Part 28 (1/2)
He suddenly became silent; and shook his head, and spoke under his breath.
”Yes,” said Lawless quietly, ”you went away. What then?”
He looked up quickly, as though just aware of their presence, and continued:
”Well, the other followed, as I said, and--”
”No, Pourcette,” interposed Lawless, ”you didn't say. Who was the other that followed?”
The old man looked at him gravely, and a little severely, and continued:
”As I said, Gawdor followed--he and an Indian. Gawdor thought we were going for gold, because I had said I knew a place in the north where there was gold in a river--I know the place, but that is no matter. We did not go for gold just then. Gawdor hated Jo Gordineer. There was a half-breed girl. She was fine to look at. She would have gone to Gordineer if he had beckoned, any time; but he waited--he was very slow, except with his finger on a gun; he waited too long.
”Gawdor was mad for the girl. He knew why her feet came slow to the door when he knocked. He would have quarrelled with Jo, if he had dared; Gordineer was too quick a shot. He would have killed him from behind; but it was known in the camp that he was no friend of Gordineer, and it was not safe.”
Again Pourcette was silent. Lawless put on his knee a new pipe, filled with tobacco. The little man took it, lighted it, and smoked on in silence for a time undisturbed. Shon broke the silence, by a whisper to Lawless:
”Jo was a quiet man, as patient as a priest; but when his blood came up, there was trouble in the land. Do you remimber whin--”
Lawless interrupted him and motioned towards Pourcette. The old man, after a few puffs, held the pipe on his knee, disregarding it. Lawless silently offered him some more whisky, but he shook his head. Presently, he again took up the thread:
”Bien, we travelled slow up through the smoky river country, and beyond into a wild land. We had bully sport as we went. Sometimes I heard shots far away behind us; but Gordineer said it was my guess, for we saw n.o.body. But I had a feeling. Never mind. At last we come to the Peace River. It was in the early autumn like this, when the land is full of comfort. What is there like it? Nothing. The mountains have colours like a girl's eyes; the smell of the trees is sweet like a child's breath, and the gra.s.s feels for the foot and lifts it with a little soft spring.
We said we could live here for ever. We built this house high up, as you see, first, because it is good to live high--it puts life in the blood; and, as Gordineer said, it is n.o.ble to look far over the world, every time your house-door is open, or the parchment is down from the window.
We killed wapiti and caribou without number, and cached them for our food. We caught fish in the river, and made tea out of the brown berry--it is very good. We had flour, a little, which we had brought with us, and I went to Fort St. John and got more. Since then, down in the valley, I have wheat every summer; for the Chinook winds blow across the mountains and soften the bitter cold.
”Well, for that journey to Fort St. John. When I got back I found Gawdor with Gordineer. He said he had come north to hunt. His Indian had left, and he had lost his way. Gordineer believed him. He never lied himself.
I said nothing, but watched. After a time he asked where the gold-field was. I told him, and he started away--it was about fifty miles to the north. He went, and on his way back he come here. He say he could not find the place, and was going south. I know he lied. At this time I saw that Gordineer was changed. He was slow in the head, and so, when he began thinking up here, it made him lonely. It is always in a fine land like this, where game is plenty, and the heart dances for joy in your throat, and you sit by the fire--that you think of some woman who would be glad to draw in and tie the strings of the tent-curtain, or fasten the latch of the door upon you two alone.”
Perhaps some memory stirred within the old man, other than that of his dead comrade, for he sighed, m.u.f.fled his mouth in his beard, and then smiled in a distant way at the fire. The pure truth of what he said came home to Shon M'Gann and Sir Duke Lawless; for both, in days gone by, had sat at camp-fires in silent plains, and thought upon women from whom they believed they were parted for ever, yet who were only kept from them for a time, to give them happier days. They were thinking of these two women now. They scarcely knew how long they sat there thinking. Time pa.s.ses swiftly when thoughts are cheerful, or are only tinged with the soft melancholy of a brief separation. Memory is man's greatest friend and worst enemy.
