Читать книгу The Doom of Stark House - Percy Keese Fitzhugh - Страница 3

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A low ceiling had forced them down through the sullen, gray atmosphere and after landing them safely in the snow-banked valley, the pilot took off immediately and was even then gaily winging his way back toward distant Quebec. The two young men watched the plane intently until its shimmering wings were obscured by the gathering storm clouds.

Hal looked away and turned to view the silent, white landscape. Miles and miles of frowning forest stretched out in all directions and to the left, just this side of the timber, the dark outline of the river could be seen under its thick coating of ice.

Chester Stark drew his heavy coat about his none too robust frame, then placed a gloved hand on Hal’s shoulder.

“That’s Bete Noire, old top.”

“Oh, yes—that Black Beast river you were telling me about. It doesn’t look like such a black beast to me, Ches.” Hal’s deep blue eyes twinkled. “Just now it looks like an icy beast.”

“It’s everything you can name, Hal. Dangerous current—tricky, and yet a blessing for the trappers. Only way they can make it to Sainte Beauve in the bad months. So thick with ice they travel almost the whole distance over it. They begin to dynamite it this month, though. Settlers have to get fish. Dad wrote me they’d already blown up the ice at Beyond. We’ll be able to get some trout.”

“Boy, that sounds like living, Ches. But say, we’re here because we’re here and it’s middle afternoon. Are you sure this handy man of your father’s or whatever he is—are you sure he’ll show up and not leave us in this solemn place for the night?”

A smile lighted up Chester Stark’s gray eyes and he looked at Hal’s powerful physique, admiringly.

“Bonner will be here—he’ll be looking for us, don’t worry. But even if he shouldn’t, I have the feeling somehow that you’re capable of taking care of both of us.” He glanced at Hal’s broad shoulders and nodded. “You look as if you could knock a hungry wolf pack silly with one straight tackle.”

Hal whipped off his warm tweed cap and ran his hand over a tumbled mass of red, curling hair. Instinctively, then, he looked off across the gleaming white surface of the snow searching for tell-tale impressions. In a second he espied them, not two hundred feet from where they were standing.

“Ches, you mean wolves...”

“Certainly, you crazy egg. You’re in the wilds of Canada and I don’t mean maybe! You’re not on the campus! Do you realize we were a few hours in that plane from Quebec? Figure it out for yourself what a nice cross-country run that would be if we had to hoof it. Sainte Beauve, which is about twenty miles from here, is nothing more or less than an outpost town. There’s a train in and out of there every other week. Beyond is twenty miles also, but north of this spot, so considering the distance between human habitations in this wild, desolate country it isn’t any wonder that wolves...”

“How can you tell it’s twenty miles to Beyond, Ches?” Hal interposed, glancing anxiously toward the darkening horizon.

“I’ve spent all my life around these parts, except the time I’ve been at college,” Chester answered. “I ought to know the country a little bit. But to satisfy you, Hal, I’ll tell you why I know it’s twenty miles to Beyond. Bete Noire divides a little northeast of here and she goes roaring out and over through Dirk’s Pass, plunges down into the ravine and meets the river again at a place called the Devil’s Pot. It speaks for itself; it’s the most treacherous spot on the Bete Noire. If you listen intently you’ll hear the roar of the falls at Dirk’s Pass—it seldom freezes over completely. Hear it? Well, just the sound of it tells me that the distance to Beyond is about twenty miles. And by that same token I can calculate the distance to little old Sainte Beauve.”

“Boy, it’s quite a little walk either way, huh? A fellow feels rather small when he thinks of so many miles of snow and ice...Gosh, Ches, how on earth can this Bonner bird find us?”

“You have to pass through this valley to get to Sainte Beauve. And if you remember, I wired Dad that if the day wasn’t so pleasant our pilot might have to land us in the valley. Dad will figure the time correctly and Jacques Bonner will be here, Hal. Don’t worry. I wish I was as certain that you’d like him.”

“What makes you think I won’t like him?”

“Because nobody likes him, except Dad. He looks like a bear and acts like a puma. He’s part Indian, but mostly French-Canadian, I understand, and talks very good English. A queer mixture. Anyway, he’s been with my father since their lumberjack days. Dad was foreman of the outfit and when he finally organized the Great Northern Lumber Company and made his pile, Jacques Bonner came into the family and he’s been with us ever since. A sort of major-domo, you know. My sisters and myself have never talked about it, but if anyone were to ask us point blank I guess we couldn’t honestly say we have any use for Bonner. Dad swears by him, and yet at times...Hal, I’m going to tell you something confidential...”

“Why, of course, Ches—go on!”

“I’ve sometimes fancied Dad is afraid of Jacques Bonner. Why, I don’t know. For that reason I just say I fancy it’s so. But do me a favor while you’re at Beyond, Hal. See if you notice that they’re never quite at ease in each other’s presence.”

“I don’t quite understand—”

“You will when you see Dad and Jacques Bonner together,” Chester said, looking up steadily into Hal’s ruddy face. “You’ll notice it immediately, for you’re the type of person that wouldn’t do anything else but.—This is just between you and me, you know.”

“Ches, we’re friends, the best of friends, aren’t we?” Hal said, taking off his fur gauntlet and extending his hand.

“The very best, Hal.”

They clasped hands and smiled, then stepped apart at the sudden, distant sound of tinkling bells. Chester nodded.

“It’s Bonner, all right—with the sleigh. Now you can rest easy that we’ll get to Beyond comfortably. Also, we’ll eat and I know that’s just what you were worrying about.”

“Man alive, was I! The promise of food, a blazing fireplace, the tinkle of sleigh bells...If it wasn’t early March I’d think it was Christmas,” Hal chuckled. “Anyway, it’s a merry sounding prospect.”

“Don’t count on too much at Stark House, Hal. I didn’t know what merriment was until I went to college and fell in with you. Dad’s always been so sad and peculiar.”

“Now, Ches, don’t start worrying about the effect your father and your house will have on me—please! I’ve lived long enough to take people as I find them; I’ve met lots of peculiar people too. You ought to know that I get a kick out of almost everything and everybody.”

“Yes, I should have remembered that,” Chester admitted, smiling.

Hal laughed heartily and flung his arm about his friend’s narrow shoulders. The sound of the bells grew louder with every second until presently they descried through the shadowy trees two spirited horses and a sleigh coming swiftly toward them over the hard-packed snow.

Chester Stark waved his arm without enthusiasm as the sleigh approached. A ponderous figure swathed in black furs returned the greeting with a nod of his enormous head. Sullen and unsmiling, the flat-nosed face and dark, opaque eyes looked almost mask-like, so devoid of expression were they. Hal was distinctly conscious of a shuddering sensation throughout his body at this first glimpse of the man.

Jacques Bonner did that to people.