At the meager breakfast Donald realized for the first time that Maria had not appeared since the night before, when he had seen her upon their arrival. When he had pulled up his belt a notch, and lighted his pipe, the trapper's subst.i.tute for a full meal, he wandered back to the tent where he had slept. He was allowed perfect liberty among these men, first, because the weather made it impossible for him to attempt escape, and, second, because they had received no orders to keep him under strict guard. Despite his wretched situation, this morning the spirit of happiness and determination that had seized him the night before was strong upon him, and he settled himself to formulating his plans. Suddenly, right beside him at the tent door, he discovered the bent form of old Maria.

How she had got there he did not know, for she seemed to have risen directly out of the earth. Her presence both startled him, and filled him with a quick hatred.

This was the creature who held in her filthy, withered hand the happiness of so many persons; this was the creature that his father had lov--No! Not that, for he could only have loved the beautiful girl he had married in Montreal.

Donald looked at the old woman with a kind of pitying loathing.

What a terrible thing it was that such a worthless bit of humanity should hold so much power! She was within reach of his hands. A quick clutch, a stifled squawk, a brief struggle, and she would be dead. And how much that was to come might be averted! He laughed a little at such a method of cutting the Gordian knot.

"Laugh while you can, young McTavish," Maria croaked, suddenly.

"It won't be for long."

"Why not, old raven?" he asked, regarding her interestedly.

The certificate! That was it. She had the certificate, and he must get it.

"The right man is coming," she replied. "The pride of his father's heart! Ha, ha! Yes, the pride of his father's heart! He'll be rich, and have the honors heaped high. You'd better go, young McTavish--go while there's yet time."

"Why should I go? What are you talking about, anyway, old woman?

"You lie!" she yelled at him suddenly, being close. "I see it in your eyes. You know all. You know why you should go. And I warn you to go."

"Warn me? What about?"

"If there should be blood, it would do no hurt," she muttered, vaguely. "Then, he would come into his own, the rightful heir, my son."

Donald glanced at the beldam with a certain uneasiness now. He felt a veiled threat, although, he told himself, she was mad. And, yet if she felt that Seguis must be recognized, what would keep her from doing incalculable harm?

"You talk a lot, but you say little," he retorted, with a sneer.

"You make plenty of moves, but you accomplish nothing. That's a squaw every time."

The little eyes blazed upon him red, and her withered face shook with fury.

"Accomplish nothing, eh, young McTavish? We shall see. Ha! You'll wish you'd never been born--you and your father and mother, and all!"

"More talk!" he gibed. "I want proofs. If you can show me proofs of what you claim, I'll do all I can to help your son to his rightful place."

"My son!" she taunted, in turn. "Your brother? Your brother, young McTavish! Call him brother, next time you see him." Her shrieking mirth mingled fittingly with the anguish of the wind among the trees. But suddenly, she stopped short, and looked at him with questioning eyes.

"You'll help him, you say, if I can give the proof that I was McTavish's wife?"

"Yes."

Donald lied heartily: the occasion demanded it. Long since, he had decided for himself that truth was not a garment to be worn on all occasions. To those he loved, he would tell the truth if it killed him, but others must depend upon the circ.u.mstances of the case. Now, he knew that, if he could get doc.u.mentary proof within arm's reach, he would destroy it, though it earned him a knife between the ribs. He watched her like a hawk, although apparently totally indifferent to the conversation.

"You promise you'll help him--my son?

"Yes."

Donald's vision suddenly became riveted upon the clawlike right hand of the hag. An involuntary muscle, following the half-ordained bidding of the brain, had moved perhaps three inches toward her breast. There, it stopped, and slipped down again.

"Look in my eyes," the witch commanded, bending down and putting her face close.

He removed his pipe, and turned to meet her gaze. Then, he realized that never in his life had he looked into human eyes that in cruelty, keenness, and suspicion equaled these. That glare went through the retina, into the brain, and down, down to the hidden and undiscoverable recess of the soul, plumbing, searching, proving.

He began to feel as though he were looking at a dazzling light...

Suddenly, the light was turned off, and he heard a snarl.

"Liar! I can see the treachery in your heart! Fool, to try to deceive me! I might have put trust in your words once; but now I know!" In her fury, she seemed saner than he had ever known her hitherto, and it was then, for the first time, that he got an idea of Maria's abnormal powers of a.n.a.lysis. Any person who could rivet one with a gaze like that, he thought, was worth watching. For fully ten minutes, she raved, scattering words with prodigal recklessness. McTavish did not listen to the abuse. He was thinking of other things. Presently, she flung herself out of the tent, with a final shriek, and the man acted at once.

He fastened on his snowshoes and crawled awkwardly out on all-fours after her. In the driving, blinding snow, he could just see her small figure, dimly. He followed it. The involuntary motion of Maria's hand to her bosom was the one thing that he had needed. He had been afraid that some split tree, or hollow beneath a rock, might contain the thing he wanted; now, he was certain that she carried it upon her person.

