Kitabı oku: «The Huntress», sayfa 14

"Well! Well!" exclaimed Joe. "Smitty will be interested. You said he was married. Did he leave any family?"

"His baby come after," said Musq'oosis. "Two months."

"What's become of it?"

Musq'oosis nodded toward the shack. "That is Bela," he said.

Joe clenched his hands to keep from betraying a start. This was what he wanted. He bit his lip to hide the cruel smile that spread upon it.

"Why you smile?" asked Musq'oosis.

"No reason," replied Joe hastily. "I thought her name was Bela Charley."

"Her mot'er marry Charley Fish-Eater after," explained Musq'oosis. "People forget Walter Forest's baby. So call Bela Charley. Right name Bela Forest."

"Well," said Joe, "that's quite a story. Did he leave any property?"

Musq'oosis glanced at him sharply. His suspicions began to be aroused. "No," he said shortly.

"That's a lie!" thought Joe. Now that he had learned what he wanted to know, he took no further pains to hide his sneers. "I'll tell Smitty that Forest's got a fine girl for a daughter," he said, rising.

Musq'oosis's eyes followed him a little anxiously into the house.

The dinner-hour was drawing near, but none of the boarders had arrived yet. Joe found Bela putting the plates and cups on the table. Seeing him, she stood fast without fear, merely glancing over her shoulder to make sure her retreat was open.

"Hello!" said Joe, affecting a boisterous air. "Am I the first?"

She declined to unbend. "You got be'ave if you comin' here," she said coldly.

"Got to, eh? That's a nice way to speak to a friend."

"If you don' act decent you can't come here no more," she said firmly.

"How are you going to stop me?" he demanded truculently.

"I tell the ot'er boys," she said coolly. "They keep you out."

"You won't do that," he returned, sneering.

"You find out pretty soon."

"You won't do that," he repeated. "Because I got something on you now."

She looked at him sharply. Then shrugged scornfully. "Everybody know all about me."

"There's something Sam don't know yet."

In spite of herself, she was betrayed into a sharp movement. Joe laughed.

"What do you mean?" she demanded.

It was his humour to be mysterious. "Never mind. I know what I know."

Bela unconcernedly resumed her work. "You jus' bluffin'," she said.

"Oh, I'm bluffing, am I?" snarled Joe. He was the picture of a bad-tempered schoolboy. "If you don't treat me right you'll see if I am. I'll out with the story to-night before them all, before Sam."

"What story?" asked Bela. "You crazy, I t'ink."

"The story of how you're paying Sam's wages."

Bela stopped dead, and went pale. She struggled hard to command herself. "It's a lie!" she said.

"Like fun it is!" cried Joe, triumphing. "I got it bit by bit, and pieced it all together. I'm a little too clever for you, I guess. I know the whole thing now. How your father left the money to Musq'oosis when he died, and Musq'oosis bought the team from Mahooley, and made him give it to Sam to drive. I can see Sam's face when I tell that and hear all the fellows laugh."

Bela abandoned the useless attempt to bluff it out. She came opposite to where he was sitting, and put her hands on the table. "If you tell that I kill you!" she said softly.

Joe leaned back. "Pooh! You can't scare a man with threats like that. After I tell the mischief's done, anyhow."

"I will kill you!" she said again.

Joe laughed. "I'll take my chance of it." Hitting out at random, he said: "I'll bet it was you scared the white woman into fits!"

To save herself Bela could not help betraying it in her face. Joe laughed uproariously.

"Gad! That'll make another good story to tell!"

"I will kill you!" repeated Bela dully.

Something in her desperate eyes warned him that one might press a primitive nature too far. He changed his tone.

"Mind you, I don't say I'm going to tell. I don't mean to tell if you do what I want."

"What you want?" she asked softly with glittering eyes.

"Not to be treated like dirt under anybody's feet, that's all," he replied threateningly. "To be treated as good as anybody else. You understand me?"

"I mak' no promise," said Bela.

