CHAPTER XXVCONCLUSION
Themeeting at the mouth of the Mud River was the beginning of a still longer journey for Loseis. But it was never again allowed to become an arduous one for her. All hands, white and red, joined together to smooth her way. She reigned the undisputed Princess of Langmuir’s party, holding them in subjection with her smile.
After a laborious month ascending the Sinclair, plotting the river and collecting geological data and specimens, they came to a lonely trading outpost on the Pacific side of the mountains, called Pinnacle House. It stood amidst wild and beautiful surroundings in a deep green valley between parallel ranges. The pointed limestone peaks gave it its name. How strange it was to find such homely old friends as cabbages, onions and potatoes growing in the trader’s garden!
The trader was away on his usual summer journey to bring in supplies; and they found his house occupied at the moment by the Reverend Patrick Geogehagen, a famous character of the country, better known as “Patsy.” Patsy was a brawny, bright-eyed wrestler for the Lord, with cherry-colored cheeks, and a spreading black beard that saved him the trouble of wearing a necktie. It was his self-imposed duty to visit and minister to those tribes of Indians who were too poor, too disreputable or too far away to attract the attention of the regular missionaries.
When they hailed him he was cleaning his gun at the door of the single log shack that served both for store and dwelling at Pinnacle House, and there was nothing in his rough dress to indicate his calling. When he introduced himself, Conacher looked at Loseis with a quick, smiling question and Loseis answered it with a quick, smiling assent. Conacher whispered shamefacedly to Patsy, who thereupon gave him a frightful clap on the back, and roared:
“Delighted, my boy!”
Conacher took Langmuir aside. The chief wagged his head in perplexity; and scratched it, and grumbled:
“What the deuce, Conny! Such a thing was never heard of in a party engaged on field work! What will it look like in my report? Oh, Lord! think of the explanations I will be called on to make to all the old women in the Department!”
“Why should it appear in the report?” said Conacher. “It’s none of the Government’s business. Have I been any the worse worker during the past month?”
“No, no! you’ve worked like two! . . . Hm! that’s so. Why should it appear? . . . Go ahead, my boy; and God bless you! I bags to give the bride away.”
As a matter of fact, itdid notappear. The report of Langmuir’s party is filed away with many others equally decorous, and nobody in the Government ever suspected that they entertained a Princess during the summer and celebrated a wedding.
There were no wedding garments in the outfit but a great shaving, shearing, washing and brushing-up took place. The fellows decorated the single room of the cabin with spruce branches and flowers from the mountain side. Loseis had to be married in breeches and boots because it was all she had. At least her clothes were neatly mended by this time. Her smile was the smile of a happy bride; and nobody was aware of any incongruity. Conacher looked as frightened as every well-disposed man is supposed to be at his wedding; and large fat tears rolled down the bridesmaid’s dark cheeks. Up to the moment of donning his vestments Patsy joked outrageously; he then became the priest of God. In a free and natural state of society these abrupt contrasts are perfectly well understood. Nobody thought the less of Patsy because he was a man as well as a priest.
Patsy and Mary-Lou conspired together to produce the wedding-feast; and the result, considering the meager resources of Pinnacle House, astonished everybody. They may have been short of the fixings, but they had five kinds of game and fish; and to polish off with, a gigantic roly-poly pudding stuffed with currant jam.
The speeches were no better nor worse than usual. Patsy said in part:
“Sure, friends, I shall look back on this as one of the happiest days of me life! This morning I was not aware that you people as much as existed; this afternoon you are established as the friends of me heart, and shall never be absent from me heart while it beats. Even parsons get discouraged sometimes, though none of ’em would ever admit it but a renegade like me. This mornin’ I was sittin’ at the door of this house trying to make up my mind whether to visit the scrofulous Louchoux Indians to the northeast, or the flea-bitten Sikannis to the southeast, and feelin’ ready to consign ’em both to perdition. Sure, in all the world there is not such another lousy, thieving, crack-brained, worthless congregation as me own, I was telling meself, when along you came with this lovely girl to remind me of the existence of beauty in the world, and this bold lad to refresh me with the sight of manliness! Would I marry them? says he, blushing. Would I marry them? I was ready to throw my cap in the air at such a chance! That is jam in the life of a forgotten missionary. I consider that in joining these two I have performed the best act of me life. The country ought to profit by it. Here’s to the newly married pair! May they live long and obey the scriptural injunction!”
