CHAPTER XX
A STARTLING DISCOVERY
It was getting light the next morning when the reinforced party entereda belt of thicker timber where they first clearly realized the fury ofthe storm. The trees were small and sprang from a frozen muskeg, sothat they could not be uprooted, but the gale had snapped the trunksand laid them low in swaths. Even in the spots where some hadwithstood its force the ground was strewn with split and brokenbranches, and to lee of them the snow had gathered in billowy drifts.The scene of ruin impressed the men, who were forced to make longrounds in search of a passage for the sled.
"About as fierce a blizzard as I remember," Sergeant Lane remarked."We were held up three days, and thought ourselves lucky in making aravine with a steep bank; but the wind couldn't have been quite sostrong back north a piece. There'd have been two names less on theroster if we'd been caught down here."
Harding thought this was probable. He had had a protecting rock at hisback, but in the valley there was no shelter from the storm that hadleveled the stoutest trees. Even the four-footed inhabitants of thewilds could hardly have escaped. As he stumbled among the wreckage,Harding thought about the man whose footsteps they had seen near theIndian village. Unless he had found some secure retreat he must havehad to face the fury of the gale. Harding felt convinced that the manwas Clarke. It was curious that he should have been living alone amongthe empty tepees, but Harding imagined that he was in some wayaccountable for the Indians' departure, and he wondered where he wasgoing when he crossed the range. There was a mystery about the matter,and if an explanation could be arrived at it would be of interest tohim and his friends. Even before Clarke had sent them into the muskegwhen he knew it was practically impassable, Harding had entertained adeep distrust of him.
Blake called him to help in dragging the sled over an obstacle, and thedifficulties of the way afterward occupied his attention. When theyfound clearer ground they made good progress, and, late in theafternoon, seeing a rocky spur running out from the hillside, theyheaded for it to look for a sheltered camping place. There was stillsome daylight, but a cold wind had sprung up, blowing the loose snowinto their faces.
As they neared the spur, the dogs swerved, as if attracted bysomething, and the half-breed struck the nearest dog and drove them on.
"That was curious," said Private Walthew. "It was old Chasseur who ledthem off, and he's not given to playing tricks."
"A dead mink or beaver in the snow," the sergeant suggested. "I didn'tnotice anything, but they have a keen scent. Anyhow, let's get intocamp."
They found a nook among the rocks, and Emile loosed the dogs and threwthem some frozen fish while the men had supper. It was a heavy,lowering evening, and the bitter air was filled with the murmur of thespruces as the wind passed over them. Though the light was fading,they kept their sharpness of outline, rising, black and ragged, from asweep of chill, lifeless gray. When the meal was nearly finished, Lanelooked round the camp.
"Where are the dogs?" he asked. "They're very quiet."
"I leaf zem _la bas_," explained Emile, waving his hand toward aneighboring hollow. Then, moving a few paces forward, he exclaimed:"Ah! _les coquins_!"
"Looks as if they'd bolted," Walthew said. "I think I know where tofind them."
He left the camp with Emile, and presently they heard the half-breedthreatening the dogs; then Walthew's voice reached them and there was ahoarse and urgent tone in it. Springing up, they ran back along thetrail and found Emile keeping off the dogs while Walthew bent over adark object that lay half revealed in the clawed up snow. At firstHarding saw only a patch or two of ragged fur that looked as if itbelonged to an animal; then with a shock he caught the outline of aman's shoulder and arm. The rest of the party gathered round,breathless after their haste, and when Lane spoke there was graveauthority in his voice.
"Give me a hand, boys. We have to get him out."
They did so with mingled compassion and reluctance, though Harding wassensible of a curious strained expectation. Soon the body lay clear ofthe snow, and the dim light fell on the frozen face.
"It's Clarke!" Blake cried.
"Sure," said Harding gravely. "I'm not surprised."
"Then you knew him?" Lane's tone was sharp.
Benson answered him.
"Yes; I knew him pretty well. He lived at Sweetwater, where we'regoing. I can give you any particulars you want."