"Well you know what you've got to expect if you don't."

CHAPTER XXI
SAM IS LATE

On the afternoon of the same day, Sam, clattering back from Graves's camp in his empty wagon, suddenly came upon Musq'oosis squatting like a little Buddha under a willow bush.

The spot was at the edge of the wide flats at the head of Beaver Bay. Immediately beyond the road turned and followed the higher ground along the water into the settlement. It was about half a mile to Bela's shack. Musq'oosis rose, and Sam pulled up.

"Come aboard," invited Sam. "What are you waiting up here for?"

"Waitin' for you," replied Musq'oosis.

He climbed into the wagon-box and Sam chirruped to his horses. The nervous little beasts stretched their flanks and were off at a bound. The whole outfit was in a hurry. Sam was hoping to be the first to arrive at the stopping-house.

Musq'oosis laid a claw on his arm. "Drive slow," he said. "I want talk. Too much bang and shake."

Sam reluctantly pulled his team into a walk. "Anything up?" he asked.

Musq'oosis shrugged, and answered the question with another. "Anybody comin' be'ind you?"

"Not near," replied Sam. "They weren't ready to start when I left. And I've come quick."

"Good!" said Musq'oosis.

"What's the dope?" asked Sam curiously.

"Stiffy and Mawoolie's York boat come to-day," said Musq'oosis conversationally. "Bring summer outfit. Plenty all kind goods. Bring newspapers three weeks old."

"I heard all that," said Sam. "Mattison brought word around the bay."

"There's measles in the Indians out Tepiskow Lake."

Sam glanced sidewise at his passenger. "Is this what you wanted to tell me?"

Musq'oosis shrugged.

"Out with it!" said Sam. "I want to get a word with Bela before the gang comes."

"Don't stop at Bela's to-night," said Musq'oosis.

Sam frowned. "So that's it! Why not?"

"Goin' be bad trouble I t'ink."

"I know," said Sam. "Joe's been talking big around the settlement all day. Mattison told that, too."

Musq'oosis looked at him surprised. "You know it, and you want go! You can't fight Joe. Too much big!"

"Maybe," said Sam grimly; "but I'll do my damnedest."

Musq'oosis was silent for a moment. Evidently this contingency had not entered into his calculations.

"Bela can't have no trouble there," he finally suggested. "If the place get a bad name Gilbert Beattie put her out."

Sam was taken aback. "I'm sorry!" he said, frowning. "I never thought of that. But I've got to consider myself a little, too. I can't let Joe bluff me out. Nice name I'd get around here."

"Nobody 'spec' you fight big man lak Joe."

"I've got to do it just the same."

"Only to-night."

"What good putting it off? To-morrow it would be the same. I'm just beginning to get on. I've got to make good! Lord! I know what it is to be the under dog! No more of that! Joe can lay me out cold, but I'll never quit!"

"If Beattie put Bela out, she got no place to go," pleaded Musq'oosis.

Sam scowled helplessly. "What can I do?" he asked. "Bela's nearly done for me already up here. She shouldn't ask this of me. I'll put it up to her. She'll understand."

"No use stoppin'," said Musq'oosis. "Bela send me up road tell you not stop to-night."

Sam, in his helplessness, swore under his breath and fell silent for awhile. Finally his face cleared a little. "Tell you what I'll do," he said. "I won't stop now and let them find me there. I'll drive on down to the point and fix my horses for the night. Then I'll walk back. By that time everybody will be there. They will see that I'm not afraid to come, anyhow. The rest is up to Bela. She can refuse to let me in if she wants. And if Joe wants to mix things up, I'll oblige him down the road a piece."

"All right, I tell Bela," said Musq'oosis. "Let me down now. Not want anybody know I talk to you."

Sam pulled up. As the old man was about to get down he offered Sam his hand.

"Ain't you little bit scare of Joe?" he asked curiously.

Sam smiled wryly. "Sure!" he confessed. "I'm a whole lot scared of him. Hasn't he got thirty pounds on me, weight and reach beside. It's because I'm so scared that I can't take anything from him. Do you understand that?"

