The Barrier.
by Rex Beach.
CHAPTER I
THE LAST FRONTIER
Many men were in debt to the trader at Flambeau, and many counted him as a friend. The latter never reasoned why, except that he had done them favors, and in the North that counts for much. Perhaps they built likewise upon the fact that he was ever the same to all, and that, in days of plenty or in times of famine, his store was open to every man, and all received the same measure. Nor did he raise his prices when the boats were late. They recalled one bleak and bl.u.s.tery autumn when the steamer sank at the Lower Ramparts, taking with her all their winter"s food, how he eked out his scanty stock, dealing to each and every one his portion, month by month. They remembered well the bitter winter that followed, when the spectre of famine haunted their cabins, and when for endless periods they cinched their belts, and cursed and went hungry to sleep, accepting, day by day, the rations doled out to them by the grim, gray man at the log store. Some of them had money-belts weighted low with gold washed from the bars at Forty Mile, and there were others who had wandered in from the Koyukuk with the first frosts, foot-sore and dragging, the legs of their skin boots eaten to the ankle, and the taste of dog meat still in their mouths. Broken and dispirited, these had fared as well through that desperate winter as their brothers from up-river, and received pound for pound of musty flour, strip for strip of rusty bacon, lump for lump of precious sugar.
Moreover, the price of no single thing had risen throughout the famine.
Some of them, to this day, owed bills at Old Man Gale"s, of which they dared not think; but every fall and every spring they came again and told of their disappointment, and every time they fared back into the hills bearing another outfit, for which he rendered no account, not even when the debts grew year by year, not even to "No Creek" Lee, the most unlucky of them all, who said that a curse lay on him so that when a pay-streak heard him coming it got up and moved away and hid itself.
There were some who had purposely shirked a reckoning, in years past, but these were few, and their finish had been of a nature to discourage a similar practice on the part of others, and of a nature, moreover, to lead good men to care for the trader and for his methods. He mixed in no man"s business, he took and paid his dues unfalteringly. He spoke in a level voice, and he smiled but rarely. He gazed at a stranger once and weighed him carefully, thereafter his eyes sought the distances again, as if in search of some visitor whom he knew or hoped or feared would come. Therefore, men judged he had lived as strong men live, and were glad to call him friend.
This day he stood in the door of his post staring up the sun-lit river, absorbing the warmth of the Arctic afternoon. The Yukon swept down around the great bend beneath the high, cut banks and past the little town, disappearing behind the wooded point below, which masked the up-coming steamers till one heard the sighing labor of their stacks before he saw their smoke. It was a muddy, rushing giant, bearing a burden of sand and silt, so that one might hear it hiss and grind by stooping at its edge to listen; but the slanting sun this afternoon made it appear like a boiling flood of molten gold which issued silently out of a land of mystery and vanished into a valley of forgetfulness. At least so the trader fancied, and found himself wishing that it might carry away on its bosom the heavy trouble which weighed him down, and bring in its place forgetfulness of all that had gone before. Instead, however, it seemed to hurry with news of those strange doings "up-river," news that every down-coming steamboat verified. For years he had known that some day this thing would happen, that some day this isolation would be broken, that some day great hordes of men would overrun this unknown land, bringing with them that which he feared to meet, that which had made him what he was. And now that the time had come, he was unprepared.
The sound of shouting caused him to turn his head. Down-stream, a thousand yards away, men were raising a flag-staff made from the trunk of a slender fir, from which the bark had been stripped, heaving on their tackle as they sang in unison. They stood well out upon the river"s bank before a group of well-made houses, the peeled timbers of which shone yellow in the sun. He noted the symmetrical arrangement of the buildings, noted the s.p.a.ce about them that had been smoothed for a drill-ground, and from which the stumps had been removed; noted that the men wore suits of blue; and noted, in particular, the figure of an officer commanding them.
The lines about the trader"s mouth deepened, and his heavy brows contracted.
"That means the law," he murmured, half aloud, while in his voice was no trace of pleasure, nor of that interest which good men are wont to show at sight of the flag. "The last frontier is gone. The trail ends here!"
He stood so, meditating sombrely, till the fragment of a song hummed lightly by a girl fell pleasantly on his ears, whereupon the shadows vanished from his face, and he turned expectantly, the edges of his teeth showing beneath his mustache, the corners of his eyes wrinkling with pleasure.
The sight was good to him, for the girl approaching down the trail was like some wood sprite, light-footed, slender, and dark, with twin braids of hair to her waist framing an oval face colored by the wind and sun. She was very beautiful, and a great fever surged up through the old man"s veins, till he gripped the boards at his side and bit sharply at the pipe between his teeth.
"The salmon-berries are ripe," she announced, "and the hills back of the village are pink with them. I took Constantine"s squaw with me, and we picked quarts and quarts. I ate them all!"
Her laughter was like the tinkle of silver bells. Her head, thrown back as she laughed gayly, displayed a throat rounded and full and smooth, and tanned to the hue of her wind-beaten cheeks. Every move of her graceful body was unrestrained and flowing, with a hint of Indian freedom about it. Beaded and trimmed like a native princess, her garments manifested an ornature that spoke of savagery, yet they were neatly cut and held to the pattern of the whites.
