Finally Big Jack, with an oath, snatched up the lantern and threw open the door. The others followed in the order of their courage. Joe bringing up the rear.
A hundred yards from the door the light revealed Sam struggling with something on the ground. What it was they could not see—something that panted and made sounds of rage.
"Boys! Here! Quick!" cried Sam.
To their amazement his voice was full of laughter. They hung back.
"What have you got?" cried Jack.
The answer was as startling as an explosion: "A girl!"
A swift reaction passed over the four. They sprang to his aid.
"Hold the light up!" Sam cried breathlessly. "Shand, grab her feet. I've got her arms locked. God! Bites like a cat! Carry her in." This ended in a peal of laughter.
Between them Shand and Sam carried her toward the door, staggering and laughing wildly. Their burden wriggled and plunged like a fish. They had all they could do, for she was both slippery and strong. They got her inside at last. The others crowded after, and they closed the door and barred it.
Sam, usually so quiet and wary in this company, was transformed by excitement. "Now, let's see whatwe've got!" he cried. "Put her feet down. Look out or she'll claw you!"
They set her on her feet and stood back on guard. But as soon as she was set free her resistance came to an end. She did not fly at either, but coolly turned her back and shook herself and smoothed her plumage like a ruffled bird. This unexpected docility surprised them afresh. They watched her warily.
"A woman!" they cried in amazed tones. "Where did she drop from?"
They instantly ascribed all the supernatural manifestations to this human cause. Everything was made clear, and a load of terror lifted from their breasts.
The suddenness of the reaction dizzied them a little. Each man blushed and frowned, remembering his late unmanly terrors. They were amazed, chagrined and tickled all at once.
Big Jack strode to her and held the lantern up to her face. "She's a beauty!" he cried.
A silence succeeded that word. Four of the five men present measured his mates with sidelong looks. Sam shrugged and, resuming his ordinary circumspect air, turned away.
The girl turned an indifferent, walled face toward the fire, refusing to look at any of the men. Her beauty grew upon them momentarily. Their amazement knew no bounds that one like this should have been led to their door out of the night.
"Well," said Big Jack, breaking the silence at last. "It was a rough welcome we give you, miss. We thought you was a spook or something like that. But we're glad to see you."
She gave no sign of having heard him.
"Was it you whistled through the keyhole and tossed a stone down the chimney?" demanded Husky.
No answer was forthcoming.
"I'm sorry if we hurt you," added Jack.
He might as well have been addressing a wooden woman.
"I say, I'm sorry if we hurt you," he repeated louder.
"Maybe she can't understand English," suggested Sam.
"What'll I do then?" asked Jack hopelessly.
"Try her with sign language."
"Sure," said Jack. He looked around for the table. "Oh, hell, it's burnt up! We'll have to eat on the floor. Hey, look, sister!" He went through the motions of spreading a table and eating. The others watched interestedly. "Will you?" he asked.
She gravely nodded her head. A cheer went up from the circle.
"Hey, cookee!" cried Big Jack. "Toss up a bag of biscuits and put your coffee-pot on. You, Joe, chase out to the stable and fetch a box for her to sit on."
For the next few minutes the cabin presented a scene of great activity. Every man, with the tail of an eye on the guest, was anxious to contribute a share to the preparations. Husky went to the lake for water; Shand cut bacon and ground coffee for the cook; Big Jack produced a clean, or fairly clean, white blanket to serve for a tablecloth, and set the table.
A glitter in each man's eyes suggested that his hospitality was not entirely disinterested. They were inclined to bristle at each other. Clearly a dangerous amount of electricity was being stored within the little shack. Only Sam was as self-contained in his way as the girl in hers.
Big Jack continued his efforts to communicate with her. He was deluded by the idea that if he talked a kind of pidgin-English and shouted loud enough she must understand.
"Me, Big Jack," he explained; "him, Black Shand; him, Husky; him, Young Joe. You?" He pointed to her questioningly.
"Bela," she said.
It was the first word she had uttered. Her voice was like a strain of woods music. At the sound of it Sam looked up from his flour. He quickly dropped his eyes again.
When Joe brought her the box to sit on, he lingered beside her. Good-looking Young Joe was a boasted conqueror of the sex. The least able of them all to control his emotions, he was now doing the outrageously masculine. He strutted, posed, and smirked in a way highly offensive to the other men.
When, Bela sat down Joe put a hand on her shoulder.Instantly Big Jack's pale face flamed like an aurora.
"Keep your distance!" he barked. "Do you think the rest of us will stand for that?"
Joe retreated to the bed, crestfallen and snarling, and things smoothed down for the moment.
"Where do you live?" Jack asked the girl, illustrating with elaborate pantomime.
She merely shook her head. They might decide as they choose whether she did not understand or did not mean to tell.
Husky came in with a pail of water. The sanguine Husky was almost as visibly ardent as Joe. He rummaged in his bag at the far end of the cabin, and reappeared in the firelight bearing an orange silk handkerchief. His intention was unmistakable.
"You put that up, Husky!" came an angry voice from the bed. "If I've got to stay away from her, you've got to, too!"
Husky turned, snarling. "I guess this is mine, ain't it? I can give it away if I want."
"Not if I know!" cried Joe, springing toward him. They faced each other in the middle of the room with bared teeth.
Big Jack rose again. "Put it away, Husky," he commanded. "This is a free field and no favour. If you want to push yourself forward at our expense you got to settle with us first, see?"
The others loudly approved of this. Husky, disgruntled, thrust the handkerchief in his pocket.
After the two overweening spirits had been rebuked, matters in the shack went quietly for a while. The four men watched the girl, full of wonder; meanwhile each kept an eye on his mates.