"I on'er stan'," the old Indian said pithily. "Walter Forest tell me lak that long tam ago. You brave lak him, I t'ink."

Sam shook his head. "'Tisn't a case of bravery, but of plumb necessity!"

From the window of the French outfit store Sam was seen driving down to Grier's Point.

"Scared off!" cried Joe with a great laugh. "Lucky for him, too!"

An hour later Bela was feeding the largest number of men that had ever gathered in her shack. Except the policeman on duty, and Gilbert Beattie, every white man in the district had been drawn by the word passed from mouth to mouth that there was "going to be something doing to-night."

Even Musq'oosis, who had never before ventured among the white men without a particular invitation, came in. He did not eat at the table, but sat on the floor in the corner, watching and listening with bright eyes, like some queer, philosophic little ape.

As time passed, and Sam did not turn up, the company was frankly disappointed. They abused him thoughtlessly, forgetting in their chagrin at losing a sensation, that Sam might have declined a contest so unequal with entire honour. Bela kept her eyes down to hide their angry glitter at the men's comments.

Joe Hagland was in the highest spirits. In him this took the form of boisterousness and arrogance. Not only did he usurp the place at the head of the table, but he held everybody off from the place at his right.

"That's reserved," he said to all comers.

As in every party of men, there was an obsequious element that encouraged Joe with flattery. Among the sturdier spirits, however, Big Jack, Mahooley, Coulson, an honest resentment developed.

In particular they objected to Joe's changed air toward Bela. He was not openly insulting to her, but into his voice had crept a peremptory note apparent to every ear. He called her attention to empty plates, and otherwise acted the part of a host. In reality he was imitating Sam's manner of the night before, but the effect was different.

If Bela had shown any resentment it would have been all up with Joe. They would have thrown him out in less time than it takes to tell. But Bela did his bidding with a cold, suppressed air. The other men watched her, astonished and uneasy. None had ever seen her like this.

When the dinner was fairly under way it transpired who the vacant place was for.

"Come and sit down, Bela!" cried Joe. "Lend us the light of your handsome face to eat by. Have something yourself. Don't be a stranger at your own table!"

Big Jack scowled into his plate, and Coulson bit his lip. Their hands itched for Joe's collar. Unfortunately among men, no man likes to be the first to administer a public rebuke. The least sign from Bela would have been sufficient, but she gave them none. She made believe not to have heard Joe. He repeated his invitation in louder tones.

"I never sit," she said quietly.

"Time that rule was broken!" cried Joe.

"I busy."

"Hang it, let the old woman serve! Every man has had one plateful. Come and talk to me."

All eyes were on Bela. She hesitated, then went and sat as Joe commanded. The other men could scarcely believe their eyes. Bela to take orders in public like this! Her inscrutable exterior gave no indication of what was passing within.

There was, perhaps, a hint of pain, anger in her eyes, but hidden so deep they could not see it. The obvious inference was that Joe had won her at last. She went down in their estimation. Every man shrugged, so to speak, and let Joe have his way.

That youth swelled with gratified vanity. He heightened his jocular air; his gallantry had an insolent ring. "Say, we'll pay double if you let us look at you while we eat. You'll save money, too; we won't eat so much. We'll take you for dessert!"

The other men were uneasy. If this was Joe's and Bela's way of making love they wished they would do it in private. They were slow-thinking men, accustomed to taking things at face value. Like all men, they were shy of inquiring too far into an emotional situation.

Bela did not eat, but sat still, silent and walled-up. At such moments she was pure Indian. Long afterward the men recollected the picture she made that night, still and dignified as a death mask.

Joe could not leave Sam alone. "I wonder where our friend the ex-cook is to-night?" he inquired facetiously of the company. "Boiling his own pot at the Point, I suppose. He don't seem to hanker much for the society of men. That's as it should be. Men and cooks don't gee."

