100CHAPTER VIITHE CLIMAX
The months passed and a New Year was ushered in. The lonely man at Little Badholme wondered what it held for him. He had seen Angela only once since the evening when he had called on her. She was riding in the Row with Meredith. She had not seen Jim, but Meredith had, and smiled to himself as though he was pleasantly conscious of the pangs he gave the former.
It was after breakfast one morning that the newspaper brought amazing news to Little Badholme. The first piece of news was to the effect that gold had been discovered in big quantities in the Klondyke, and that a vast stampede was taking place. The second was of far greater importance, so far as Jim was concerned. It was announced in a comparatively small headline,101but it leaped out to him as he casually glanced over the columns.
BIG CRASH ON THE STOCK EXCHANGE.
SECRETARY AND DIRECTORS OF THE
AMAZON COPPER COMPANY ABSCOND.
It came as a shock to him. But a few months since he had invested all his money in the Amazon Company! He ran to the telephone and got through to his broker. The reply was what he expected; the Company had gone smash without hope of recovery, the shares were not worth the paper on which they were written. He put up the receiver and sat down to think things over. He was broke. Save for his small bank balance and the house over his head, he had nothing in the world.
He laughed grimly as he reflected upon his meteoric career. In the meantime there was Angela spending as though money came from some eternal fountain! He frowned as he remembered the precious checks that had been102paid during the past few months, checks that had reduced his liquid cash reserve to a mere fragment. Though he was unwilling to confess it, it gave him a certain amount of joy to anticipate her fall to earth when she realized that the lavish entertaining must cease—that the source of the magic spring had suddenly dried up.
He took the next train to London, dined at the club, and then prepared to break the news to Angela.
At that moment the adorable Angela was receiving a friend. Hilary Meredith, spotlessly garbed, was lounging in the drawing-room, drinking in the strains of a Chopin Nocturne. Not only were his ears gladdened by romantic music, but his eyes were equally exercised by the radiant figure of Angela, bending over the piano, with the red-shaded lights throwing her bare shoulders into perspective and turning her hair to liquid gold. The nocturne ended, she swung round on Meredith.
“How did you like that, Hilary?”
“Superb—dark avenues on a June night, with odorous breezes and the lap of the sea on the103beach below—and you, Angela—always you, dreaming in the moonlight.”
“Don’t be absurd! Why should I dream in the moonlight? And what should I dream?”
He looked at her from under his long eyelashes.
“Of Love, perhaps—who knows?”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“I think not.”
“Is it then so odious to you?”
“Perhaps.”
He flung the end of his cigarette into the fireplace and, standing up, walked across to her.
“You are dazzlingly beautiful to-night, Angela.”
“You say that almost every night.”
“Why not? A truth cannot too often be reiterated.”
She ran her white fingers over the notes of the piano, producing a rippling arpeggio that was like running water.
“Compliments are cheap.”
“You think that is a mere compliment? No, you know it isn’t. You know I love you madly, desperately, Angela. Let us cease this—acting.104Aren’t we made for each other? I’m tired of London—tired of everything but you.”
She stopped playing and sat perfectly still.
“Aren’t you a little impatient, Hilary? You seem to forget I have a husband.”
“Husband!” he laughed loudly. “I thought you, too, had forgotten that by this time.”
“I haven’t,” she said.
“Well, it must be an unpleasant memory—the most beautiful woman in London wedded to a cowpuncher! Angela, are you going to waste your life tied to an undesirable? Here is love and devotion waiting.... I haven’t all the gold in the universe, but doesn’t breeding count?”
“Hilary, you are talking the veriest nonsense.”
“Am I? Then why did you ask me here to-night? You knew I would talk this nonsense, and yet you asked me.”
“I was lonely—that’s all.”
She stood up and pushed the stool aside. Her shoulder came up against him. In a moment he seized her arm and held her in a passionate embrace.
“Hilary!”
“Angela. It’s got to be to-night—or never.105I’ve waited until I can wait no longer. I’ll call for you in an hour’s time, and we can catch the midnight train——”
She tried to push him away, but he clung on desperately.
“It’s impossible!” she cried. “Please let me go.”
“Angela——”
Meredith suddenly stopped. His arms fell to his side. Standing just inside the door was Jim Conlan. Angela turned and saw him too—a great grim figure, with head thrust forward and hands on hips.
“How did you get here?” she demanded.
“Your powdered monkey outside got obstinate. Said you weren’t at home. Seems as though he made some error.”
He came down the room and planted himself opposite Meredith. He raised one arm and pointed to the door.
“Get out!” he snapped.
Meredith looked at Angela. He would have been glad to get out just then, but he wasn’t anxious for Angela to be conscious of that desire.
“Did you get me?—get out!”106
Meredith fidgeted. Then to his horror Angela said slowly:
“I beg that you will stay, Mr. Meredith.”
The latter began to retreat to the settee. But he never got there. He felt a hand of steel grip him by the shoulder, and looked round to find a pair of infuriated eyes blazing down on him.
“You ain’t wanted here, you dirty tinhorn!” yelled Jim. He ran him to the door, opened it, and then shot him into the passage. When he came back Angela was standing exactly in the same place. Her face was white with indignation.
“How dare you—you brute!” she said. “I’ll have you put out!”
“Sit down!” thundered Jim.
It was the first time he had ever addressed her in that way and she felt decidedly uncomfortable. She dropped leisurely on to a chair.
“Now then, listen! I’ve got my wind back agin. Oh, I ain’t going to start—recriminations—someword, that! It’s plain business between me and you. In the first place, we’re broke. Did you git that?”
“What!”107
“Stoney—clean bust. Wal, money never did cut much ice with me, but it did with you. You’ve squandered a hell of a lot of money on things that didn’t matter, and now here’s old man Ruin come to say How-do.”
Angela regarded him in astonishment.
“You mean to say—you’ve lost all your money?”
“Oh no. I only lost some of it. You lost the other. Don’t talk. I don’t suppose you have any notion of what you’ve spent in less than six months. Anyway, it’s done, and squealing won’t help matters.... I jest came to tell you to pack up. Me and you’s going to make some more money.”
She jumped up.
“What are you talking about?”
“You will pack a box or two with things that are essential for a trip to Alaska.”
“Alaska!”
“Jest that. We’re joining the stampede—you and me. I’ll call for you to-morrow morning at ten. Stampedes don’t allow for no waste time. First come first served.”
She suddenly burst into laughter. The whole108thing was so ridiculous. He imagined she was going to accompany him into the frozen wastes of Alaska to dig gold. It was excruciatingly funny. But when she looked again at him she didn’t feel like repeating the laugh. She had never seen such fixity of purpose in any man’s expression. He seemed to have added more inches to his colossal height.
“You must be mad!” she said. “I’m sorry you have lost the money, but——”
“You’ll be ready at ten o’clock to-morrow.”
She saw he was in deadly earnest, but believed he was overreaching himself.
“At any rate, let us talk sense,” she said coldly.
“You’ll find I’m talking sense all right. I’m through with any other kind of talk,” he replied. “I’m making the Klondyke. Ain’t it natural for a man to take his wife with him—even though she’s only a bought wife?”
“You talk as though I might be fool enough to come. Understand, once and for all, I refuse to go anywhere with you. Please leave me.”
He took up his hat.
“I’ll be round to-morrow. Get them bags packed, or you’ll come without them.”109
“You are not in Colorado now,” she said icily. “You can’t abduct women by force in London.”
“I guess you’ll find I can,” he replied. “Good-night!”
After he had gone she sat down and thought the matter over. The financial catastrophe appalled her. She had grown so used to a life of luxury. And the threat? It seemed fantastic, impossible of fulfillment. Never in her life had she been coerced by force. There was one way out—Meredith’s way. But she could not bring herself to take that course. Meredith had never succeeded in arousing the slightest passion within her. He had been merely a plaything—a simpering, compliment-throwing nincompoop of a type that most society women felt a need for, as food for their vanity. She decided that the most sensible plan would be to spend the next day with her people.
Jim arrived at ten o’clock precisely, in a cab, with a single bag of luggage. The footman, who had already suffered once at Jim’s hands, tremblingly110vouchsafed the news that Mrs. Conlan was out.
“Where’s she gone?”
He didn’t know. She went out very early and had said she might not return that day.
“Tell her maid to get some clothes packed up for her mistress—strong ones. Have ’em ready in an hour.”
The man stared.
“Beat it!” growled Jim, “or I’ll come and superintend it myself. If they’re not ready when I come back, watch out for trouble!”
He ran down the steps and told the driver to drive to Lord Featherstone’s house. Instinctively he guessed Angela’s port of refuge. Arriving there, a burly footman told him that His Lordship was not at home. The next instant Jim was in the hall. The second flunkey looked at the first. They had received strict instructions that Mr. Conlan was not to be admitted. They both came to the conclusion that physical obstruction in this case was tantamount to suicide.
“Lead the way,” said Jim.
