They had almost reached the cabin on the return journey and were full in view of the lake. As she cried the words she pointed1 over its snow-laden surface, and Stane, looking in the direction indicated, saw that which made his heart leap. A dog-team was coming up the lake, with a man on snow-shoes packing the trail in front.
"Who can it be?" asked the girl in some excitement.
"The owner of the cabin—for a certainty!" answered Stane, conscious of a sudden relief from the anxiety which the morning had brought.
"Then," answered the girl quietly, "you wait to welcome him, whilst I go and prepare a meal."
She passed into the cabin, whilst Stane walked down to the shore of the lake. The traveller whoever he was, was making directly for the cabin, and watching, Stane saw that he walked wearily as if he had come far, or was suffering from some weakness. It was quite an appreciable2 time before he saw Stane standing3 to welcome him, and when he did so, he gave a joyous4 shout. Stane answered the hail, and a few minutes later when the man halted his dogs he saw that he was mistaken in concluding the new-comer was the owner of the cabin, for he was garbed5 in the winter dress of the Nor-west Mounted Police.
"Cheero," said the policeman in greeting. "Where's Jean Bènard?"
Stane shook his head. "Don't know. Is Jean Bènard the owner of the cabin?"
At this question the policeman glanced at him sharply.
"Don't you know that? Who in thunder—Stane! By Christopher!" As he made the recognition the new-comer held out his mittened6 hand. "Well this is a pleasure. Don't you know me, old man?"
Stane looked at him as he shook his hand. "I think I do," he said. "Your Dandy Anderton, aren't you?"
"Used to be," laughed the other. "Now I'm Trooper Richard Alland Anderton of the R.N.W.M.P., and no more a dandy. But I'm mortal glad to see you, Stane, particularly as I'm a little knocked. I hurt my shoulder this morning, as——" He broke off suddenly as the sound of movement came from the cabin, and asked quickly. "You've got a mate?"
"Yes," answered Stane, with a short laugh, "as good a mate as a man could have, a mate that happens to be a lady!"
"A lady!" Anderton whistled. "Up here! By Jove! you've both got pluck."
"Well, you see, Anderton, it's not exactly a matter of choice. We were stranded7 together, and this cabin happened to offer itself. But loose your dogs, and come and be introduced!"
"Right-o!" replied the policeman. "I'll be with you in two jiffs."
Stane entered the cabin to prepare Helen. As he did so the girl looked up from the stove. "Is he the owner of our palace?"
"Then we shall not suffer eviction9?" she laughed, and to Stane it seemed there was an odd note of relief in her voice.
"No; but he spells deliverance. You see if he can't do anything for us himself he can carry the news of our whereabouts to Fort Malsun, and——"
At that moment a whip-stock hammered at the cabin-door, and a second later Trooper Anderton entered. For a moment he was a little taken aback by the girl's appearance, then Stane made the introduction.
"Miss Yardely; Mr. Anderton!"
"Miss Yardely!" the policeman cried. "Are you Sir James Yardely's niece, who was lost a few months ago?"
"The very same," answered Helen smilingly.
"There's a reward out for your discovery—five thousand dollars, no less."
"I didn't know I was worth so much," laughed the girl.
"Your uncle makes it; and half the trappers in the north are keeping a look-out for you; for it is known that you were found by some one——"
"There is my saviour," interrupted Helen, nodding towards Stane.
"Lucky fellow," laughed the policeman. "How did it happen?"
"Perhaps Mr. Stane will tell you later," answered the girl, "and if he doesn't, I will. But I don't want this moose steak to spoil. I take a pride in my cookery."
She laughed and turned again to the stove. Both the men watched her admiringly for a moment, and then Anderton asked: "Been up here long, Stane?"
Stane gave him an approximate date, and explained the situation by recounting his accident. The other nodded sympathetically. "You were lucky to have Miss Yardely with you. I had a narrow shave myself this morning. Just as I was starting from my last camp, a tree that two minutes before looked as stable as a pyramid, collapsed10. It caught me on the shoulder and knocked me flying. Lucky thing I fell clear; but it gave me a nasty jar, and my left arm is a little out of action, with the soreness. I oughtn't to have taken the trail this morning, and wouldn't, only I'm in a tremendous hurry—a running quarry11 you know."
