"Mebbe cos she"s smarter nor any o" us; mebbe cos I jest didn"t want her to. There"s somethin" "tween you an" me, Victor, that needs some parley."
The big man spoke quite calmly, but his very calmness was portentous.
"Smarter?" said Victor contemptuously, ignoring the latter part of the other"s remark.
"That"s what I said," went on the giant, in dispa.s.sionate tones. "Davia reckoned as it wa"n"t jest safe to light right out lest them fellers found they"d been robbed o" their wad. She"s stayin" around to put "em off"n the trail. They"re dead sweet on her an" ain"t likely to "spect who"s got the stuff while she"s around."
Victor nodded approvingly. His face was less angry. He knew Davia would serve him well. A silence fell again. The stove roared under the forced draught of the damper. Then the big man spoke as though he had not broken off.
"But that ain"t on"y the reason, I guess. I wanted her to stay. You an"
me are goin" to talk, Victor Gagnon."
The trader glanced angrily at the man with the hood.
"See here, Jean Leblaude, you allus had a crank in yer head, an" I don"t cotton to cranks anyhow."
"But you"ll cotton to this," replied Jean drily.
"Eh?"
"It"s nigh on to three year since you an" sister Davi" took on together," he went on, ignoring the interruption, and speaking with great feeling. "Guess you said as you"d marry her when you was independent o" the company. It was allus the company. Didn"t want no married traders on their books. An" you hadn"t no cash pappy. That"s how you sed. Mebbe it"s different now. Wal? When are you goin" to make her a de--your wife?"
There was a look in Jean"s eyes that brooked no denial or evasion. He had driven straight to the point, nor was there any likelihood of his drawing back.
"You"re pretty rough," said Victor, with an unpleasant laugh. He was inwardly raging, but, like all men of no great moral strength, feared the direct challenge of the other.
"We ain"t polished folk hereabouts," retorted Jean. "We"ve played the dirty game o" the White Squaw for you" clear out. Davi"s most as dead sick of it as me, but wher" she went into it fer a frolic an" to please you, I had my notions, I guess. I come clear away down from Peace River nigh on two summers ago jest fer to see that you acted squar" by that misguided girl. An" that"s why I done all your dirty work in this White Squaw racket. Now we"ve got the boodle you"re goin" to hitch up wi"
Davi", or--"
"Or--what?" broke in Victor contemptuously.
"Or not one blazin" cent o" the stuff in this chest"ll you touch."
Victor sprang from his seat and his eyes shone furiously.
"You--you--" But his fury was baffled by the solemn, determined stare of the other. A moment more and he dropped back in his seat.
Then the great Jean lowered his eyes to the hewn chest upon the floor.
The lid had been forced open and the bags of gold dust, so carefully arranged by the Westleys, were displayed within. Presently he looked back at the angry figure bending towards the stove.
"Guess I"ll git blankets out o" your store," he said.
Victor remained rapt in moody silence.
"Ther" ain"t room fer two to sleep comfort"ble in that bed o" yourn," he added significantly, as the other showed no inclination to speak.
At last Victor looked up and the dark half-breed blood slowly mounted and flushed his narrow face.
"You"re goin" to stop here--wher" the stuff is?"
"I guess."
The trader looked long into the cavernous moose-eyes of the Hooded Man while he choked down the rage which consumed him. He knew that he was a prisoner in his own store. Resistance would be utterly useless against such a man as Jean Leblaude.
In his scheme for obtaining wealth Victor had omitted to take into consideration one of the great factors of a life of wrong-doing. A man may not engage in crime with those whom he has wronged.
Victor had sought to obtain good service, forgetting the manner in which he had treated the sister of Jean. The ways of the half-breed are loose in the matter of morals. Davia, he knew, loved him. She was a strong, pa.s.sionate woman, therefore he had not bothered about Jean. That Jean could possibly have scruples or feelings, had never entered his head.
Davia had given her love, then what business of her brother"s was the manner in which he, Victor, chose to accept it? This is how he argued when he fully realized the position in which he had thrust himself. But his argument went no further.
Jean was a man strong and purposeful. He had waited long for such an opportunity, and he was not the one to forego his advantage without enforcing his will. If Victor wanted his share of the proceeds of the robbery he must fulfil the promise, which, in a pa.s.sionate moment, he had bestowed. Davia was as clay in his hands. Jean was different. He was possessed of all the cunning of the half-breed nature, but, looked at from a half-breed point of view, he was a good man, an honest man. A half-breed will shoot an enemy down in his tracks, while yet he is a good father and husband, or a dutiful son. He is a man of much badness and some good. Jean was a little above the average. Possibly it was because his affections were centred upon but one creature in the world, his sister Davia, that he felt strongly in her cause. He knew that, at last, he held Victor in a powerful grip, and he did not intend to relax it.
