Would the day never come? She pulled the rugs up closer about her as the morning chill made her shiver. She found herself keeping mechanical count with the sound of the sweeps—they must be making good speed, she thought, and the camp must be miles behind now. Had it been earlier in the season, when the river ran full of drift, they never could have gone thus in the dark, but the water was low and the chances of collision so remote as to render blind travel safe. Even yet she could not distinguish her oarsman, except as a black bulk, for it had been a lowering night and the approaching dawn failed to break through the blanket of cloud that hung above the great valley. He was a good boatman, however, as she gathered from the tireless regularity9 of his strokes. He was a silent man, too, and she was grateful for that. She snuggled down into her blanket and tried to sleep, but she only dozed10 for a minute, it seemed, to find her eyes fly wide open again. So, restless and tired of her lonely vigil, she gave a premonitory cough, and said to her companion:
"You must be tired rowing so steadily?"
"Oh, I don't mind it," he replied.
At the sound of his voice she sat bolt upright. It couldn't be—if this were Runnion he would have spoken before! She ventured again, tremulously:
"Have you any idea what time it is?"
"About three o'clock. I fancy."
"Who are you?" The question came like a shot.
"Don't you know?"
"What are YOU doing here, Mr. Runnion?"
"I'm rowing," he answered, carelessly.
"Why didn't you speak?" A vague feeling of uneasiness came over her, a suspicion that all was not right, so she waited for him to explain, and when he did not, she repeated her question. "What made you keep still so long? You knew who I was?"
"Well, it's the first time I ever took you on a midnight row, and I wanted to enjoy it."
The mockery in his voice quickened her apprehension12. Of a sudden the fear of being misjudged impelled14 her to end this flight that had become so distasteful in a moment, preferring to face the people at the post rather than continue her journey with this man.
"I've changed my mind, Mr. Runnion," she said. "I don't want to go down to the Mission. I want you to take me back."
"Can't do it," he said; "the current is too swift."
"Twenty-five miles. We've been out about three hours." He kept on rowing steadily, and although the distance they had gone frightened her, she summoned her courage to say:
"We can make that easily enough. Come, run in to the bank."
He ceased rowing and let the boat drift with dragging sweeps, filled his pipe and lighted it, then took up his oars7 again and resumed his labors16.
"Please do as I ask you, Mr. Runnion. I've decided17 I don't want to go any farther." He laughed, and the sound aroused her. "Put me ashore this minute!" she cried, indignantly. "What do you mean?"
"You've got a fierce temper, haven't you?"
"Will you do it or not?"
When he made no answer, except to continue the maddening monotony of his movements, she was seized with a rash resolve to wrench18 the oars out of his hands, and made a quick motion towards him, at which he shouted:
"Sit down! Do you want to upset us?"
The unstable19 craft lurched and dipped dangerously, and, realizing the futility20 of her mad impulse, she sank back on her knees.
"Put me ashore!"
"No," he said, "not till I'm ready. Now, keep your seat or we'll both drown; this ain't a ferry-boat." After a few strokes, he added, "We'll never get along together unless you tame that temper."
"We're not going to get along together, Mr. Runnion—only as far as the Mission. I dare say you can tolerate me until then, can you not?" She said this bitingly.
"Stark21 told me to board the first boat for St. Michael's," he said, disregarding her sarcasm22, "but I've made a few plans of my own the last hour or so."
"St. Michael's! Mr. Stark told you—why, that's impossible! You misunderstood him. He told you to row me to the Mission. I'm going to Father Barnum's house."
"No, you're not, and I didn't misunderstand him. He wants to get you outside, all right, but I reckon you'd rather go as Mrs. Runnion than as the sweetheart of Ben Stark."
"Are you crazy?" the girl cried. "Mr. Stark kindly23 offered to help me reach the Father at his Mission. I'm nothing to him, and I'm certainly not going to be anything to you. If I'd known you were going to row the boat, I should have stayed at home, because I detest24 you."
"You'll get over that."
"I'm not in the humor for jokes."
He rested again on his oars, and said, with deliberation:
"Stark 'kindly offered' did he? Well, whenever Ben Stark 'kindly' offers anything, I'm in on the play. He's had his eye on you for the last three months, and he wants you, but he slipped a cog when he gave me the oars. You needn't be afraid, though, I'm going to do the square thing by you. We'll stop in at the Mission and be married, and then we'll see whether we want to go to St. Michael's or not, though personally I'm for going back to Flambeau."
During the hours while he had waited for Necia to discover his identity, the man's mind had not been idle; he had determined25 to take what fortune tossed into his lap. Had she been the unknown, unnoticed half-breed of a month or two before, he would not have wasted thought upon priests or vows26, but now that a strange fate had worked a change in her before the world, he accepted it.
The girl's beauty, her indifference27, the mistaken attitude of Stark urged him, and, strongest of all, he was drawn28 by his cupidity29, for she would be very rich, so the knowing ones said. Doubtless that was why Stark wanted her, and, being a man who acknowledged no fidelity30 to his kind or his Creator, Runnion determined to outwit his principal, Doret, Burrell, and all the rest. It was a chance to win much at the risk of nothing, and he was too good a gambler to let it pass.