"Constantine was drunk again last night, and I had to give him a talking to when we came back. Oh, but I laid him out! He"s frightened to death of me when I"m angry."
She furrowed her brow in a scowl--the daintiest, most ridiculous pucker of a brow that ever man saw--and drew her red lips into an angry pout as she recounted her temperance talk till the trader broke in, his voice very soft, his gray-blue eyes as tender as those of a woman:
"It"s good to have you home again, Necia. The old sun don"t shine as bright when you"re away, and when it rains it seems like the moss and the gra.s.s and the little trees was crying for you. I reckon everything weeps when you"re gone, girl, everything except your old dad, and sometimes he feels like he"d have to bust out and join the rest of them."
He seated himself upon the worn spruce-log steps, and the girl settled beside him and snuggled against his knee.
"I missed you dreadfully, daddy," she said. "It seemed as if those days at the Mission would never end. Father Barnum and the others were very kind, and I studied hard, but there wasn"t any fun in things without you."
"I reckon you know as much as a priest, now, don"t you?"
"Oh, lots more," she said, gravely. "You see, I am a woman."
He nodded reflectively. "So you are! I keep forgetting that."
Their faces were set towards the west, where the low sun hung over a ragged range of hills topped with everlasting white. The great valley, dark with an untrodden wilderness of birch and spruce and alder, lay on this side, sombre and changeless, like a great, dark-green mat too large for its resting-place, its edges turned up towards the line of unmelting snow. Beyond were other ranges thrust skyward in a magnificent confusion, while still to the farther side lay the purple valley of the Koyukuk, a valley that called insistently to restless men, welcoming them in the spring, and sending them back in the late summer tired and haggard with the hunger of the North. Each year a t.i.the remained behind, the toll of the trackless places, but the rest went back again and again, and took new brothers with them.
"Did you like the books I sent you with Poleon when he went down to the coast? I borrowed them from Shakespeare George."
The girl laughed. "Of course I did--that is, all but one of them."
"Which one?"
"I think it was called The Age of Reason, or something like that. I didn"t get a good look at it, for Father Barnum shrieked when he saw it, then s.n.a.t.c.hed it as if it were afire. He carried it down to the river with the tongs."
"H"m! Now that I think of it," said the old man, "Shakespeare grinned when he gave it to me. You see, Poleon ain"t much better on the read than I am, so we never noticed what kind of a book it was."
"When will Poleon get back, do you suppose?"
"Most any day now, unless the Dawson dance-halls are too much for him.
It won"t take him long to sell our skins if what I hear is true."
"What is that?"
"About these Cheechakos. They say there are thousands of tenderfeet up there, and more coming in every day."
"Oh! If I had only been here in time to go with him!" breathed the girl. "I never saw a city. It must be just like Seattle, or New York."
Gale shook his head. "No. There"s considerable difference. Some time I"ll take you out to the States, and let you see the world--maybe." He uttered the last word in an undertone, as if in self-debate, but the girl was too excited to notice.
"You will take mother, too, and the kiddies, won"t you?"
"Of course!"
"Oh! I--I--" The attempt to express what this prospect meant to her was beyond her girlish rapture, but her parted lips and shining eyes told the story to Gale. "And Poleon must go, too. We can"t go anywhere without him." The old man smiled down upon her in rea.s.surance. "I wonder what he"ll say when he finds the soldiers have come. I wonder if he"ll like it."
Gale turned his eyes down-stream to the barracks, and noted that the long flag-staff had at last been erected. Even as he looked he saw a bundle mounting towards its tip, and then beheld the Stars and Stripes flutter out in the air, while the men below cheered noisily. It was some time before he answered.
"Poleon Doret is like the rest of us men up here in the North. We have taken care of ourselves so far, and I guess we"re able to keep it up without the help of a smooth-faced Yankee kid for guardian."
"Lieutenant Burrell isn"t a Yankee," said Necia. "He is a blue-gra.s.s man. He comes from Kentucky."
Her father grunted contemptuously. "I might have known it. Those rebels are a cultus, lazy lot. A regular male man with any ginger in him would shed his coat and go to work, instead of wearing his clothes b.u.t.toned up all day. It don"t take much "savvy" to run a handful of thirteen-dollar-a-month soldiers." Necia stirred a bit restlessly, and the trader continued: "It ain"t man"s work, it"s--loafing. If he tries to boss us he"ll get QUITE a surprise."
"He won"t try to boss you. He has been sent here to build a military post, and to protect the miners in their own self-government. He won"t take any part in their affairs as long as they are conducted peaceably."
Being at a loss for an answer to this unexpected defence, the old man grunted again, with added contempt, while his daughter continued:
"This rush to the upper country has brought in all sorts of people, good, bad--and worse; and the soldiers have been sent to prevent trouble, and to hold things steady till the law can be established. The Canadian Mounted Police are sending all their worst characters down-river, and our soldiers have been scattered among the American camps for our protection. I think it"s fine."
"Where did you learn all this?"
"Lieutenant Burrell told me," she replied; at which her father regarded her keenly. She could not see the curious look in his eyes, nor did she turn when, a moment later, he resumed, in an altered tone:
"I reckon Poleon will bring you something pretty from Dawson, eh?"