|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 47
A red ferocity grew in Baree's eyes as he snarled in the direction of
last night's fight with the wolves. They were no longer his people.
They were no longer of his blood. Never again could the hunt call lure
him or the voice of the pack rouse the old longing. In him there was a
thing newborn, an undying hatred for the wolf, a hatred that was to
grow in him until it became like a disease in his vitals, a thing ever
present and insistent, demanding vengeance on their kind. Last night he
had gone to them a comrade. Today he was an outcast. Cut and maimed,
bearing with him scars for all time, he had learned his lesson of the
wilderness. Tomorrow, and the next day, and for days after that without
number, he would remember the lesson well.
CHAPTER 19
At the cabin on the Gray Loon, on the fourth night of Baree's absence,
Pierrot was smoking his pipe after a great supper of caribou tenderloin
he had brought in from the trail, and Nepeese was listening to his tale
of the remarkable shot he had made, when a sound at the door
interrupted them. Nepeese opened it, and Baree came in. The cry of
welcome that was on the girl's lips died there instantly, and Pierrot
stared as if he could not quite believe this creature that had returned
was the wolf dog. Three days and nights of hunger in which he could not
hunt because of the leg that dragged had put on him the marks of
starvation. Battle-scarred and covered with dried blood clots that
still clung tenaciously to his long hair, he was a sight that drew at
last a long despairing breath from Nepeese. A queer smile was growing
in Pierrot's face as he leaned forward in his chair. Then slowly rising
to his feet and looking closer, he said to Nepeese:
"Ventre Saint Gris! Oui, he has been to the pack, Nepeese, and the pack
turned on him. It was not a two-wolf fight--non! It was the pack. He is
cut and torn in fifty places. And--mon Dieu, he is alive!"
In Pierrot's voice there was growing wonder and amazement. He was
incredulous, and yet he could not disbelieve what his eyes told him.
What had happened was nothing short of a miracle, and for a time he
uttered not a word more but remained staring in silence while Nepeese
recovered from her astonishment to give Baree doctoring and food. After
he had eaten ravenously of cold boiled mush she began bathing his
wounds in warm water, and after that she soothed them with bear grease,
talking to him all the time in her soft Cree. After the pain and hunger
and treachery of his adventure, it was a wonderful homecoming for
Baree. He slept that night at the foot of the Willow's bed. The next
morning it was the cool caress of his tongue on her hand that awakened
her.
With this day they resumed the comradeship interrupted by Baree's
temporary desertion. The attachment was greater than ever on Baree's
part. It was he who had run away from the Willow, who had deserted her
at the call of the pack, and it seemed at times as though he sensed the
depths of his perfidy and was striving to make amends. There was
indubitably a very great change in him. He clung to Nepeese like a
shadow. Instead of sleeping at night in the spruce shelter Pierrot made
for him, he made himself a little hollow in the earth close to the
cabin door. Pierrot thought that he understood, and Nepeese thought
that she understood even more; but in reality the key to the mystery
remained with Baree himself. He no longer played as he had played
before he went off alone into the forest. He did not chase sticks, or
run until he was winded, for the pure joy of running. His puppyishness
was gone. In its place was a great worship and a rankling bitterness, a
love for the girl and a hatred for the pack and all that it stood for.
Whenever he heard the wolf howl, it brought an angry snarl into his
throat, and he would bare his fangs until even Pierrot would draw a
little away from him. But a touch of the girl's hand would quiet him.
In a week or two the heavier snows came, and Pierrot began making his
trips over the trap lines. Nepeese had entered into an exciting bargain
with him this winter. Pierrot had taken her into partnership. Every
fifth trap, every fifth deadfall, and every fifth poison bait was to be
her own, and what they caught or killed was to bring a bit nearer to
realization a wonderful dream that was growing in the Willow's heart.
Pierrot had promised. If they had great luck that winter, they would go
down together on the last snows to Nelson House and buy the little old
organ that was for sale there. And if the organ was sold, they would
work another winter, and get a new one.
This plan gave Nepeese an enthusiastic and tireless interest in the
trap line. With Pierrot it was more or less a fine bit of strategy. He
would have sold his hand to give Nepeese the organ. He was determined
that she should have it, whether the fifth traps and the fifth
deadfalls and fifth poison baits caught the fur or not. The partnership
meant nothing so far as the actual returns were concerned. But in
another way it meant to Nepeese a business interest, the thrill of
personal achievement. Pierrot impressed on her that it made a comrade
and coworker of her on the trail. His scheme was to keep her with him
when he was away from the cabin. He knew that Bush McTaggart would come
again to the Gray Loon, probably more than once during the winter. He
had swift dogs, and it was a short journey. And when McTaggart came,
Nepeese must not be at the cabin--alone.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|