With his brusque declaration Necia realized her position—that she was a weak, lonely girl, just come into womanhood, so cursed by good looks that men wanted her, so stained by birth that they would not take her honestly; realized that she was alone with a dissolute creature and beyond help, and for the first time in her life she felt the meaning of fear.
She saw what a frail31 and helpless thing she was; nothing about her was great save her soul, and that was immeasurably vexed32 and worried. She had just lived through a grief that had made her generous, and now she gained her first knowledge of the man-animal's gross selfishness.
"You are absolutely daft," she said. "You can't force me to marry you."
"I ain't going to force you; you'll do it willingly."
"I'll die first. I'll call the first man we see—I'll tell Father Barnum, and he'll have you run out of the country—it would only take a word from me."
"If you haven't changed your mind when we get to his place, I'll run through without stopping; but there isn't another priest between there and St. Mike's, and by the time we get to the mouth of the river, I guess you'll say yes to most anything. However, I'd rather marry you at Holy Cross if you'll consent, and I'm pretty sure you will—when you think it over."
"We won't discuss it."
"You don't understand yet," he continued, slowly. "What will people say when they know you ran away with me."
"I'll tell them the truth."
"Huh! I'm too well known. No man on the river would ever have you after that."
"You—you—" Her voice was a-quiver with indignation and loathing33, but her lips could not frame an epithet34 fit for him. He continued rowing for some time, then said:
"Will you marry me?"
"No! If this thing is ever known, Poleon will kill you—or father."
For a third time he rested on his oars.
"Now that we've come to threats, let me talk. I offered to marry you and do the square thing, but if you don't want to, I'll pass up the formality and take you for my squaw, the same as your father took Alluna. I guess you're no better than your mother, so your old man can't say much under the circumstances, and if he don't object, Poleon can't. Just remember, you're alone with me in the heart of a wilderness35, and you've got to make a choice quick, because I'm going ashore and make some breakfast as soon as it's light enough to choose a landing-place. If you agree to come quietly and go through with this thing like a sensible girl, I'll do what's right, but if you don't—then I'll do what's wrong, and maybe you won't be so damned anxious to tell your friends about this trip, or spread your story up and down the river. Make up your mind before I land."
The water gurgled at the bow again, and the row-locks squeaked36. Another hour and then another passed in silence before the girl noted37 that she no longer seemed to float through abysmal38 darkness, but that the river showed in muddy grayness just over the gunwale. She saw Runnion more clearly, too, and made out his hateful outlines, though for all else she beheld39 they might have been miles out upon a placid40 sea, and so imperceptible was the laggard41 day's approach that she could not measure the growing light. It was a desolate42 dawn, and showed no glorious gleams of color. There was no rose-pink glow, no merging43 of a thousand tints44, no final burst of gleaming gold; the night merely faded away, changing to a sickly pallor that grew to ashen45 gray, and then dissolved the low-hung, distorted shadows a quarter of a mile inland on either hand into a forbidding row of unbroken forest backed by plain, morass46, and distant hills untipped by slanting47 rays. Overhead a bleak48 ruin of clouds drifted; underneath49 the river ran, a bilious50 yellow. The whole country so far as the eye could range was unmarred by the hand of man, untracked save by the feet of the crafty51 forest people.
She saw Runnion gazing over his shoulder in search of a shelving beach or bar, his profile showing more debased and mean than she had ever noticed it before. They rounded a bend where the left bank crumbled52 before the untiring teeth of the river, forming a bristling53 chevaux-de-frise of leaning, fallen firs awash in the current. The short side of the curve, the one nearest them, protected a gravel54 bar that made down-stream to a dagger-like point, and towards this Runnion propelled the skiff. The girl's heart sank and she felt her limbs grow cold.
The mind of Poleon Doret worked in straight lines. Moreover, his memory was good. Stark's statement, which so upset Gale55 and the Lieutenant56, had a somewhat different effect upon the Frenchman, for certain facts had been impressed upon his subconsciousness57 which did not entirely58 gibe59 with the gambler's remarks, and yet they were too dimly engraved60 to afford foundation for a definite theory. What he did know was this, that he doubted. Why? Because certain scraps61 of a disjointed conversation recurred62 to him, a few words which he had overheard in Stark's saloon, something about a Peterborough canoe and a woman. He knew every skiff that lay along the waterfront, and of a sudden he decided to see if this one was where it had been at dusk; for there were but two modes of egress63 from Flambeau, and there was but one canoe of this type. If Necia had gone up-river on the freighter, pursuit was hopeless, for no boatman could make headway against the current; but if, on the other hand, that cedar64 craft was gone—He ran out of Stark's house and down to the river-bank, then leaped to the shingle65 beneath. It was just one chance, and if he was wrong, no matter; the others would leave on the next up-river steamer; whereas, if his suspicion proved a certainty, if Stark had lied to throw them off the track, and Runnion had taken her down-stream—well, Poleon wished no one to hinder him, for he would travel light.
