Man-Size

  CHAPTER XXVI

  A RESCUE

  The gray day wore itself away into the deeper darkness of early dusk.Like a wild beast attacking its prey, the hurricane still leaped withdeep and sullen roars at the little cabin on Bull Creek. It beat uponit in wild, swirling gusts. It flung blasts of wind, laden with snowand sleet, against the log walls and piled drifts round them almost tothe eaves.

  Long since Whaley had been forced to take the dogs into the cabin tosave them from freezing to death. It was impossible for any of thethree human beings to venture out for more than a few minutes at atime. Even then they had to keep close to the walls in order not tolose contact with the house.

  When feeding-time came the dogs made pandemonium. They werehalf-famished, as teams in the Lone Lands usually are, and the smellof the frozen fish thawing before the fire set them frantic. West andWhaley protected Jessie while she turned the fish. This was not easy.The plunging animals almost rushed the men off their feet. They hadto be beaten back cruelly with the whip-stocks, for they were wild aswolves and only the sharpest pain would restrain them.

  The half-thawed fish were flung to them in turn. There was a snarl, asnap of the jaws, a gulp, and the fish was gone. Over one or two thatfell in the pack the train worried and fought, with sharp yelpsand growls, until the last fragment had been torn to pieces anddisappeared.

  Afterward the storm-bound trio drank tea and ate pemmican, stillfighting back the pack. West laid open the nose of one in an ugly cutwith the iron-bound end of his whip-butt. Perhaps he was not wholly toblame. Many of the dog-trains of the North are taught to understandnothing but the sting of the whip and will respond only to brutaltreatment.

  The second night was a repetition of the first. The three were dividedinto two camps. Whaley or Jessie McRae watched West every minute.There was a look in his eye they distrusted, a sulky malice back ofwhich seemed to smoke banked fires of murderous desire. He lay on thefloor and slept a good deal in short cat-naps. Apparently his dreamswere not pleasant. He would growl incoherently through set teeth andclench great hairy fists in spasms of rage. Out of these he wakenedwith a start to glare around suspiciously at the others. It was clearthe thought was in the back of his mind that they might destroy himwhile he was asleep.

  Throughout the third day the storm continued unabated. Whaley andWest discussed the situation. Except for a few pounds of fish, theirprovisions were gone. If the blizzard did not moderate, they wouldsoon face starvation.

  During the night the wind died down. Day broke clear, a faint andwintry sun in the sky.

  To West the other man made a proposal. "Have to get out and hunt food.We'll find caribou in some of the coulees along the creek. What say?"

  The convict looked at him with sly cunning. "How about this girl?Think I'm gonna leave her to mush out an' put the police on my trail?No, sir. I'll take her snowshoes with me."

  Whaley shrugged his shoulders. "She couldn't find her way home if shehad shoes. But please yourself about that."

  West's shifty gaze slid over him. The proposal of a hunt suited him.He must have a supply of food to carry him to Lookout. Whaley was agood shot and an expert trailer. If there were caribou or moose in thevicinity, he was likely to make a kill. In any event there would behundreds of white rabbits scurrying through the woods. He decidedcraftily to make use of the gambler, and after he was through withhim--

  The men took with them part of the tea and enough fish to feed thedogs once. They expected to find game sufficient to supply themselvesand stock up for a few days. Whaley insisted on leaving Jessie herrifle, in order that she might shoot a rabbit or two if any venturednear the cabin. She had three frozen fish and a handful of tea.

  Before they started Whaley drew Jessie aside. "Can't say how longwe'll be gone. Maybe two days--or three. You'll have to make out withwhat you've got till we get back." He hesitated a moment, then hiscold, hard eyes held fast to hers. "Maybe only one of us will comeback. Keep your eyes open. If there's only one of us--and it'sWest--don't let him get into the house. Shoot him down. Take hissnowshoes and the team. Follow the creek down about five miles, thenstrike southwest till you come to Clear Lake. You know your way homefrom there."

  Her dark eyes dilated. "Do you think he means to--to--?"

  The man nodded. "He's afraid of me--thinks I mean to set the police onhis trail. If he can he'll get rid of me. But not yet--not till we'vegot a couple of caribou. I'll be watching him all the time."

  "How can you watch him while you're hunting?"

  He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. It was quite true that West couldshoot him in the back during the hunt. But Whaley knew the man prettywell. He would make sure of meat before he struck. After the sled wasloaded, Whaley did not intend to turn his back on the fellow.

  Jessie had not been brought up in the North woods for nothing. She hadseen her brother Fergus make many a rabbit snare. Now she contrivedto fashion one out of some old strips of skin she found in the cabin.After she had bent down a young sapling and fastened it to a fallenlog, she busied herself making a second one.

