"They stared at me so rudely that I burnt them. Ancestors ought to remember they're dead, and they'd rather be burned, too, than be claimed as Polly's aunts."

"And the Star Pack-train?"

"A half-interest, my dear, a half-interest, that's all."

"So you're in partnership?"

"Why, no. Fact is, old Pete has been working thirty-five years, with his faithful eyes shining behind that hair--it's silver now, eh? Well, I couldn't leave him in the lurch. And there's the Hudson's Bay to consider, with forts up north depending on us for supplies. And I suppose, when I come to think of it, I'm rather proud of the outfit.

So, in my sentimental way, I made a deed by which Pete is managing owner, with a half-interest, while Polly is sleeping partner with no right to interfere."

"You've told Pete?"

"No. I suppose I've got to own up?"

"You don't want Pete to be cheated by his partners."

"You're right. Just open my desk and look inside. It's the paper on top."

I found and read the deed.

"You've read it, of course," I said.

"It was read to me by the lawyer chap. Isn't it all right?"

"Oh, yes," I managed to say, "it's all right--such funny legal jargon."

I looked at the names of the witnesses, Cultus McTavish and Low-lived Joe, the worst characters in our district. The doc.u.ment read to the old blind man had been no doubt destroyed. The deed actually signed made Polly sole owner of the famous pack-train. My friend had been cheated.

CHAPTER V

THE CARGADOR

_Kate's Narrative_

It was sixty degrees below zero. The moonlight lay in silver on the pines, the hundred-and-four-mile cabin, deep buried among the drifts, glittered along the eaves with icicles, the smoke went up into the hush of death, and the light in the frosted window would glow till nearly dawn.

Within, Pete sat upon his shiny bench, rolling waxed end upon his shiny knee, and tautened his double st.i.tches through the night, scarcely feeling the need of sleep. His new _aparejos_, stacked as they were finished, had gradually crowded poor Mrs. Pete into her last stronghold, the corner between the wood-box and the bunk. Fiercely she resented the filling of her only room with harness, of her bunk with sc.r.a.p leather, which scratched her, she said. Wedged into her last corner, she would patch disgraceful old socks, while Pete at his sewing crooned _One More River_, or some indecent ballad of the gold mines.

"Mother," Pete would look up from his bench. "You mind when I brung her here right to this very cabin, with Father Jared, and the Baby, David?"

"What makes you hover, Pete?"

"D'ye mind Baby David?"

"Didn't I nurse him?" said the old woman softly. "He'd red hair like his stuck-up mother, blue eyes same as Jesse, and a birthmark on his off kidney. Now, did you ask her about that birthmark?"

"I told her," said Pete, "that a suspicious female, with a face like a grebe and an inquirin' mind is wishful to inspeck Dave's kidneys."

Mother wagged her head. "I own I'd like to believe Kate Smith is back in this country, but you're such a continuous and enduring liar."

"That's so," said Pete.

One day when the sun shone brightly into the cabin, Billy arrived with a letter from Captain Taylor. Pete would not give it to mother, or read it aloud, or even tell the news. He danced an ungainly hornpipe, and mother had to shake him.

"Can a woman's tender care Cease toward the child She--Bear?

In the Old town To-night my ba-Bee!"

"Now what on airth's the matter with yew?" mother boiled over.

"Yes, she may forgetful Bee, Yet will I--remember Me.

"Finish them riggings by first May, says he.

"Says the old Obadiah To the young Obadiah, Obadiah, Obadiah!

Oh, be d.a.m.ned!

"Says I'm partner and boss of the outfit, and running the whole shootin'

match, and I'll get more wealth than'll patch h.e.l.l a mile, and

"Thar's none like Nancy Lee, I trow, Ow! Ow!

"Oh, mother, Bolt's give me a half-interest, and ain't this a happy little home, my darlin'!"

At that Mrs. Pete flung her skinny arms around his neck, and the two silly old things sobbed together.

A week later, when, to save Pete a long tramp, Billy rode down with the rations, he found the old people concerned "about this yere partnership."

"Mother allows this Brooke is trash," said Pete, wagging his snowy head, "and for all the interest he takes he's mostly corpse. Thar's sh.o.r.ely holes in my 'skito bar."

Billy read the letter thoughtfully.

"Brooke been to see the riggings?" he asked.

"Once in December. He don't know nothin', either."

"Wonder what he wants?"

"Smells mean, eh?"

"A mean smell, Pete."

Billy had spent the week tracking down the two bad characters who had served as witnesses to a false agreement. Their confession was now in evidence against Brooke, in case he dared repudiate Mathson's rights as partner, but there was no need to alarm the cargador. So Billy changed the subject, demanding tea, and there was a fine gossip.

"Mr. O'Flynn," asked mother, "hev yew bin in love?"