To which Conacher answered:
“. . . Er . . . you fellows and the Reverend Patsy . . . I rise to say . . . er . . . that is, to thank you . . . I’m not much of a speaker . . .”
“No?” queried a sarcastic voice.
“That’s all right, Jordan. You can laugh. I’ll live to see you married yet. . . . Where was I? . . . I only wanted to say, only you interrupt me all the time . . . er . . . to thank you on behalf of Miss Blackburn . . .”
Uproarious laughter drowned him out.
“What’s the matter with you all! . . . Oh, I see. I mean the lady beside me, m-m-m-my w-w-w-wife. The late Miss Blackburn . . .”
Renewed laughter.
“Oh, to hell with you!” said Conacher plumping down in his seat laughing. “If any man thinks he can make a better speech let’s hear it!”
Next morning they resumed their work on the river. For two weeks longer they toiled up through or around the innumerable rapids, canyons, whirlpools, and waterfalls of the upper Sinclair, before they finally arrived at the little lake in which it took its source.
Here Langmuir gave Conacher leave to press on ahead while the party cleaned up its work for the season. So Conacher, Loseis and Mary-Lou crossed a famous pass and descending the mountain on the other side, plunged all at once into the civilization which Loseis had never seen. Everything in the busy little coast town was strange to her; the close ranks of shops and houses; locomotives; automobiles; electric light and water from a tap. The Princess was too aristocratic in spirit to betray vulgar amazement; she merely looked and listened quietly. Not until she was alone with her husband did she reveal the wonder and astonishment of her childish heart. For the man it was a wonderful experience to introduce so fresh and ardent a soul to the great world.
There was a short voyage by sea; then the return eastward by railroad over the mountains to the city of Prince George.
In Prince George they had no difficulty in finding John Gruber, who when he was not running Blackburn’s outfit into the country, or bringing out his furs, ran a stable in town, and bought and sold horses. They found him in his little office, a tall, strong man with a heavy, honest red face, and a bald red poll surrounded by a fringe of red hair. Gruber had not visited Blackburn’s Post since Loseis was a child; and he did not immediately recognize her.
“I am Laurentia Blackburn,” she said.
“What!” cried Gruber, staring. “Why . . . of course you are! . . . Well, I’m damned!”
“That’s what everybody says!” said Loseis with a rueful smile.
“Where did you come from?” demanded Gruber.
Loseis started to tell her story, but Gruber instantly silenced her. “Wait! Wait!” he cried. “We must do everything regular and proper!” Snatching up his hat, he hustled them through the streets to a tall office building. Here after ascending in an elevator (a fresh marvel to Loseis) they burst unceremoniously into the private office of a little, round, white-haired old gentleman, startling him almost out of his wits.
“Here is Blackburn’s daughter!” shouted Gruber.
“God bless my soul!” cried the old gentleman, agitatedly removing his glasses. “What proof have you of that?”
“I’ve got the proof of my own eyes!”
“Quietly! Quietly!” pleaded the old soul. “Sit down all. Let us proceed in due order if you please.”
It turned out that this was Hector Blackburn’s lawyer, David Chichester. In simple graphic sentences, Loseis told the two men her story, while they glanced at each other in astonishment, and murmured in indignation and sympathy.
When she had come to the end, Mr. Chichester said gravely: “We all felt that there was something that needed to be explained; but we had nothing to go on.”
“You have later news than mine,” said Loseis eagerly; “Mr. Gruber has been into the country and out again. What has happened?”
The two men looked at each other again. Gruber said: “Show her the newspaper, Mr. Chichester. That tells the whole story.”