“Sir——”
“Lead the way, you powdered nanny-goats!”111
Ultimately he arrived at the drawing-room door. He knocked loudly and entered. Angela was sitting reading. Lady Featherstone was doing likewise, and His Lordship was standing before the fire with his hands in his pockets.
“Conlan!” gasped the latter. “How dare you come here?”
Jim fixed his eyes on Angela, who had closed the book and was regarding him in amazement.
“I’ve come,” he said grimly. “Get your clothes on.”
“What is the meaning of this?” asked Featherstone.
“I’ve come to remove my property,” said Jim. “You didn’t think I was hiking to the Klondyke and leaving fifty thousand pounds’ worth of property lying about, did you?”
Featherstone felt the jibe, but he was furious at the intrusion. Jim turned to Angela.
“I’m waiting,” he snapped.
“You’d better go,” she reported. “You merely succeed in making a fool of yourself.”
“Oh dear!” moaned Lady Featherstone. “The man is dangerous. Claude, call John and Henry.”112
“Yep, call in your tame leopards. Gee—I’m starving for a fight!”
Featherstone, eyeing this six-feet-three of hard knotted muscle, attempted to bring diplomacy to the rescue.
“Conlan,” he pleaded, “I beg you to act reasonably. I understand you are going to the Klondyke. But you can scarcely expect Angela to accompany you there. There are certain limits to a wife’s marital responsibilities.”
Jim’s eyes narrowed.
“There ain’t no sentiments in business. I bought her for fifty thousand. I’m not writing off anything for depreciation, cos I allow there ain’t no depreciation, in a material sense. I’m jest hanging on to my property till I can get a price that leaves a margin of profit—say ten per cent. Make the bidding and I’ll quit.”
Nothing was more calculated to arouse Featherstone’s unbridled wrath.
“You vulgar cowpuncher!” he retorted. “You dare insult me in that way! You dare treat my daughter as bag and baggage—to be sold at auction like an Asiatic slave——!”
“I made the offer,” said Jim casually, “because113I thought, from experience, that was your line of business.”
“Leave my house!” stormed Featherstone.
“Sartenly. Angela, come on, we ain’t wanted.”
Angela sat like a statue. Suddenly Jim sprang to action.
“I’m giving you two minutes,” he snapped.
“If you ain’t ready then I’ll carry you out. And if any guy tries buttin’ in, wal——”
Lady Featherstone gave a shriek of terror.
“Call the police,” she wailed.
“My dear Conlan——” commenced His Lordship.
“I’m through with talking. One minute gone!”
Angela stood up.
“I’m not coming to Alaska,” she said defiantly, “but I’ll come with you out of this house, to save my mother and father further annoyance and insult.”
Jim walked to the door and held it open.
“We leave for Liverpool at five o’clock to-morrow morning,” he said.
She got her hat and coat and walked majestically to the cab.
114CHAPTER VIIITHE WHITE TRAIL
It was a “squaw man” rejoicing in the name of “Slick George” who first revealed the magic wealth of the Klondyke. Whilst making a fire on a small creek now known to the world as Bonanza Creek wherewith to cook his evening meal, he thawed out some of the frozen gravel, and, in the manner of the born prospector, carelessly washed it, to find himself the possessor of nearly a thousand dollars in raw gold.
Making Forty Mile with a view to dissipating his newly found wealth in a gormandizing “jag,” he sent the settlers in that ramshackle camp into wild excitement by producing nuggets of a size hitherto unmatched.
In a few hours Forty Mile was a deserted place. Every able-bodied man, and not a few others, responded to the lure of gold with an alacrity that was remarkable. Anything that115would float was pushed into the muddy Yukon, and poled up the fifty-two miles river to the new Eldorado.
The news spread with the speed amazing in so sparsely populated a country. From all the townships lying on the banks of the Yukon, from Sitka and from the Canadian borderland, came endless processions—good men, bad men, women and children—all with the gold-lust overleaping any other considerations.
Dawson, the center of all this itinerant humanity, grew from a struggling camp on a frozen muskeg to a teeming Babylon. The strike proved to be genuine. Already tens of thousands of dollars had been unearthed along some of the smaller creeks. The price of commodities rose as the population increased. When the Arctic winter settled down, and the mountain-locked country was frozen a hundred feet down from the surface, the thousands who had made the journey in ignorance of the conditions obtaining found the food supply inadequate to meet the needs of the wanderers. The law of Supply and Demand operating, only the lucky stakers were able to116pay the huge prices demanded for every single commodity.
The news filtered through to the outer world. From the Eastern States and the Pacific Slope, from far-away Europe, came more wanderers. Late in their quest, but hopeful nevertheless, they prepared for the terrible journey over the Chilcoot Pass and down across the frozen lakes to the land of gold.