It was their first experience at close range with a girl of the country, and they could not make her outat all. Her sole interest seemed to be upon the fire. This air of indifference at once provoked and baffled them. They could not reconcile it with the impish tricks she had played.
They could not understand a girl alone in a crowd of men betraying no self-consciousness. "Touch me at your peril," she seemed to say; but if that was the way she felt, what had she come for?
Sam brought his basin of flour to the hearth and, kneeling in the firelight, proceeded to mix the dough. After the manner of amateur cooks, he liberally plastered his hands and arms with the sticky mess.
The girl watched him with a scornful lip. Suddenly she dropped to her knees beside him, and without so much as "By your leave," took the basin out of his hands. She showed him how it ought to be done, flouring her hands so the batter would not stick, and tossing up the mess with the light, deft touch of long experience. At the sight of Sam's discomfiture a roar of laughter went up from the others.
"Guess you're out of a job now, cookee," said Shand.
"Now we'll have something to eat besides lead sinkers," added Joe.
Sam laughed with the others, and, retiring a little, watched how she did it. The girl affected him differently from the rest. Diffidence overcame him. He scarcely ever raised his eyes to her face.
All watched her delightedly, each man showing it according to his nature. In every move she was as graceful as a kitten or a filly, or anything young, natural, and unconscious of itself.
In a remarkably short space of time the three frying-pans were upended before the fire, each with its loaf. No need to ask if it was going to be good bread. Itappeared that this wonderful girl had other recommendations beside her beauty.
She rose, dusting her hands, and backed away from the fire, as if to cool off. Before they realized what she was doing, she turned and quietly walked out of the door, closing it after her.
They cried out in dismay, and of one accord sprang up and made for the door. Sam involuntarily ran with the others, filled, like they were, with disappointment. It was now pitch dark under the trees, and straight from the fire as they were, they could not see a yard ahead.
They scattered, beating the woods, loudly calling her name and making naive promises to the night, if she would only come back. They collided with each other and, tripping over roots, measured their lengths on the ground.
Curses began to be mixed with their dulcet invitations to the vanished one to return. From the sounds, one would have been justified in thinking a part of bedlam had been let loose in the pine-woods.
Sam was the first to take sober second thought. He began to retrace his steps toward the cabin. Common sense told him she would never be caught by that noisy crew unless she wished to be. In any case, the bread might as well be saved.
In his heart he approved of her retreat. Trouble in the shack could not long have been averted if she had stayed. Perhaps she had been better aware of what was going on than she seemed. What a strange visitation it had been altogether! How beautiful she was, and how mysterious! Much too good for that lot. It pleased him to think that she was honest. He had not known what to think before.
Thus ruminating he came to the cabin door, and waspulled up short on the threshold by a fresh shock of astonishment. There she was, kneeling on the hearth as before!
She glanced indifferently at him over her shoulder and went on with her work. Such hardihood in face of all the noise outside did not seem human. Sam stared at her open-mouthed. She had some birds that she was skinning and cutting up. The pungent, appetizing smell of wild fowl greeted his nostrils.
"Well, I'll be damned!" he exclaimed involuntarily. "What does this mean?"
She disdained any answer.
"You were foolish not to beat it while you had the chance," he said, forgetting she was supposed not to understand. "This is no place for a woman!"
She glanced at him with a subtle smile; Sam flushed up. "Oh, very well!" he said hotly. Turning, he called outside: "Boys, come back! She's here!"
One by one they straggled in, grinning delightedly, if somewhat sheepishly. They shook their heads at each other. "We sure have a queer customer," was the general feeling. It was useless to bombard her with questions. The language of signs is a feeble means of communication when one side is intractable.
Apparently she had merely gone to some cache of her own to obtain a contribution toward the feast. She had brought half a dozen grouse. The biscuit-loaves were now done sufficiently to stand alone, and the pans were giving off delicious emanations of frying grouse and bacon.
The four men who, for the past week, had been sunk in utter boredom, naturally reacted to the other extreme of hilarity. Loud laughter filled the cabin. The potentialities for trouble were not, however, lessened. On the contrary, a look or a word was enough at anymoment to bring a snarling pair face to face. Presently the inevitable suggestion was brought forth.
"This is goin' to be a regular party," cried Joe. "Jack, be a sport; get out a bottle, and let's do it in style!"
To save himself, Sam could not keep back the protest that sprang to his lips. "For God's sake!" he cried.
"What the hell is it to you, cook?" cried Joe furiously.
There was old bad blood between these two. Perhaps because they were of the same age.
Big Jack was bursar and commissary of the expedition. He smiled and gave his mouth a preliminary wipe. "Well, I think we might stand one bottle," he said.
Sam shrugged and held his tongue.
Jack returned with one of the precious bottles they had contrived to smuggle past the police at the Landing. He opened it with loving care, and the four partners had an appetizer.
When the food was ready, the always unexpected girl refused to sit with them around the blanket. No amount of urging could move her. She retired with her own plate to a place beside the fire.
Though she was the guest, she assumed the duty of hostess, watching their plates and keeping them filled. This was the first amenity she had shown them. They were perplexed to reconcile it with her scornful air.
Only once did she relax. Big Jack, jumping up to put a stick on the fire, did not mark where he set his plate. On his return he stepped in it. The others saw what was coming, and their laughter was ready.
Above the masculine guffaws rang a girlish peal likeshaken bells. They looked at her, surprised and delighted. More than anything, the laughter humanized her. She hastily drew the mask over her face again, but they did not soon forget the sound of her laughter.
