The Lady of North Star

“So!” answered Sibou. “And they went from here, since they are not to be found in this place. It is in my mind that they were carried – for there were dogs here as well as men.”

“But who – ”

“Indians! The trail is not that of white men’s feet.”

“Then we must follow,” cried the corporal.

“Yes,” answered Sibou gravely. “We must follow. But I shall go first, whilst you remain here. If I find nothing, then I shall be back in one hour or two. It is in my mind that there is an encampment not far away, and it is better that we do not take the dogs till we know. If they are bad Indians – ”

“In God’s name, hurry!” cried Roger Bracknell, his courage shaken by the thought of the new danger into which Joy Gargrave appeared to have fallen.

CHAPTER XXIII

PRISONERS

WHEN Dick Bracknell had led the way from the cabin he knew that he was leading a forlorn hope. It was possible that many hours would pass before the men in the camp discovered their flight; whilst on the other hand the discovery might be made immediately and, in that case, as the ruthlessness of the attackers had shown, there was little hope of escape. But there were dangers before as well as behind, and the wilderness of the North was itself the greatest danger. They had little food, he himself was a very sick man, ill-fitted for the strenuous toil which the situation called for, and in the woods wild beasts and wild men might lurk, against whom, armed merely with pistols and hunting knives, they would be almost helpless. All this he knew, but braced himself for the task before him, determined at all costs to save the two girls and to win Joy’s respect if that was at all possible.

When they won to the darkness of the forest without discovery, he breathed more freely, and pushed on along an ill-defined track, which he seemed to know well. As the night wore on, he grew unutterably tired, and once when he was overtaken by a fit of coughing, which left him terribly exhausted, Joy suggested that they should rest for a little while.

“Are you too tired to continue?” he asked.

“Oh no,” she answered quickly.

“Then we will keep on.”

“But you are not fit to do so,” she protested. “Your cough – ”

“What do I matter?” he replied with a mirthless laugh. “I am done for in any case, and we must be a long way from here before morning. This is the only service I shall ever be able to render you, and you are not going to deny me the chance of atonement which it gives, are you?”

“I was not thinking of that!” answered Joy gently. “I was thinking only of you.”

“And I am thinking only of you!” he retorted quickly. “I have thought of myself too long. I am very glad to have this opportunity of service, however I may regret the circumstances.”

“I am very grateful to you,” was Joy’s reply, and without further words they started anew upon their way.

Once they stopped, and ate a little food which had been prepared before leaving the cabin, and then pushed on until dawn, when a fire was lit, and a halt for a couple of hours was made. At the end of that time they resumed their desperate journey, and an hour later struck the river for which Dick Bracknell had been making. A look of relief came on his haggard face as he saw it.

“It will be easier now,” he said, “and unless the Indians have removed we shall reach the encampment all right now.”

“Unless those men overtake us!”

“Yes! In that case we are up a tree.”

“And of course if the Indians are hospitable we – Ah! Look there?”

She indicated a point a little way up the river. A man had emerged from the trees. He stood there regarding them for a moment, then without a sign he withdrew.

“An Indian,” said Joy quickly. “I am sure of it!”

“Yes,” answered Dick Bracknell slowly, “an Indian. But he may be one of these men who are following us. The question is, what are we to do? Our way lies up river.”

“Perhaps it will be better if we take to the woods again,” suggested Miss La Farge.

“There is little to be gained by doing that,” replied Bracknell. “The man has seen us, and if he is hostile he will follow. The only course, I think, is to keep straight on.”

They were still discussing when Joy broke in.

“The question is solved for us,” she said quickly. “There are men in the wood behind us. See!”

She had scarcely spoken when an Indian stepped from the wood, and another followed, and another until seven men stood on the trail.

“How!” said the leader, approaching them.

Bracknell replied to the salutation, and the man spoke to his companions who drew nearer, apparently quite friendly disposed to them. Then came a change. One of the men stepped forward, looked at the white man, and gave a sudden exclamation. Then he turned towards his companions and addressed them volubly. Joy strove to catch what he was saying, but the dialect in which he spoke was strange to her, and she could make nothing of his words. It was clear to her, however, that the man was excited, and as he spoke the excitement communicated itself to his companions. Joy looked at Dick Bracknell for an explanation, and found that his face was very white.

“What is it?” she asked quickly. “Something has gone wrong?”

“Yes, terribly wrong. These men will be merciless. I have done you my last dis-service.”

“What do you mean?” she questioned, as she looked at the gesticulating natives.

“I did this tribe a grave wrong, two years ago. One of the men has recognized me, and I think there is little hope for us. We might put up a fight, but it would probably be little use, and would certainly jeopardize your life as well as mine. If they get me, they may let you go. It is worth trying. I will explain and perhaps – ” He broke off and took a step forward.

“What are you going to do?” inquired Joy sharply.

“Just going to try what a little explanation will do,” he answered, “a little explanation coupled with persuasion.”

“No!” she replied quickly. “You are going to make a bargain with those men. I know you are, and I shall not agree. We stand or fall together.”

“Do you think you are wise?” he asked.

“I do not know whether I am wise or not,” she answered firmly. “But I keep the faith of the trail, and I shall not leave you in the lurch. Neither will Babette, I am sure.”

As he regarded her, a strange look came into his eyes, a look of mingled pride and pain.

“Joy,” he said brokenly, “you are a great woman and I was never worthy of you!.. You can take your chances with me if you like. When I come to think upon it they are perhaps as good as those that wandering in the wilderness, short of stores, offers. They may spare you; who knows? And it is coming spring. You can feel it in the air. A few days and the river will begin to break up, and then will come white men, prospectors and what not. You may have a chance.”

“It is by that chance I shall abide,” Joy replied, “and not by any that leaves you to the mercy of savages.”

The Indians finished their confabulation and the leader stepped forward again, and with lowering looks addressed himself to Dick Bracknell, who nodded and then handed over his pistol and hunting knife, and with his back to Joy addressed her in warning.

“Keep your pistol out of sight, Joy. These brutes will not suspect you are carrying one, and we may yet find it very useful. They demand that we accompany them to their encampment up the river. I have agreed, since there is nothing else that I can do. I do not think they will hurt you or Miss La Farge – yet.”

A few minutes later they started and presently arrived at an encampment consisting of perhaps a score of tepees. Dogs greeted their coming noisily, children and women came out of the skin tents to look at them, and a few men joined their captors as they moved towards the centre of the camp. Just as they halted, a tall Indian came out of one of the tents, and by his side tottered a man who seemed incredibly old, but though his step was feeble, his eyes were keen, and as they fell on Dick Bracknell they lighted with sudden ferocity, and as she caught the glare he directed towards them, Joy felt the clutch of fear at her heart.

“Who is that old man?” she asked. “He knows you. I saw the recognition leap in his eyes.”

“He is the Shaman – the tribal witch-doctor, you know. I am afraid his recognition of me is not a propitious one. He is a ferocious old beast, and he owes me one.”