At Dyea thousands were struggling to get over the Pass. Women and children and dogs and Indians constituted the human octopus spread out over the snow at the mouth of the Dyea Cañon, which is the entrance to the Pass. Rearing above them was the white precipitous peak over which every pound of their gear and food had to be packed.
Included in this crowd were two familiar figures—an immense man, looking even more immense in his bearskin parkha, and a woman, garbed in similar fashion, whose faces were set and cold. They folded up their tent as the first light of the morn struck the white pinnacle above, and packed it with the other multitudinous117things that formed a dump on the snow beside them.
“Got to make the passage now. There’s wind coming,” said Jim.
Angela said nothing. She had got beyond repartee. The immediate past was a nightmare, filled with terrible journeying, close proximity with the sweepings of the gutter, and sights that at times almost froze the blood within her. And yet the worst had not arrived! Twice she had tried to escape from this enforced pilgrimage, but had failed utterly. Jim had brought her back by brute force. She became aware of the difficulties that faced her. She was his wife—his property. Had any modern Don Quixote felt like rescuing a beautiful woman in distress, he might well have hesitated at sight of the husband. As civilization was left behind so the hope of escape lessened.
Her brain swam as she beheld this terrifying thing over which she was expected—nay, compelled—to travel. Yet other women were doing it—women with children in their arms! But perhaps they loved the men they accompanied,118whilst she—— She bit her lips as she looked at the grim face of Jim.
All the gear had to be packed over that awful height. Jim, anxious to save time, collared three wiry Indians and bargained with them. For ten cents a pound they were ready to pack the gear. He agreed, and she saw them take on to their backs an immense burden. Each of them carried no less than 200 pounds. With these crushing weights they were going to climb the dizzy path. It was amazing!
The Indians having started, Jim began to strap the rest of the packages about him. Despite her hate, she could not but feel a sense of admiration. When she thought his back was about to break he still added more, grunting as he took up the packages. All but a sack of beans found lodgment on that huge body. The latter he placed into her hands.
“Take that,” he said.
She hesitated, and then took it, carrying it in her arms as she might a child.
“Better shoulder it,” he growled.
“I can carry it better this way,” she retorted.
He said no more but began the ascent. In a119few minutes she found herself almost exhausted. She moved the sack to her shoulder and found this method much easier.
Looking at it from the base, the Chilcoot had been terrifying enough, but on the slope it was a thousand times worse. She remembered a conversation between Jim and a man on the steamer who had made the ascent many times.
“Say, is this Chilcoot as husky a thing as they make out?” queried Jim.
“Wal, stranger, I calculated it would be steepish, but darn me if I thought it would lean back!” the other had replied.
She was beginning to realize how nearly true this was. She had made up her mind she would not give way to the terrific fear that gripped her. She hated to think that she might appear contemptible in his eyes. But the last thousand feet broke all her resolutions. It shot up in one unbroken, dizzy ascent. She saw the Indians, like black ants, climbing and resting alternately. She took a few faltering steps, looked down and shivered. Far below was the black train of climbers, reaching away as far as the eye could120see. But above—she dare not risk that awful path. She sat down.
“I can’t do it!” she cried.
Jim turned.
“Come on!”
“I can’t—I can’t!”
He came down to her, slipping and sliding on the frozen snow.
“There’s a big wind coming. You’ll be blown off if you stay here.”
He caught her fingers with his one free hand and began to climb. Step by step they proceeded. Her heart felt cold within her. The Indians had disappeared over the top. It must be flat there, she thought!
A few snowflakes began to fall, and a sullen roar came from the north.
“The blizzard!” growled Jim.
He hastened the pace, dragging her now. The roar increased. The sky to the north and east was inky black. Below them several parties were hastily dumping their packs on the snow and preparing to meet this Arctic monster.... They arrived at the summit at the same moment as the blizzard. She saw a whirling mass of snow,121heard a roar like ten thousand demons let loose, and felt the strong grip of Jim pulling her down on the snow.
For an hour it raged. It was beyond her wildest imagination. Never had she beheld or even conceived anything so utterly merciless and devastating. Great masses of snow were lifted from the mountain-top and driven before the almost solid wind. It lashed her few inches of exposed flesh, until she found the antidote by placing her heavy mittens before her face and burying her head close to the ground.
Then it lifted, and the sun shone in dazzling radiance from a frozen sky. The packs and the party were white as the landscape that yawned away on all sides. Before them was a slope as precipitous as that they had just negotiated—but it wentdown. The Indians dug out their packs and, taking their pay, went on in search of further jobs.