Big Jack kept control of the bottle, and doled it out with strict impartiality. Under the spur of the fiery spirit, their ardour and their joviality mounted together.
Sam was not offered the bottle. Sam was likewise tacitly excluded from the contest for the girl's favour. It did not occur to any of the four to be jealous of little Sam. He accepted the situation with equanimity. He had no desire to rival them. His feeling was that if that was the kind she wanted, there was nothing in it for him.
Like all primitive meals, it was over in a few minutes. Sam gathered up the dishes, while the other men filled their pipes and befogged the atmosphere with a fragrant cloud of smoke. Like all adventurers, they insisted on good tobacco.
The rapidly diminishing bottle was circulated from hand to hand, the hilarity sensibly increasing with each passage. Their enforced abstention of late made them more than usually susceptible. Their faces were flushed, and their eyes began to be a little bloodshot. They continually forgot that the girl could not speak English, and their facetious remarks to each other were in reality for her benefit. A rough respect for her still kept them within bounds.
Bela, as a matter of course, set to work on the hearth to help Sam clean up. This displeased Joe.
"Ah, let him do his work!" he cried. "You come here, and I'll sing to you."
His partners howled in derision. "Sing!" cried Husky. "You ain't got no more voice than a bull-bat!"
Joe turned on him furiously. "Well, at that, I ain't no fat, red-headed lobster!" he cried.
A violent wrangle resulted, into which Shand was presently drawn, making it a three-cornered affair. Big Jack, commanding them to be silent, made more noise than any. Pandemonium filled the shack. The instinctive knowledge that the first man to strike a blow would have to fight all three kept them apart. No man may keep any dignity in a tongue-lashing bout. Their flushed faces and rolling eyes were hideous in anger.
Through it all the amazing girl quietly went on washing dishes with Sam. He stole a glance of compassion at her.
Big Jack, having the loudest roar, battered the ears of the disputants until they were silenced. "You fools!" he cried. "Are you going to waste the night chewing the rag like a parcel of women?"
They looked at him sullenly. "Well, whatarewe going to do? That's what I'd like to know," said Shand.
A significant silence filled the cabin. The men scowled and looked on the floor. The same thought was in every mind. An impossible situation confronted them. How could any one hope to prevail against the other three.
"Look here, you men," said Jack at last. "I've got a scheme. I'm a good sport. Have you got the nerve to match me?"
"What are you getting at?" demanded Husky.
Jack put his hand in his pocket. "I'm gettin' at a weddin'. Why not? Here's as pretty a piece of goods, as I, for one, ever see or ever ask to. Handy,too, and the finest sort of prime A1 cook. Bride O.K. Four lovin', noble bachelors to choose the bridegroom out of. Bishop Lajeunesse'll be along to-morrow or the next day, or mighty soon. He's due to pass any minute. Priest all ready. Husband ready—leastwise I am for one. Bride all ready——"
"Damned if she is," contradicted Sam.
"Give her a chance and see," snarled Jack truculently. "She don't look no manner of a fool. It'll be a mighty fine thing for a girl of this blasted country to get a downright white husband, and I'll bet my bottom dollar this here girl's cute enough to see it—or—what the hell did she come to our shack for? And, if no such notion ever crossed her prutty head, I'll explain it to her clear enough—give me five minutes' chin with her——You all been complainin' it was so gol darn dull. Well, here's some excitement: a weddin' on the spry." He pulled his hand from his pocket and showed the dice in its palm. "This shack ain't big enough to hold the four of us men, not just at present," he said meaningly. "Three has got to get out for a bit, and leave one to do his courtin'—and do it quick. I've got a pair of dice here. Three rounds, see? The low man to drop out on each round. The winner to keep the shack, and to pop the question—while the other three camp on the shore. What do you say to it?"
The three stared at Big Jack in a dead silence while the underlying significance of his words sunk in. They began to breathe quickly. Sam, hearing the proposal, flushed with indignation. His heart swelled in his throat with apprehension for the girl. How could he make her understand what was going on? How could he help her? Would she thank him for helping her?
Shand was the first to speak. "Say, you fellows, it's some idea—what? And it'll be cheerfuller than a funeral. Yes," he muttered. "I'm on!"
"How about the cook?" demanded Husky thickly.
"Hell, he ain't in this game!" said Jack indifferently. "He goes outside with the losers."
"I'm damned if I'll stand for it!" cried Joe excitedly. "It's only a chance! It doesn't settle anything. The best man's got to win!"
"You fools!" growled Shand. "How will you settle it—with guns? Is it worth a triple killing?"
"With my bare fists!" said Joe boastfully.
"Are you man enough to take on the three of us, one after the other?" demanded Shand. "You've got to play fair in this. You take an equal chance with the rest of us, or we'll all jump on you."
Jack and Husky supported him in no uncertain terms. Joe subsided.
"It's agreed, then," said Jack.
Shand and Husky nodded.
"Let him come in, then, if he wants his chance," said Jack indifferently. "The losers will take care of him."
Joe made haste to join them. They squatted in a circle around the blanket. Under the strong excitement of the game, each nature revealed itself. Black Shand became as pale as paper, while Husky's face turned purple.
Young Joe's face was drawn by the strain, and his hand and tongue showed a disposition to tremble. Only Big Jack exhibited the perfect control of the born gambler. His steely blue eyes sparkled with a strange pleasure.
"Let me see them?" demanded Husky, reaching for the dice.
Jack laughed scornfully. "What's the matter with you? 'Tain't the first time you've played with them. There's only the one pair. We've all got to use them alike."
"Let me see them!" persisted Husky, showing his teeth. "It's my right!"
