The Huntress

"Sometimes I think she's a good woman, you know, the real thing, gentle and true! It's my imagination makes me think that. I know she's no good – but it's driving me crazy. I want her so bad, it seems as if I'd die if I didn't go back to her. That's what she wants, to get me under her thumb. I'm a fool! I've got no strength to resist her!"

"Well, now," said Ed comfortably, "you're all excited. Maybe she ain't as bad as all that."

"She is! She is!" cried Sam. "I've got good reason to know it."

"'Tain't the thing itself that drives you crazy," Ed went on philosophically. "It's thinking about it too much. Your brain goes round like a squirrel in his little cage, and you don't know where you are. Now, if you could put the whole business out of your mind a little while, shut a door on it, so to speak, by and by, when you open it again, there's the right answer standing there plain as a pike-staff!"

"Forget it!" cried Sam. "It's with me night and day! If I let go, I'll cave in. I'll go running back! God help me, if she ever gets hold of me. I'd be the laughing-stock of the whole country! I couldn't look a child in the face! No! No! If you're my friend, keep me from going back! Have you got a Bible?"

"Sure," said Ed. "There in the top of that dunnage bag at your hand. What do you want it for?"

"I'll settle it," Sam muttered, searching for the book. He found it.

"I'll take an oath on it," he said to Ed. "I want you to hear it. Because a man can find a way to get out of an oath he swears to himself. Listen!"

A faint effulgence filtering through the canvas revealed him kneeling on his blankets, with the book in his hands.

He said solemnly: "I swear on this holy book and on my honour that I will never go back to this woman. And if I break this oath may all men despise me! So help me God. Amen!"

"That's a good strong one," remarked Ed cheerfully.

"Yes, a man could hardly break that," murmured Sam, oddly calmed.

"Light up," said Ed.

"No, I think I can sleep now."

Sam did sleep until morning. He arose, not exactly in a jovial mood, nevertheless calm. He might have a dull ache in the bottom of his breast, but the wild struggle was over. The matter was disposed of for good.

After breakfast he and Ed hitched up the team and went to the pine ridge to haul the logs Ed had cut the day before. They had returned with a load, and were throwing them off at the site of the proposed house, when Ed suddenly cocked his head to listen.

"Horses," he said, "and wheels."

"Some of the natives," suggested Sam.

Ed shook his head. "No occasion for them to bring a wagon. They come horseback."

Sam scowled; dreading, hoping – what he knew not.

By and by the team and wagon clattered into view from among the trees along the river.

"My horses!" cried Sam involuntarily. Filled with a kind of panic, his eyes sought the hills.

A second glance showed him both the figures visible in the wagon-box were of men. He calmed down. Whether his principal feeling was of relief or disappointment, he could not have said. Ed was looking at him curiously.

"Not mine," said Sam, blushing. "I mean the team I used to drive."

As the horses mounted the rise, Sam called in a softened voice: "Sambo! Dinah!"

The little black pair pricked up their ears and whinnied. Sam went to meet them. The two men he dimly remembered as breed-boys around the settlement. Scarcely regarding them, he pulled the horses' ears and rubbed their noses, while they nozzled him capriciously with delicate whickerings.

"Old boy! Old girl!" whispered Sam. "You haven't forgotten me, eh? Maybe you miss me just the same as I miss you!"

"How did you come by this team?" he demanded of the driver.

As he looked up he saw that a third head and shoulders had risen above the edge of the box. He saw a face incredibly wrinkled, framed in long, straggling grey hair. The bright eyes twinkled merrily.

"Hello, Sam!"

"Musq'oosis!" cried Sam, recoiling. Fearful of other surprises, he hastened to look in the wagon-box. There was nothing more in it save their bedding and grub.

Musq'oosis clambered down and shook hands with Sam and Ed.

"Tell them to unhitch," said Sam, mindful of the duties of hospitality.

Musq'oosis shook his head. "Got go back," he said. "Got sleep to-night on Little Prairie. Home to-morrow night."

Sam felt relieved. His ordeal was not to be long continued then. Whatever colour might be given it, he knew what Musq'oosis had really come for.

Ed, out of a sentiment of delicacy, retired to finish unloading his wagon. Musq'oosis sent the two breed-boys to help him. Musq'oosis himself squatted in the grass, while Sam stood caressing the horses.

"Then you not comin'," said Musq'oosis, a quarter of an hour later. He had spent his best efforts in vain.

Sam gloomily shook his head.

"I moch sorry," said the old man.

"Did she send you after me?" demanded Sam abruptly.