"I'll ask you later." The sergeant knelt down and carefully studiedthe dead man's pose. "Looks as if he'd been caught in the blizzard anddied of exposure; but that's a thing I've got to ascertain. I'll wantsomebody's help in getting him out of this big coat."
None of them volunteered, but when Lane gave Walthew a sharp orderBlake and Harding joined them, and Harding afterward held the fur coat.Blake noticed that he folded and arranged it on his arm with whatseemed needless care, though he first turned his back toward theothers. Lane was now engaged in examining the body, and the men stoodwatching him, impressed by the scene. All round the narrow opening thespruces rose darkly against the threatening sky, and in its midst thesergeant bent over the still form. It made a dark blot on the paleglimmer of the snow, and the white patch of the face was faintlydistinguishable in the fading light. The spruce tops stirred, shakingdown loose snow, which fell with a soft patter, and the wind blewtrails of it about.
"I can find nothing wrong," Lane said at last.
"Considering that you came across the man lying frozen after one of theworst storms you remember, what did you expect to find?" Harding asked.
"Well," the sergeant answered dryly, "it's my duty to makeinvestigations. Though I didn't think it likely, there might have beena knife cut or a bullet hole. One of you had better bring up the sled.We can't break this ground without dynamite, but there are some looserocks along the foot of the spur."
The sled was brought and Clarke was gently placed on it, wrapped in hisfur coat. Then they took the traces and started for the ridge, wherethey built up a few stones above the hollow in which they laid him. Itwas quite dark when they had finished, and Lane made a gesture ofrelief.
"Well," he said, "that's done, and he'll lie safely there. Rough onhim, but it's a hard country and many a good man has left his bones init. I guess we'll get back to camp."
They crossed the snow in silence, trailing the empty sled, and for awhile after they reached camp nobody spoke. Lane sat near the fire,where the light fell on the book in which he wrote with a pencil heldawkwardly in his mittened hand, while Blake watched him and mused. Hehad no cause to regret Clarke's death, but he felt some pity for theman. Gifted with high ability, he had, through no fault of his own,been driven out of a profession in which he was keenly interested, andmade an outcast. His subsequent life had been a hard and evil one, butit had ended in a tragic manner; and this was made all the moreimpressive because Blake and his companions had narrowly escaped thesame fate. In spite of the cheerful fire, the camp had a lonely air,and Blake shivered as he glanced at the gleaming snow and the duskytrees that shut it in. There was something in the desolate North thatdaunted him.
Harding's reflections also centered on the dead man, and he had foodfor thought. There was a mystery to be explained. He imagined that hehad a clue to it in his pocket, though he could not follow it up forthe present. He waited with some anxiety until Lane closed his book.
"Now," said the sergeant, "there are one or two points I wantexplained, and as you know the man, it's possible that you can help me.How did he come to be here with only about three days' rations?"
"I can answer that," said Harding. "He was in the habit of staying atthe Indian village we told you of. We saw tracks coming from it whenwe were there the day before the blizzard began."
"A white man's tracks? Why did you go to the village?"
"I believe they were. We went to look for provisions, and didn't getthem, because the place was empty."
"Then how do you account for the fellow's being the
re alone?"
"I can't account for it," Blake said quietly.
Lane turned to Harding. The American had a theory, but he was notprepared to communicate it to the police.
"It's certainly curious," he said evasively.
"We'll start for the village to-morrow."
"As the Indians are away, there won't be much to be learned," Bensonsuggested.
"They may have come back. Anyway, it's my business to find out all Ican."
Soon afterward they went to sleep; and, rising an hour or two beforedaylight, they broke camp and turned back across the hills. The marchwas rough and toilsome, and when they camped at night fatigue anddrowsiness checked conversation, but Blake and his comrades weresensible of a difference in Lane's manner. It had become reserved, andhe had a thoughtful look. Reaching the village one evening, they weresurprised to find that some of the Indians had returned. After supperLane summoned them into the tepee he occupied. Emile interpreted, buthe had some difficulty in making himself understood, for which Hardingwas inclined to be thankful.