"Who is it?" asked Stane.
"A breed, wanted for murder. He's been running for months, making this way and there's an idea that he's sought sanctuary12 with his mother's tribe at the top end of this lake."
"Ah, then there is an encampment up here?"
"Yes. Didn't you know?"
Stane gave an account of the mysterious visit of the previous night and of the stranger they had seen in the wood that morning and the policeman listened carefully.
"The girl's a puzzler," he said, "but the stranger may be my man. He knows his life is forfeit13, and he's ripe for any sort of crime. I guess I'll move on after him when I've had a rest."
"We'll go with you," answered Stane thoughtfully, "we may be able to get dogs from the camp."
"It's just possible," agreed Anderton, "if the Indians will sell. If not, then I'll carry the news of you back to Fort Malsun, and the factor there will send for you like a shot." He was silent for a moment, watching Helen as she laid the table; then he said hesitatingly. "By the by, Stane, did you ever get to the bottom of that unfortunate affair of yours in England?"
"No," was the reply, given with some bitterness, "but the jury did."
"Oh rot!" exclaimed the other. "Nobody who knew you really believes that."
"I have met one man up here who apparently14 does!"
"Who is that?"
"Ainley! You remember——"
"Ainley! Why, man, he——" He broke off suddenly, with a look at the girl.
"Yes?" said Stane, "you need not mind Miss Yardely. She knows I have been in prison."
"Yes!" answered Helen quickly, "and I am very sure he ought not to have been."
"It was a damnable shame!" broke out the policeman. "But the facts were against you at the time, Stane. The hand-writing experts——"
"Oh the likenesses were there, right enough," interrupted Stane, "and I certainly had been in Harcroft's rooms, alone, and I suppose in company with his cheque book. Also I had lost rather a pot of money on the boat-race, and I am bound to admit all the other incriminating circumstances."
"Yes, but you don't know everything. Long after you—er—went down, Jarlock, who was in our set, told me something about Ainley."
"What was that?" asked Stane quickly.
"Well, it was that just at that time, Ainley was broke and borrowing money right and left, and that he had forged Jarlock's name to a bill. Jarlock became aware of the fact through the bill being presented to him for payment, and he tackled Ainley about the business. Ainley owned up, and Jarlock let the thing go, for old acquaintance' sake. But just about the time of your trouble he left the 'Varsity and went on a trip to the Cape15, and it was a full year after before he even heard what had befallen you. It made him think of his own affair with Ainley, and when he met me months afterwards he took me into his confidence. We talked the matter over carefully, and knowing you as we both did, we reached the conclusion that you were innocent and that Ainley was the guilty man."
"Any evidence?"
"No, nothing beyond that matter of the bill. We judged by general principles. Ainley always was something of a rotter, you know."
Stane laughed a trifle bitterly. "He's by way of becoming a personage of importance today. But I think you're right, the more so since I encountered him up here."
He gave a brief account of his meeting with Ainley, told how he had waited for him on two successive nights, and how on the second night he had been kidnapped without any apparent reason. The policeman listened carefully and at the end nodded his head.
"Looks fishy16!" he commented. "The fellow was afraid of you." Then after a moment he asked, "Your question? The question you wanted to ask Ainley, I mean. What was it?"
"It was about a sheet of paper with some writing on it. You shall see it."
He felt in his hip-pocket, and producing a small letter-case, took out a thin packet wrapped in oiled silk. Opening it, he unfolded a sheet of foolscap and handed it to the other.
It was covered with writing, and as Anderton looked at it, he saw that the writing was made up of two names, written over and over again, the names being those of Hubert Stane and Eric Harcroft. At first the character of the handwriting of the two names was widely different, but presently the separate characteristics were blended with a distinct leaning towards those of Harcroft, though some of the characteristics of the earlier writing of Stane's name still survived, though at the bottom of the sheet only Harcroft's name was written, and that a dozen times. The policeman whistled as he studied it.
"Where did you get this, Stane?"
"I found it in a copy of Plato which Ainley had borrowed from me. It was returned before the forgery17 turned up, and that paper slipped out when I was going through my possessions after my release from Dartmoor. What do you make of it?"
"It is perfectly18 plain what the meaning of it is," answered Anderton with conviction. "Whoever did this was blending two handwritings for some purpose or other, and the purpose is not difficult to guess."
"That is what I felt when I saw it, and when the significance of it dawned on me, I set out to find Ainley that I might ask him the meaning of it. He had left England, and no one whom I could ask knew his whereabouts. Things were very difficult for me at home and so I came out here, stumbled on Ainley—and you know the rest."
Helen Yardely had listened to the talk of the two men without speaking, but now she broke in. "I do not wonder Gerald Ainley did not keep his promise to see you at Fort Malsun. I only wonder that when he arranged for your deportation19, as he surely did, he did not arrange for your death."
"He does not know I have this paper," answered Stane with a grateful look towards her. "But when I do meet him——"
He did not finish the sentence, and after a moment the girl announced that the meal was ready. As they ate, Anderton glanced from time to time at the man whom he had known as a careless youth at Oxford. He noted20 the hardness of the eyes, the greying hair, the deep lines of the face, and was moved to a sudden burst of indignation.
"Confound the man, Stane! If I were in your place I should be tempted21 to shoot him! But that's too good for him."
"I will do that which will be worse for him," answered Stane quietly, "I will make him own up."
The two who heard him, looking at his resolute22 face, had no doubt that he would keep his word, and as each reflected what he must have been through, neither was sorry for Gerald Ainley or had any compunction at the thought of what might happen to him.
The meal was finished without any further reference to the past, and after a smoke, Anderton threw on his furs and went outside. Presently he returned and announced his intention of going up the lake to the Indian encampment.
"The weather is going to hold, and it really is of the utmost importance for me to find out whether my man is here or not. I'm not in the best form after my accident this morning, but there's nothing else for it, and if the fellow has left, I shall have to follow at his heels, and wear him down. It is the only way. Duty is duty in my force, I can assure you."
Stane looked at Helen, then he said: "We will accompany you, Anderton. You represent the law, and in your company we are much more likely to receive attention and get what we want than if we go alone, whilst further, if the mysterious visits we have had were hostile in intention, the fact that we are known to you will tend to check them."
"Something in that!" agreed the policeman.
When Anderton had harnessed his dogs they started off, making directly up the lake, and within two hours sighted about half a score of winter tepees pitched near the store, and with sheltering woods on three sides of them. As they came into view, with the smoke of the fires curling upward in the still air, the policeman nodded.
"The end of a journey of two hundred miles; or the beginning of one that may take me into the Barrens, and up to the Arctic. Lord, what a life this is!"
He laughed as he spoke23, and both those who heard him, knew that he found the life a good one, and was without regret for the choice he had made.
As they drew nearer the camp, two or three men, and perhaps a dozen women, with twice that number of children came from the tepees to look at them, and when the dogs came to a halt, one of the men stepped forward. He was an old man, and withered-looking, but with a light of cunning in his bleared eyes.
"What want," he asked. "Me, Chief George."
The policeman looked at the bent24 figure clothed in mangy-looking furs, with a dirty capote over all, and then gave a swift glance at his companions, the eyelid25 nearest to them fluttering down in a slow wink26. A second later he was addressing the chief in his own tongue.
"I come," he said, "from the Great White Chief, to take away one who is a slayer27 of women. It is said that he has refuge in thy lodges28."
The Indian's dirty face gave no sign of any resentment29. "There is no such man in my lodges."
"But I have heard there is, a man who is the son of thy sister, with a white father."
The old Indian looked as if considering the matter for a moment, then he said slowly. "My sister's son was here, but he departed four days ago."
"Whither went he?"
"Done!" said the policeman with a quick glance at Stane. "It is certain there are no dogs here, or we should have heard or seen them."
He turned to the Indian again, whilst Stane looked at Helen. "You heard that, Miss Yardely? Our exile is not yet over."
"Apparently not," agreed Helen smilingly.
Stane again gave his attention to the conversation between his friend and the Indian, but half a minute later, happening to glance at the girl, he surprised a look of intense interest on her face. She was looking towards a tepee that stood a little apart from the rest, and wondering what it was that interested her, Stane asked, "What is it, Miss Yardely? You seem to have found something very interesting."