On he went, away from the camp, of which the circle of tents was almost buried. Donald, veering from the path, since it might lead to an embarra.s.sing encounter, kept his quarry always in sight, and followed. Was the woman crazy, he wondered, that she should wander aimlessly out into a death-dealing storm? But, at last, when he was on the point of turning back for fear of losing his location entirely, Maria came to the foot of an unusually large tree, and halted. The pursuer dropped behind a little drift he had just started to mount, and waited. If this were her destination, he knew she would peer about. A moment later, his suspicions were verified.

But, In the quick glance of her keen eyes, she pa.s.sed over the practically invisible snow-covered form that lay so near her. When the man raised his head again, she had turned her attention to the tree, and had pulled open a little, low door that allowed her to crawl into the very heart of the trunk. A moment later, the door swung to, and Maria apparently was no more.

McTavish did not wonder now why he had seen her so seldom in the camp. No doubt, she had her own supply of food safe inside, and did not come out until hunger or her inclination prompted. He looked at the tree to mark it in his mind, and observed that it was tall and bare, with practically no needles or foliage of any sort. Huge b.u.mps and broken limbs made it one in a thousand. On the leeward side of the tree, he thought he noticed a glow of light. He brushed the snow from his eyes, and looked again. This time, he was sure.

He guessed that this was an air-hole bored through the wall of the trunk, and that Maria was building a fire inside. For a moment, he envied her coziness. Then, he crawled stealthily forward, until within ten feet of the big hollow pine. The air-holes, he noticed now, were not made on the north and west sides of the tree. Evidently, she counted on the suction of the wind to draw out the smoke and foul air.

The noise of the storm easily drowned any sounds the observer might make, and he moved with considerable freedom, now that the woman could not see him. Plainly, the air-holes had been made by other hands than hers, for they were higher than her head; in fact Donald himself would have to stretch to look down. He selected a hole about three inches in diameter, and peered in. The smoke filled his eye, but he saw enough to know that the old squaw was seated on the floor of her habitation, nursing her little fire. He could not quite see all her actions, so he moved to a larger hole.

Presently, the fire burned brightly, and Maria began to rock back and forth, and sing to herself. Suddenly, she burst out into a weird laugh, and cried:

"Ha! The fool! The fool! If he only knew I almost showed him!"

Chuckling and muttering incoherently, she put a stealthy hand into her bosom, and drew forth a little bag of muskrat skin. Donald, cursing softly the smoke that filled his eyes, did his best to stand on tiptoe.

The bag was suspended around Maria's neck by a leathern thong, and was operated by pull-strings. Still rocking back and forth, the crone loosened the strings, and opened the bag. Then, she drew forth a paper, old and dirty and yellow. It was so worn in the creases that it almost fell apart, but over it ran fine writing, in a good hand. Donald, strain his eyes as he might, could not make out a single word of it.

Now came the impulse to rush inside, seize the paper, jerk loose the bag, and make away with both. Donald had indeed slipped off his snowshoes preparatory to entrance when a great yelling and hallooing in the forest near by caused him to change his plan of action. Slipping on his _rackets_ again, he sped swiftly back toward the camp. He had hardly disappeared, when the old squaw pushed aside the home-made doorway of her strange dwelling, and looked curiously in the direction of the noises.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE BROTHERS

One by one, exhausted, but joyful, the trappers of the Free-Traders'

Brotherhood straggled into their long-sought camp. Nearly all had small packs on their backs, as though the provisions secured had been distributed around evenly. In the lead, as usual, was Charley Seguis. At the end of the procession came two or three wounded trappers, supported by their comrades.

One of the first to greet the arrivals was Donald McTavish. His wonder at the skill and stamina that carried the men through that awful storm expressed itself in eagerness to a.s.sist in relieving men of their packs. The gaunt, half-starved five that had been left at Sturgeon Lake pounced upon the food, and, without more ado, started to brew pails of tea, and to thaw out meat. In the midst of his work, Donald suddenly found himself side by side with Bill Thompson, the _voyageur_ who had arrived the night before. At a moment when they were un.o.bserved, the old man spoke into the young man's ear.

"I want to see you alone at the earliest opportunity," he said.

Donald looked at his companion in amazement, and saw something in the other's face that drew instant a.s.sent.

The story of Seguis's party was soon told. The men had been traveling hardly an hour when the storm overtook them. From an eminence, they had seen the pursuit of the Hudson Bay men, and, though they had run at top speed, the packs of provisions had r.e.t.a.r.ded them to such an extent that their pursuers were gaining steadily. When the storm broke, however, these very provisions saved their lives, for the Hudson Bay men, being without means of shelter or sustenance, had given up the chase, rather than lose their lives in a pursuit of which the favorable outcome was so problematical. Seguis, striking into the usual trail to the camp, had overtaken his men that night, while they were still struggling on, and had ordered a halt.

Confident of their safety, they had camped, and then resumed their march at daybreak, finding their bearings, and keeping them, by the skill known to woodcraft.

It was now noon, and there was still no abatement in the storm.

After a good meal, Donald sought out Bill Thompson, while the other men huddled in their tents, and recounted the experiences of the hazardous march.

"Didn't I hear somebody call you McTavish?" asked the old trapper, suddenly dropping the garrulousness that had characterized him so far, and looking at the young man out of keen gray eyes.