"No."

"What made you come, then?"

"I t'ink she look too moch at Mahooley. He bad man to woman. Bela, she mos' lak my daughter. I feel bad."

A horrible pain went through Sam's breast. He laughed as he thought blithely. "If she wants Mahooley she'll marry him. You and I have got nothing to do with it."

"You could come and tak' her 'way from him maybe."

"Nothing doing," said Sam grimly.

"Mahooley maybe not marry her honest," suggested Musq'oosis.

A spasm passed over Sam's face. The horses strained back, startled, from his hand. "Oh, for God's sake, I've told you a dozen times it is nothing to me!" he cried. "Nobody can make Bela do what she doesn't want to do. If she goes with Mahooley, that's her look out!"

Fearing that his self-control was about to escape him altogether, Sam walked away a few steps. When he came back his face was set.

Musq'oosis saw no hope there. He shrugged. "Well – got no more to say. I moch sorry!"

Sam wished with all his heart that he would go and be done with it.

"You say goin' tak' up land here," said Musq'oosis politely. "Let me see your land."

Sam, calling to one of the boys to watch the horses, led the way across the planted ground and over the gully to his own fair field.

Musq'oosis surveyed it with bright eyes. "Ah, miwasan!" he cried. "Beautiful! There is no better land!"

"Good enough," said Sam indifferently.

"There on that little hill. You will build good house there."

"I suppose so."

"You will have porch lak Gilbert Beattie got for sittin' on. You sit in chair, and look up and down river every night. You build big barn. Have moch horse and cattle, I guess. You will be rich, all right."

Sam laughed mirthlessly. "You're as bad as Ed."

"What good your richness do you if you all alone," asked Musq'oosis slyly. "You want a wife to mak' your heart glad. A handsome wife and many fat babies. There is only one girl for you. Good face to see; good hands to work; good heart to love. I know her, and I say so. There was never any girl so fine as her in this country. Will you let ot'er man get her?"

Sam turned on him with extraordinary violence. "I told you to cut it out!" he cried. "By God, if you say another word – You make me mad! Once I thought you were my friend. Get out of here before I forget you're old and helpless! For the last time, I tell you I will not go! I have sworn an oath. It is ended!"

Musq'oosis shrugged. "All right! I go back!" he said dully.

CHAPTER XXV
CONCLUSION

On the second morning after, as the walls of Ed Chaney's house were beginning to rise from the ground, the partners were astonished to see a little black horse appear loping along the river-bank, bearing a rider.

It proved to be the elder of the Indian boys who had accompanied Musq'oosis. His name was St. Paul. His smooth, brown face and bright, flat eyes gave no hint of the nature of his errand. The horse had been ridden hard.

"What's the matter?" demanded Sam, frowning.

"Musq'oosis sick," returned the boy, without a flicker of expression. He spoke good English.

"Where?"

"Jus' 'cross Little Prairie, I guess twenty miles from river."

"What did you come to me for?" said Sam. "There were white men nearer. I don't know anything about doctoring."

"Musq'oosis say want nobody come but Sam," answered the boy. "Him say doctor got not'ing for him. Him say time has come. Him say want friend to close his eyes. Him say mak' Sam mad before. Him sorry. Want Sam tak' his hand before he go."

"Better go right back," suggested Ed with quick sympathy. "The poor old guy!"

Sam debated the matter scowling. Musq'oosis had made him angry, and he distrusted him. Yet he could not but be drawn to the quaint little philosopher, too. He could not but remember that Musq'oosis had been kind to him at a time when he most needed it.

"How did it happen?" he asked, partly softened.

The boy illustrated his story with the graphic gesticulation of his race.

"Yes'day Musq'oosis not wake up at all. I got shake him in his blanket. Wake moch slow. Say feel moch bad. All tam sleepy. Can't stan' up. Can't eat not'ing. So we put him in the wagon and go.

"Bam-by say stop! Say can't go no furder. Wagon too moch shake. So we lay him on the ground in his blankets. We wait a while. T'ink maybe get better. Afternoon spell no better. He say no goin' get better. Say to me go get Sam. Ot'er boy Jack stay by him. So I come. Sleep las' night at the crossing."

The story was detailed and convincing, and Sam's suspicions were partly lulled.

"You and the boy take my team," said Ed gravely. "Leave the black horse here to rest up."

A few minutes later they were on the way.

St. Paul had made an appointment with Sollers to come and get them in his canoe, and the trader was waiting when they got there. They swam the horses across. On the way over Sam discussed the case with Sollers. The trader, in addition to everything else, was often obliged to be a doctor.