The boat WAS gone! He searched the line backward, but it was not there, and his excitement grew now, likewise his haste. Still on the run, he stumbled up to the trading-post and around to the rear, where, bottom up, lay his own craft, the one he guarded jealously, a birch canoe, frail and treacherous67 for any but a man schooled in the ways of swift water and Indian tricks. He was very glad now that he had not told the others of his suspicions; they might have claimed the right to go, and of that he would not be cheated. He swung the shell over his shoulders, then hurried to the bank and down the steep trail like some great, misshapen turtle. He laid it carefully in the whispering current, then stripped himself with feverish68 haste, for the driving call of a hot pursuit was on him, and although it was the cold, raw hours of late night, he whipped off his garments until he was bare to the middle. He seized his paddle, stepped in, then knelt amidships and pushed away. The birch-bark answered him like a living thing, leaping and dancing beneath the strokes which sprung the spruce blade and boiled the water to a foam69, while rippling70, rising ridges72 stood out upon his back and arms as they rose and fell, stretched and bent73 and straightened.
A half-luminous, opaque74 glow was over the waters, but the banks quickly dropped away, until there was nothing to guide him but the suck of the current and the sight of the dim-set stars. His haste now became something crying that lashed75 him fiercely, for he seemed to be standing77 still, and so began to mutter at the crawling stream and to complain of his thews, which did not drive him fast enough, only the sound he made was more like the whine78 of a hound in leash79 or a wolf that runs with hot nostrils80 close to the earth.
Runnion drove his Peterborough towards the shore with powerful strokes, and ran its nose up on the gravel, rose, stretched himself, and dragged it farther out, then looked down at Necia.
"Well, what is it, yes or no? Do you want me for a husband or for a master?" She cowered81 in the stern, a pale, fearful creature, finally murmuring:
"You—you must give me time."
"Not another hour. Here's where you declare yourself; and remember, I don't care which you choose, only you'd better be sensible."
She cast her despairing eyes up and down the river, then at the wilderness on either shore; but it was as silent and unpeopled as if it had been created that morning. She must have time; she would temporize82, pretending to yield, and then betray him to the first comer; a promise exacted under duress83 would not be binding84.
"I'll go quietly," she said, in a faint voice.
"I knew you'd see that I'm acting85 square. Come! Get the cramp86 out of yourself while I make a pot of coffee." He held out his hand to assist her, and she accepted it, but stumbled as she rose, for she had been crouched87 in one position for several hours, and her limbs were stiff. He caught her and swung her ashore; then, instead of putting her feet to the ground, he pressed her to himself roughly and kissed her. She gave a stifled88 cry and fought him off, but he laughed and held her the closer.
"Ain't I good for one kiss? Say, this is the deuce of an engagement. Come, now—"
"No, no, no!" she gasped89, writhing90 like a wild thing; but he crushed his lips to hers again and then let her go, whereupon she drew away from him panting, dishevelled, her eyes wide and filled with horror. She scrubbed her lips with the back of her hand, as if to erase91 his mark, while he reached into the canoe and brought forth92 an axe93, a bundle of food, and a coffee-pot; then, still chuckling94, he gathered a few sticks of driftwood and built a fire. She had a blind instinct to flee, and sought for a means of escape, but they were well out upon the bar that stretched a distance of three hundred feet to the wooded bank; on one side of the narrow spit was the scarcely moving, half-stagnant water of a tiny bay or eddy95, on the other, the swift, gliding96 current tugging97 at the beached canoe, while the outer end of the gravelled ridge71 dwindled98 down to nothing and disappeared into the river. At sight of the canoe a thought struck her, but her face must have shown some sign of it, for the man chanced to look at the moment, and, seeing her expression, straightened himself, then gazed about searchingly. Without a word he stepped to the boat, and, seizing it, dragged it entirely out upon the bar, where her strength would not be equal to shoving it off quickly, and, not content with this, he made the painter fast, then went back to his fire. The eagerness died out of her face, but an instant later, when he turned to the clearer water of the eddy to fill the coffee-pot, she seized her chance and sped up the bar towards the bank. The shingle under foot and her noisy skirts betrayed her, and with an oath he followed. It was an unequal race, and he handled her with rough, strong hands when he overtook her.
"So! You lied to me! Well, I'm through with this foolishness. If you'll go back on your word like this you'll 'bawl99 me out' before the priest, so I'll forget my promise, too, and you'll be glad of the chance to marry me."
"Let me go!" she panted. "I'll marry you. Yes, yes, I'll do it, only don't touch me now!"
He led her back to the fire, which had begun to crackle. She was so weak now that she sank upon the stones shivering.
"That's right! Sit down and behave while I make you something hot to drink. You're all in." After a time he continued, as he busied himself about his task: "Say, you ought to be glad to get me; I've got a lot of money, or I will have, and once you're Mrs. Runnion, nobody'll ever know about this or think of you as a squaw." He talked to her while he waited for the water to boil, his assurance robbing her of hope, for she saw he was stubborn and reckless, determined to override100 her will as well as to conquer her body, while under his creed101, the creed of his kind, a woman was made from the rib102 of man and for his service. He conveyed it to her plainly. He ruled horses with a hard hand, he drove his dog teams with a biting lash76, and he mastered women with a similar lack of feeling or consideration.