From a drawer of his desk, Mr. Chichester produced a copy of the local newspaper now some weeks old, folded in such a manner as to bring into prominence the story that he desired them to read. They were instantly aware of the staring headlines:
ROMANTIC TRAGEDY OF THE NORTHYoung Couple End All for Love
ROMANTIC TRAGEDY OF THE NORTH
Young Couple End All for Love
Loseis and Conacher read with their heads close together:
“John Gruber, the well-known horse-dealer and traveler of Prince George, returned yesterday from his annual trip into northern Athabasca bringing news of a strange and poignant tragedy at Blackburn’s Post, a distant trading station in the unexplored portion of the province.
“For many years Mr. Gruber has acted as agent for Hector Blackburn, the last of the powerful free traders, who maintained an almost baronial state in the midst of his vast domain. Each year it has been Mr. Gruber’s custom to take in the year’s supplies for the Post. At a point about half way he would meet the outfit sent out by Hector Blackburn and exchange the store goods for the season’s catch of furs. This year Mr. Gruber waited in vain at the rendezvous. After several weeks had passed, a rumor reached him that Hector Blackburn had been killed by an accident early in June. He then pushed through the rest of the way to Blackburn’s Post.
“He found Mr. Andrew Gault of Fort Good Hope, one of the best-known fur traders in the country, in charge there. Mr. Gault was well-nigh prostrated by a terrible happening which had taken place only two or three days before Mr. Gruber’s arrival. Laurentia Blackburn, the late trader’s only child, had killed herself by leaping from a high cliff into the river, in company with her lover, a young man named Paul Conacher attached to the Geological Survey.
“It was on June third that Hector Blackburn was killed by a fall from his horse. His death left his daughter, a young girl, entirely alone and unprotected in that savage spot. There were no other white persons at Blackburn’s Post. Moreover it was surrounded by a tribe of ignorant Indians who began to get out of hand as soon as the firm control of Hector Blackburn was removed. Mr. Gault, hearing of these things, immediately rode to the girl’s assistance from his Post one hundred and fifty miles away.
“At first the girl evinced nothing but gratitude at his coming. She freely put all her affairs into Mr. Gault’s experienced hands, giving him a power of attorney to transact the necessary business. Mr. Gault sent out for Hector Blackburn’s attorney who is the well-known lawyer, Mr. David Chichester, of this city; but this letter unluckily was lost somewhere on the long journey.
“A few days later the young man, Conacher, turned up at Blackburn’s Post. He too had heard of Blackburn’s death, and was attracted by the rich prize offered in his only child and heiress. A handsome young man, of good address, his conquest of the inexperienced girl was all too easy. Conacher wished to get her business into his own hands, and so worked upon her mind with base insinuations that she turned against her best friend, Mr. Gault.
“Mr. Gault meanwhile, as was clearly his duty, was preparing to send out the season’s fur to Mr. Gruber. By every means in his power, Conacher sought to prevent this. He was finally guilty of the murder of an Indian named Etzooah, a messenger of Mr. Gault’s, under circumstances of peculiar atrocity. The Indian was garroted as he rode through the woods, by a line stretched across the trail by Conacher. It then became Mr. Gault’s duty to apprehend the young man and send him out to justice. But the infatuated girl sheltered him in her own house; and standing at the door with a gun, dared Mr. Gault to come and take him.
“Mr. Gault sent out for the police; and in the meantime contented himself with watching the house to prevent the murderer’s escape. His messenger, taking a different route, passed Mr. Gruber on the way in; and as a matter of fact the police arrived two days after Gruber. But everything was over then. On the third night Conacher and the girl escaped from the house, and obtaining possession of a dug-out, fled across the river. Closely pursued by Mr. Gault, they sought a refuge on top of a high cut-bank opposite the Post. When their pursuers closed in on them, seeing capture, disgrace and separation ahead, they joined hands and with a weird good-by ringing through the night, leaped over the edge of the gravelly cliff and were drowned in the river below. Though Mr. Gault searched for the bodies for many days, they were not found.