Helen laughed a little confusedly. "It was only a girl's face at a tent-door. I was wondering whether the curiosity of my sex would bring her into the open or not."
Stane himself glanced at the tepee in question, the moose-hide flap of which was down. Apparently the girl inside had overcome her curiosity, and preferred the warmth of the tepee to the external cold. He grew absorbed in the conversation again, but Helen still watched the tepee; for the face she had seen was that of Miskodeed, and she knew that the thought she had entertained as to the identity of the woman of mystery, who had fled from the neighbourhood of the cabin, was the right one. Presently a mittened hand drew aside the tent-flap ever so small a way; and Helen smiled to herself.
Though she could see nothing through the tiny aperture31 so made, she knew, as certainly as if she herself had been standing in the tepee, that Miskodeed was watching them with interested eyes. Unconsciously she drew herself upright, and flashed a challenging glance towards the invisible spectator, visioning the Indian girl's wild beauty and matching it, as a jealous woman will, against her own. Not till Stane addressed her did she take her eyes from the tepee.
"Anderton's through," he said. "His man has gone northward; and as you heard there are no dogs here. We shall have to go back to the cabin. Anderton tried to persuade the chief to send a couple of his young men with a message down to Fort Malsun, but the fellow says it is impossible in this weather to make the journey without dogs, which I dare say is true enough."
"Respite?" he said wonderingly.
She laughed again as she spoke, and Stane laughed with her, though he did not notice the glance she flashed at the closed tepee. Then Anderton turned abruptly34 from Chief George.
"I'm sorry," he said, "I have done what I could for you two, but this noble red man either won't or can't help you. I shall have to push on, but the first chance I get I'll send word on to Factor Rodwell. If only I could turn back——"
"Please don't worry about us, Mr. Anderton," interrupted Helen cheerfully. "We shall be all right."
"'Pon my word, I believe you will, Miss Yardely," answered the policeman in admiration35. He looked down the lake, and then added: "No use my going back. It will only be time wasted. I will say good-bye here. Keep cheerful, old man," he said to Stane. "You'll work clear of that rotten business at Oxford yet. I feel it in my bones."
Helen moved a little away, and the policeman lowered his voice, "Lucky beggar! You'll ask me to be best man, won't you?"
"Best man!"
"Pooh, man! I've got eyes in my head, haven't I?" Without giving Stane a chance to reply, he walked towards Helen.
"Keep cheerful, Miss Yardely, and don't let Stane get dumpy about the past."
"I think you have effectually saved him from that," she answered quietly.
"Jolly glad if I have! He's a good fellow, is Hubert. Till our next meeting! Au revoir, Miss Yardely! So long, Stane!" The next moment he turned to his dogs. "Moosh! Moosh—Michele!"
The leading dog gave a little yelp36. The harness tightened37, and the sled began to move. Ten seconds later the man who carried the law through the frozen North was ahead of his sled, breaking the trail, and Stane and Helen had turned in the direction of their cabin, the girl with one last glance over her shoulder at the tepee, at the opening of which Miskodeed's beautiful face had now revealed itself, her eyes following the man whom once she had done her best to help.
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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appreciable
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| adj.明显的，可见的，可估量的，可觉察的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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garbed
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| v.（尤指某类人穿的特定）服装，衣服，制服( garb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mittened
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| v.（使）变得潮湿，变得湿润( moisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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stranded
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| a.搁浅的，进退两难的 | |
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Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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eviction
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| n.租地等的收回 | |
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collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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quarry
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| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
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sanctuary
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| n.圣所，圣堂，寺庙；禁猎区，保护区 | |
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forfeit
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| vt.丧失；n.罚金，罚款，没收物 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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fishy
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| adj. 值得怀疑的 | |
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forgery
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| n.伪造的文件等，赝品，伪造（行为） | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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deportation
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| n.驱逐，放逐 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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eyelid
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| n.眼睑，眼皮 | |
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wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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slayer
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| n. 杀人者，凶手 | |
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lodges
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| v.存放( lodge的第三人称单数 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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northward
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| adv.向北；n.北方的地区 | |
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aperture
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| n.孔，隙，窄的缺口 | |
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respite
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| n.休息，中止，暂缓 | |
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yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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yelp
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| vi.狗吠 | |
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tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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