He was still talking when the girl sprang to her feet and sent a shrill103 cry out over the river, but instantly he was up and upon her, his hand over her mouth, while she tore at it, screaming the name of Poleon Doret. He silenced her to a smothered104, sobbing105 mumble106, and turned to see, far out on the bosom107 of the great soiled river, a man in a bark canoe. The craft had just swung past the bend above, and was still a long way off—so far away, in fact, that Necia's signal had not reached it, for its occupant held unwaveringly to the swiftest channel, his body rising and falling in the smooth, unending rhythm of a master-boatman tinder great haste, his arms up-flung now and then, as the paddle glinted and flashed across to the opposite side.
Runnion glanced about hurriedly, then cursed as he saw no place of concealment108. The Peterborough stood out upon the bar conspicuously109, as did he and the girl; but the chance remained that this man, whoever he was, would pass by, for his speed was great, the river a mile in width, and the bend sharp. Necia had cried Poleon's name, but her companion saw no resemblance to the Frenchman in this strange-looking voyager; in fact, he could not quite make out what was peculiar110 about the man—perhaps his eyes were not as sharp as hers—and then he saw that the boatman was naked to the waist. By now he was drawing opposite them with the speed of a hound. The girl, gagged and held by her captor's hands, struggled and moaned despairingly, and, crouching back of the boat, they might have escaped discovery in the gray morning light had it not been for the telltale fire—a tiny, crackling blaze no larger than a man's hat. It betrayed them. The dancing craft upon which their eyes were fixed111 whipped about, almost leaping from the water at one stroke, then came towards them, now nothing but a narrow thing, half again the width of a man's body. The current carried it down abreast112 of them, then past, and Runnion rose, releasing the girl, who cried out with all her might to the boatman. He made no sound in reply, but drove his canoe shoreward with quicker strokes. It was evident he would effect his landing near the lower end of the spit, for now he was within hearing distance, and driving closer every instant.
Necia heard the gambler call:
"Sheer off, Doret! You can't land here!"
She saw a gun in Runnion's hand, and a terrible, sickening fear swept over her, for he was slowly walking down the spit, keeping abreast of the canoe as it drifted. She could see exactly what would happen: no man could disembark against the will of an armed marksman, and if Poleon slackened his stroke, or stopped it to exchange his paddle for a weapon, the current would carry him past; in addition, he would have to fire from a rocking paper shell harried113 by a boiling current, whereas the other man stood flat upon his feet.
"Keep away or I'll fire!" threatened Runnion again; and she screamed, "Don't try it, Poleon, he'll kill you!"
At her words Runnion raised his weapon and fired. She heard the woods behind reverberate114 with the echoes like a sounding-board, saw the white spurt115 of smoke and the skitter of the bullet as it went wide. It was a long shot, and had been fired as a final warning; but Doret made no outcry, nor did he cease coming; instead, his paddle clove116 the water with the same steady strokes that took every ounce of effort in his body. Runnion threw open his gun and replaced the spent shell. On came the careening, crazy craft in a sidewise drift, and with it the girl saw coming a terrible tragedy. She started to run down the gravelled ridge behind her enemy, not realizing the value or moment of her action, nor knowing clearly what she would do; but as she drew near she saw Runnion raise his gun again, and, without thought of her own safety, threw herself upon him Again his shot went wide as he strove to hurl117 her off, but his former taste of her strength was nothing to this, now that she fought for Poleon's life. Runnion snarled118 angrily and thrust her away, for he had waited till the canoe was close.
"Let me go, you devil!" he cried, and aimed again; but again she ran at him. This time, however, she did not pit her strength against his, but paused, and as he undertook to fire she thrust at his elbow, then dodged119 out of his way. Her blow was crafty and well-timed, and his shot went wild. Again he took aim, and again she destroyed it with a touch and danced out of his reach. She was nimble and light, and quickened now by a cold calculation of all that depended upon her.
Three times in all she thwarted120 Runnion, while the canoe drove closer every instant. On the fourth, as she dashed at him, he struck to be rid of her, cursing wickedly—struck as he would have struck at a man. Silently she crumpled121 up and fell, a pitiful, draggled, awkward little figure sprawled122 upon the rocks; but the delay proved fatal to him, for, though the canoe was close against the bank, and the huge man in it seemed to offer a mark too plain to be missed, he was too close to permit careful aim. Runnion heard him giving utterance123 to a strange, feral, whining124 sound, as if he were crying like a fighting boy; then, as the gambler raised his arm, the Canadian lifted himself up on the bottom of the canoe until he stood stretched to his full height, and leaped. As Runnion fired he sprang out and was into the water to his knees, his backward kick whirling the craft from underneath him out into the current, where the river seized it. He had risen and jumped all in one moment, launching himself at the shore like a panther. The gun roared again, but Poleon came up and on with the rush of the great, brown grizzly125 that no missile can stop. Runnion's weapon blazed in his face, but he neither felt nor heeded126 it, for his bare hands were upon his quarry127, the impact of his body hurling128 the other from his feet, and neither of them knew whether any or all of the last bullets had taken effect. Poleon had come like an arrow, straight for his mark the instant he glimpsed it, an insensate, unreasoning, raging thing that no weight of lead nor length of blade could stop. In his haste he had left Flambeau without weapon of any kind, for in his mind such things were superfluous129, and he had never fought with any but those God gave him, nor found any living thing that his hands could not master. Therefore, he had rushed headlong against this armed and waiting man, reaching for him ever closer and closer till the burning powder stung his eyes. They grappled and fought, alone and unseen, and yet it was no fight, for Runnion, though a vigorous, heavy-muscled man, was beaten down, smothered, and crushed beneath the onslaught of this great naked fellow, who all the time sobbed130 and whined131 and mewed in a panting fury.
