowshoe, and tried to get angry, pretending tomyself that he was shamming. Then I knelt down beside him and coveredhim with a robe, deceiving myself that he had fainted and wouldpresently awake. After I had waited for what seemed to be ages, Icalled him by name, and, when he did not stir, I laid my finger on hiseyeballs--and so I knew that he was dead. When I knew that, fear gothold upon me; at every crack of the ice I persuaded myself thatsomeone was coming up or down the frozen river, or had already seenme, and lay hidden behind a snow-ridge, watching all my doings. So Itook up my comrade, and thrust him upright into a hole in the ice,trusting that because he had been my friend he would understand, andnever tell. But his arms, which he had extended in falling, stuck outabove the surface, as if signing my secret to all the world. They hadgrown stiff and frozen, and I could not bend them, so I knocked off,and piled up around and above them, blocks of ice.

  "Then, because I was fearful lest my coming alone without my partnerinto Dawson to record a claim might arouse suspicion, I turned back tothe Gold Bug Bend. There I stayed and drifted with the streak forthree months, and thawed out at least sixty thousand dollars' worth ofmuck. I had time to think things over. I came to the conclusion that Icould not record my claim, since that might bring the miners up whowould notice that my partner was missing; neither could I take down mydust to Dawson to express it to the outside, since that also wouldlead to questions being asked as to where I'd got it, seeing that itwas so great in amount. So I determined to lie quiet until the summertime, and then to wash out only so much gold as I could carry aboutmyself.

  "There was little chance of my being discovered on the Squaw River,for it is seldom travelled, and I calculated that in four months' timewhen the spring had come, the river would float the body far away towhere it never would be found, or if found, then at a time when itwould be unrecognisable. But in my first calculation I had notreckoned with my loneliness, and the horror which comes of knowledgeof hidden crime. By the end of March I could stand it no longer andset out for Dawson, where there were men in whose company I couldforget.

  "Soon after I got there the winter broke up and, by the first of May,though the Klondike itself was still frozen solid to its river-bed,the snow and ice from the country and rivers to the south, which hadbeen exposed to the rays of the sun, had thawed and, draining into it,had created a shallow torrent which, running between the banks abovethe ground-ice, gave an appearance of the Klondike in full flood. Verysoon the water over-flowed, so that houses were deluged and men had totake to boats and the roofs of their cabins for safety; it looked asthough Dawson would be washed away. The drifting ice commenced to packand pile against the bridge above the town; unless the jam could bebroken before the ground-ice loosened, the bridge must collapse. Somemen volunteered to blow it up with dynamite. In so doing they causedthe ground-ice to tear itself free from the bottom so that, the watergetting underneath, it floated up and pressed the pack against thefloor of the bridge, forming, for a half-minute, an impassable barrieragainst the torrent rushing down. The flood rose behind it like atidal wave, tossing on its crest a gigantic floe, standing waist-deepin which I saw, for the second during which it flashed in the sun, afrozen man, whom I recognised, who gazed upright towards me with hisarms upstretched--only for a second, then the bridge went down and thewater leapt over it, driving timbers, and floe, and man below thesurface, carrying them northwards passed the city, out of sight.

  "The thing had been so sudden that only a few of those who werewatching had realised what had happened; of these still fewer had seenthe man; and of these only one had known and recognised my partner, asI had done. None of them could say for certain whether the man theyhad seen upon the floe had been alive or dead. In the confusion whichfollowed the catastrophe this rumour was at first regarded as an idletale to which no one paid much attention. But, when that one man whohad seen and recognised came to me and inquired as to my partner'swhereabouts, and I could give him no satisfactory answers, curiositywas aroused.

  "The Mounted Police instituted
a search for the body, but as yet itwas not found.

  "I was half-minded to leave the country and go outside. Would to God Ihad! But I was afraid that such conduct, following immediately uponthis occurrence, would attract attention. I returned to the SquawRiver and spent the half of another year up there. Then one day inNovember an Indian, who was passing up-river, stepped into my cabinand told me that the Mounted Police were searching for me. When Iasked him why, he said that the English friends of my partner had beeninquiring for him, and that I was known to have been the last man tobe seen in his company. When that had been said, I knew the meaning ofthe sight I had witnessed when the bridge gave--my partner had senthis body down river on the first of the flood to warn me of my danger,as if he would say, '_Escape while you can; it will soon bediscovered_.'

  "I gathered together what gold I could carry and, travelling by nightonly that I might not be noticed (and you know how long Novembernights can be in the Yukon), I struck the trail for Skaguay--the routeby which two and a half years before you had fled. I got outundetected, as I thought, and arrived at Vancouver. There I read in apaper that at Forty-Mile the body had been found. I was seized withpanic and hurried on to Winnipeg; on the way I was alarmed to findthat I was being shadowed. I escaped my follower on my arrival thereand sought out Wrath, the only man I knew in town. I was sure that Icould trust him if he were sufficiently heavily bribed; so I gave himall the gold I had, and told him the truth, and offered to furnish himwith such information as would enable him to go up and stake the richbonanza which I had left behind on the Squaw River--all this if hewould only help me to escape. He agreed to accept my terms, despitethe risks he was taking in helping to conceal a criminal. He told methat you were up here, and said that it was no good going East, orstriking down to the States, since all the railroads would be watched,and that my only chance lay in making a dash due north for Keewatin.He gave me a guide for the first three hundred miles of the journey,and the swiftest team of huskies he had. He smuggled me out toSelkirk, and gave me introductions to such men as could be trusted onthe way. Before I left, I heard that they had made me an outlaw byplacing a thousand dollars on my head.