  Without snowshoes she did not find it possible to travel far, but shemanaged to shoot a fox that adventured near the hut in the hope offinding something to fill its lean and empty paunch.

  Before leaving, Whaley had brought into the house a supply of wood,but Jessie added to this during the day by hauling birch poles fromthe edge of the creek.

  Darkness fell early. The girl built up a roaring fire piled the woodup against the door so that nobody could get in without waking her.The rifle lay close at hand. She slept long and soundly. When sheshook the drowsiness from her eyes, the sun was shining through thewindow.

  She breakfasted on stew made from a hindquarter of fox. After she hadvisited her snares and reset one that had been sprung, she gatheredbalsam boughs for a bed and carried them to the house to dry beforethe fire. Whaley had left her a small hatchet, and with this she beganto shape a snowshoe from a piece of the puncheon floor. All day sheworked at this, and by night had a rough sort of wooden ski that mightserve at need. With red-hot coals, during the long evening, she burnedholes in it through which to put the straps. The skin of the fox, cutinto long strips, would do for thongs. It would be a crude, primitivedevice, but she thought that at a pinch she might travel a few mileson it. To-morrow she would make a mate for it, she decided.

  Except for the bed of balsam boughs, her arrangements for the nightwere just as they had been the first day. Again she built up a bigfire, piled the wood in front of the door, and put the rifle withinreach. Again she was asleep almost at once, within a minute of thetime when she nestled down to find a soft spot in the springy mattressshe had made.

  Jessie worked hard on the second ski. By noon she had it pretty wellshaped. Unfortunately a small split in the wood developed into alarger one. She was forced to throw it aside and begin on anotherpiece.

  A hundred times her eyes had lifted to sweep the snow field for anysign of the hunters' return. Now, looking out of the window withoutmuch expectation of seeing them, her glance fell on a traveler, aspeck of black on a sea of white. Her heart began to beat a drum ofexcitement. She waited, eyes riveted, expecting to see a second figureand a dog-team top the rise and show in silhouette.

  None appeared. The man advanced steadily. He did not look backward.Evidently he had no companion. Was this lone traveler West?

  Jessie picked up the rifle and made sure that it was in good workingorder. A tumultuous river seemed to beat through her temples. Thepulses in her finger-tips were athrob.

  Could she do this dreadful thing, even to save honor and life, thoughshe knew the man must be twice a murderer? Once she had tried andfailed, while he stood taunting her with his horrible, broken-toothedgrin. And once, in the stress of battle, she had wounded him while hewas attacking.

  The moving black speck became larger. It came to her presently withcertainty that this was not West. He moved more gracefully, morelightly, without the heavy slouching roll.... And then she knew he was
not Whaley either. One of her friends! A little burst of prayer welledout of her heart.

  She left the cabin and went toward the man. He waved a hand to her andshe flung up a joyful gesture in answer. For her rescuer was Onistah.

  Jessie found herself with both hands in his, biting her lower lip tokeep back tears. She could not speak for the emotion that welled up inher.

  "You--all well?" he asked, with the imperturbable facial mask of hisrace that concealed all emotion.

  She nodded.

  "Good," he went on. "Your father pray the Great Spirit keep you safe."

  "Where is Father?"

  He looked in the direction from which he had come. "We go Jasper'scabin--your father, red soldier, American trader, Onistah. You gone.Big storm--snow--sleet. No can go farther. Then your father he pray.We wait till Great Spirit he say, 'No more wind, snow,' Then we movecamp. All search--go out find you." He pointed north, south, east, andwest. "The Great Spirit tell me to come here. I say, 'Sleeping Dawnshe with God, for Jesus' sake, Amen.'"

  "You dear, dear boy," she sobbed.

  "So I find you. Hungry?"

  "No. I shot a fox."

  "Then we go now." He looked at her feet. "Where your snowshoes?"

  "West took them to keep me here. I'm making a pair. Come. We'll finishthem."

  They moved toward the house. Onistah stopped. The girl followed hiseyes. They were fastened on a laden dog-train with two men movingacross a lake near the shore of which the cabin had been built.

  Her fear-filled gaze came back to the Indian. "It's West and Mr.Whaley. What'll we do?"

  Already he was kneeling, fumbling with the straps of his snowshoes."You go find your father. Follow trail to camp. Then you send himhere. I hide in woods."

  "No--no. They'll find you, and that West would shoot you."

  "Onistah know tricks. They no find him."

  He fastened the snow-webs on her feet while she was still protesting.She glanced again at the dog-train jogging steadily forward. If shewas going, it must be at once. Soon it would be too late for either ofthem to escape.

  "You will hide in the woods, won't you, so they can't find you?" sheimplored.

  He smiled reassurance. "Go," he said.

  Another moment, and she was pushing over the crust along the trail bywhich the Blackfoot had come.