They swung half across the spit to the farther side, where they fell in a fantastic convulsion, slipping and sliding and rolling among the rocks that smote132 and gouged133 and bruised134 them. The gambler fought for his life against the naked flesh of the other, against the distorted face that snapped and bit like the muzzle135 of a wolf, while all the time he heard that fearful, inarticulate note of blood-hunger at his ear. The Canadian's clenched136 hands crushed whatever they fell upon as if mailed with metal; the fingers were like tearing tongs137 that could not be loosed. It was a frightful138 combat, hideous139 from its inequality, like the battle of a man against a maddened beast whose teeth tore and whose claws ripped, whose every move was irresistible140. And so it was over shortly.
Poleon rose and ran to the fallen girl, leaving behind him a huddled141 and twisted likeness142 of a man. He picked her up tenderly, moaning and crooning; but as her limp head lolled back, throwing her pale, blind features up to the heavens, he began to cry, this time like a woman. Tears fell from his eyes, burning tears, the agony of which seared his soul. He laid her carefully beside the water's edge, and, holding her head and shoulders in the crook3 of his left arm, he wet his right hand and bathed her face, crouching over her, half nude143, dripping with the sweat of his great labors, a tender, palpitating figure of bronzed muscle and sinew, with all his fury and hate replaced by apprehension and pity. The short moments that he worked with her were ages to him, but she revived beneath his ministrations, and her first frightened look of consciousness was changed to a melting smile.
"W-what happened, Poleon?" she said. "I was afraid!"
He stood up to his full height, shaking, and weak as the water that dripped from him, the very bones in him dissolved. For the first time he uttered words.
"T'ank God, ba gosh!" and ran his hand up over his wet face.
"Where is he?" She started to her knees affrightedly; then, seeing the twisted, sprawling144 figure beyond, began to shudder145. "He—he's dead?"
"I don' know," said Poleon, carelessly. "You feel it purty good now, eh, w'at?"
"Yes—I—he struck me!" The remembrance of what had occurred surged over her, and she buried her face in her hands. "Oh, Poleon! Poleon! He was a dreadful man."
"He don' trouble you no more."
"He tried—he—Ugh! I—I'm glad you did it!" She broke down, trembling at her escape, until her selfishness smote her, and she was up and beside him on the instant. "Are you hurt? Oh, I never thought of that. You must be wounded!"
The Frenchman felt himself over, and looked down at his limbs for the first time, "No! I guess not," he said, at which Necia noticed his meagre attire146, and simultaneously147 he became conscious of it. He fell away a pace, casting his eyes over the river for his canoe, which was now a speck148 in the distance.
"Ba gosh! I'm hell of a t'ing for lookin' at," he said. "I'm paddle hard—dat's w'y. Sacré! how I sweat!" He hitched149 nervously150 at the band of his overalls151, while Necia answered:
"That's all right, Poleon." Then, without warning, her face froze with mingled152 repulsion and wonder. "Look! Look!" she whispered, pointing past him.
Runnion was moving slowly, crawling painfully into a sitting posture153, uplifting a terribly mutilated face, dazed and half conscious, groping for possession of his wits. He saw them, and grimaced154 frightfully, cowering155 and cringing156.
Poleon felt the girl's hand upon his arm, and heard her crying in a hard, sharp voice:
He stared down at his gentle Necia, and saw the loathing in her face and the look of strange ferocity as she met his eyes boldly.
"You don't know what he—what he did," she said, through her shut teeth. "He—" But the man waited to hear no more.
Runnion saw him coming, and scrambled158 frantically159 to all-fours, then got on his feet and staggered down the bar. As Poleon overtook him, he cried out piteously, a shrill scream of terror, and, falling to his knees, grovelled160 and debased himself like a foul161 cripple at fear of the lash. His agony dispelled162 the savage163 taint66 of Alluna's aboriginal164 training in Necia, and the pure white blood of her ancestors cried out:
"Poleon, Poleon! Not that!" She hurried after him to where he paused above the wretch165 waiting for her. "You mustn't!" she said. "That would be murder, and—and—it's all over now."
"Let him alone; you've nearly killed him; that's enough." Whereat Runnion, broken in body and spirit, began to beg for his life.
"Wat's dat you say jus' now?" Doret asked the girl. "Was dat de truth for sure w'at you speak?"
"Yes, but you've done your work. Don't touch him again."