  "I've travelled day and night since then, only halting when mystrength gave out, or when I had to hide till darkness came that Imight pass unobserved by a Company's outpost.

  "And I'm followed; I know that. I have not seen him, but I can feelthat he is drawing nearer, and now is not far behind. I knew that ifI could reach you, in spite of what has happened between us, you wouldsave me. Granger, you must save me, if not for the sake of what I am,then because of what I once was to you in our London days. I know thatI've deteriorated and have become bad; but it was more the fault ofthe country than of the man. You know what happens to a fellow wholives up there, how greedy and gloomy he gets, always feeling that thegold is underground and that he must get to it even at the expense ofhis honour and his life. You've felt it, you came near doing what Ihave done. If Mordaunt hadn't stopped you, you would have stood whereI now stand."

  Granger broke in upon the frenzy of his appeal, asking abruptly,"Where is Mordaunt now?"

  If his face had not been in the shadow, Granger would have seen howSpurling's lips tightened as to withstand sudden pain, and his bodyshuddered at that question. "Oh, Mordaunt is all right," he said. "Heleft the Yukon soon after you left--he said that the fun was spoiltwithout you. I daresay he's seeking for El Dorado or else is married."

  "You are sure of that?" asked Granger.

  "Sure of what? All I know is that he quarrelled with me over youraffair because he thought that I had not used you justly; shortlyafterwards we broke up our partnership, and I was told that he hadgone out through Alaska, via Michael to Seattle."

  When the man at the back of the room said nothing, Spurling asked in atone of horror, "Why, you don't think that I killed him too, doyou,--just because I have owned to shooting one man?"

  "I don't know what to think," replied Granger, speaking slowly; "no,certainly I do not think that you killed him, _too_."

  "Then, what?"

  "Never mind, since the matter's in doubt I will help you. What do youpropose to do?"

  "Go on till I come to the Forbidden River, and hide there till thehunt for me is over, and they think that I am dead."

  "And then, if you survive?"

  "Creep back into the world and begin life all afresh."

  "And how can I help you?"

  "By lending me a fresh team, for mine is all tired out, and giving meprovisions for my journey, and delaying my pursuer when he arrives."

  "How shall I delay him!"

  "Oh, you will know when you see him--there are many ways, some ofwhich are very effectual." Spurling played with the butt of hisrevolver as he said these words, and looked at Granger tentatively,then looked aside. "For instance, the winter is breaking up and hemight fall through the ice; or while he is staying here several of hisdogs might die; or, at the least, you can tell him that you have notseen me and persuade him that he has passed me by. If he refuses tobelieve that, you can suggest that I have left the river and gone intothe forest, and so put him off my track--anything to give me time."

  "He would scarcely believe the last," said Granger, "for on the LastChance there is only one trail--by the river up and down. And I wantyou to understand Spurling, that if I do help you it will be by cleanmeans; I intend to play fair all round."

  "Play fair! Do you call it fair play when a nation sets out to huntone man? I have only done what thousands have thought and intended.What better is the man who effects my capture, and gets the thousanddollars which they have set upon my head, and sends me to thescaffold, than I myself who without premeditation shot a man. You're anice one to talk about playing fair to the fellow who gave you yourchance, and was your friend, and whom you tried to murder! Which ofus, do you suppose, is the cleaner man?"

  Granger did not answer; through the last few hours he had been askinghimself that same question. Spurling, thinking he had offended, beganto plead afresh. "Oh, John, if you knew all that I have suffered youwould pity me. God knows I've repented for what I did with drops ofblood. If I'd only thought before I acted, I might have known that Istood to gain nothing by it. What good was the gold to me when I gotit? I could only hide it, and wealth is not wealth when you have tokeep it secret to yourself."

  He paused exhausted, and fell back drooping in his chair. Granger'spity had been aroused. "Druce," he said, "I have promised that I willhelp you; you must be content with that."

  Spurting clutched at his hand and pressed it to his lips. "And thereare things which you need not tell him?" he questioned. "Say thatthere are things that you will not tell."

  "There are things that I will not tell," Granger repeated. "I will nottell him that I have seen you, and will refuse to give him help."

  Spurling's eyes had again sought out the west and the interveningstretch of sky, where from the east the reflected light of dawn hadalready begun to spread.

  "I don't like the look of it," he muttered; "I can feel that he is notfar behind. Every time I look up-river I expect to see him, a dullbrown shadow, hurrying down between the banks of white. I must begoing; while I stay I cannot rest."

  So, when all had been got ready and Granger had supplied him with anew outfit and an untired team of dogs, he accompanied him out on tothe Point where the dawn was breaking. Then he told him of a cachewhich Beorn had made at the mouth of the Forbidden River, which hemight open, and from which he could get supplies if his own ran short.He went with him a mile down the ice, that he might guide him round apart of the trail which was rotten and unsafe to travel. At parting,Spurling grasped his hand; pointing back to the danger spot hewhispered, "That is one of the things which you need not tell." Beforehe could answer him, he had lashed up his dogs and was on his waynorthwards. It was then that the thought of a final test flashedthrough Granger's mind. "Spurling, Spurling," he called, "did you knowthat Mordaunt was a woman and not a man?"

  Whether he had
heard Granger could not tell, for he did not halt orturn his head; driving yet more furiously, urging his huskies forwardwith the whip and shouting them on, he vanished round the bend.

  Granger stood gazing after him, listening to the last faint echo ofhis cries; then he turned slowly and walked through the half-lightback to his lonely store. Over to his right, above the horizon the redsun leapt. He did not raise his eyes; but, as he walked, he whisperedover and over to himself words which seemed incredible, "And, if ithad not been for her, _I_ should have been like that."