Anyone looking closely would have seen Bela's breast rise and fall ominously, but no one looked closely. Her face gave no sign.

"Sam was a little too big for his shoes last night," Joe went on. "To-day I guess he thinks better – "

"Hello! Somebody talking about me?" cried a cheerful voice from the door.

Sixteen men turned their heads as one. They saw Sam by the door smiling. Bela involuntarily jumped up, and the box she was sitting on fell over. Joe, caught up in the middle of a sentence, stared with his mouth open, a comic expression of dismay fixed on his features.

Sam came in. His eyes were shining with excitement.

"What's the matter?" he asked, laughing. "You all look as if you saw a ghost!" To Bela he said: "Don't disturb yourself. I've had my supper. I just walked up for a bit of sociability before turning in, if you've no objection."

He waited with a significant air for her to speak. There was nothing naive about Sam's light manner; he was on the qui vive for whatever might come.

Bela tried to answer him, and could not. Her iron will was no longer able to hide the evidences of agitation. Her lips were parted and her breath was coming fast. She kept her eyes down.

There was a highly charged silence in the shack. All knew that the turn of the drama depended on the next word to be spoken. They watched Bela, bright-eyed.

By this time Joe had partly recovered his self-possession. "Let him go!" he said roughly. "We don't want no cooks around!"

Sam ignored him. "Can I stay?" he asked Bela, smiling with a peculiar hardness. "If you don't want me, all right. But it must come from you."

Bela raised her eyes imploringly to him and let them fall again.

Sam refused to take it for an answer.

"Can I stay?" he asked again.

"Ah, tell him to go before he's thrown out!" cried Joe.

That settled it. Bela's head went up with a jerk, and her eyes flashed savagely at Joe. To Sam she said clearly: "Come in, my house is open to all."

"Thanks," said Sam.

Bela glared at Joe, defying him to do his worst. Joe refused her challenge. His eyes bolted. He scowled and muttered under his breath.

Sam, taking in the situation, walked quickly to Bela's place, and picking up the box sat on it, and smiled directly into Joe's discomfited face.

That move won him more than one friend in the shack. Young Coulson's eyes sparkled with admiration. Big Jack frowned at Sam, divided between old resentment and new respect.

Sam quickly followed up his advantage.

"Seems you weren't expecting me this evening," he said quietly. "I wouldn't have missed it for a lot. Heard there was going to be something special doing. How about it, Joe?"

Joe was no match for him at this kind of game. He looked away, muttering.

"What's on, boys?" asked Sam. "Vaudeville or parlour charades?"

He won a hearty laugh by it, and once more Joe felt the situation slipping away from him. Finally he thought of a way of getting back at Sam.

"Bela!" he cried roughly. "You bring another box and sit down here."

Sam stared, genuinely amazed at his tone.

"There is no room," said Bela in a wooden voice.

"You bring over a box!" cried Joe peremptorily.

Sam's face was grim. "My friend, that's no way to speak to a lady," he said softly.

This was the kind of opening Joe wanted. "What the hell is it to you?" he shouted.

"And that's no way to speak to a man!"

"A man, no; but plenty good enough for a – cook!"

At Sam's elbow was a cup with tea-dregs in the bottom. He picked it up with a casual air and tossed the contents into Joe's face.

CHAPTER XXII
MUSCLE AND NERVE

A gasp went around the table. Joe sprang up with a bellow of rage. Sam was already up. He kicked the impeding box away. When Joe rushed him he ran around the other side of the table.

Sam had planned everything out. Above all he wished to avoid a rough and tumble, in which he would stand no chance at all. He had speed, wind, and nerve to pit against a young mountain of muscle.

"Will you see fair play, boys?" he cried.

"Sure!" answered half a dozen voices.

Big Jack stopped Joe in mid-career. "Let's do everything proper," he said grimly.

By this time all were up. Of one accord they shoved the trestles back against the wall and kicked the boxes underneath. Every breast responded to the thrill of the keenest excitement known to man – a fight with fists.

