Part 65 (1/2)
”What do you mean by that?” asked Mr. Wayland.
”The Father say if white man take Indian woman and don' marry her, she go to h.e.l.l for thousan' year--mebbe two, three thousan' year. Anyhow, she don' never see Jesus' House. That's bad thing!” The breed shook his head seriously. ”Chakawana she's good girl, and she go to church; I give money to the pries' too, plenty money every time, but he says that's no good-- she's got to be marry or she'll burn for always with little baby. By G.o.d!
that's make her scare', because little baby ain't do nothing to burn that way. Mr. Marsh he say it's all d.a.m.n lie, and he don't care if little baby do go to h.e.l.l. You hear that? He don't care for little baby.”
Constantine's eyes were full of tears as he strove laboriously to voice his religious teachings. He went on with growing agitation:
”Chakawana she's mighty scare' of that bad place. and she ask Mr. Marsh again to marry her, but he beat her. That's when I try to kill him. Mebbe Mr. Emerson ain't come so quick, Mr. Marsh go to h.e.l.l himself.”
Wayne Wayland turned upon Marsh.
”Why don't you say something?”
”I told you the brat isn't mine!” he cried. ”If it isn't Emerson's, it's Cherry Malotte's. They want money, but I won't be bled.”
”You marry my sister?” asked Constantine.
”No!” snarled Willis Marsh. ”You can all go to h.e.l.l and take the child with you--”
Without a single warning cry, the breed lunged swiftly; the others saw something gleam in his hand. Emerson jumped for him, and the three men went to the deck in a writhing tangle, sending the furniture spinning before them. Mildred screamed, the sailors rushed forward, pus.h.i.+ng her aside and blotting out her view. The sudden violence of the a.s.sault had frightened her nearly out of her senses. She fled to her father, striving to hide her face against his breast, but something drew her eyes back to the spot where the men were clinched. She heard Boyd Emerson cry to the sailors:
”Get out of the way! I've got him!” Then saw him locked in the Indian's arms. They had gained their feet now, and spun backward, bringing up against the yacht's cabin with a crash of s.h.i.+vering gla.s.s. A knife, wrenched from the breed's grasp, went whirling over the side into the sea.
Cherry Malotte ran forward, and at her voice the savage ceased his struggles.
Wayne Wayland loosed his daughter's hold and thrust his way in among the sailors, kneeling beside the man he had chosen for his son-in-law. Emerson joined him, then rose quickly, crying:
”Is there a doctor among your party?”
”Doctor Berry! Send for Berry! He's gone ash.o.r.e!” exclaimed Mr. Wayland.
”Quick! Somebody fetch Doctor Berry!” Boyd directed.
As the sailors drew apart, Mildred Wayland saw a sight that made her grow deathly faint and close her eyes. Turning, she fled blindly into the cabin. A few moments later Emerson found her stretched unconscious at the head of the main stairs, with a hysterical French maid sobbing over her.
CHAPTER XXVII
AND A DREAM COMES TRUE
For nearly an hour Boyd Emerson sat alone on the deck of _The Grande Dame_, a prey to conflicting emotions, the while he waited for Mildred to appear. There was no one to dispute his presence now, for the tourists who had followed Doctor Berry from the sh.o.r.e in hushed excitement avoided him, and the sailors made no effort to carry out their earlier instructions; hence he was allowed opportunity to adjust himself to the sudden change. It was not so much the unexpected downfall of Willis Marsh, and the new light thus thrown upon his own enterprise that upset him, as a puzzling alteration in his own purposes and inclinations. He had come out to the yacht defiantly, to make good his threat, and to force an understanding with Mildred Wayland, but now that he was here and his way made easy he began to question his own desires. Now that he thought about it, that note, instead of filling him with dismay, had rather left him relieved. It was as if he had been freed of a burden, and this caused him a vague uneasiness. Was it because he was tired by the struggle for this girl, for whom he had labored so faithfully? After three years of unflagging devotion, was he truly relieved to have her dismiss him? Or was it that here, in this primal country, stripped of all conventions, he saw her and himself in a new light? He did not know.
The late twilight was fading when Mildred came from her state-room. She found Boyd pacing the deck, a cigar between his teeth.
”Where are those people?” she inquired.
”They went ash.o.r.e. Marsh doesn't care to press a charge against the Indian.”