The sergeant began by explaining the authority and business of theNorth-West Police, of whom it appeared one or two of the Indians hadheard. Then he made Emile ask them if they knew Clarke. One of themsaid that they did, and added that he stayed with them now and then.Lane next asked why they took him in, and the Indian hesitated.
"He was a big medicine man and cured us when we were ill," he answeredcautiously.
"Do you know these white men?" Lane asked, indicating Blake's party.
An Indian declared that they had never seen them, though he added thatit was known that they were in the neighborhood. Being questionedabout this, he explained that about the time of Clarke's arrival one ofthe tribe had come in from the North, where he had met a half-breed whotold him that he had traveled some distance with three white men whowere going to the settlements. Knowing the country, they hadcalculated that the white men could not be very far off.
Harding felt anxious. He saw where Lane's questions led, and realizedthat the sergeant meant to sift the matter thoroughly. There was notmuch cause to fear that he and his friends would be held responsiblefor Clarke's death; but he suspected things he did not wish the policeto guess; and the Indians might mention having seen a white man'sfootprints on the occasion when he had forcibly taken Clarke away.Owing perhaps to their difficulty in making themselves understood,nothing, however, was said of this.
"How was it you left the white man in your village by himself?" Laneasked.
The Indians began to talk to one another, and it was with some troublethat Emile at last elicited an answer.
"It is a thing that puzzles us," said one. "The white man came aloneand told us he had seen tracks of caribou three days' journey back. Aswe had no meat, and our fish was nearly done, six of us went to lookfor the deer."
"Six of you? Where are the rest? These tepees would hold a good manypeople."
"They are hunting farther north," the Indian explained. "When we gotto the place the white man told us of, we could see no caribou tracks.As he was a good hunter, we thought this strange; but we went on,because there was another muskeg like the one he spoke of, and we mightnot have understood him. Then the snow came and we camped until it wasover, and afterward came back, finding no deer. When we reached thetepees, he had gone, and we do not know what has become of him. Wecould not follow because the snow had covered his trail."
"He is dead," Lane said abruptly. "I found him frozen a few days ago."
Their surprise was obviously genuine, and Lane was quick to noticesigns of regret. He imagined that Clarke had been a person of someimportance among them.
"Tell them I don't want them any more," he said to Emile, and when theIndians went out he turned to Benson. "Give me all the information youare able to about the man."
Benson told him as much as he thought judicious, and Lane sat silentfor a while.
"There is no reason to doubt that he came to his death bymisadventure," he decided. "I don't quite understand what led him tovisit these fellows; but, after all, that doesn't count."
"It isn't very plain," Benson replied. "Is there anything else youwish to know?"
"No," said Lane, looking at him steadily. "You can take it that thisinquiry is closed; we'll pull out the first thing to-morrow." Hebeckoned Walthew. "Now that we're here, we may as well find out whatwe can about these fellows, and how they live. It will fill up ourreport, and they like that kind of information at Regina."
When the police had left the tepee Harding turned to his companionswith a smile.
"Sergeant Lane is a painstaking officer, but his shrewdness has itslimits, and there are points he seems to have missed. It would havebeen wiser not to have let Clarke's coat out of his hands until he hadsearched it."
"Ah!" Blake exclaimed sharply. "You emptied the pockets?"
"I did. My action was hardly justifiable, perhaps, but I thought itbetter that the police shouldn't get on the track of matters thathaven't much bearing on Clarke's death. I found two things, andthey're both of interest to us. We'll take this one first."
He drew out a metal flask, and when he unstoppered it a pungent smellpervaded the tepee.
"Crude petroleum," he explained. "I should imagine the flash-point islow. I can't say how Clarke got the stuff when the ground's hardfrozen, but here it is."
"Isn't a low flash-point a disadvantage?" Benson asked. "It must makethe oil explosive."
"It does, but all petroleum's refined, and the by-products they takeoff, which includes gasoline, fetch a remarkably good price. Shake afew drops on the end of a hot log and we'll see how it lights."