Sam and Joe, obeying a clothed creature's first impulse, wriggled out of their coats and flung them on the ground. Joe took off his boots. Sam was wearing moccasins.

Young Coulson came to Sam with tears of vexation actually standing in his eyes. He gripped Sam's hand.

"I can't be present at a thing like this," he said. "Oh, damn the luck! I'd lose my stripes if it came out. But I'm with you. I hope you'll lick the tar out of him! I'll be watching through the window," he added in a whisper. He ran out.

Big Jack took the centre of the floor. "I'll referee this affair if agreeable to both," he said.

"Suits me," replied Sam briefly.

Jack pointed out their respective corners and called for a second for each. Several volunteered to help Joe. He chose young Mattison.

Sam remained alone in his corner. While his pluck had won him friends, there was no man who wished to embrace a cause which all thought was hopeless. Young Joe was a formidable figure. He had calmed down now.

From behind the tall white men a little bent figure appeared and went to Sam.

"I be your man," he whispered; "if you not ashame' for a red man."

Sam smiled swiftly in his white, set face, and gripped the old man's hand hard. "Good man!" he said. "You're the best!"

Mahooley, Birley, and another, abashed by this little scene, now stepped forward. Sam waved them back.

"Musq'oosis is my second," he said.

"Straight Marquis of Queensberry rules," said Big Jack. "No hitting in the break-away."

This was an advantage to Sam.

"Time!" cried Big Jack.

The adversaries stepped out of their corners.

All this while Bela had been standing by the kitchen door with her hands pressed tight to her breast and her agonized eyes following all that went on. She did not clearly understand. But when they advanced toward each other she knew. She ran into the middle of the room between them.

"Stop!" she cried. "This is my house. I won't have no fightin' here!" She paused, shielding Sam and glaring defiantly around her. "You cowards, mak' them fight! This is no fair fight. One is too big!"

All the men became horribly uneasy. In this man's affair they had completely overlooked the woman. After all, it was her house. And it was too dark now to pull it off outside.

The silence was broken by a sneering laugh from Joe. He made a move as if to get his boots again. The sound was like a whiplash on Sam. He turned to Bela, white with anger.

"Go to the kitchen!" he commanded. "Shut the door behind you. I started this, and I'm going to see it through. Do you want to shame me again?"

Bela collapsed under his bitter, angry words. Her head fell forward, and she retreated to the kitchen door like a blind woman. She did not go out. She stayed there through the terrible moments that followed, making no sound, and missing no move with those tragic, wide eyes.

The adversaries advanced once more, Big Jack stepping back. The two circled warily, looking for an opening. They made a striking contrast. "David and Goliath," somebody whispered.

Joe's head was thrust forward between his burly shoulders and his face lowered like a thundercloud. Sam, silent and tense, smiled and paraded on his toes.

"Why don't you start something, Jeffries?" asked Sam.

Joe, with a grunt of rage, leaped at him with a sledge-hammer swing that would have ended the fight had it landed. Sam ducked and came up on the other side. Joe's momentum carried him clear across the room.

Sam laughed. "Missed that one, Jumbo," he taunted. "Try another."

Joe rushed back and swung again. Once more Sam ducked, this time as he went under Joe's arm, contriving to land an upper-cut, not of sufficient force to really shake the mountain, but driving him mad with rage.

Joe wheeled about, both arms going like flails. This was what Sam desired. He kept out of reach. He kept Joe running from one side of the room to the other. Joe was not built for running. At the end of the round, the big man was heaving for breath like a foundered horse.

Such was the general style of the battle. The spectators, pressed against the wall to give them plenty of room, roared with excitement.

In the beginning the cries were all for Joe. Then Sam's clever evasions began to arouse laughter. Finally a voice or two was heard on Sam's side. This was greatly stimulating to Sam, who had steeled himself to expect no favour, and correspondingly depressing to Joe.