Jack shrugged, and the bone cubes were solemnly passed from hand to hand.
"You can't shoot on a mat," said Joe. Jerking the blanket from the floor, he tossed it behind him.
"Get something to shake them in," said Shand. "No palming wanted."
Husky reached behind him and took a cup from Sam.
A long wrangle followed as to who should throw first. They finally left it to the dice, and the choice fell on Joe. Shand was at his left hand; Husky faced him; Jack was at his right. They held their breath while the bones rattled in the cup. Whenthey rolled out, their eyes burned holes in the floor.
"Ten!" cried Joe joyfully. "I'm all right! Beat that if you can!"
Sam, obliged to await the result without participating, was suffocating with suspense. When the cup passed to Shand he touched the girl. She looked at him inquiringly. None of the other four were paying the least attention to them then. Sam asked her with a sign if she understood the game. He had heard that the natives were inveterate gamblers.
She nodded. He then, by an unmistakable gesture, let her know that the stake they played for was—herself. Again she nodded coolly. Sam stared at her dumbfounded.
In her turn, she asked him with a glance of scorn why he was not in the game. Young Sam blushed and looked away. He was both abashed and angry. It was impossible for him to convey his feeling by signs.
Meanwhile Shand threw seven, and Joe rejoiced again. But when Husky, opposite him, got a beggarly three, the young man's triumph was outrageous. The evening had left an unsettled score between these two.
"You're done for, lobster!" he cried with intolerable laughter. "Take your blankets and go outside!"
A vein on Husky's forehead swelled. "You keep a civil tongue in your head, or I'll smash your face, anyhow," he muttered.
"You're not man enough, Braky!" taunted Joe.
"Well, I'll help him," said Shand suddenly.
"Me, too," added Jack. "Play the game like a man and keep your mouth shut!"
When the cup went to Jack, Sam caught the girl's eye again. He could not help trying once more. He looked significantly toward the door. While the fourheads were bent over the floor she could easily have gained it. She slightly shook her head.
Sam ground his teeth and doggedly attended to the dishes. A surprising angry pain transfixed his breast. What did he care? he asked himself. Let her go! But the pain would not be assuaged by the anger. She was so beautiful!
While rage gnawed at Husky's vitals, and he tried not to show it, Big Jack shook the cup with cool confidence and tossed the dice on the floor. Strange if he could not beat three! The little cubes rolled, staggered, and came to a stop. For a second the four stared incredulously. A pair of ones!
An extraordinary change took place in Husky. He grunted and blinked. Suddenly he threw back his head and roared with laughter. Big Jack steeled himself, shrugged, and rose. Going to the fire-place, he tapped the ashes out of his pipe and prepared to fill it again.
"'Tain't for me to kick," he said coolly; "since I got it up!" Jack deserved better at the hands of fortune.
The cup passed to Joe again. He shook it interminably.
"Ah, shoot!" growled Shand.
Whereupon Joe put down the cup and prepared to engage in another snarling argument. Only a combined threat from the three to put him out of the game forced him to play. He got five, and suddenly became quiet and anxious.
Shand threw four, whereupon Joe's little soul rebounded in the air again. Husky got eight. Shand rose without a word and crossed the room to the door.
"Wait till the game is over," said Big Jack quietly. "We'll all go out together and save trouble."
Young Joe, once more in possession of the cup, was unable to get up sufficient nerve to make the fateful cast. He shook it as if he meant to wear a hole in the tin. He offered to let Husky shoot first, and when he refused tried to pick a quarrel with him.
Finally Big Jack drew out his watch. "Ten seconds," he said, "or you forfeit. Are you with me, Shand?"
"Sure!" muttered the other.
Joe, with a groan of nervous apprehension, made his cast. He got a ten. Another reaction took place in him.
"Let me see you beat that!" he cried offensively. "I'm all right!" He smirked at the girl.
Husky picked up the dice and with one hasty shake tossed them out. By this time he had had as much suspense as he could stand. His nervous cast sent the cubes flying wide. One turned up a five between them. The other rolled beyond Joe. They had to crawl on hands and knees to see it. Six black spots were revealed.
"Eleven!" roared Husky. "I win!"
Joe's self-control gave way altogether. Tears were in his voice. "Do it over!" he cried. "You got to do it over! It wasn't on the table! You never shook the cup! I won't stand for it!"
Husky, having won, blissfully calmed down. "Ah, you short sport," he contemptuously retorted, "you deserve to lose!"
Joe sprang up with a tearful oath. "I won't stand for it!" he cried. "I said I wouldn't stand by a throw of the dice. You've got to fight me!"
Big Jack, expecting something of the kind, intervened from one side, Shand from the other. Joe'sarms were promptly pinned behind him. He struggled impotently, tears of rage coursing down his cheeks.
"You fool!" said Jack. "We told you we'd see fair play done. What can you do against the three of us? If he had lost we would have done the same for you. Go outside, or we'll drag you."
Joe finally submitted. They released him. Still muttering, he went out without looking back.
"Come on!" said Big Jack brusquely to Sam. "You are the contract."
Another and an unexpected mutiny awaited them here. Sam very promptly arose from among his tins and turned on Big Jack. He had become as pale as Shand, but his eyes were hot enough. His lips were compressed to a thin line.
"Yes, I heard it!" he cried. "And a rotten, cowardly frame-up I call it! We never lacked for hospitality from her people. And this is the way you repay it. With your mouth full of talk about fair play, too. You make me sick!"
For an instant they stared at him flabbergasted. For the masters to be bearded by a humble grub-rider was incredible. Husky, the one most concerned, was the first to recover himself. Flushing darkly, he took a step toward Sam with clenched fists.