"Sounds like general collapse," he suggested. "He's over seventy. That's the way they go at last. Under a bush beside the trail."

"I wish you'd come with us," said Sam.

"I'll follow as soon as I can catch a horse."

Sam swung himself on his horse and clapped heels to his ribs. St. Paul lingered to tighten girths. Looking over his shoulder, Sam saw him in talk with Sollers. He had an impression that both turned their heads as he looked around.

When the boy overtook him, he demanded to know what they had been talking about.

"I say to Sollers better bring some pain-killer out of the store," the boy answered readily. "Sollers say all right."

Reaching the flat country above at the end of the long pull, they halted for the briefest possible time to eat and let the horses feed. As they prepared to mount again, Sam said:

"Funny Sollers hasn't overtaken us."

"Guess can't catch his horse," said St. Paul.

They rode forward through the aspen woods, and across the open spaces. Having crossed the widest of these that goes by the name of Little Prairie, Sam began to keep watch ahead for evidences of the camp. Every few minutes he asked St. Paul where it was.

"On'y little way now," was the boy's invariable reply.

"You said twenty miles from the river."

"Maybe I mak' little mistak'."

After an hour of this Sam turned sullen. "If it's a trick it won't do anybody any good," he said. "I shall ride back without dismounting."

St. Paul merely looked bland.

Finally Sam looked at the sun. "Four o'clock," he said. "If we don't arrive in half an hour I'll turn back anyway."

"Jus' little way, now," said St. Paul.

"Don't say that again!"

"Ot'er side this muskeg, then piny ridge and little small prairie. It is there."

This time St. Paul proved to be telling the truth. As they issued out on the meadow Sam saw the wagon standing under a tree on the other side. Coming closer he made out a recumbent figure under a willow-bush. The other boy and the other horse were not visible.

It was Musq'oosis. The bush protected him from the sun. With the first glimpse Sam had of his face, remorse attacked him for his suspicions. In truth the old man was far gone. His skin had taken on a waxy, yellow consistency. He looked as serene and unearthly as if he had already passed away. His eyes were closed. Sam spoke his name in alarm.

He opened his eyes and smiled, and feebly moved his hand toward Sam's. "I glad you come," he murmured. "Wait long."

Sam gripped his hand. He forgot all his anger. It seemed shocking to him to find the old man untended in his extremity. He had heard tales of Indian callousness.

"Where's the other boy?" he demanded. "Has he run away?"

Musq'oosis shook his head. "Jack good boy," he said. "I send him look for ot'er horse. I 'fraid horse run home."

Sam ordered St. Paul to unsaddle the horses, to make a fire, and put on water.

"How do you feel?" he asked Musq'oosis solicitously.

"Pretty good," the old man answered, smiling. "I not feel bad no more I guess."

"Sollers will be along directly with medicine. He will know what to do for you."

"Medicine not mak' old heart go on," said Musq'oosis. "I have finish my hunt."

"I wish I could get you home!" murmured Sam.

The old man moved his head from side to side to see the trees and the sky. "This my home," he said. "It is good grass. There is no better bed."

"You mustn't talk like that," cried Sam, distressed. "You mustn't give up."

Musq'oosis smiled. "Not givin' up w'en old man die," he returned. "I lak live ver' well. I lak the summer an' the winter. Mos' of all I lak my big lak. I lak smooth and rough. I lak the green shore and the round bays and the little rivers that come down. It is a good worl'. But I lak leave it now. I lak go to bed after big hunt."

"You shouldn't talk so much," said Sam. "It tires you."

"Let me talk," returned Musq'oosis, smiling still. "I soon done talkin'. I lak tell yo'ng man all an old man know. But not moch good, I guess. Yo'ng man got learn same lak his fat'er."

The old man murmured on out of his store of wisdom. Sometimes he appeared to doze, but always he kept hold of Sam's hand. It was a tremendous and arresting experience for young Sam. He was profoundly affected.

From time to time he endeavoured to get the old man to take a little stimulant. Tea was all he had to offer him. Musq'oosis refused it.

"I don't see why Sollers doesn't come!" said Sam.

"He not comin'," replied Musq'oosis. "I tell St. Paul tell him not come. I only want my friend."

"Why do you like me?" asked Sam.

"I don't know," answered Musq'oosis, smiling. "Got good heart, I guess."

At last Sam did hear horses' hoofs in the distance. "Here he is now," he said, only to realize presently that the sound was from the other direction. "It's Jack," he added.

