CHAPTER XVII
MAN TO MAN
Reynolds learned from Klota of Weston's return home, and he was anxiousto meet the man who ruled Glen West, and was so greatly feared by theminers throughout the country. He could not believe that the father ofsuch a girl as Glen could be the monster he had been depicted. Hewished to see and learn for himself what the man was really like, andhe hoped that he would be sent for at once to give an account ofhimself. Nothing, however, happened that evening, and he saw no moreof Glen.
He was seated near the house when Curly was dragged by on his way tothe Valley of the Ordeal. Although the shadows of evening were heavy,Reynolds realised who the victim was, and that he was being taken awayfor punishment, of what nature he could not tell. Going into thehouse, he questioned Klota, but received no satisfaction. The womanmerely shook her head, and refused to give any information. This bothpuzzled and worried him. There was some mystery connected with thisaffair, and he made up his mind to find out what it was.
Hurrying down the street and past the store, he was almost to the edgeof the thicket, when several natives barred his way, and sternlyordered him to go back. There was nothing he could do, so he wasreluctantly obliged to obey. He returned to the store, and standingoutside listened intently in an effort to learn whatever he could.Neither did he have long to wait, for presently up from the gloomythicket rose the blood-curdling yells of someone in distress, and heknew that it must be Curly undergoing the Ordeal, whatever that mightbe. A cold chill swept over him, accompanied by a fierce anger. Wasthis village the abode of murderers, with Jim Weston as their leader?he asked himself. Were they murdering Curly down there, and had othermen been treated in a similar manner? And would he himself be the nextvictim?
He had heard enough, and as there was nothing he could do, he went backto the house, where he passed a sleepless night. He could not getthose cries of distress out of his mind, and he wondered whether heshould not try to escape under cover of night. He banished this idea,however, as useless. He thought, too, of Glen. Would she allow theIndians to put him to death? He recalled what she had said about herfather; how little she understood him, and that she had no idea what hemight do.
Early the next morning he was standing by the side of the lake, when hesaw _The Frontiersman_ cutting through the water, headed downstream. Alone figure was standing well aft, and he at once recognized it asGlen. She waved her hand to him as the boat sped by, and he could seeher standing there until a bend in the shore hid her from view. Goingback to the house he learned from Klota that the master of Glen Westhad gone down to the Yukon River for his mail. It was always left atthe trading-post by the steamers on their way down river. It generallytook a whole day to make the trip there and back. This informationcaused Reynolds considerable disappointment, as he would not be able tomeet Weston or his daughter that day.
The sun was just disappearing beyond the mountain peaks when _TheFrontiersman_ returned, and ran up the creek to her wharf. Reynolds,watching, hoped to see Glen upon the deck. But he looked for her invain, and he wondered what had become of her. Was it possible that herfather had sent her outside? he asked himself.
Sconda did not come home for supper, but about an hour later heappeared with two other Indians, and informed Reynolds that the BigWhite Chief wished to see him. Reynolds now knew that the criticalmoment had arrived, so without the least hesitation he accompanied hisguards, who conducted him at once to the big house on the hill.
Jim Weston was seated at his desk as the prisoner was ushered in. Thefirst glance at the man told Reynolds that he was a person who wouldstand no nonsense or quibbling. Boldness must be met with boldness,and nothing but candour and truthfulness would serve him now. Helooked about the room. Shelves well filled with books showed thattheir owner was a reader and a student. The walls were adorned withtrophies of the chase, such as fine antlers of moose, caribou, andgreat horns of mountain sheep, while several large and valuable bearand wolf-skin rugs were stretched out upon the floor.
"What are you doing here, young man?"
These words deliberately uttered brought Reynolds back from hiscontemplation of the room.
"Do you really want to know?" he asked, looking Weston full in the eyes.
"Certainly. What did I ask you for, then?"
"Well, I am here because I was brought in on your boat."
"I know that," wag the impatient reply. "But what were you doing inthis region?"
"I was looking for your daughter, sir. That's what I was doing."
Jim Weston's eyes grew suddenly big with amazement at this candidconfession. Had the prisoner made any other reply he would have knownat once what to say. But to see him standing so calmly there, lookinghim straight in the eyes, disconcerted him for a minute.
"Looking for my daughter, were you?" he at length found voice to ask.
"That's just it. But she found me instead."
"Are you not afraid to make such a confession, young man?"
"Afraid! Of what?"
"Of what might happen to you."
Reynolds shrugged his shoulders, and smiled.
"Why should I be afraid? I have done nothing wrong. You are the one,sir, to blame."
"I!" Weston exclaimed in astonishment.
"Yes, you, for possessing such a captivating daughter. Why, she won myheart the first time I saw her. She is the most charming girl I evermet, and it was love at first sight with me."
"Look here," and Weston shifted uneasily in his chair. "Are you inearnest, or are you making fun of me? Do you realise what you aresaying? Have you the least idea what my daughter means to me? Why,she is more to me than life, and all my interests are bound up in her."
"I can well understand it, sir. And let me tell you that you are notthe only one. She is also to me more than life, and all my interestsas well as yours are bound up in her."