"Shut up, you cook!" he harshly cried. "It's none of your put! You stick to dish-washing and let your betters alone, if you know what's good for you!"
Sam's pale cheeks flamed and paled again. Instead of falling back, he took another step toward Husky.
"You can't shout me down, you bully," he said quietly in his face. "You know I'm right. And you all know it."
Husky towered over the slight figure.
"Get out," he roared, "before I smash you!"
"Go ahead!" said Sam, without budging. "I'm not afraid of you!"
For the first time, the girl seemed really interested. Her nostrils were slightly distended. Her glance flew from face to face. There was a pregnant pause. Husky's great fist was raised. But not having struck on the instant, he could not strike at all. Under the blaze of the smaller man's eyes, his own glance finally bolted. He turned away with an assumption of facetiousness.
"Take him away," he said to his mates, "before I kill him."
An audible breath escaped the girl. She turned back to the fire.
Jack and Shand looked disconcerted by Sam's accusation; nevertheless, obsessed by their fetish of fair play, they had to see the thing through. Jack in particular, having proposed the game and having lost, was bound by his code to assist Husky.
They seized Sam between them and started to drag him toward the door. Sam struggled desperately and vainly in their grasp. Joe, attracted by the raised voices, had run in again. He, for his own ends, showed a disposition to help Sam. Jack overawed him with a look.
"Come along," he commanded.
The girl showed no further concern in the matter. Sam, observing her, suddenly ceased to struggle.
Outside the door they released him. When the four of them were joined together, they paused for a moment to decide which direction they should take.
"That sand-bank at the mouth of the creek," suggested Jack.
The sound of a shot rang muffled in the cabin behind them.
For an instant they were stupefied. A strange joy lightened Sam's breast. Dropping their bundles, they ran back, and, flinging the door open, stood back warily, half expecting to be received with a fusillade.
The smell of gunpowder assailed their nostrils. The light of the fire revealed Husky's burly figure sprawling on his back, with his feet among the tin dishes on the hearth. The girl was not to be seen.
They cautiously ventured in. She was not behind the door. She could not have gone out by the door without their knowing it, for they had been within ten paces. Both windows were intact. The only possible place of concealment within the shack was the bed. A swift investigation proved that there was nothing in it or under it.
The old feeling of awe of the supernatural returned. They avoided each other's eyes. The figure on the floor stirred a little and groaned. A dark, wet stain was spreading on his shirt. Jack dropped to his knees beside him.
"Through the shoulder," he said to the others. "No vital organ."
"Can you hear me?" he asked of the wounded man.
"A she-devil!" muttered Husky. "A devil!"
"Where did she go?"
"I don't know. Everything turned black. A devil—had a gun in her dress! Speaks English, too. Understood every word!"
None of Husky's mates had any skill in surgery. Like men in the flush of their strength, they refused to harbour the thought of injury or disease, and had come to the wilderness ill provided.
Jack, lacking antiseptics or healing medicaments,bound up the shoulder roughly. They laid Husky on the bed and endeavoured to forget him. Jack, Shand, and Joe elected to sleep in the stable to escape the injured man's stertorous breathing and his groans. They took care to bar themselves in against the terrors of the night.
Sam was glad to see them go. Their endless and futile discussion of what had happened tried his temper.
In the morning Husky was feverish. His mates shrugged and left him to Sam. Their attitude toward the injured one was as naive as that of children or animals.
Sam had no love for the gross figure on the bed, who, he felt, had earned what he got. Nevertheless, he did what offices humanity suggested; washing the wound and redressing it; bringing ice from the lake shore to mitigate his fever. He had to smile at Husky's changed tone in his lucid moments.
"Do you think this will croak me?" he continually asked. "Lord, I ain't ready to die! I leave it to you, cook; shouldn't a man have some warning of his end? Lord, if I get over this I'll lead a different life! I swear I will! Lord, think of dying in a God-forsaken place like this without a parson to clear the track for you! It ain't fair to catch you like this. Not even a Bible in the outfit!"
"I have a Bible," said Sam grimly.
"Get it for me; there's a good fellow," begged Husky.
Sam did so. "Do you want me to read it to you?" he asked.
"No use," said Husky. "Couldn't never get the hang of it. But let me have it here in bed with me. That's something."
As the day wore on the patient grew worse, and the other men became more and more chary of approaching him. However, toward the end of the afternoon, a cold squall of rain drove them indoors in spite of themselves.
They squatted on the floor at the farthest possible distance from the bed and half-heartedly dealt the cards for euchre. Meanwhile Sam busied himself baking bread, trying to remember what he could of the girl's deft technique. He could think of her now with a pleasant warmth about the heart. She had redeemed her sex in his eyes.
Careless of whether he heard them, the men joked outrageously about Husky's condition. It was their way of hiding their helpless terror.
"Well, old Husk is bound for the heavenly shore, I guess," said Jack.
"We'll give him a bang-up funeral," suggested Joe. "Spill a little booze and carve a board to put at his head. It's the least we can do for a pal."
"When Husk gets to the golden gates," Jack went on, "if Peter tries to hold him up, he'll say, 'What is it worth to you, old man?'"
This well-known saying of their partner produced a subdued laugh all around.
Black Shand remarked in his curt way: "Husky wouldn't get along in heaven. Ain't got no ear for music."
"He'd be in trouble down below, too," said Jack. "He'd undertake to show the Old Boy himself how to build a fire."
Outside the pine branches thrashed wildly, and gusts of rain were flung against the panes of the little window above the players' heads. Water found its way through more than one place in the sod roof and drippedsullenly on the floor. From time to time the game shifted, seeking a dry spot.
