A ray of hope shot into Keith"s heart. Was he to win after all?
"Give me the knife, Jennie," and he stretched out his hand for the weapon.
But the girl drew back. "No, no!" she cried. "You will keep it. I want it."
"What, to-night?"
"Yes, to-night. I must kill him."
Keith arose. His face was stern. He had tried kindness in vain. The girl must be stopped by force from her mad design.
Jennie read his thoughts only too truly. She clutched the knife more firmly and, before a restraining hand could be laid upon her, she fled down the aisle and out into the cold, silent night.
CHAPTER VI
A TRICK OF COWARDS
As Keith stood gazing in surprise upon the retreating figure, there suddenly came to him the realization of the mischief this one child might do. He felt there was a strained feeling between the Indians and some of the miners; how deep he could not tell. Should Jennie commit this crime Pritchen"s followers would be only too glad to wreak their revenge upon the few natives who were at Kla.s.san. They would make the most of the deed, and no doubt draw with them the rest of the white men. Then when the absent Indians returned from their hunting grounds, and found what had been done, their rage would be fearful, and he shuddered to think of the dire consequences.
Though this portion of the North was British Territory, yet there was no one to enforce law and order. Every man was a law unto himself, and if it came to a contest of brute strength, it would be the survival of the fittest. He believed the religious truths he had instilled into the Indians" hearts and minds would have some influence, but when their savage nature was once fully aroused they might forget it all. He determined it should not reach such a crisis; the girl must be stopped at all cost.
Seizing his cap, he started down the aisle, and had almost reached the door, when it swung open and Amos, the catechist, entered. Most gladly did Keith welcome the native"s arrival. Here was help in time of need.
Quickly and briefly he told his story.
"Amos," he said in conclusion, "we must go at once, and do what we can to stop the girl."
"Gikhyi" (teacher), came the reply, "you are hungry and tired. Your cabin is warm, and some good moose-steak is ready. Do not worry any more to-night about Jennie. Leave the matter to me."
Keith"s heart was touched by this simple expression of thoughtfulness.
"G.o.d bless you," he said, grasping the native"s hand. "I am tired, very tired. But do you think you can manage it alone?"
"I am never alone, Gikhyi," was all the answer he received, and as he looked into that honest face, and read the man"s meaning, he felt rebuked for his own lack of faith.
"Very well, Amos; I leave it to you, but you will come to me in the morning, will you not?"
"Amos will come," was the brief answer, and at this they left the building.
Tired though he was, it was late ere Keith sought any rest. His mind was much troubled, and after his frugal repast he sat for a long time by the cheerful fire. Pritchen was the disturbing element, and he shivered as he thought of the man. He had not expected to find him here, working havoc among his flock. His wicked, leering face stood out clearly before him. How he had changed. What a monster he had become. If Nellie knew all. If she could see him now, what would she think? His mind reverted to a sweet, pure face, and eyes filled with tears. He heard again her parting words:
"Find him, Keith; he is somewhere in the North. Bring him back to me, and to the little ones."
And he had found him,--a degraded squaw-man--with the blood of an Indian woman, and a child, upon his hands. He had seen him then, only for an instant, but long enough to receive his fearful curses ere he fled from his sight to be swallowed up by the great, silent North. He had never told Nellie, for how could he; it would break her heart. Now the villain had returned, from whence he knew not, but with intent most sinister, he had no doubt. What was he to do?
"O G.o.d," he prayed, "help me; guide me in this time of trial."
When he awoke dim daylight was struggling in through the one frost and dust-covered window which the cabin afforded. It showed him Amos sitting quietly by the sheet-iron heater in the adjoining room, which was used as study, kitchen, dining and sitting room combined. The catechist was very still, with a far-away look upon his placid face.
"Good morning, Amos," said Keith, springing from his cot. "You are early; I didn"t hear you come in."
"You slept well, Gikhyi," replied the native. "It is good."
"Amos," continued the missionary eagerly, as the scenes of the previous evening rushed through his mind, "what of last night? Did you find the girl?"
"All"s well, Gikhyi."
"Thank G.o.d! Thank G.o.d! But tell me, Amos, what have you been doing?"
"I went to the store when I left you, but it was in darkness. There were voices within, which sounded like Perdue"s and Pritchen"s. Jennie I did not see; she was not there. I had been waiting only a short time when a man arrived with a dog team. I think he came from Siwash Creek.
There"s a small camp of white men there, and they come in at times for supplies. This man went into the store, and that was the last I saw of him."
"And you didn"t see Jennie at all?" asked Keith in surprise.
"No, not there. When I had waited quite a while near the store, and nothing happened, I went to the Indian camps, and visited them in turn.
At last I found Jennie, sitting in one of the lodges, while the rest were asleep. Upon her face was a strange look. She neither spoke to me, nor I to her. I cannot understand the girl."
"But you will watch her, Amos," said Keith. "She may do the deed when we are off our guard."
"Yes, I will go at once, Gikhyi. But I will come back soon, for I have much to tell you about what happened last night."
The catechist had been gone but a short time when a knock sounded upon the door.
"Come in," called out Keith, thinking it was an Indian who had come to see him.
To his surprise, however, a white man entered, who seemed to be in a great hurry.
"Are you Mr. Steadman?" he at once began.
"Yes," replied Keith. "What can I do for you?"
"You"re a doctor, I understand."
"Yes."
"Well, then, you"re wanted bad at Siwash Creek. Jim Blasco"s knocked out. Gun bust, and tore away his arm. Jim"s a devil, if ever there was one, but he"s hard pinched now and squaking like a baby. His cabin"s the first you"ll come to, in a bunch of timber. Will you go?"
"Certainly," replied Keith. "But, say, when did this happen?"
"Night before last."
"And who brought word?"
"Dave Perkins, and he travelled like he--, oh, I beg your pardon, like the wind."
"And got in at midnight. Why didn"t he come to me at once? I might have been on the way by this time."
The man gave a slight start, and looked up quickly into the missionary"s face, but seeing no shadow of suspicion there, replied: