CHAPTER XVIII--THE LONG ARM OF THE COMPANY
The fourth day out, at a noon camp by a spring that still defied thefrost, Barreau straightened up suddenly from his stooping over thefrying-pan.
"Listen," he said.
His ears were but little keener than mine, for even as he spoke I caughta sound that was becoming familiar from daily hearing: the soft _pluff_,_pluff_ of snowshoes. In the thick woods, where no sweeping winds couldswirl it here and there and pile it in hard smooth banks, the snow wasspread evenly, a loose, three-foot layer, as yet uncrusted. Upon thisthe foot of man gave but little sound, even where there was a semblanceof trail. So that almost in the instant that we heard and turned ourheads we could see those who came toward us. Three men and twowomen--facing back upon the trail we followed.
The men I recognized at once. One was Cullen, the bookkeeping automaton;the other two were half-breed packers. They halted at sight of us, andfrom their actions I believe they would have turned tail if Barreau hadnot called to them. Then they came up to the fire.
"Where now?" Barreau demanded.
"We go back on ze pos', M'sieu," one of the breeds declared.
"What of the others?" Barreau asked sharply. "And why do you turn back?"
"Because Ah'm not weesh for follow ze fat trader an' die een som'snowbank, me," the breed retorted sullenly. "M'sieu Barreau knows zat zeCompanie has taken ze pos', eh?"
"I do," Barreau answered. "Go on."
"Ze Black Factor hees say to heem, 'w'y not you stay teel ze spreeng,'but M'sieu Montell hees not stay, an' hees mak talk for us to com' weesheem on ze sout' trail. Eet don' mak no diff'rence to me, jus' so Ah'mgeet pay, so Ah'm tak ze ol' woman an' com' long. Montell hees heet 'erup lak hell. Ever' seeng she's all right. Zen las' night som'body heesmak sneak on ze camp an' poison ze dog--ever' las' one--an' hees stealsom' of ze grub, too. Zees morneeng w'en Jacques Larue an' me am startout for foller dees feller's track, hees lay for us an' tak shot at us.Firs' pop hees heet Larue--keel heem dead, jus' lak snap ze feenger.Ah'm not go on after zat. MacLeod she's too dam' far for mak ze treepwit' no dog for pull ze outfeet. Not me. Ah'm gon' back on ze pos'. ZeCompanie hees geev me chance for mak leeveeng. For why som'body heespoison ze dog an' bushwhack us Ah don' can say; but Ah know for sureMontell hees dam' crazee for try to go on."
"You, too, eh, Cullen?" Barreau observed. "Oh, you are certainly bravemen."
"He was a fool to start," Cullen bristled; the first time I had everseen a flash of spirit from the man of figures, "and I am not foolenough to follow him when it is plain that he is deliberately matchinghimself against something bigger than he is. There was no reason forstarting on such a hard trip. The Hudson's Bay men did us no harm. Thefactor did advise him to stay there till spring opened--I heard him,myself. But he was bound to be gone. Whoever is dogging him meansbusiness, and I have no wish to die in a snowbank--as Jean puts it."
"How was the taking of the post managed?" Barreau asked him next.
Cullen shook his head. "I don't know," he mumbled. "It was just atdaylight of the morning you left for Three Wolves camp. Somebody yelled,and I ran out of the cookhouse where I sat eating breakfast. The yardwas full of Company men. And when I got to the store why there wasMontell making terms with the Company chief; a tall, black-mustachedman. We started within an hour of that. Montell seemed in great haste.He is determined to go on. I felt sorry for Miss Montell. I tried toshow him the madness of attempting to walk several hundred miles withonly what supplies we could carry on our shoulders. _He_ wouldn't turnback, though."
"For a very good reason," Barreau commented. "Which a man who knew asmuch of our affairs as you did, Cullen, should have guessed. Well, be onyour way. Doubtless the Black Factor will welcome your coming."
The three men had laid down the shoulder-packs with which they wereburdened. They re-slung them, and passed on with furtive sidelongglances; the women followed, dragging a lightly loaded toboggan.
"Rats _will_ quit a doomed ship," Barreau remarked. Then he resumed histurning of the meat that sizzled in the pan.
"We will soon come up with them," he said, when we had eaten and wereputting the dogs to the toboggan again. "They cannot make time fromtheir morning camp."
The beaten track was an advantage. Now, since the returning party hadadded a final touch to it, we laid aside our snowshoes and followed inthe wake of the dogs, half the time at a jogging trot. In little morethan an hour of this we came to the place where Montell had lost hisdogs--and his followers. The huskies lay about the trodden campground,stiff in the snow. Scattered around the cleared circles where the tentshad stood overnight were dishes, articles of food, bedding. Montell haddiscarded all but absolute essentials. A toboggan and its uselessdog-harness stood upended, against a tree.