On such a day the pioneers were keenly conscious of their isolation. The emptiness of the land seemed to press upon their breasts, hindering free breathing. Moreover, their nerves were still jangling as a result of the night's events.
Such was their situation when, without warning, the latch of the door clicked.
They froze in their card-playing attitudes, turning horrified eyes in the direction of the sound. The door opened inward, and a ghastly moment passed before they could see what was behind it. Then each man's breath escaped with a little sound of amazement and awe.
It was Bela.
Raindrops sparkled like diamonds in Bela's dark hair and upon her glowing cheeks. She was, as ever, composed and inscrutable. In one swift glance around she took in the whole scene—the cardplayers under the window, Sam arrested at his pan of dough, and the injured man breathing hard upon the bed.
She went toward the latter with a noiseless, gliding motion.
"Mak' water hot," she said coolly over her shoulder to Sam. "Get clean rags for bandage."
Jack and his mates, hearing the English speech, glanced at each other meaningly. Nevertheless, speech humanized her, and they relaxed.
There was no leaping up of the unholy fires of the night before. They regarded her with great, new respect. They remained sitting motionless, absorbed in her every move, like the spectators of a play.
At the sound of her voice the injured man opened his eyes with a grunt. Seeing her, he rolled away as far as he could get on the bed, crying out in mingled pain and terror:
"Keep her away! Keep her away! Don't let her get me!"
Bela fell back with a scornful smile.
"Tell him I not hurt him," she said to Sam, who had gone to her. "Tell him I come to mak' him well."
Sam sought in vain to reassure Husky.
"I won't let her touch me!" the injured man cried. "She's a witch!"
"Let be," she said to Sam, shrugging. "I tell you w'at to do."
Under her direction Sam cut away his own rude bandage from Husky's shoulder and washed the wound. The bullet had gone cleanly through. Meanwhile Bela was macerating some leaves she had brought. She showed Sam how to apply the mass to the wound before rebandaging it. Husky strained away.
"Poison! Poison!" he cried. "Keep her away from me!"
"You crazy!" said Bela impatiently. "Look at me!"
She chewed some of the poultice and swallowed it before Husky's eyes.
"Are you afraid, too?" she asked Sam.
He shook his head, smiling, and ate one of the leaves.
But Husky, notwithstanding the evidence of his eyes, continued to cry out and to resist their ministrations.
"All right," said Bela at last. "I can't do not'ing. He got die, I guess." She started for the door.
A swift reaction passed over Husky. All in the same breath with his protests he began to beg her not to desert him. She came back, and he made no further objections to having her dress and bind his wound.
When it was all done, she made for the door again as coolly as she had come. Sam experienced a sudden sinking of the heart.
"Are you going?" he cried involuntarily.
Big Jack jumped up at the same moment. "Don't go yet," he begged.
Jack and the others had recovered sufficiently from the shock of their surprise to discuss in whispers what they should say to her.
"I come back to-morrow," said Bela. "I go home now to get medicine."
"Where do you live?" asked Jack.
"I not tell you," she answered coolly.
The sound of a snicker behind him brought a scowl to Jack's face. "I could easily find out," he muttered.
"If you follow me, I not come back," she announced.
"No offence," said Jack hastily. "But—it's darned funny. I leave it to you. Your coming and going like this. How did you get out last night?"
"I not tell you," she said again.
"'Tain't no wonder Husky's a bit leary of you. We all think——"
"What you think?" she asked mockingly.
"Well, we think it's funny," Jack repeated lamely.
"I don't care what you think," she retorted.
"Tell me one thing," said Jack. "What did you come here for first off?"
"Yes, I tell you what I come for," the girl said with a direct look. "I want see what white men lak. My fat'er him white man. I never see him. Him good man, good to women. So I think all white men good to women. I think no harm. I come here. I play trick for to mak' fun and be friends. Now I know ot'er white men not lak my fat'er. Now I look out for myself."
Big Jack had the grace to scowl shamefacedly and look away.
"Say, that's right," he muttered. "You're dead right, sister. We got in wrong. I'm sorry. These other fellows, they're sorry, too. We made it up togetherto tell you we was sorry. Give us a chance to show you we ain't plumb rotten."
The girl dimpled like a white woman. No walled look then.
"All right," she said. "I come to-morrow early. I be your friend."
When the next squall swooped down from the southerly hills, Bela set off in her dugout from the mouth of the creek. The wind helped carry her in the direction she wanted to go, and the sheets of rain hid her from the view of anyone who might be looking out from the shack.
Her Indian upbringing had taught her to disregard bodily comfort. Streaming like a mermaid, she crouched in her canoe, paddling with the regularity of a machine.
In two hours she had reached the other shore. By this time it had cleared, and the late sun was sending long, golden rays down the lake.
She found a scene of industry in the village, for the fishing had started in earnest. The women were splitting and cleaning the day's catch, and hanging the fish on racks to cure in the smoke of the fires. No surprise was elicited by her arrival. Bela had always gone and come as she chose.
Outside Charley's teepee she found her mother. Loseis's eyes lighted up at the sight of her, but she said nothing. She followed her into the teepee and unexpectedly seized and kissed her. They were mutually embarrassed. Bela had not learned to kiss among the tribe. Charley came in scowling.
"The fish are running," he said. "Everybody is working now. If you not work you get no fish."
"Keep your fish," said Bela.
In that teepee she was mum as to her adventures. Having changed her clothes in her own little bower in the pines, she sought out Musq'oosis and told him her story.