A fire burned in a ring of stones in the middle of the tepee, andBenson carefully did as he was told. Hardly had the oil fallen on thewood before it burst into flame.
"As I thought!" exclaimed Harding. "I suspect the presence of one ortwo distillates that should be worth as much as the kerosene. We'llget the stuff analyzed later; but you had better stopper the flask,because we don't want the smell to rouse Lane's curiosity. Theimportant point is that, as I've reasons for believing the oil is freshfrom the ground, Clarke must have found it shortly before the blizzardovertook him. That fixes the locality, and we shouldn't have muchtrouble in striking the spot when we come back again." His eyessparkled. "It's going to be well worth while; this is a big thing!"
Blake did not feel much elation. He had all along thought his comradetoo sanguine; though he meant to back him.
"In a way, it was very hard luck for Clarke," he said. "If you'reright in your conclusions, he's been searching for the oil for severalyears; and now he's been cut off just when it looks as if he'd foundit."
"You don't owe him much pity. What would have happened if we hadn'tmet the police?"
"It's unpleasant to think of. No doubt we'd have starved to death."
"A sure thing!" said Harding. "It hasn't struck you that this was whathe meant us to do."
Blake started.
"Are you making a bold guess, or have you any ground for what you'resaying?"
"I see you'll have to be convinced. Very well; in the first place, theman would have stuck at nothing. I've already tried to show you thathe had something to gain by Benson's death. I suspected when we tookyou away from him that you were running a big risk, Benson."
"I was running a bigger one before that, if you can call a thing a riskwhen the result's inevitable," Benson replied. "The pace I was goingwould have killed me in another year or two, and even now I'm halfafraid----" He paused for a few moments, with somber face and knittedbrows. "I believe you're right, Harding," he went on thoughtfully;"but you haven't told us how he proposed to get rid of me."
"I'm coming to that. There was, however, another member of this partywho was in his way, and he made his plans to remove you both."
"You mean me?" Blake broke in. "I don't see how he'd profit by mydeath."
"First, let's look at what he did. As soon
as he reached the village,he heard that we had started from the Hudson Bay post. It wouldn't bedifficult to calculate how long the food we could carry would last, andhe'd see that the chances were in favor of our calling at the villagefor provisions. Presuming on that, he sent his friends away to lookfor caribou which they couldn't find. They admitted that they werepuzzled, because he was a good hunter. Then he cleared out by himself;and I believe that if there was any food left in the place he carefullyhid it."
Harding took out a letter and handed it to Blake.
"That," he said, "will show you how he would have profited. I found itin his pocket."
Blake started. It was Colonel Challoner's handwriting, and wasaddressed to Clarke.
"Read it," Benson advised; "it's justifiable."
Blake read it aloud, holding the paper near the fire, where the lightshowed up the grimness of his face:
"'_In reply to your letter, I have nothing further to say. I believe Ihave already made my intentions plain. It would be useless for you totrouble me with any further proposals._'"
Blake folded the letter and put it into his pocket before he spoke.
"I think I see," he said very quietly. "The man has been trying tobleed the Colonel, and has got his answer."
"Is that all?" Harding asked.
"Well, I believe it proves that your conclusions are right. I won't gointo particulars, but where my uncle and cousin are threatened I'm, soto speak, the leading witness for the defense, and it wouldn't havesuited Clarke to let me speak. No doubt, that's why he took ratherdrastic measures to put me out of the way."
"Then you mean never to question the story of the Indian affair?"
"What do you know about it?" Blake asked curtly.
Harding laughed.
"I know the truth. Haven't I marched and starved and shared my planswith you? If there had been any meanness in you, wouldn't I have foundit out? What's more, Benson knows what really happened, and so doesColonel Challoner. How else could Clarke have put the screw on him?"
"He doesn't seem to have made much impression; you have heard theColonel's answer." Blake frowned. "We'll drop this subject. IfChalloner attached any importance to what you think Clarke told him,his first step would have been to send for me.
"I expect you'll find a letter waiting for you at Sweetwater," Hardingreplied.
Blake did not answer, and soon afterward Sergeant Lane came in withWalthew.