“The police conducted an investigation into the sad circumstances. As a result, Sergeant Ferrie in charge of the detail expressed himself as satisfied that Mr. Gault had done all that any man could do in such an inexpressibly distressing situation. Mr. Gault remains in charge of the Post until such time as the Courts may issue letters of administration. No heirs are known.”
Conacher and Loseis looked at each other in amazement.
“By Heaven! what an infernally clever story!” cried Conacher. “I am not surprised that even the police were taken in.”
“God brought us through all our dangers especially so that we could show this man up!” said Loseis.
“We must decide on a course of action,” said Mr. Chichester fussily.
“There can be but one course for my husband and me,” said Loseis quickly. “We will start back for our Post to-morrow.”
“Naturally,” said Conacher.
The other two looked a little flabbergasted at this instant decision.
“The season is growing late,” objected Gruber. “Light snows have already fallen. Ice will be running in the rivers by the time you get there.”
“But the tripcanbe made!” said Loseis.
“Oh, yes, it can be made.”
“Then we’ll make it.”
“One moment,” said Mr. Chichester dryly. “I suppose you know that you have other property beside the fur business.”
“Have I?” said Loseis.
He handed her a sort of statement from amongst his papers. Loseis looked at it, and shook her head.
“I don’t understand it,” she said, passing it to Conacher.
As he studied it, Conacher’s face paled. “Good God!” he muttered. “According to this you are worth over a million dollars. . . . Oh, after what they have said about me, this is terrible!”
“You’ll have to make the best of it!” said Mr. Chichester with a dry twinkle.
Loseis showed a face of quaint distress. “My dear Paul,” she murmured, “I’m so sorry! So sorry! I didn’t know anything about it. It wasn’t my fault, was it!”
Gruber, who headed the party, breathed with relief when he led them through a pass in the hills down to the edge of the wide meadows surrounding Blackburn’s Lake. October had come in; and during their long ride across the prairie they had met with more than one snow-storm. Fortunately for them the snow had melted; had it remained lying on the prairie, or had they experienced one of the early blizzards that are not unknown at this season, their position would have been serious. Now, with the shelter of the timber at hand, they were safe.
The party was well outfitted of course; but even so, what with the snow, the hard frosts at night and the raw, biting winds by day, traveling had been intensely disagreeable. They carried a small tent for the two women. Gruber had three hot-heads in his company who could not brook the slightest delay. Besides Loseis and Conacher there was young Sergeant Ferrie of the Mounted Police who was no less eager than the other two to bring down retribution on the head of Andrew Gault. The policeman’s professional pride had been wounded. With three troopers he had joined the party at the Crossing. Mary-Lou was also of the party; and six Cree half-breeds from Miwasa Landing. They had upwards of twenty horses.
They slept for the last time on the same little point of high land running out into the meadows, where Conacher had been surprised by Etzooah four months before. The days were growing short now. About eleven o’clock next morning they were riding past the Slavi village on the opposite side of the river. The inhabitants lined up to watch them pass, in silent consternation. Even at the distance they could not have failed to recognize Loseis and the famous yellow head of Conacher.
“Some of them could jump in a canoe and get to the Post with the aid of the current before we could,” suggested Conacher.
“They have no love for Gault,” said Loseis. “There is no reason why they should warn them. The Slavis never look for trouble.”
“Even if he should be warned, he’s got nowhere to run except back to his own Post,” Gruber pointed out. “And there he’d only run into the arms of the other party of police who went down the big river.”
“Just the same,” said Sergeant Ferrie, frowning, “I’ve no intention of letting any other party take him. He belongs to me!”
They urged their weary horses on a little faster.
Suspecting that Gault might make a dash for freedom at the sight of them, Ferrie determined to send a party across country to head him off on the other trail. Two of the white troopers and two Crees were allotted to this duty. They turned off on the same ridge a mile from the Post that Gault had used. In order to give them time to reach their post, the rest of the party halted for their midday meal in the hollow beyond.