"You certainly have a great deal of impudence to speak in such a mannerabout my daughter," Weston retorted. "You surely must have heard whata risk it would be to venture into Glen West. Others have come here inthe past, and I suppose you have some idea how they fared."
"I am not worried about what happened to them, sir. From what I know,I believe they deserved all that came to them. But my case isdifferent. I love your daughter, and merely came to see her. If shedoes not return my love, that is all there is about it. I shall goaway and trouble her no more."
"And so you were willing to run such a risk with the vague uncertaintyof winning my daughter? Did you stop to count the cost?"
"I did. But it has been said by one, who is considered an authority,that
"'He is not worthy of the honey-comb 'That shuns the hive because the bees have stings.'"
"Who said that?" Weston asked.
"No less a person than Master Shakespeare himself. He is a safe guideto all young lovers."
"I like those words," and Weston glanced toward his books. "I haveread much in Shakespeare, but cannot remember that saying. I admireyour spirit, too, and it is a great pity that you have not used it insome other cause. Were you alone in this fool-chase of yours?"
"Not at all. For a while I had the company of a fine old man, FrontierSamson by name. No doubt you have heard of him."
"Indeed, I have, and a bigger rascal never lived."
"Rascal! do you say?"
"Yes, and a mean one at that. He is a deceiver, and should be drivenout of the country. He has given me more trouble than any man I evermet."
"Then the fault must be yours, sir, and I am sorry for you. That oldprospector has been to me a true friend ever since I met him on theNorthern Light. I fear he is much worried over my disappearance, andno doubt he thinks that I am lying dead somewhere in the wilderness."
"H'm, don't you worry about him. Most likely he is pleased to be ridof you."
"I cannot believe that of him," Reynolds stoutly defended. "Anyway, hewould not treat a man as a prisoner and a criminal such as you
do. Heis a true friend, so I believe, and one of Nature's gentlemen."
"A queer gentleman," and Weston smiled for the first time during theinterview. "I am surprised that you consider him as one."
"I wish I could consider all I have met in the same light. Such menare altogether too rare. He is the only perfect gentleman, to my wayof thinking, I have encountered since coming north."
"Do you not consider me one?"
"Not from what I have so far observed."
"How dare you say that?"
"I have always been in the habit of fitting my words to whom I amtalking. To a gentleman I talk as a gentleman, and to a brute as abrute."
"And a brute you consider me. Is that it?"
"Not altogether. I could not imagine a brute of a man having such adaughter as you are blest with. There must be something good aboutyou, but just what it is, I have not yet discovered. But, there, Ihave said enough. I want to know why you brought me here. I am not achild nor a fool, neither am I a criminal, and I do not wish to betreated as if I were one of them."
"You had better be careful how you speak," Weston warned. "You are inmy hands, remember, and I can do what I like with you."
"Can you? But who gave you authority over the lives of others? Didyou not assume it yourself? And to aid you in your work of terrorizingpeople, you have gathered around you a band of Indians, who obey yourslightest command."
"Talk all you like," and again Weston smiled. "Your boldness andimpudence are refreshing after the craven spirits which have appearedbefore me in the past. But you will change your tone when you face theOrdeal."
"Act like Curly did last night? Is that what you mean?"
"What! did you hear him?"
"How could anyone help hearing him? I thought he would uproot thetrees with his yells. What were you doing to him? Sticking pins inhim?"
"You seem to treat the Ordeal as a joke," and Weston looked keenly atthe young man.
"And why shouldn't I? In fact, I consider you and your tom-foolery asthe biggest joke I ever heard."
"But it was no joke to Curly."
"Apparently not, judging by the noise he made. What did you do withhim?"
"What did I do with him! Just wait until you see the blackened tree towhich he was bound, and then you won't ask such a question."
"I can readily understand how Curly would blacken anything he touched,even a tree. But you didn't burn him. Such a diabolical thing is notin your makeup."
"What did I do with him, then?"
"Scared him almost out of his wits, and then let him go."
"How did you learn that?" Weston demanded. "Have the Indians beentelling you anything?"
"I don't have to depend upon the natives for common sense. I have alittle left yet, thank God, and reason tells me that Curly is nowbeyond the Golden Crest, cursing and vowing vengeance upon you and yourassociates."
"And no one told you all this?" Weston inquired. "Are you sure?"
"Certain. No one told me a word. You have your Indians well trained."
Weston gave a deep sigh of relief, and remained silent for a fewminutes. What he was thinking about Reynolds had not the faintestidea. Nevertheless, he watched him closely, expecting any instant tobe ordered away for the Ordeal. He believed that his boldness andstraightforward manner had made some impression upon the ruler of GlenWest, but how much he could not tell.
And as he stood waiting, a sound from the room across the hallwayarrested his attention. It was music, sweet and full of pathos.Reynolds at once knew that it must be Glen. It could be no other, andhe was determined to see her once more ere her father should drive himfrom the place.
Turning suddenly, he started to leave the room, but his guards sprangforward and caught him by the arms. Savagely he threw them aside, fornothing but death, could stop him now. The Indians were about to leapupon him again, when a sharp command in the native tongue from Westoncaused them to desist. In another second Reynolds was out of the room,and hurrying toward her for whom he had ventured so much.