At last the old man continued: ”I saw the thing grew on him. He was not sulky, but he stare much in the fire at night. In the daytime he was differen'. A hunter thinks only of his sport. Gawdor watched him.
Gordineer's hand was steady; his nerve was all right. I have seen him stand still till a grizzly come within twice the length of his gun. Then he would twist his mouth, and fire into the mortal spot. Once we were out in the Wide Wing pa.s.s. We had never had such a day. Gordineer make grand shots, better than my own; and men have said I can shoot like the devil--ha! ha!” He chuckled to himself noiselessly, and said in a whisper ”Twenty grizzlies, and fifty pumas!”
Then he rubbed his hands softly on his knees, and spoke aloud again: ”Ici, I was proud of him. We were standing together on a ledge of rock.
Gawdor was not far away. Gawdor was a poor hunter, and I knew he was wild at Gordineer's great luck.... A splendid bull-wapiti come out on a rock across the gully. It was a long shot. I did not think Gordineer could make it; I was not sure that I could--the wind was blowing and the range was long. But he draw up his gun like lightning, and fire all at once. The bull dropped clean over the cliff, and tumbled dead upon the rocks below. It was fine. But, then, Gordineer slung his gun under his arm, and say: 'That is enough. I am going to the hut.'
”He went away. That night he did not talk. The next morning, when I say, 'We will be off again to the pa.s.s,' he shake his head. He would not go.
He would shoot no more, he said. I understood: it was the girl. He was wide awake at last. Gawdor understanded also. He know that Gordineer would go to the south--to her.
”I was sorry; but it was no use. Gawdor went with me to the pa.s.s. When we come back, Jo was gone. On a bit of birch-bark he had put where he was going, and the way he would take. He said he would come back to me--ah, the brave comrade! Gawdor say nothing, but his looks were black.
I had a feeling. I sat up all night, smoking. I was not afraid, but I know Gawdor had found the valley of gold, and he might put a knife in me, because to know of such a thing alone is fine. Just at dawn, he got up and go out. He did not come back.
”I waited, and at last went to the pa.s.s. In the afternoon, just as I was rounding the corner of a cliff, there was a shot--then another. The first went by my head; the second caught me along the ribs, but not to great hurt. Still, I fell from the shock, and lost some blood. It was Gawdor; he thought he had killed me.
”When I come to myself I bound up the little furrow in the flesh, and start away. I know that Gawdor would follow Gordineer. I follow him, knowing the way he must take. I have never forget the next night. I had to travel hard, and I track him by his fires and other things. When sunset come, I do not stop. I was in a valley, and I push on. There was a little moon. At last I saw a light ahead-a camp-fire, I know. I was weak, and could have dropped; but a dread was on me.
”I come to the fire. I saw a man lying near it. Just as I saw him, he was trying to rise. But, as he did so, something sprang out of the shadow upon him, at his throat. I saw him raise his hand, and strike it with a knife. The thing let go, and then I fire--but only scratched, I think. It was a puma. It sprang away again, into the darkness. I ran to the man, and raised him. It was my friend. He looked up at me and shake his head. He was torn at the throat.... But there was something else--a wound in the back. He was stooping over the fire when he was stabbed, and he fell. He saw that it was Gawdor. He had been left for dead, as I was. Nom de Dieu! just when I come and could have save him, the puma come also. It is the best men who have such luck. I have seen it often.
I used to wonder they did not curse G.o.d.”
He crossed himself and mumbled something. Lawless rose, and walked up and down the room once or twice, pulling at his beard and frowning. His eyes were wet. Shon kept blowing into his closed hand and blinking at the fire. Pourcette got up and took down the gun from the chimney. He brushed off the dust with his coat-sleeve, and fondled it, shaking his head at it a little. As he began to speak again, Lawless sat down.