Musq'oosis was a little sore. He listened, smoking impassively and tending his share of the fish hanging in the smoke. Meanwhile the sun went down in troubled crimson splendour over the pines, presaging more squalls.
When she came to the end he said sententiously: "You foolish go alone. You want a man."
Bela was mum.
"What you want of me now?" he asked.
"Grease for the wound," said Bela. "A little food for myself."
"All right. I give you. You goin' back?"
"To-night."
"I go with you," suggested Musq'oosis.
Bela shook her head a little sullenly.
She had good reasons, but it was difficult to explain them.
"I got go alone," she said.
"All right," replied Musq'oosis huffily. "Why you want talk to me?"
Bela glanced at him appealingly. "You speak me good words," she said. "You moch my friend. But I go alone. I can't tell it good. When I alone I keep myself moch secret lak you tell me. They not see me come and go; think I got magic. They scare of me."
"All right," repeated Musq'oosis. "I lak sleep in my teepee. What you goin' do when you go back?"
"When the bishop come I goin' marry the cook," said Bela calmly.
"Um," grunted Musq'oosis. "Is he the bigges'?"
"No," answered Bela. "He littles'. I watch him. He got stronges' eye."
"So?"
"He is a pretty man," she said, suddenly lowering her head. "He mak' me want him bad. His eyes lak the sky at tam wild roses come. Hair bright lak mink-skin. He has kindness for women lak my fat'er got."
"H-m!" growled Musq'oosis; "you talk lak white woman."
"Tell me how to get him," said Bela simply.
Musq'oosis affected scorn. "Wa! All tam ask me what to do. Then go do what you lak, anyhow."
"You have good words," she put in meekly.
"I tell you before," grumbled Musq'oosis. "Don't let him see you want him or he never want you."
"I think he not want me moch," said Bela dejectedly. "Not lak ot'er men."
"Wait a while," encouraged Musq'oosis. "Hard wood slow to catch, but burn longer. I tell you again—keep your mouth shut. Don't let anythin' on. If ot'er men think you want the cook, they kill him maybe. White men sometam crazy lak that. You mus' all same mak' friends wit' all. Ask moch question. Watch them well. When you know their ways, you know what to do. Bam-by maybe you get your man to leave the ot'ers. Then it is easy."
"I do all you tell me," promised Bela.
"Come home to-morrow night," he said.
She rebelled at this. "No. I lak stay there. I can't be paddling over every day. Too far."
"Are you a fool?" asked Musq'oosis, exasperated. "Where you goin' stay at night?"
"I got little cache by the creek," she replied. "They no good in the bush. Can't see not'ing. I fool them all I lak. They never find me."
"Watch yourself," advised Musq'oosis. "It's a dangerous game."
"I got my little gun," she returned, tapping her breast. "They plenty scare of me now."
As soon as it cleared up Young Joe casually remarked that he guessed he'd wash his shirt and let it dry before the fire while he slept. Big Jack and Shand both allowed that it was a good idea, and presently the three of them were squatting together by the creek, sousing their garments in the icy water.
Later Jack and Joe made a dicker to cut each other's hair. Shand, hearing of this, was obliged to part with a necktie to get Jack to cut his also. A general shave ended the ablutions. This was remarkable, for Joe had shaved only the day before.
"A fellow hadn't ought to let himself get careless up in the bush," he opined.
There was a great beating and shaking of clothes, and a combined cleaning of the shack. Sam made a broom out of willow branches; Jack cut some poles, out of which he designed to make a chair after supper.
"She's got to have something to sit in when she's watching beside Husky's bed like," he said.
It did not occur to him that Bela had probably never in her life before sat in a chair.
"You're damned lucky to get her to nurse you after you brought it on yourself," Joe said to Husky.
Husky was now looking forward to her return no less than the others. He had taken a turn for the better, and no longer thought of dying.
After supper a high degree of amity prevailed in the shack. Joe and Shand helped with the chair, and then they all planned to make a table next day.
"Shand, lend a hand with this piece while I drive a nail, will you?" requested Jack politely.
"Sure thing! Say this is going to be out o' sight! You certainly have a good knack of making things, Jack."
"Oh, so-so. I ought to have a flat piece to put on the seat."
"I'll go out to the stable and see if I can find a box-cover."
"You stay here. I'll go," said Joe.
Sam, washing the dishes, harkened to this, and smiled a little grimly to himself, wondering how long it would last.
They retired early. The bed was given up to Husky, and the other four rolled up in their blankets across the room like a row of mummies. Calm brooded over the shack throughout the night.
Sam had not had so much time as the others to make himself presentable the night before, so he got up extra early for that purpose. Issuing out of the shack with soap, towel, razor, and glass, the first thing he beheld on rounding the shack was Bela. She was kneeling on a piece of wood to protect her knees from the wet ground, tearing and rolling some pieces of cotton for bandages.
She was dressed differently to-day—all in buckskin.
The newly risen sun was behind her, shooting misty beams across a lake of mother-of-pearl. The artist, latent in every man, arrested Sam, forcing him to wonder and admire.
Bela looked up calmly. "I waitin' till the men get up," she remarked.
"I'll call them," he offered, making a move to turn.
"Let them sleep," commanded Bela. "It is early."
Sam became uncomfortably conscious of his unkemptcondition. "You caught me unawares," he said. "I haven't washed up yet."
She glanced at him sidewise. Had he known it, he did not appear altogether at a disadvantage with his fair hair tousled and his shirt open at the throat.
"I don't care," she said, with a child's air of unconcern.
Presently she caught sight of the razor. "You got hair grow on your chin, too? That is fonny thing. Ot'er day I watch the curly-head one scrape his face. He not see me. What for you want scrape your face?"
