The Huntress Part 36

Bela lowered her eyes and watched the little whirl-pools in the train of her paddle. "I un'erstan'," she murmured.

"After an affair like this men look on a girl as fair game. I ain't saying it's right, but it's so. You want to look out for those other fellows now."

"I look out," said Bela.

"Come with me and I'll keep you from them," Joe went on, trying to speak carelessly; meanwhile his eyes were burning. "Of course, you can't expect me to marry you now, but I'll keep you in better style than you've ever known. There's nothing mean about me."

Bela raised her eyes and dropped them quickly. There was a spark in their depths that would have warned a man less vain than Joe. She said nothing.

"Well, is it a go?" he breathlessly demanded.

"I don't know," said Bela slowly. Her voice gave nothing away. "I got get married if I can."

"Who would marry you now?" cried Joe.

"I don't know. Somebody, I guess. Pretty near every man I see want marry me."

Joe sneered. "Not now! Not when this gets about."

"Maybe the big man want marry me," she suggested. "Or the black one."

Joe laughed scornfully. At the same time a horrible anxiety attacked him. Those two were old; they couldn't afford to be so particular as he. One of them might----

"Any'ow I not go wit' you now," said Bela. "Plenty time."

"You'd better look out for yourself," Joe burst out, "or you'll get in worse than you are already. You'll be sorry then."

"All right," she returned calmly.

Joe sat fuming. Anger and balked desire made his comely, brutal face look absurd and piteous. It was like a wilful child denied the moon.

Joe could never resist his emotions. Whether or not Bela had guessed it, it was bound to come.

"Oh, h.e.l.l!" he cried. "Look here, if Jack or Shand offer to marry you, I'll match them, see? Is that a go? You'd sooner have me, wouldn't you? I'm young."

Bela neither smiled nor frowned. "I think about it," she said.

"No you don't!" he cried. "You've got to promise now or I'll withdraw it!"

"I tell you somesing," said Bela, concealing the wicked sparkle in her eye. "I not want the big man. Not want the black man either. I tell you, if I marry any of the three, I tak' you."

Conceited Joe swallowed it whole. "I'm satisfied," he cried. "By George, I'd like to bind it with a kiss!"

"Look out, you turn us over," said Bela coolly. "The water moch cold."

Joe was quite carried away. "You beauty!" he cried. "Your skin is like cream. Your hair is like black velvet. You sit there as proud as a leading lady. I can't wait for you!"

"I ain't promise not'ing yet," said Bela warningly.

Johnny Gagnon's place was at the strategic point on Musquasepi where the forest ended and the meadows began. In the winter-time the freighters left the ice here, and headed straight across the bottom lands for the lake.

Gagnon kept a stopping-house for the freighters. It was the last house on the route to the head of the lake seventy-five miles away, excepting the shack at Nine-Mile Point, which had never been occupied until Big Jack and his party camped there.

Besides being a strategic point, it was one of those natural sites for a homestead that men pick out when there is a whole land to choose from. The bank rolled up gradually from the water's edge, and Gagnon's whole establishment was revealed from the river--dwelling, bunk-house, stable--all built of logs and crouching low on the ground as if for warmth.

The buildings had been there so long they had become a part of the landscape. The log walls were weathered to a silvery grey, and the vigorously sprouting sod roofs repeated the note of the surrounding gra.s.s.

On this particular afternoon there was something afoot at Johnny Gagnon's. The different members of the large family were running about like ants in a disturbed hill. A cloud of dust was issuing from the house door, propelled by a resolute broom.

Innumerable pails of water were being carried up from the river, and windows and children washed impartially. One of the big boys was burning rubbish; another was making a landing-stage of logs on the muddy sh.o.r.e.

In any other place such a spasm of house-cleaning need excite no remark, but among the happy-go-lucky natives of the north it is portentous. Clearly a festival was imminent.

Such was the sight that met the eyes of those in the rowboat and the dugout as they came around the bend above. Johnny Gagnon himself came running down to meet them. He was a little man, purely Indian in feature and colouring, but betraying a vivacity which suggested the French ancestor who had provided him with a surname.

The surname lasts longer than most white characteristics. It is a prized possession up north. If a man has a surname he votes.

Johnny was a vivacious Indian. Such anomalies are not uncommon on the border of the wilderness. His sloe-black eyes were p.r.o.ne to snap and twinkle, and his lips to part over dazzling teeth.

His hands helped out his tongue in the immemorial Latin style. Though he was the father of four strapping sons and several marriageable girls, not to speak of the smaller fry, time had left surprisingly few marks on him.

Johnny held up his hands at the sight of Sam, bound. He was delighted to have this additional excitement added to his br.i.m.m.i.n.g store.

"Wa! a prisoner!" he cried. "Good! we will have a trial. You must tell me all. You come back just right. Big tam! Big tam! Never was so much fun in my house before!"

"What's up?" asked Jack.

"Big crowd comin' to-morrow!" replied the excited Johnny Gagnon.

"Trackin' up rapids to-day. Send a fellow up ahead ask my wife bake plenty bread."

"Who all is it?"

Johnny counted them off on his fingers: "Bishop Lajeunesse and two priests. Every year come to marry and baptize. That's three. Four, Indian agent. Him come pay Indians gov'ment money by the treaty. Got big bag money. Five, gov'ment doctor. He look at him for sick. It is in the treaty. Six, seven, Sergeant Coulson and 'not'er policeman.

They go round wit' agent and ask all if any man do wrong to him. That is seven white men comin'! But wait! But wait! There is something else beside!"

"What?" asked Jack.

"A white woman!" announced Johnny triumphantly.

Bela frowned and stole a side glance at Sam. The men having lately come from the land of white women were not especially impressed.

"Only one white woman here before," Johnny went on. "Her comp'ny trader's wife. This her sister. Call Mees Mackall. Her old, but got no 'osban' at all. That is fonny thing I t'ink. Boys say all tam talk, laugh, nod head. Call her chicadee-woman."

Bela looked relieved at this description.

Sam, hearing of the expected company, smiled. Surely, with the law and the church at hand, an honest man had nothing to fear. He glanced at Bela a little triumphantly, but she made her face inscrutable to him.

Somewhat to his surprise he perceived that Jack and the other men were also pleased at the news. There was something here he did not understand.