For three rounds Sam maintained his tactics without receiving a serious blow. He was trying to break the big man's wind – not good at the best – and to wear him out in a vain chase. He aimed to make him so blind with rage he could not see to land his blows. To this end he kept up a running fire of taunts.

"I shan't have to knock you out, Blow-Hard. You're doing for yourself nicely. Come on over here. Pretty slow! Pretty slow! Who was your dancing teacher, Joe? You're getting white around the lips now. Bum heart. You won't last long!"

Between rounds little Musq'oosis, watching all that Mattison did, did likewise for his principal.

Finally the spectators began to grow impatient with too much footwork. They required a little blood to keep up their zest. Sam was blamed.

"Collide! Collide!" they yelled. "Is this a marathon or hare and hounds? Corner him, Joe! Smash him! Stand, you cook, and take your punishment!"

Big Jack fixed the last speaker with a scowl.

"What do you want – a murder?" he growled.

The referee's sympathies were clearly veering to Sam's corner. Big Jack, whatever his shortcomings, was a good sport, and Joe was showing a disposition to fight foul. Jack watched him closely in the clinches. Joe was beginning to seek clinches to save his wind. Jack, in parting them, received a sly blow meant for Sam.

Like a flash, Jack's own experienced right jabbed Joe's stomach, sending him reeling back into his corner. The spectators howled in divided feelings. Jack, however, controlled the situation with a look.

In the fourth round Joe turned sullen and refused to force the fighting any longer. He stood in front of his corner, stooping his shoulders and swinging his head like a gorilla. Such blows as Sam had been able to land had all been addressed to Joe's right eye. His beauty was not thereby improved.

Now he stood, deaf alike to Sam's taunts and to the urgings of his own supporters. Sam, dancing in front of him, feinting and retreating, could not draw a blow. Strategy was working in Joe's dull brain. He dropped his arms.

Instantly Sam ran in with another blow on the damaged eye. Over-confidence betrayed him. Joe's right was waiting. The slender figure was lifted clean from the floor by the impact. He crashed down in a heap and, rolling over, lay on his face, twitching.

A roar broke from the spectators. That was what they wanted.

Bela ran out from her corner, distracted. Musq'oosis intercepted her.

"No place for girl," he said sternly. "Go back."

"He's dead! He's dead!" she cried wildly.

"Fool! Only got wind knocked out!" He thrust her back to her place by the door.

Big Jack was stooping over the prostrate figure, counting with semaphore strokes of his arm: "One! Two! Three!"

The spectators began to think it was all over, and the tension let down. Joe grinned, albeit wearily. There was not much left in him.

Meanwhile Sam's brain was working with perfect clearness. He stirred cautiously.

"Nothing broken," he thought. "Take nine seconds for wind enough to keep away till the end of the round. Then you have him!"

At the count of nine he sprang up, and the spectators roared afresh. Joe, surprised, went after him without overmuch heart. Sam managed to escape further punishment.

A growing weariness now made Joe's attacks spasmodic and wild. He was working his arms as if his hands had leaden weights attached to them. A harrowing anxiety appeared in his eyes. At the sight of it a little spring of joy welled up in Sam's breast.

"Pretty near all in, eh?" he said. "You're going to get licked, and you know it! There's fear in your eye. You always had a yellow streak. Crying Joe Hagland!"

Joe, missing a wild swing, fell of his own momentum amid general laughter. Derision ate the heart out of him. He rose with a hunted look in his eyes. Sam suddenly took the offensive, and rained a fusillade of blows on the damaged eye, the heart, the kidneys. Joe, taken by surprise, put up a feeble defence.

The next round was the last. Around Caribou Lake they still talk about it. A miracle took place before their eyes. David overcame Goliath at his own game. Jack beat down the giant. At the referee's word, Sam sprang from his corner like a whirlwind, landing right and left before Joe's guard was up.

The weary big man was beaten to his knees. Struggling up, he tried to clinch, only to be met by another smashing blow in the face. He turned to escape, but the dancing figure with the battering fists was ever in front of him.

He went down again, and, stretching out on the floor, began to blubber aloud in his confusion and distress.

"He's had enough," said Sam grimly.

The result was received in the silence of surprise. A few laughed at the spectacle Joe made. Others merely shrugged. The victory was not a popular one.

Big Jack went through the formality of counting, though it was patent to all that the fighting was done. Afterward he turned to Sam and shook his hand.

"I didn't think you had it in you," he said.

This was sweet to Sam.

Joe raised himself, snivelling, and commenced to revile Sam.

"Aw, shut up!" cried Big Jack, with strong disgust. "You're licked!"

Joe got to his feet. "Only by trickery!" he cried. "He wouldn't stand up to me! I could have knocked him out any time. Everybody was against me! It takes the heart out of a man." Tears threatened again.

General laughter greeted this.

"That's all right!" cried Joe furiously from the door. "I'll get you yet!" He went out.

The others now began to crowd around Sam, congratulating him a little sheepishly, slapping his back. A great, sweet calm filled Sam. This was the moment he had dreamed of during his long days on the trail and his lonely nights at Grier's Point.

He had made good. He was a man among men. They acknowledged it. It was like a song inside him. The hideous wound that Bela had dealt him was healed.

He glanced over his shoulder at her. From her corner she was gazing at him as at a young god. Calm filled her breast, too. Joe was gone, and her secret still safe. Surely after to-night, she thought, there would be no need of keeping it.

They heard Joe climb into his wagon outside and curse at his horses. Instead of turning into the road, he drove back to the door and pulled up. Bela turned pale again.

Joe shouted through the doorway: "Anyhow, no woman keeps me!"

"Damn you! What do you mean?" cried Sam.

"You owe the clothes you wear to her, and the gun you carry! The horses you drive are hers!"

"You lie!" cried Sam, springing toward the door.

Joe whipped up his horses. "Ask her!" he shouted back.

Sam whirled about and, seizing the wrist of the shrinking Bela, dragged her out of her corner.

"Is it true," he demanded – "the horses? Answer me before them all!"

She fought for breath enough to lie.

He saw it. "If you lie to me again I'll kill you!" he cried. "Answer me! Is it your team that I drive?"

His violence overbore her defences. "Yes," she said tremulously. "What difference does it make?"

The men looked on, full of shamefaced curiosity at this unexpected turn. One or two, more delicate-minded, went outside.

Sam's ghastly wound was torn wide open again. "What difference?" he cried, white and blazing. "Oh, my God, it means you've made a fool of me a second time! It means I've nerved myself and trained myself to fight this brute only to find he's able to give me the laugh after all!"

"Sam – you so poor, then," she murmured.

It was like oil on the flames. He flung off her beseeching hand. "I didn't ask your help!" he cried passionately. "I told you to leave me alone! You can't understand a man has his pride. You're loathsome to me now!"

Mahooley interfered with good intent. "Sam, you're foolish. What difference does it make? Nobody blames you!"

"Keep your mouth out of this!" cried Sam, whirling on him.

To Bela he went on blindly: "The team is at the Point. I'll have it here in an hour! My credit at the store is yours! You hear that, Mahooley? Turn over what's coming to me to her. The gun, the axe, the blankets I'll keep. I'll pay you for them when I earn it. I'll make you a present of my labour, driving for you. And I hope to God I'll never see you again!" He ran out.

Bela stood in an oddly arrested attitude, as if an icy blast had congealed her in full motion. There was no sense in her eyes. In acute discomfort, the men stood on one foot, then the other.

Mahooley, as the leader, felt that it was incumbent on him to make the first move.

"Look here, Bela," he began. "Don't you take on – "

The sound of his voice brought her to life. She threw back her head with a laugh. It had a wretched, mirthless sound; but a laugh is a laugh. They were glad to be deceived. They laughed with her.

"Tak' on?" cried Bela recklessly. Her voice had a tinny ring. "W'at do I care? I glad he gone. I glad both gone. I never let them come here again. Maybe we have some peace now."