Angela wondered how Jim was going to negotiate the dizzy downward path. It ran almost perpendicularly to Crater Lake, beyond which it was easier going.
Jim took the big sled to the top of the slide,122and commenced to dump the various packages on to it. With a coil of hemp rope he lashed this load into one compact mass. It hung on the sheer edge of a precipice, ready for instant flight. The meaning of it suddenly came to her.
“You—you aren’t going to slide down?”
“I jest am,” he said. “Sit you down there.”
Reluctantly she obeyed, clinging tightly to the knotted rope. She saw him give the sled a violent push and jump aboard. It started down the incline, gathering momentum at a dreadful rate. In twenty seconds it was rushing onward like a cannon-ball raising the snow and shrieking as it went.... The speed eventually decreased. They passed the frozen lake and made for Linderman, Jim dragging the sled and Angela pushing on the gee-pole.
After that it was a nightmare. Angela’s impression was of one endless white wilderness, broken only by a network of frozen lakes and occasional icy precipices. At nights they pitched their tent amid the vast loneliness, banking it with snow to keep out the freezing cold. At times they were held up for days, confined to the evil-smelling tent with a blizzard blowing outside.123The oilstove was a blessing, despite its sickening odor, and only the piled-up snow kept the small tent from being blown to ribbons. It was little more than an Esquimo igloo.
When the wind went this merciless husband downed the tent, packed up, and was off again into the wilderness—and there were 400 miles of this! The glare of the sun on the white snow blinded her, until she accepted the snow goggles which she had at first indignantly refused. The stillness frightened her. Never had she imagined such terrible soul-torturing silence; at times she asked questions merely for the pleasure of hearing a human voice. When they overtook some struggling party the desire to stop and talk was all-consuming. But Jim wasn’t for wasting time in useless conversation.
She hated him for that. She hated him for all the agony and pain that he had brought her. Fits of uncontrollable anger possessed her. She gave vent to her feelings in bitter rebuke. It had some effect, too. She knew it hurt him by the queer light in his eyes, but he said nothing—which made her angrier still.
He had become even more silent than she.124One thing, however, he did regularly. When they partook of the evening meal—a sickly concoction of beans and coffee, or canned meat, and nestled down inside the bearskin sleeping-bags beside the eternal oilstove, his deep voice growled:
“Good-night, Angela!”
Sometimes she responded and sometimes she did not. But it made no difference—the “Good-night” was always uttered.
The last stage of the journey was a fight with time. They struck the Yukon River and went down over the sloppy ice. The break-up was coming, and Dawson was eighty miles away. Despite her bitter feelings she found excitement in the combat. At any moment the ice might split with thundering noise and go smashing down to the sea, piling up in vast pyramids as it went. Each morning they expected to wake and find the ice in movement.
“She’ll hold,” cried Jim. “Another twenty miles and we’re through!”
So they plowed their way to the Eldorado of the North. It was when they were but three miles from Dawson that the break-up came. It125was heralded by ear-splitting explosions. Jim put all his weight on to the sled.
“She won’t move much yet,” he growled. “Mush on!”
For another mile they kept the river trail, and then with deafening crashes from behind them the whole ice began to move. No time was to be lost now. Jim dragged the sled inland and made the bank at a suitable landing.
An hour later they made Dawson City. The streets were filled with half-melted snow, through which a mixed humanity trudged, laden with all kinds of gear and provisions. Tents were pitched on every available piece of land. Saloons were filled with mobs clamoring for drink and food. Around the Yukon agent’s office were crowds waiting to register “claims” that might or might not make their owners millionaires. All the creeks within miles of Dawson had been staked long since, and late-comers were staking likely spots further afield. News came of rich yields in some barren God-forsaken place and immediately a stampede was made for it.
Angela, who had pined for any kind of civilization126rather than a continuance of the eternal snows, wondered if this were any better. Jim pitched the tent under some spruce-trees and high up on a bluff beyond the city.
“Wal, we’re here,” he said.
“Yes,” she replied bitterly. “You’ve got so far. And what next?”
“We’re going to git gold. Yep, we sure are—and you’re going to help.”
She shut her mouth grimly. This was a big city; there were men here going back to civilization after making their fortunes. In a few weeks the river would be free and steamers would be making Vancouver. It oughtn’t to be so difficult to find someone who would help her to escape from a man like this!
127CHAPTER IXHIGH STAKES
Before many days had passed Angela realized how wisely Jim had traded in Vancouver. At the time she had wondered why he had been so prodigal in the matter of food. It seemed to her sheer lunacy to travel over icy mountains with what appeared to be enough food for a traveling circus. Now she saw that but for his foresight they might have felt the fine edge of starvation as others were doing.