"I'm beaten, Doret. You broke me to pieces. I need help—I—I'm hurt."
"W'at you 'spec' I do wit' 'im?" the Canadian asked, and she answered:
"I suppose we'll have to take him where he can get assistance."
"Dat skiff ain' carry all free of us."
"I'll stay here," groaned168 the frightened man. "I'll wait for a steamer to pick me up, but for God's sake don't touch me again!"
Poleon looked him over carefully, and made up his mind that the man was more injured in spirit than in body, for, outside of his battered169 muscles, he showed no fatal symptoms. Although the voyageur was slower to anger than a child, a grudge170 never died in him, and his simple, self-taught creed knew no forgiveness for such men as Runnion, cherished no mercy for preying171 men or beasts. He glanced towards the wooded shores a stone's-throw above, then back at the coward he had beaten and whose life was forfeit173 under the code. There was a queer light in his eyes.
"Leave him here, Poleon. We'll go away, you and I, in the canoe, and the first boat will pick him up. Come." Necia tugged174 at his wrist for fear she might not prevail; but he was bent on brushing away a handful of hungry mosquitoes which, warmed by the growing day, had ventured out on the river. His face became wrinkled and set.
"Bien!" he grunted175. "We lef 'im here, biccause dere ain't 'nough room in de batteau, eh? All right! Dat's good t'ing; but he's seeck man, so mebbe I feex it him nice place for stop till dem boats come."
"Yes, yes! Leave me here. I'll make it through all right," begged Runnion.
"Better you camp yonder on de point, w'ere you can see dose steamboat w'en she comes 'roun' de ben'. Dis is bad place." He indicated the thicket176, a quarter of a mile above which ran out almost to the cut bank. "Come! I help you get feex."
Runnion shrank from his proffered177 assistance half fearfully, but, reassured178, allowed the Frenchman to help him towards the shore.
The girl watched her rescuer guide Runnion up to the level of the woods, then disappear with him in the firs, and was relieved to see the two emerge upon the river-bank again farther on, for she had feared for an instant that Poleon might forget. There seemed to be no danger, however, for he was crashing through the brush in advance of the other, who followed laboriously179. Once Runnion gained the high point, he would be able to command a view of both reaches of the river, and could make signals to attract the first steamboat that chanced to come along. Without doubt a craft of some sort would pass from one direction or the other by to-morrow at latest, or, if not, she and Poleon could send back succor180 to him from the first habitation they encountered. The two men disappeared again, and her fears had begun to prey172 on her a second time when she beheld the big Canadian returning. He was hurrying a bit, apparently181 to be rid of the mosquitoes that swarmed182 about him; and she marked that, in addition to whipping himself with a handful of blueberry bushes, he wore Runnion's coat to protect his shoulders.
"You didn't touch him again?"
"No, no. I'm t'rough wit' 'im."
She was only too eager to be away from the spot, and an instant later they were afloat in the Peterborough.
"Dis nice batteau," Poleon remarked, critically. "I mak' it go fas'," and began to row swiftly, seeking the breeze of the open river in which to shake off the horde184 of stinging pests that had risen with the sun. "I come 'way queeck wit'out t'inkin' 'bout gun or skeeter net or not'in'. Runnion she's len' me dis coat, so mebbe I don' look so worse lak' I do jus' now, eh?"
"How did you leave him? Is he badly injured?"
"No, I bus' it up on de face an' de rib, but she's feelin' good now. Yes. I'm leave 'im nice place for stop an' wait on de steamboat—plaintee spruce bough185 for set on."
She began to shudder again, and, sensitive to her every motion, he asked, solicitously186, if she were sick, but she shook her head.
"I—I—was thinking what—supposing you hadn't come? Oh, Poleon! you don't know what you saved me from." She leaned forward and laid a tiny, grateful hand on the huge brown paw that rested on his oar8. "I wonder if I can ever forget?"
She noted that they were running with the current, and inquired:
"Where are we going?"
"Wal, I can't pull dis boat 'gainst dat current, so I guess we pass on till I fin11' my shirt, den13 bimebye we pick it up some steamboat an' go home."
Five miles below his quick eye detected his half-submerged "bark" lodged187 beneath some overhanging firs which, from the water's action, had fallen forward into the stream, and by rare good-fortune it was still upright, although awash. He towed it to the next sand-bar, where he wrung188 out and donned his shirt, then tipped the water from the smaller craft, and, making it fast astern of the Peterborough, set out again. Towards noon they came in sight of a little stern-wheeled craft that puffed189 and pattered manfully against the sweeping190 current, hiding behind the points and bars and following the slackest water.
"It's the Mission, boat!" cried Necia. "It's the Mission boat! Father Barnum will be aboard."
She waved her arms madly and mingled her voice with Poleon's until a black-robed figure appeared beside the pilot-house.
"Father Barnum!" she screamed, and, recognizing her, he signalled back.
Soon they were alongside, and a pair of Siwash deckhands lifted Necia aboard, Doret following after, the painter of the Peterborough in his teeth. He dragged both canoes out of the boiling tide, and laid them bottom up on the forward deck, then climbed the narrow little stairs to find Necia in the arms of a benignant, white-haired priest, the best-beloved man on the Yukon, who broke away from the girl to greet the Frenchman, his kind face alight with astonishment191.