When they started out again, Ferrie took command. He wished Loseis and Mary-Lou to remain in that spot with a guard; but Loseis would not hear of it. Much to her disgust she was forced to bring up the rear of the train. As they came in sight of the Post the men’s faces were grim. It had a deserted look. Gault had never succeeded in persuading the Slavis to return, and the grassy meadow below the buildings, yellow now, was empty. When they cantered up into the little square within the buildings, that was empty too: Women’s House, store, warehouses, Blackburn’s House; doors closed and chimneys cold. The bars of the corral were down.
The men paused to consult. Presently the sound of approaching hoofs was heard; and the four men sent across country rode into the square, driving before them four mounted Indians, who were immediately recognizable as belonging to Gault; one of them indeed was Watusk, whom Loseis and Conacher had good cause to remember. He was brought up to Sergeant Ferrie.
“Where is Gault?” demanded the policeman.
“We leave him here, half hour ago,” answered Watusk sullenly. “He tell us to go home.”
“Told you to go home!” said Ferrie, astonished.
“He know you are coming,” Watusk went on impassively. “This man Hooliam,” pointing to one of his companions, “was at the Slavi village to see a girl when you ride past. He jomp in a canoe and paddle fas’ to tell Gault that Blackburn’s daughter and Yellowhead are not dead. They are comin’ back with four red-coats.”
“What did Gault say to that?” Ferrie asked with a hard smile.
“He jus’ smile,” said Watusk. “He look on the groun’ and tap his leg with his little whip. Bam-bye he say: ‘All right, boys. Get your horses and ride home. I will wait here for them.’ And we go.”
“Then he’s still here!” cried Ferrie.
Watusk pointed to Blackburn’s house.
“Gault! Come out!” cried Ferrie in a strong voice.
There was no answer.
Ferrie tried the door of the house, and found it barred on the inside. He signified to his men that they were to fetch one of the heavy poles from the corral. Using it as a battering-ram, after two or three blows, the door burst in. Ferrie and Conacher entered the house together.
They found Gault sitting upright in the kitchen in one of Blackburn’s carved chairs. For one dreadful instant they thought that he was laughing at them; in the next they perceived that he was dead. His wide-open eyes were bereft of all sense; his lower jaw was hanging down in a dreadful, idiotic grimace. Yet he sat as straight in the high-backed chair as in life. It was only upon looking closer that they discovered that the man with a strange, last impulse of vanity had tied himself into the chair, that he might be discovered facing his enemies in an upright position. There was a band of canvas around his chest! and another around his forehead; the broad-brimmed Stetson was jammed rakishly down on his head over the band. He had then shot himself through the heart with a revolver, which had slipped from his hand to the floor.
The young men jerked their hats off; and their grim faces softened a little.
“Well, he’s paid,” said Conacher. “We can’t feel any more hard feelings against him!”
“It’s better so,” said Ferrie. “Nobody would want this ugly case advertised by a trial.”
Such was Andrew Gault’s requiem.
They returned outside the house, hat in hand, and all the others knew at a glance what they had found.
If Gault in his strange preparations for death had hoped to leave upon Loseis a last impression of his power, his aim was not realized. She betrayed no wish to look at him again. Loseis’ verdict was more merciful than the young men’s.
“So he is dead!” she murmured, clinging to Conacher’s arm. “Hewouldkill himself, of course. . . . Poor fellow! He had never known love when he was young. When he was old love mocked him, and it drove him mad. . . . Ah! how luckyweare, my dearest dear!”
They returned to the house across the way where they had known such dreadful days and nights. But the spell of dread was lifted now. Their breasts were calm and free.
THE END
TRANSCRIBER NOTES
Misspelled words and printer errors have been corrected. Where multiple spellings occur, majority use has been employed.Punctuation has been maintained except where obvious printer errors occur.There are two occasions where a word appears to be missing in the original printed book. These places have been marked with a comment.
Misspelled words and printer errors have been corrected. Where multiple spellings occur, majority use has been employed.
Punctuation has been maintained except where obvious printer errors occur.
There are two occasions where a word appears to be missing in the original printed book. These places have been marked with a comment.