With remarkable suddenness the cold had vanished and the thermometer mounted daily. A dank, warm atmosphere embraced the country. Under the vanishing snow were green buds that burst into bloom at the first direct rays of the sun. An unwelcome visitor invaded the camp—the mosquito. He rose from the swampy river in myriads, and made life a torture.128
Jim had got his usual hustle on. Very quickly he became a popular figure in the town. But two days after his arrival he met an old friend—a gaunt, lanky figure, with a beard a foot long.
“Why, darn me if it ain’t Colorado Jim!”
He turned and saw Dan, late owner of the Medicine Bow Hotel, looking wonderfully prosperous and happy.
“Hello, Dan!”
“Gosh, you ain’t altered none. Come and hev’ some poison.”
They pushed their way into a crowded saloon, and Dan flung down a small poke of gold-dust for a bottle of whisky, from which he received no change.
“What’s your lay, Jim?”
“Prospectin’.”
“Wal, yore sure a queer cuss. Why in hell d’ye want to go prospectin’ with a million of the best in the bank?”
Jim laughed.
“I’m broke, Dan.”
“What!”
“Yep. An’ I’m married.”129
Dan nearly choked. Then he clapped his hand on his leg and roared with delight.
“Married. Wal, I guess she’s a lucky gal, even if you are bust. But how’d it happen?”
“Bad speculation. But I’m through with that. See here, Dan, I’m wantin’ to stake a couple of claims, but every darn piece of dirt seems pegged out.”
Dan stroked his beard.
“Yore late. I got wise to what it’d be like, so I hiked up here early. Staked twenty-two on Bonanza and sold out yesterday to the Syndicate. Five hundred thousand I got, and never thawed out more’n a square yard of dirt. And now I’m mushing for the bright lights.”
Jim’s face contracted.
“I hope you’ll like ’em, Dan. They sure gave me the croup. Maybe I ain’t built that way, and you are. ’Pears to me that the Klondyke is a mission-hall compared to London or New York. They’ll take the gold filling from yore false teeth out there.”
Dan surveyed him carefully.
“What’s wrong, Jim? You seem kinder moody like. Someone kicked you in the hip?”130
“You got it.”
“Wal, I guess you’ll git over it,” said Dan philosophically. “Mebbe you’d like me to take some message back, eh?”
“She ain’t back there,” said Jim. “She’s right here.”
Dan looked as though he had been shot.
“What’s that? You ain’t telling me——?”
“Why not?”
“This is a hell of a place for ladies.”
Jim frowned. He knew that perfectly well. Now and again a feeling of self-reproach came, but he strangled it by reflecting upon the trick that had been played upon him. After all, he had bought her at her own price, and he meant to keep her.
Two or three of Dan’s lucky friends were scanning Jim’s enormous figure with obvious interest.
“Say, boys, ’member I told you about a husky guy at Medicine Bow who made a pile and sold out?”
“Sure!”
“Wal, this is him all right. Ain’t he a beaut?”
They shook hands with Jim and ordered more131whisky. Like Dan they were overburdened with money, and remarkably free with it. They were beguiling the time in innocent “jags” pending the arrival of the boat in the river that was to take them out of the Klondyke.
“Looking for a claim?” inquired one of them.
“Thet’s so.”
“Nothin’ doing this side of Blackwater, but there’s a dinky little creek five mile up-river. What do they call that creek where Dave staked, Whitey?”
“Red Ruin,” replied Whitey.
“Yep, Red Ruin. There’s a mile or so at the lower end unstaked, and if there ain’t gold there, my name ain’t what it is. Dave staked 250 feet yesterday, and he’s sure nuts on gold.”
Dan nodded.
“You hike there, Jim, afore it goes to someone else.”
“Ain’t a healthy sort of name—Red Ruin,” said Jim with a laugh.
“Names don’t count.”
Jim was finally persuaded to try his luck there. He left the party, followed by their best wishes for success, and made for the camp up the hill.132He found Angela in a fit of revolt. She had done nothing since he left that morning. Dirty pans and dishes littered the ground and blankets were lying in heaps all round.
“Angela!”
She looked at him.
“You ain’t bin hustling overmuch.”
She flared up in an instant.
“I’m sick of this. You brought me here by brute force. I won’t go on with it. Do you understand? I’ve tramped over that icy wilderness with you. I’ve suffered until I can suffer no longer. You never were a gentleman, and ordinary courtesy and respect for a woman are unknown to you, but surely you have a heart somewhere within you. Can’t you see this is killing me? Do you want to break my heart?”
