For the next few days he had plenty of leisure to reflect. He wondered whether Beorn's treatment of Spurling, and the fact that he had shown him to him on the earliest occasion, was meant as a threat to himself; or had the disclosures which he had made in his delirium given him the impression that he also was entirely Spurling's enemy. The bearing of Eyelids and of Peggy led him to believe that the latter supposition was correct. His natural instinct was to free the man at once,--but he thought better of it; Spurling would be at least kept out of mischief there till he himself was well.

Now that his mind was at ease, he commenced to mend rapidly; when two more days had pa.s.sed, he was up and able to get about without much help. On visiting the trading-store he found that his canoe was lying there, just as he had brought it back; nothing of its contents had been removed or unpacked. He sat down beside it, and tried to formulate his plans.

So far, in spite of his illness, everything had happened for the best.

Spurling was safe until he should require him. The gold was now in his absolute possession. Very shortly Eyelids and Beorn would set out on their winter's hunt, leaving him, save for Peggy, free to act un.o.bserved. But he had made a discovery, the knowledge of which disturbed him--that a part, at least, of the reason for Peggy's reticence and new gentleness was that before long she would be a mother. That fact made him feel differently towards her; he could not now desert her, for it would mean abandoning his child.

When he pictured to himself what the Northland might do for a child who was fatherless, especially if it were a girl, he knew that, whatever plans he made, they must include his half-breed wife.

Moreover, her approaching maternity appealed to the chivalry in his nature, making him ashamed that he had ever thought to leave her.

Until his child was born, at whatever risk to himself, he must postpone his departure and lie in hiding at Murder Point. And after that? He must take her into his confidence, as he should have done long ago, as if she were all white. He would have to leave her behind at first, but would make arrangements for her to follow after him when the road was clear.

Having arrived at this point, his train of reasoning was broken off by the appearance of Eyelids, who came to ask for two outfits, and to inform him that he and Beorn had determined to set out on the winter trail that night. The rest of the day was spent in preparations, and the getting together of their teams of huskies.

Just before they left, a visit was paid to Spurling in the cabin, and the key was handed over to Granger. While there, Granger referred to the matter which he had been wanting to mention all day. Turning to Eyelids, as though it were of little importance, he said, "Before you return, as I daresay you've noticed, something will have happened. I want you to promise me to come back for Christmas Eve, so that we may celebrate the event." Then, throwing aside his disguise of indifference, he spoke more earnestly, "I want you and Beorn to promise me that."

Spurling looked sharply up from his corner; being ignorant of the matter which Granger hinted at, he watched to see if the words contained a reference to himself. Peggy turned her head away and began to steal softly out. But her brother stayed her, and throwing his arm about her shoulder, said, "I promise you; we shall return." And Beorn gave him his hand as a sign of his a.s.sent.

They closed and locked the door on the prisoner, and the father and son set out.

A sudden instinct for carefulness had prompted him to make that request. At the last moment he had thought that he noticed on Beorn's part a certain uneasiness in handing over to him the custody of Spurling. He was afraid that the distrust might grow upon him, causing him to return unexpectedly, perhaps just at the time when he and Spurling were starting on their southward journey. It was to prevent such an interference with his plans that he had named a definite time for their next meeting, for, by so doing, he had given Beorn to understand that he intended to remain at Murder Point throughout December. The hinting at the birth of his child had added to his request a show of naturalness, and had at the same time let them know that he was aware of his wife's condition--a difficult knowledge to communicate to people who spoke rarely, and then only of trivial affairs. As yet he had not decided as to when he would set out, for he hesitated between the manfully fulfilling of his new responsibility and the callously accomplishing of his old purpose; if he should choose the latter, he had provided for Peggy so that she would not be left too long by herself, by the promise which he had exacted from her brother and father to return for Christmas Eve.

For the first time he was left truly alone with her. Standing side by side, they watched the trappers descend the Point to the pier, where their dogs lay waiting them. The whips cracked and the teams straightened out.

For a few strides they moved toward the opposite bank and then, to Granger's amazement, wheeled to the left, and commenced travelling up-river to the west. The loaded sleds swung lightly over the ice and, as he listened, the shouting of the drivers and the yelping of the huskies grew fainter, till they were no more heard. He was made terribly afraid by the direction they had taken, for he knew that Beorn's trapping grounds had always lain to the northwards, and never around G.o.d's Voice; they were still less likely to do so now, since he had quarrelled with the factor. Then why had he gone to the west?

He turned to the girl at his side to question her, "Did you know that they were going there?" he said. She did not answer him; he saw that her eyes were intently fixed upon the bend. Her lips moved, and her hands made the sign of the cross upon her breast as if she were praying. Without replying, she entered the shack.

He did not follow her, for his feelings were changed with anger. He felt that, whether knowingly or unknowingly, they had betrayed him through their secretiveness. While he had been absent they must have heard that Spurling was a man with a price upon his head. They might even have learnt it from Pilgrim at the time of his June visit, but had not laid hands upon him because he had appeared to be his friend.

But now since their return, in his delirium he had probably uttered words concerning Spurling which had left them with the impression that he desired his death--and had given them their excuse for gratifying their own covetousness and revenge for the Forbidden River trespa.s.s.

Even what he had said to them about returning for Christmas Eve might have been taken as having a double meaning, referring not only to the birth of the child, but also to the thousand-dollar reward to be gained by the arrest. Spoken as it was, in the prison-cabin, that was most likely how it had been taken. Since they had accepted him as their confederate, it seemed evident that they did not know that the arrest of Spurling might entail his own hanging. If all that he had conjectured was true, he had now no option but to release Spurling and to make good his escape with him at once; for from Murder Point to G.o.d's Voice was no more than seventy miles. At once! But he would not be strong enough to travel for some days yet, and Spurling could not be in very excellent condition for such a journey--to be thrown into an out-house and left there for a fortnight, with back bent double and arms and legs bound, is not the best kind of training.