Soon he could make out that there were two horses coming from the east. He frowned uneasily, and would have risen, but Musq'oosis had his hand. The old man appeared to be sleeping.

Sam had to kneel there while the horses came closer and closer, galloping at top speed. His beating heart warned him of what was in store. Was it possible the old man had lied to him at death's door? There was no shadow on that peaceful face.

The two horses dashed into sight around the bushes, and were sharply pulled up on their haunches. They were ridden by Bela and Jack. At the sight of her the old wild commotion was resumed in Sam's breast. Forgetting all else, he jumped up, snatching his hand out of Musq'oosis's.

"You tricked me!" he cried furiously to him.

The motionless figure gave no sign.

Bela turned on the native boy. "You lie to me!" she cried, raising the switch she carried.

He put heels to his horse and evaded her.

Bela turned on Sam. "You t'ink I come here see you," she cried furiously. "It's not true. I hate you!"

"God knows I didn't come to see you!" retorted Sam bitterly.

"I'll go back," she said, instantly turning her horse.

"Wait!" cried Sam. "Look after Musq'oosis. He's really sick. I'll go."

Bela looked at the little figure lying so still, and her anger failed her. Her face broke up. Slipping out of her saddle, she went to him, keeping her back turned toward Sam. Sam picked up his bridle and went to catch his horse.

He had to lead it back close to where she was in order to get his saddle. He could not help looking at her once. She was kneeling on the other side of Musq'oosis, bending over him, and clasping both his hands to her breast as if to warm them. She had forgotten Sam. Her lovely face was soft and haggard with grief. Tears coursed down her cheeks.

"My friend! My friend!" Sam heard her whisper. "Speak to me. Say you forgive me. Ah, don't leave me! I have no friend but you!"

Sam looked on in a kind of horror. He began to tremble. He dropped the bridle rein, and the horse strayed away again. If he could believe his eyes, if Bela was a gentle, loving woman, what had he done? Seeing her like this, his heart went to her like a bird to its nest.

Musq'oosis opened his eyes and murmured. She lowered her head close to listen. They talked together. Sam looked on like one stricken. Finally Bela turned her face toward him, though it was not Sam she seemed to see.

"Come," she said. "He want you."

Sam knelt at the other side of Musq'oosis. He held one hand, Bela the other. The old man's face wore a look that humbled him. At the same time the nearness of Bela was making him dizzy. She did not appear to be aware of him.

"I'm sorry I spoke like I did," Sam said involuntarily.

The old man smiled. "You right," he whispered. "I trick you. Trick both. I want you mak' up before I go."

Bela and Sam both turned their heads in keen discomfort.

"Never mind that now," said Bela.

"Yes," he said. "So foolish! Both! You are crazy 'bout each ot'er. I know it. W'at for you got quarrel and speak bad words? W'at for you run away? W'at for you say goin' wit' 'not'er man, you? All foolishness! Yo'ng people lak babies. Throw down their food. Bam-by got cry for it."

Musq'oosis drew his hands together and tried to place the woman's hand that he held in the man's. Both resisted, and he had not strength enough.

"Well – good-bye," he sighed.

Instantly Sam took Bela's hand, and hers crept into his as if at home there. The old man smiled faintly.

"Look at each ot'er," he whispered.

But it was at him they looked. Still smiling, a dread change came over his face. His body quivered slightly, there was a strange sound in his throat. His jaw dropped.

"Oh, he's gone!" whispered Bela.

Then they looked at each other, looked straight into each other's souls. She swayed toward him, and his arms went around her swiftly. The still figure was between them on the ground.

"My love! My love!" he murmured. "I have been a fool! I didn't know you. I was full of false pride. I ask your pardon."

"I love you!" she breathed. "I think I die when you leave me!"

Their lips met.

Bela struggled to free herself. "This no tam be happy," she whispered.

They looked down at Musq'oosis again. His eyes were wide open, and he was smiling at them in a different way.

"I feel better," he said slyly.

Bela and Sam sprang up in terror and retreated a little way, staring at him, staring at each other with wild eyes. Gradually they realized how they had been tricked, and the old scowls returned to each face. Both were silent.

Musq'oosis sat up in his blankets.

"For goodness, don' begin any more foolishness," he said calmly. "I am ongry. To-day I shoot four partridge while I waitin'. Let's have supper. I will wash the clay off my face."

Sam suddenly straightened his back. "I don't care!" he cried. "Do you, Bela?"

"No!" she answered, flying to his open arms.

THE END