“Hearts are hearts, ain’t they? And breaking one ain’t no worse than breaking another. No, I’m no gentleman—not the kind you bin used to. That’s why I came here—because here they’re only men, and I’d jest as soon be a man as anything else on earth. I reckon that where a man goes his woman should go too.”
She flushed at the appellation “woman.”133
“You talk like a barbarian. I’m not your woman—you understand? Not your woman.”
“Figure out how you may,” he retorted, “when you buy a thing, you buy it, and it’s yours until someone pays you to git it, or someone is hefty enough to take it from you. As for that, if any guy thinks about cuttin’ in, he’s welcome to try.”
The true sense of his position was made patent. His rough philosophy was good. Had she been his by mere conquest, no man in the Klondyke would have disputed it. Being his wife, legally, his position was doubly strong. Only cunning could win through. She meant to exercise that faculty as soon as opportunity presented itself. And the opportunity was close at hand.
“I’m going up-river to-morrow,” he said, “to prospect a creek, and to stake two claims if it’s a promising place. I’ll be back before sundown.... Ain’t you goin’ to git supper?”
She was on the point of refusing to carry out the necessary abhorrent domestic work, but the chance of escape which his words gave rise to brought discretion to the forefront. She cooked a dish of beans and opened some canned fruit,134and they took their meal, thrusting it beneath the shielding mosquito-nets which seldom left their heads.
Half an hour later they made ready for sleep, in very close proximity to the hard ground, with a hanging canvas curtain between them.
“Good-night, Angela!” he said.
She returned no answer.
Down in the town things were just beginning to wake up. No one worried about time in Dawson City. The nights were like the days, the only difference being that the nights were more noisy. Time was stretched and manipulated with as much ease as an elastic band. Men went to bed at eight in the morning, and woke up to take their breakfast at three or four in the afternoon. Thereafter came dancing, drinking, mirth, and boisterous song. The conditions of the northern summer aided and abetted this queer juggling with time, for it was never dark, and 3 A.M. was not much different to 3 P.M. And as a rule, the life of the saloons was too busy a thing to take notice of any changes in the position of the sun.
The next morning Jim, armed with a pick135and shovel and some stakes, left for Red Ruin. Angela watched him disappear over a bluff, and immediately prepared to put into operation her scheme for escape. She packed a small sack with the few things she would require, and wrote a short note which she pinned to the flap of the tent.
“I warned you I should go. There is no other way but this.—Angela.”
“I warned you I should go. There is no other way but this.—Angela.”
She took the sack and descended to the crowded town. The river was still belching ice into the Bering Sea, but the last floes were leaving the upper reaches, and she knew that in a few hours navigation would be possible, up-stream. Whilst many parties were content to wait for the steamer’s arrival, others, less patient, were preparing to “make out” up the river and lakes and over the Chilcoot.
She began to put out a few furtive inquiries, and secured the names of several men who were preparing for immediate departure. She was wise enough to take a look at these worthies before committing herself to their charge, and most of them did not please her. Wandering in the back areas at noon, she noticed a rough shack136bearing an obviously new announcement “For Sale.” Already a queue of prospective purchasers was lining up. When the owner—a sallow man of about fifty—appeared, he was besieged. The shack was sold in a few minutes to the highest bidder. Angela, nervous but determined, interrogated the sallow man.
“Excuse me, but are you leaving?”
He ran his keen eyes over her, immediately impressed by her beauty and her bearing.
“I am.”
“Soon?”
“To-morrow morning if the river’s clear.”
“Alone?”
“No—two others.”
Angela breathed a sigh of relief. There was safety in numbers.
“I want to go to England—or to New York. Will you take me? I’ve no money or food, but I’ll pay you well when I get away.”
The man stared.
“As soon as I can cable to my people they will send me money,” she resumed. “Take me as far as the first cable station, and in forty-eight hours137I will get money to recompense you,” she added quickly.
His brows contracted.
“What’s the hurry?”
“I want to get away from someone.”
“Ah—I see.”
“Will you—will you take me? I’ll work.”
He looked at her soft, exquisite face and figure, and grinned as he reflected that the work she could do was negligible; but the suggestion had its fascination. She was beautiful—and beautiful women were rare in the Klondyke. He opened the door of the shack and called “Tom!” Tom appeared in his shirt-sleeves—a big awry figure with a face like a chimpanzee.
“Got a grub-staker. What do you say?”
Tom’s face relaxed into a smirking smile as he also took a long survey of Angela.
“Canoe’s purty full up, but I dare say we can find room. Where’d ye want to go?”