Sam blushed. "Oh, it looks like a hobo if you don't," he stammered.
She repeated the word with a comical face. "What is hobo?"
"Oh, a tramp, a loafer, a bum."
"I on'erstan'," she said. "We got hoboes, too. My mot'er's 'osban' is a hobo."
She looked at his chin again. "Bishop Lajeunesse not scrape his chin," she stated. "Got long hair, so. He is fine man."
Sam, not knowing exactly what to say, remained silent. He found it difficult to accommodate himself to a conversational Bela. She was much changed in the morning light from the inscrutable figure of the fire-side. Ten times more human and charming, it is true, but on that account the more disconcerting to a young man, without experience of the sex. Moreover, her beauty took his breath away. Bela watched his blushes with interest.
"What mak' your face hot?" she asked. "There is no fire."
He could not but believe she was making fun of him. "Ah! cut it out!" he growled.
"White men fonny," said Bela, rolling her strips of cotton.
"Funny!" repeated Sam. "How about you? Hanged if you're not the strangest thing I ever came across."
Obviously this did not displease her. She merely shrugged.
He forgot some of his self-consciousness in his curiosity. "Where do you come from?" he asked, drawing nearer. "Where do you go to?"—"You wonderful creature!" his eyes added.
"No magic," she said calmly. "I just plain girl."
"Why wouldn't you tell them how you got out night before last?"
"Maybe I want get out again."
"Will you tell me?"
She glanced at him provokingly through her lashes. "Why I tell you? You just go tell your partners."
"They're no partners of mine," said Sam bitterly. "I should think you could see that. I'm just their cook. I work for my grub. They don't let me forget it either."
"Why you come to this country?" asked Bela.
"I want a piece of land the same as they do. But I've got to work to earn an outfit before I can settle."
"When you get your land what you do then?" she asked.
"Build a house, raise crops."
"White man all want land to dig," said Bela wonderingly.
"You've got to have land," explained Sam eagerly. "You've got to have something of your own. Outside, a poor man has no chance nowadays but to slave away his best years working for a rich man."
Bela studied his face, trying to grasp these ideas so new to her.
"How did you get out of the shack?" Sam asked her again.
"I tell you," she said abruptly. "I climb the chimney."
"By George!" he exclaimed admiringly.
"It was easy. But I get all black. I am all day cleaning myself after."
"You're a wonder!" he cried. "Travelling about alone and all. Are all the girls up here like you?"
"No," replied Bela quaintly. "There is nobody lak me. I am Bela."
"Where do you live?"
She looked at him again through her lashes. "Maybe I tell you when I know you better."
"Tell me now," he pleaded.
She shook her head.
Sam frowned. "There's generally no good behind a mystery," he remarked.
"Maybe," said Bela. "But I not goin' tell all I know."
There was something highly exasperating to a young man in her cool, smiling air. He stood looking at her, feeling oddly flat and baffled.
Suddenly she turned her head to listen. "They gettin' up now," she said quickly. "Go and wash."
"Can't I speak to you if I am the cook?" he demanded.
"Go and wash," she repeated. "I don' want no more trouble."
Sam shrugged and walked stiffly away. He had plenty to occupy his mind while he shaved. His sensationswere much mixed. In her subtle way the girl allured, mystified, and angered him all at once. Anger had the last word.
He would like to show her if he was the cook that he wasn't to be trifled with. He felt as if the most important thing in life was to solve the mystery that enshrouded her. However, the invigorating touch of cold water brought about a reaction. Violently scrubbing himself with the towel, he came to a sudden stop and addressed himself after this fashion:
"Steady, old man! You're heading in the wrong direction. You've got to get a toehold yourself before you can look at a girl. She's a sight too good-looking. You can't think about it straight. Forget it! Anyhow, a girl like that, she'd naturally pick a man like Big Jack or Shand. No use storing up trouble for yourself. Put it out of mind. Look the other way. Harden yourself."
Young Joe swung his heavy shoulders around the shack. Seeing Bela alone, he could scarcely credit his good fortune. He approached her, grinning and fawning in his extreme desire to please.
"Hello! You're an early bird," he said.
Bela looked at him in her most inscrutable way.
"How!" she said, offering him her hand according to the etiquette of the country.
Joe fondled it clumsily. "Say, the sight of you is good for sore eyes!" he cried, leering into her face. "Hanged if you ain't better looking than the sun-rise!"
Bela determinedly freed her hand. "Foolish talk!" she said loftily. "Wake the ot'er men and let us eat."
"Aw, don't be in such a rush," pleaded Joe. "I want to talk to you. I won't likely get another chance."
"What you want say?" she asked. "More foolishness, I think."
"Aw, give a fellow a chance," begged Joe. "Be decent to me."
"Well, say it," she commanded.
Joe's feeling was genuine enough. The conqueror of the sex found himself at a loss for words.
"The—the sight of you kind of ties a man's tongue," he stammered. "I can't say it right. You're certainly a wonder! I never thought there was anything like you up here. I could stop here all day just taking you in!"
"I couldn't," said Bela coolly. "I too 'ongry. Wake the ot'er men and go wash."
Joe stared at her, scowling, trying to discover if he was being made game of.
"Ah," he growled, "you might give me a chance to make good."
"I will cook breakfast," said Bela. "I bring some nice whitefish."
"To the deuce with breakfast!" cried Joe. "I spoke you fair. You're only trying to put me off!"
"If you don't wake the men," said Bela coolly, "I will."
Her eyes were as clear as the lake waters. Joe's fell before them. He went sullenly back and shouted in the door of the shack.