The Way of the Strong. Cullum Ridgwell
fire had warmed his bones, and the food had satisfied his craving stomach. So he remained where he was, smoking and thinking; dreaming the ugly dreams of a mind devoid of any of the tenderer thoughts of humanity.
Hours passed, and the long sleepless night dragged on toward a gray, hopeless dawn; and, by the time the black woods began to change their hue, and the gray to creep almost imperceptibly down the aged aisles, his last plans were complete.
Then he arose and stretched himself. He put his pipe away, and replenished the fire with the last of the wood, finally setting water thereon to boil. Then, picking up his axe, he moved off into the deeps of the wood.
In half an hour he returned with a burden of rough-hewn stakes which he flung down beside the fire, while he prepared his breakfast. He devoured his meal hurriedly, and within another half hour was at work upon his final tasks.
He stored all his property inside the tent, removing the furs and blankets from his dead comrade. It almost seemed like desecration. Yet Tug knew what he was at. It would not do to leave the body encased in warm furs. The man would have to be buried – later. In the meantime the cold would freeze the body, and preserve it until such time.
Now the purpose of his stakes became evident. Even Tug, selfish and callous as he was, acknowledged his duties to the dead. He knew the prowling scavengers of the forests too well to leave his comrade without sufficient protection. So he proceeded to secure the body under a cage of timber which would defy the attacks of marauding carnivora.
With Charlie left secure his work was complete. Broad daylight was shining among the rugged crowns of towering pines. The moment had come for his departure. He would obey the letter of Leo's instructions. He would follow the path he had marked out for him. Afterwards he would choose his own path; a path which he knew, somewhere in the future, near or far, would eventually bring him within striking distance of the quarry he intended to hunt down.
CHAPTER VIII
SI-WASH CHUCKLES
It was Si-wash who first witnessed the approach of the newcomer; and he at once realized that it was not the return of his friend, Leo, the man whom he still liked, in spite of the madness which he believed now possessed him.
So he watched thoughtfully from the shadow of the fringe of the forest. He peered out over the white plain upon which an ineffective sun poured its steely rays, while he studied the details of figure and gait, which, in a country where contact with his fellows was limited, were not likely to leave him in doubt for long.
Presently he vanished within the woods. He went to convey his news to the waiting woman, the woman whose heart was full of a dread she could not shake off, whose love was silently calling, calling for the return of the man who was her whole world.
But his news must be told in his own way, a way which, perhaps, only an Indian, and those whose lives are spent among Indians, can understand.
He came to the fire and sat down, squatting upon his haunches, and remained silent for some minutes. Then he picked up a red-hot cinder and lit his black clay pipe, which he produced from somewhere amidst the furs which encased his squat body.
"We go bimeby," he said, after a long pause. "No storm – no snow. Him very fine. Good."
Audie's brooding eyes lifted from the fire to the Indian's broad face. All her fear, all her trouble was shining in their depths. The man saw and understood. But he did not comment.
"We can't go – yet," she said. "We must wait. Leo will come back. Oh, I'm sure he'll come back."
The Indian puffed at his pipe, and finally spat a hissing stream into the fire.
"Maybe," he said.
The woman's face flushed.
"Maybe? Of course he'll come back," she cried with heat. "He – he has gone to collect wood."
The Indian nodded and went on smoking.
"Him fetch wood. Sure," he said presently. "Him go day – night – morning. Si-wash fetch wood. One hour – two – three. Then Si-wash come back. Si-wash not crazy."
Suddenly Audie sprang to her feet. Her eyes flashed, and a fierce anger swept through her whole body.
"Leo is not crazy. Don't dare to say he is," she cried vehemently. "I – I could kill you for saying it."
The Indian gave no sign before the woman's furious threat. He smoked on, and when she had once more dropped to her seat, and the hopeless light in her eyes had once more returned, he removed his pipe from his mouth.
"Si-wash – you kill 'em. It no matter. Leo, him crazy still. You stop here – an' freeze. So. It much no good."
The man's good humor was quite unruffled, and Audie, in spite of her brave defence of her lover, despairingly buried her face in her hands.
"But he will come back, Si-wash!" she cried haltingly. "Say he will. You know him. You understand him. He must come back. Say he must. He can never travel this country on foot, without food or shelter. Oh, say he must come back!"
But Si-wash was not to be cajoled from his conviction. He saw the woman's misery, but it meant nothing to his unsentimental nature. Leo had gone. Well, why should she worry? There were other men in the world. This is what he felt, but he would not have expressed it so. Instead of that he merely shook his head, and spoke between the puffs of his reeking pipe.
"Leo no come. But the other, him come. Tug, him come quick. Maybe him speak of Leo."
In a flash the girl's beautiful eyes shot a gleaming inquiry into the man's coppery face.
"Tug? Tug coming here? It's – it's you who're crazy. Tug is miles away. He must be getting near the coast by now. He must be safe by now, safe with his precious gold."
"Maybe him not safe. Maybe him lose him gold, too."
"You mean – ?"
Audie caught her breath as she left her inquiry unfinished.
"Nothing. All same Tug him come here. I see him. Hark? Sho! That him – he mak noise."
The Indian turned slowly round and stared out into the twilit woods. Audie followed the direction of his gaze and sat spellbound, listening to the sound of hurrying feet as they crushed the brittle underlay of the woods. The Indian's dogs, too, had become alert. They were on their toes, with bristling manes and deep-throated grumbling at the intrusion.
As Tug came up Si-wash rose and clubbed the dogs cordially. In a moment they had resumed their places beyond the fire circle, and, squatting on their haunches, licked their lips and yawned indifferently.
"Tug!"
Audie was on her feet staring at the apparition of the man she had believed was even now nearing the coast.
Nor did the man's usual ironical smile fail him.
"Sure. Didn't you guess I'd get around after – what has happened?"
Audie eyed him blankly as he waited for her to speak. The Indian, with his eyes fixed upon the fire, had not stirred from his seat. For the moment he was forgotten by these white people. He moved now. It was a slight movement. Very slight. He merely thrust one of his lean hands inside his furcoat.
His movement was quite unnoticed by the others, and as Audie stared, quite at a loss for words, the man went on —
"Well? He's got away with it. Maybe you're – satisfied."
Tug's smile was unequal to the task. The cold rage under it made its way into his eyes. And as she listened a curious change crept into Audie's eyes, too. Si-wash, with his attention apparently on the fire, was yet quite aware of the change in both, and his hand remained buried in the bosom of his furcoat.
Audie had suddenly become very cool. She pointed at the box which had been Leo's seat.
"You'd better sit down," she said coldly. "You seem to have something to tell me."
"Tell you?" Tug laughed. "Do you need telling?" he asked, as he dropped upon the seat.
Audie resumed her place at the opposite side of the fire.
The