“Anywhere out of this. Some place from where I can cable to England—for money.”
He looked at “Connie,” the sallow man, and nodded. The latter turned to Angela.138
“We’re off in the morning. Is that your grip?”
“Yes.”
“Better leave it in the shack. There’s a small room at the back you kin hev’ to sleep in to-night.”
She thanked him and went inside the shack. Big bundles lay on the floor ready for the journey, and from the window in the back room she saw a long, newly made canoe. She put down her sack, and decided to get some food in the town with the few dollars she possessed, before taking refuge in the shack from Jim, who would doubtless return by the evening.
When she returned the third man was present. She smiled at the three of them as pleasantly as she knew how, and repaired to the back room. She imagined Jim’s amazement and wrath when he discovered she had gone. But it was extremely doubtful if he would find her in the short time that remained before her departure.
Time passed slowly enough. From outside came the sound of low voices. She crept to the keyhole and saw her three future companions139sitting round the rough table engrossed in a game of cards—poker. Close to hand were two bottles and three mugs. Now and again a low curse came to her ears. She began to wish the door possessed a lock and key!
She went back to the mattress and endeavored to get to sleep, but her brain was too full of the impending adventure to permit its flight into unconsciousness. Moreover, the card party began to get boisterous. She wondered if they were going to keep it up all night. A few minutes later there was a loud crash. She sat up and heard fierce arguments proceeding from the inner room. All three of them were talking at once, and she could not hear any intelligent sentence, but it was all to do with the “deal.” She went again to the keyhole just as they settled down again to play.
To her amazement they were playing with matches. The big chimpanzee man, Tom, had a huge pile in front of him. In the center of the table was another pile. She saw Tom put down his cards and growl “Three Queens,” picking up the matches in the pool with a triumphant laugh.
“Last deal,” said Connie.140
“Yep. It’s between me and you, Connie,but I guess she’s mine.”
“Chickens ain’t hatched yet.”
“She ain’t no chicken—she’s peaches. Gee—some stake that!”
Angela suddenly felt sick as the truth came to her. She saw now the meaning of those matches. They were not playing for money,but for her! She sprang to the window, but escape that way was impossible, for it was not more than a foot square. Her heart beat in terrible suspense. She realized her dreadful position—out here, a mile or more from the town, she was utterly at the mercy of these brutes. They considered her fair prey, as most women were considered in the Klondyke at that time. Pleading a husband would make no difference. A woman ought to know better than to leave her husband. Unwittingly she had placed herself in that position.
There was only one way out, and that way lay through the inner room. She resolved to take it. She took the small sack and approached the door. A look through the keyhole revealed them engrossed in the decisive “hand.” With heaving141bosom she turned the handle and walked swiftly through the door.
She was almost past the table before they recovered from their surprise. Then the chimpanzee man put out a huge arm and caught her by the wrist.
“’Ere, what’s this?”
“Let me go.”
He grinned maliciously.
“Ishouldsay. Why, I’ve jest won you!”
She struggled in vain in his iron grip.
“Git back to thet room!” he ordered, and flung her towards the door.
It was the first time any man had laid hands on her, and it aroused the devil. Her face and neck went crimson. Some of the fear vanished under this storm of violent repugnance. She noticed a naked hunting-knife on a ledge by the window. She flew to it and gripped it menacingly.
She came nearer and raised it to strike any obstructors. Then Connie’s lean figure leapt forward. The knife rattled to the floor and her wrist ached from the blow he had dealt it. He took her by the shoulders.142
“Cut that! Tom’s won you, and you’d better get wise to that.”
“You brutes! Do you think you can——”
Her voice petered out as she saw the horrible expression in Tom’s eyes. There was no hope of mercy there. Words were lost on this monster. All the evening he had dwelled with rapture upon the object of the gamble. He took her from Connie and held her fast in his arms. Connie laughed.
“You allus had the luck. Wal, perhaps she’ll transfer her affections later!”
“Let me go!” she cried, now thoroughly panic-stricken. “Oh, God!—let me go!”
The chimpanzee-man merely gurgled in his throat. He lifted her from the ground and made for the inner room. One of her hands became free. She seized a bunch of his hair until it was wrenched from his hard scalp.
“Ugh!” he grunted. “Go on—it’s my turn in a minnit.”
“You monster!”
“Good-night—boys!” he cried mockingly.
“Happy dreams!” sneered Connie. “Don’t forget we start——”143
The third man, a silent, morose individual, suddenly gave a gasp as the outer door was flung open. The others turned and saw the enraged face of Colorado Jim behind a big six-shooter.