"What is all this I hear? Slowly, Doret, slowly! My little girl is talking too furiously for these poor old wits to follow. I can't understand; I am amazed. What is this tale?"
Together they told him, while his blue eyes now opened wide with wonder, now grew soft with pity, then blazed with indignation. When they had finished he laid his hand upon Doret's shoulder.
"My son, I thank God for your good body and your clean heart. You saved our Necia, and you will be rewarded. As to this—this—man Runnion, we must find him, and he must be sent out of the country; this new, clean land of ours is no place for such as he. You will be our pilot, Poleon, and guide us to the spot."
It required some pressure to persuade the Frenchman, but at last he consented; and as the afternoon drew to a close the little steamboat came squattering and wheezing192 up to the bar where Runnion had built his fire that morning, and a long, shrill blast summoned him from the point above. When he did not appear the priest took Poleon and his round-faced, silent crew of two and went up the bank, but they found no sign of the crippled man, only a few rags, a trampled193 patch of brush at the forest's edge, and—that was all. The springy moss194 showed no trail; the thicket gave no answer to their cries, although they spent an hour in a scattered195 search and sounded the steamboat's whistle again and again.
"He's try for walk it back to camp," said Doret. "Mebbe he ain' hurt so much, after all."
"You must be right," said Father Barnum. "We will keep the steamer close to this shore, so that he can hail us when we overtake him."
And so they resumed their toilsome trip; but mile after mile fell behind them, and still no voice came from the woods, no figure hailed them. Doret, inscrutable and silent, lounged against the pilot-house smoking innumerable cigarettes, which he rolled from squares of newspaper, his keen eyes apparently scanning every foot of their slow way; but when night fell, at last, and the bank faded from sight, he tossed the last butt196 overboard, smiled grimly into the darkness, and went below.
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1
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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crook
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| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
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crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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attainment
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| n.达到，到达；［常pl.］成就，造诣 | |
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bout
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| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
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oars
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| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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oar
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| n.桨，橹，划手；v.划行 | |
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9
regularity
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| n.规律性，规则性；匀称，整齐 | |
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dozed
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| v.打盹儿，打瞌睡( doze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fin
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| n.鳍；(飞机的)安定翼 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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impelled
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| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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15
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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labors
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| v.努力争取(for)( labor的第三人称单数 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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17
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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18
wrench
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| v.猛拧；挣脱；使扭伤；n.扳手；痛苦，难受 | |
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unstable
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| adj.不稳定的，易变的 | |
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20
futility
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| n.无用 | |
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21
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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22
sarcasm
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| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
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23
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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24
detest
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| vt.痛恨，憎恶 | |
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25
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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26
vows
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| 誓言( vow的名词复数 )； 郑重宣布，许愿 | |
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27
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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28
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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cupidity
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| n.贪心，贪财 | |
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30
fidelity
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| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
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31
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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32
vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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33
loathing
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| n.厌恶，憎恨v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的现在分词)；极不喜欢 | |
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34
epithet
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| n.（用于褒贬人物等的）表述形容词，修饰语 | |
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35
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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36
squeaked
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| v.短促地尖叫( squeak的过去式和过去分词 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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38
abysmal
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| adj.无底的，深不可测的，极深的；糟透的，极坏的；完全的 | |
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39
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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40
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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41
laggard
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| n.落后者；adj.缓慢的，落后的 | |
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42
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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43
merging
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| 合并（分类） | |
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44
tints
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| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
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45
ashen
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| adj.灰的 | |
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46
morass
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| n.沼泽，困境 | |
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47
slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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48
bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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49
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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50
bilious
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| adj.胆汁过多的；易怒的 | |
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51
crafty
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| adj.狡猾的，诡诈的 | |
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52
crumbled
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| （把…）弄碎， （使）碎成细屑( crumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 衰落； 坍塌； 损坏 | |
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53
bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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54
gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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55
gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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56
lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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57
subconsciousness
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| 潜意识；下意识 | |
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58
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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59
gibe
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| n.讥笑；嘲弄 | |
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60
engraved
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| v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的过去式和过去分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
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61
scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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62
recurred
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| 再发生，复发( recur的过去式和过去分词 )； 治愈 | |
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63
egress
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| n.出去；出口 | |
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64
cedar
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| n.雪松，香柏(木) | |
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65
shingle
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| n.木瓦板；小招牌(尤指医生或律师挂的营业招牌)；v.用木瓦板盖（屋顶）；把（女子头发）剪短 | |
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66
taint
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| n.污点；感染；腐坏；v.使感染；污染 | |
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67
treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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68
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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69
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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70
rippling
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| 起涟漪的，潺潺流水般声音的 | |
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71
ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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72
ridges
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| n.脊( ridge的名词复数 )；山脊；脊状突起；大气层的)高压脊 | |
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73
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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opaque
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| adj.不透光的；不反光的，不传导的；晦涩的 | |
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75
lashed
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| adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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76
lash
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| v.系牢；鞭打；猛烈抨击；n.鞭打；眼睫毛 | |
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77
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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78
whine
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| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
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79
leash
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| n.牵狗的皮带，束缚；v.用皮带系住 | |
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80
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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81
cowered
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| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的过去式 ) | |
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82
temporize
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| v.顺应时势；拖延 | |
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83
duress
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| n.胁迫 | |
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84
binding
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| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
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85
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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86
cramp
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| n.痉挛；[pl.](腹)绞痛；vt.限制，束缚 | |
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87
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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88
stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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89
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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91
erase
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| v.擦掉；消除某事物的痕迹 | |
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92
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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93
axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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94
chuckling
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的现在分词 ) | |
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95
eddy
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| n.漩涡，涡流 | |
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96
gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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97
tugging
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| n.牵引感v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的现在分词 ) | |
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98
dwindled
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| v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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99
bawl
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| v.大喊大叫，大声地喊，咆哮 | |
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100
override
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| vt.不顾，不理睬，否决；压倒，优先于 | |
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101
creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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102
rib
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| n.肋骨，肋状物 | |
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103
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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104
smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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105
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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106
mumble
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| n./v.喃喃而语，咕哝 | |
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107
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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108
concealment
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| n.隐藏, 掩盖，隐瞒 | |
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109
conspicuously
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| ad.明显地，惹人注目地 | |
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110
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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111
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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112
abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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113
harried
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| v.使苦恼( harry的过去式和过去分词 )；不断烦扰；一再袭击；侵扰 | |
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114
reverberate
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| v.使回响，使反响 | |
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115
spurt
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| v.喷出；突然进发；突然兴隆 | |
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116
clove
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| n.丁香味 | |
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117
hurl
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| vt.猛投，力掷，声叫骂 | |
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118
snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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119
dodged
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| v.闪躲( dodge的过去式和过去分词 )；回避 | |
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120
thwarted
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| 阻挠( thwart的过去式和过去分词 )； 使受挫折； 挫败； 横过 | |
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121
crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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122
sprawled
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| v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词)；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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123
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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124
whining
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| n. 抱怨，牢骚 v. 哭诉，发牢骚 | |
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125
grizzly
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| adj.略为灰色的，呈灰色的；n.灰色大熊 | |
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126
heeded
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| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的过去式和过去分词 )；变平，使（某物）变平( flatten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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127
quarry
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| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
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128
hurling
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| n.爱尔兰式曲棍球v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的现在分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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129
superfluous
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| adj.过多的，过剩的，多余的 | |
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130
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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131
whined
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| v.哀号( whine的过去式和过去分词 )；哀诉，诉怨 | |
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132
smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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133
gouged
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| v.凿( gouge的过去式和过去分词 )；乱要价；（在…中）抠出…；挖出… | |
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134
bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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135
muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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136
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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137
tongs
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| n.钳；夹子 | |
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138
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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139
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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140
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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141
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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142
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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143
nude
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| adj.裸体的；n.裸体者，裸体艺术品 | |
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144
sprawling
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| adj.蔓生的，不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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145
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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146
attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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147
simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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148
speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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149
hitched
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| （免费）搭乘他人之车( hitch的过去式和过去分词 )； 搭便车； 攀上； 跃上 | |
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150
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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151
overalls
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| n.（复）工装裤；长罩衣 | |
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152
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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153
posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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154
grimaced
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| v.扮鬼相，做鬼脸( grimace的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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155
cowering
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| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的现在分词 ) | |
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156
cringing
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| adj.谄媚，奉承 | |
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157
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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158
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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159
frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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160
grovelled
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| v.卑躬屈节，奴颜婢膝( grovel的过去式和过去分词 )；趴 | |
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161
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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162
dispelled
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| v.驱散，赶跑( dispel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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163
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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164
aboriginal
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| adj.（指动植物）土生的，原产地的，土著的 | |
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165
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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166
leniency
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| n.宽大（不严厉） | |
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167
entreaty
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| n.恳求，哀求 | |
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168
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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169
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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170
grudge
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| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
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171
preying
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| v.掠食( prey的现在分词 )；掠食；折磨；（人）靠欺诈为生 | |
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172
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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173
forfeit
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| vt.丧失；n.罚金，罚款，没收物 | |
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174
tugged
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| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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175
grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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176
thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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177
proffered
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| v.提供，贡献，提出( proffer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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178
reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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179
laboriously
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| adv.艰苦地；费力地；辛勤地；（文体等）佶屈聱牙地 | |
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180
succor
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| n.援助，帮助；v.给予帮助 | |
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181
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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182
swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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183
bug
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| n.虫子；故障；窃听器；vt.纠缠；装窃听器 | |
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184
horde
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| n.群众，一大群 | |
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185
bough
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| n.大树枝，主枝 | |
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186
solicitously
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| adv.热心地，热切地 | |
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187
lodged
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| v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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188
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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189
puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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190
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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191
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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192
wheezing
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| v.喘息，发出呼哧呼哧的喘息声( wheeze的现在分词 )；哮鸣 | |
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193
trampled
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| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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194
moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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195
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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196
butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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