"So much for loss of motive power," Barreau said grimly. "It is a pityto leave all this, but we are loaded to the limit now. If we should loseour dogs----" he left the sentence unfinished.
And so we passed by the abandoned goods and followed on the trail thatled beyond. There is a marked difference between the path beaten throughsnow by seven persons with three full dog-teams, and that made by oneman and a slight girl, dragging a toboggan by hand. Barreau took to hissnowshoes again, and strode ahead. I kept the dogs crowding close on hisheels. It was the time of year when, in that latitude, the hours ofdaylight numbered less than five. Thus it was but a brief span from noonto night. And nearing the gray hour of twilight he checked the straininghuskies and myself with a gesture. Out of the woods ahead uprose thefaint squeal of a toboggan-bottom sliding over the frosty snow.Barreau's eyebrows drew together under his hood.
"It's a hundred to one that there will be fireworks the moment I'mrecognized," he muttered finally. "But I can see no other way. Come on."
A hundred yards farther I caught my first glimpse of the two figures,Montell's huge body bent forward as he tugged at his load. Barreauincreased his speed. We were up with them in a half minute more. Montellwhirled with a growl half alarm, half defiance. He threw up the rifle inhis hands. But Barreau was too quick for him, and the weapon waswrenched out of his grasp before he could use it. With an inarticulatebellow Montell shook himself free of the shoulder-rope by which he drewthe toboggan and threw himself bodily upon Barreau, striking, pawing,blaspheming terribly. Strangely enough Jessie made no move, nor evencried out at the sight. She stood like one fascinated by that brutespectacle. It did not endure for long. The great bulk of Montell boreBarreau backward, but only for a moment. He ducked a wild swing that hadpower enough behind it to have broken his neck, came up under Montell'sclutching arms and struck him once under the chin--a lifting blow, withall the force of his muscular body centered therein. It staggered thebig man. And as I stepped forward, meditating interference, Barreaujammed him backward over our loaded toboggan, and held him therehelpless.
He pinned him thus for a second; then suddenly released him. Montellstood up, a thin stream of blood trickling from one nostril. He gloweredsullenly, but the ferocious gleam of passion had died out of his eyes.
"Get a fire built," Barreau ordered, "and a tent pitched. We shall camphere to-night. Make no more wild breaks like that, unless you want to beovertaken with sudden death. When we are warm I have something to say toyou."
Twilight merged into gray night, and the red blaze of the fire we builtglowed on the surrounding trees and the canvas of the tent. A pot ofmelted snow bubbled and shed steam. Close by it a piece of moose-fleshthawed in the heat. Jessie, still mute, sat on a piece of canvas Ispread for her, and held her hands to the flame.
"Now," Barreau challenged Montell, "is a good time for explanations.Only facts, no matter how they gall you, will serve. Speak up. Firstbegin at the beginning, and tell the truth--to her." He motioned toJessie. She started slightly. A half dozen times I had noticed herlooking first at myself and then at Barreau, and there was wonder andsomething else in her heavy-lashed eyes. Now she flashed a glance ofinquiry at her father. For a moment I thought she was about to spea
k.
I cannot say what there was in Barreau's tone that stirred Montell tothe depths. It may have been that finding himself checkmated, dominatedby a man he hated so sincerely, another fierce spasm of rage welled upwithin and ruptured some tautened blood-vessel. It may have been someweakness of the heart, common to fleshy men. I cannot diagnose, at bestI can but feebly describe.
Montell's jaw thrust forward. He blinked at Barreau, at his daughter, atme, and then back to Barreau. A flush swept up into his puffy cheeks,surged to his temples, a flush that darkened to purple. His very faceseemed to swell, to bulge with the rising blood. His little, swinisheyes dilated. His mouth opened. He gasped. And all at once, with ahoarse rattling in his throat, he swayed and fell forward on his face.
We picked him up, Barreau and I, and felt of his heart. It fluttered. Weloosened his clothing, and laved his wrists and temples with the snowwater. The body lay flaccid; the jaw sagged. When I laid my ear to hisbreast again the fluttering had ceased. Barreau listened; felt with hishand; shook his head.
"No use," he muttered.
Jessie was standing over us when we gave over.
"He's dead," Barreau looked up at her and murmured. "He's dead." He roseto his feet and stared down at the great hulk of unsentient flesh thathad vibrated with life and passion ten minutes before. "After all hisplotting and planning--to die like that."
The girl stood looking from one to the other, from the dead man in thefirelight to me, and to Barreau. Of a sudden Barreau held out his handsto her. But she turned away with a sob, and it was to me she turned, andit was upon my shoulder that she cried, "Oh, Bobby, Bobby!" as if herheart would break.
And at that Barreau dropped to his haunches beside the fire. There, whenthe storm of her grief was hushed, he still sat, his chin resting on hispalms, his dark face somber as the North itself.