Before doing anything rash he would talk to Peggy, and find out how much she knew about it. Following her into the shack, he made fast the door and threw himself on the pile of furs which had been his couch.

The lamp was not lighted, but the stove was red-hot and scattered an angry glare. He called to her; she came to him timidly from the far end of the room and sat down beside him. He commenced abruptly by telling her that the man who was chained out there in the cabin was a murderer. Did she know that? She nodded. How did she know that? She shuddered, and pointed with her hand out of the window in the direction of the bend.

He did not gather what she meant, but for the present he let it pa.s.s.

And did she know that there were a thousand dollars offered for Spurling's capture? She shrugged her shoulders, and again gave her a.s.sent. Then, raising himself on his elbow, he asked her plainly, "Is that what Eyelids has gone to get?"

She smiled down at him as though she were owning to something worthy; "I hope so," she said.

"Why do you hope so," he asked in a hard voice; "because of the money?"

She drew back from him as though he had affronted her. "No, not for that," she said, speaking slowly.

"Then why?"

"Because he is trying to take you away from me."

"And you think that when the Mounted Police have hanged him that it will be all right, and I shall stay here?"

She did not answer him, but he knew that she was thinking of her child. "Whether Spurling escapes or is taken," he said, "will make no difference to my doings. I cannot stay; they are hunting for me, because they think I also am a murderer."

She turned sharply round. "But we are doing this to save you; we thought that you agreed and understood. When you have given them this man, they will pardon you, and you will be allowed to stay."

"Who told you that? Was it Antoine?"

"Robert Pilgrim."

He laughed in her face. "Bah! Robert Pilgrim!" he exclaimed. "He told you that, and you believed him! Why, you little fool, he doesn't care a curse what happens to Spurling, whether he's caught or gets away; it's me that he's anxious to put to death. But he couldn't have told you that when we were in hiding on Huskies' Island, or you'd have betrayed us then."

"He sent word to us by a messenger while you were away. But, if I had known, I shouldn't have betrayed you then, for this man seemed to be at that time your friend."

"Then why have you done so now?"

"Because he has become your enemy and you hate him; and because there is no other way of saving you for my child and for myself. He is trying to take you away from me." She spoke in a fierce strained whisper, kneeling, with her hands spread out before her, and her head thrown back.

"You haven't saved me," he said, rising to his feet angrily; "all you've done is to place the rope about my neck."

CHAPTER XIX

THE HAND IN THE DOORWAY

He picked up a lantern and, having lighted it, left the shack. Going round the out-building of the store, he made his way through the snow to the cabin where Spurling was imprisoned. As he placed the key in the padlock, he could hear the rattle of the chains of the man inside.

Having opened the door, he halted on the threshold, afraid and ashamed to enter. There was dead silence. Lifting the lantern above his head, he could make out the figure of Spurling, crouched like a beast on knees and hands, with eyes which watched him doubtfully.

"They have gone," he said.

Spurling did not answer, but followed his every movement.

"They have gone," he repeated; "but they have not gone to the Forbidden River--they have gone in the direction of G.o.d's Voice."

Then Spurling spoke. "Thank G.o.d," he said, "for they'll hang you as well."

Granger placed the lantern on the floor and sat himself down.

"Spurling," he said, "we both of us have some old scores to pay off; at the present moment, I happen to have the upper hand. But this is not the time to settle them. For instance, you have never told me the name of the woman whom you shot in the Klondike."

Spurling broke in furiously, saying, "I have told you already, that it was not a woman I murdered, but a man."

Granger waved him aside with his hand. "I'm not asking you her name,"

he said. "We've not got the time to quarrel, for there is still a chance of our saving ourselves. It'll take Beorn and Eyelids at least four days to reach G.o.d's Voice and come back. But I don't think they'll touch at G.o.d's Voice at all; they'll skirt it and go farther south. They won't trust Robert Pilgrim, lest he should claim a part of the reward. If I know Eyelids, it's the thousand dollars he's after, and he wants it all for himself. Their purpose is to go on until they meet the winter patrol, so that they may be able to give direct information to the Mounted Police themselves. Now before they do that, a good deal of time may be lost, for the winter patrol has hardly started as yet, and it may go in a new direction so that they'll miss it at first. With the best of luck, they'll have to travel three hundred miles, a ten days' journey, before they fall in with it. While they're searching for it, we shall be able to slip by them and get out. If you'll promise to stand by me I'll release you. If you won't, I shall leave you here and go on myself. But I warn you fairly, no man, unless he leaves the gold behind him, can make that journey by himself with any hope of surviving. Our last chance, whether we want to reach El Dorado or merely to save our lives, is to stick together and persuade ourselves that we are friends."

"I'll stand by you," Spurling said; "I'm no more anxious to die by the rope or starvation than you are yourself. But what are we to do with the half-breed woman--your wife? To leave her behind us, free to go where she chooses, would be suicide."

Granger eyed him angrily, for he did not like the sinister whisper in which he had asked that question. He might just as well have said, "Shall I shoot her while you go outside and sc.r.a.pe out her grave?" But to have paid attention to it just then would have brought them to high words at the outset; so he said, "We can't take her with us, for she is soon to have a child. But I think, when I have explained things to her, she'll give us her promise to keep our secret, and we shall be able to trust her word."