Jean was as good as his word and took up his abode in Victor"s store.
Nor would he permit the removal of the treasure under any pretext. This brother of Davia"s understood the trader; he did not watch him; it was the chest that contained the money that occupied his vigilance.
Victor was resourceful and imaginative, but the stolid purpose of the other defied his best schemes. He meant to get away with the money, but the bulldog watchfulness of Jean gave him no opportunity. He was held prisoner by his greed, and it seemed as if, in the end, he would be forced to bend to the other"s will.
And no word came from Davia. No word that could cause alarm, or tell them of the dire tragedy being enacted in the mountains. And the two men, one for ever scheming and the other watching, pa.s.sed their time in moody silence.
It was the third day after the foregoing events had taken place, and midday. Victor was in the store standing in the doorway gazing out across the mighty foothills which stretched far as the eyes could reach to the east. He was thinking, casting about in his mind for a means of getting away with the money. Jean was at his post in the inner room.
It was an unbeautiful time of the year. The pa.s.sing of winter in snow regions is like the moulting season of fowls, or the season when the furred world sheds its coat. The dazzling whiteness of the earth is superseded by a dirty drab-grey. The snow lasts long, but its hue is utterly changed. And now Victor was looking out upon a scene that was wholly dispiriting to the mind used to the brilliancy of the northern winter.
The trader"s thoughts were moving along out over the stretch of country before him, for in that southeastern direction lay the town of Edmonton, which was his goal. It would be less than a fortnight before the melting snow would practically inundate the land, therefore what he had to do must be done at once. And still no feasible scheme presented itself.
He moved impatiently and a muttered curse escaped him. He asked himself the question again and again while his keen, restless eyes moved eagerly over the scene before him. He took a chew of tobacco and rolled it about in his mouth with the nervous movement of a man beset. He could hear Jean moving heavily about the room behind him, and he wondered what he was doing. But he did not turn to see.
Once let him get upon the trail with the "stuff," and Jean and his sister could go hang. They would never get him, he told himself. He had not lived in these lat.i.tudes for five and twenty years for nothing. But he ever came back to the pitiful admission that he was not yet on the trail, nor had he got the treasure. And time was pa.s.sing.
Suddenly his eyes settled themselves upon a distant spot beyond the creek. Something had caught his attention, and that something was moving. The sounds of Jean"s lumbering movements continued. Victor no longer heeded them. His attention was fixed upon that movement on the distant slope.
And gradually his brow lightened and something akin to a smile spread over his features. Then he moved back to his counter, and, procuring a small calendar, glanced hastily at the date. His look of satisfaction deepened, and his smile became one of triumph. Surely the devil was with him. Here, in the blackest moment of his despair, was the means he had sought. Yonder moving object was the laden dog-train coming up from Edmonton, with his half-yearly supplies. Now he would see whose wits were the sharpest, his or those of the pig-headed Jean, the man who had dared to dictate to Victor Gagnon. The trader laughed silently.
Gagnon"s plan had come to him in a flash. The moment he had recognized that the company"s dog-train was approaching he had realized the timeliness of its coming. It would be at his door within an hour and a half.
Jean"s voice calling him broke in upon his meditations. He was about to pa.s.s the summons by unheeded. Then he altered his mind. Better not force his gaoler to seek him. His eyes might see what he had seen, and his suspicions might be aroused if he thought that he, Victor, had seen the dog-train coming and had said nothing. So he turned and obeyed the call with every appearance of reluctance.
Jean eyed his prisoner coldly as he drew up beside him.
"Wal, I"ve waited fer you to say as ye"ll marry Davi", an" ye ain"t had the savvee to wag yer tongue right, I"m goin" to quit. The snow"s goin"
fast. They dogs o" mine is gettin saft fer want o" work. I"m goin" to light right out o" here, Victor, an" the boodle"s goin" wi" me."
Jean was the picture of strong, unimaginative purpose. But Victor had that in his mind which made him bold.
"Ye"ve held me prisoner, Jean. Ye"ve played the skunk. Guess you ain"t goin" now. Neither is my share o" the contents o" that chest. Savvee? If ye think o" moving that wad we"re goin" to sc.r.a.p. I ain"t no coyote."
Jean thought for awhile. His lean face displayed no emotion. His giant figure dwarfed the trader almost to nothing, but he seemed to weigh the situation well before he committed himself.
At last he grunted, which was his way of announcing that his decision was taken.