Part 16 (1/2)
PRITCHEN GETS BUSY
Several days after the conversation in the school room, Pritchen was striding along the trail, which wound through the Indian village.
Under his right arm he carried his long, narrow snow-shoes, while over his left shoulder was a small rifle, pendant from which were a few plump white ptarmigan. The trail ran close to the mission house, and, drawing near, the hunter observed the missionary by the door splitting fire wood.
For days Pritchen had steered clear of his hated opponent, and had not met him face to face since the shooting affray in the saloon. His anger, which burned like a fire in his heart, had become much intensified since then by the change affairs had taken. The Reading Room had proved a success, notwithstanding his jibes and sneers, and a goodly number of men were spending their evenings there who formerly haunted Perdue's place.
”D-- him!” muttered Pritchen half aloud. ”I don't want to have any words with the cur. I wish I had taken some other route.”
Even then he was tempted to put on his snowshoes and cut off from the trail. On second thought, however, this was abandoned, as his purpose would be easily interpreted as the act of a coward.
With eyes straight forward he essayed to pa.s.s the house without noticing the missionary, when a deep growl close by arrested his attention, and caused him to glance quickly up. He stopped short and over his face spread a look of surprise and then fear.
The cause of this change of att.i.tude was the half-wolf dog Brisko, who with his back to the door was growling in the most ferocious manner.
His teeth gleamed white, his eyes glowed, and the hair on his back stood straight on end. Not since the terrible night of the fight with the wolves had Keith seen the brute so much aroused.
”What's the matter with the cur?” growled Pritchen, trying to conceal the apprehension he felt.
”I don't know,” replied the missionary. ”I never saw him greet any one in that way before. He seems to be much exercised now anyway.”
Suddenly a thought flashed into his mind. He loved dogs dearly, studied them most carefully, and had read much about their ways. Was there not some good reason for Brisko's aversion to this man? Had he seen him before? If so, where? Why that look of surprise and fear upon Pritchen's face? Could it be possible that this was the very one, the ”Bill,” whom that dying man in the Ibex cabin mentioned?
Lost in thought, he did not realize that he was staring hard at Pritchen, as if he could read his very soul. The latter noticed the look, surmised its meaning, and an ugly scowl pa.s.sed over his face.
”What are you gazing at so mighty hard?” he blurted out.
”You,” Keith calmly replied.
”Well, what do you see about me that's so interesting? I ain't much to look at.”
”You were a minute ago when you first saw that dog. Why were you so surprised and startled?”
”Wouldn't anyone be startled to have a brute growl at him in that way?”
”And why did he growl? He never did so to anyone else since I've had him.”
”How in h--do you suppose I know? Am I responsible for the moods of a d-- mission house cur?”
”Perhaps he knows you, though, as well as I do.”
”What do you mean?”
”Perhaps he has reason to growl. Look,” and Keith pointed to an ugly scar on the dog's side, over which the hair had not grown.
Pritchen did not reply, but stepped forward to obtain a better view, at which Brisko retreated, still showing his teeth.
”I'd growl too,” went on Keith, ”if I were a dog, and met the man who treated me that way, and left my master to die in the wilderness, though G.o.d knows, Bill, that I have more cause than Brisko to show my teeth when I think of what you have done to Nellie and the little ones.”
At these words Pritchen threw off all semblance of pretension. A terrible oath leaped from his lips, and his face became livid with rage.
”You insinuating dog,” he cried. ”Speak out. What in h-- do you mean?”