Читать книгу The Mystery of The Woods - W. H. H. Murray - Страница 10

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Through the darkness the old Trapper paddled toward his camp. He checked the onward course of his boat, as if canvassing in his own mind the advisability of returning in order to investigate still further the character of his enemies, and the object of their encampment, but each time his judgment ruled against his impulse, and he continued his course toward his cabin. We say his enemies, for as such it was evident that henceforth the men in the camp on the Point were to be regarded. And enemies of such a sort, too, that little delay could be expected in their efforts for his destruction.

"No, no," said the Trapper to himself, thinking—as was his custom when alone—aloud, "no, no, it would be downright foolishness for a man to put his moccasin on that beach ag'in to-night, arter what has passed; for the vagabonds be in arnest in their deviltry, and I have larnt them the value of watchfulness that they won't forgit while they stay in the woods. It maybe that I acted a leetle hasty—yis, I do conceit I acted onrational in cuffin' that chap as I did, for it broke up the council, and the Lord only knows what I might have heerd of their evil doin' ef I'd acted with better jedgment, and let their loose talkin' gone on. But I was pritty nigh 'em, for sartin, and ef they'd begun to walk around careless-like, they'd stumbled over me—leastwise, it's reasonable to think so—and then there would have been a good deal of liveliness goin' on around that P'int; and in sech a case somethin' would sartinly have happened, and then,"—and here the old Trapper intermitted a couple of strokes, and trailed his paddle for a moment, as if communing with his innermost self.

"Yis, yis," he resumed, "I've consorted with the old dog nigh on to fourteen year, and he saved me from the knife of the vagabond, there, as the villain said, not to speak of other like sarvices he's done me, off and on, actin' accordin' to his gifts. Sport is the dyin' gift of the Lad, and I remember well when he gin me the dog, and it's onreasonable to think that a man who loves the pups could lie within arm's reach of a man and hear him talk of pizenin' 'em—which is downright murder as I conceit—and not larn him a leetle caution in speakin' of the Lord's creeturs. Yes, I'm glad I cuffed him as I did, for the vagabond lacks manners, and it's an actaal marcy to edicate sech ignorance. And ef the Lord gives a man a chance to do sech an act, it's downright sin not to improve the opportunity, as the missioners say, as I conceit."

Thus communing with his own thoughts the Trapper held on his course, paddling slowly through the darkness toward his camp. At last he reached the northern end of the lake and moved into the little bay in front of the grove of maples in which his cabin stood. Nor did he land at once, but twice he skirted the shore noiselessly, and when he landed he ran his boat against the shore with the utmost caution. "For," he said to himself, "there's no telling how many of the vagabonds there be, nor where they be, and it won't do in wartime, when enemies are around, to run into yer own camp careless-like." It was not until with noiseless foot he had reached the door of his cabin, and heard the welcoming whine of the hounds, who had scented him, that he ventured to enter.

"Ye be good and sensible, pups," said the old man to the dogs, as he lighted a candle, made from the tallow of a buck, with his own hands; "yis, ye be knowin' and faithful accordin' to yer gifts, and a man can sleep in peace with yer muzzles on the threshold. Many be the time, Rover, that yer father, and yer gran'ther afore ye, gave me warnin' when inimies were 'round me seekin' my life; and ye, yerself, saved me from the murderin' knife of the vagabond on the P'int there, as the villain himself said. The Lord may sartinly hold jedgment agin me ef I ever ag'in range my eyes through the sights ef he be within decent distance, and I don't bring his deviltry to an eend."

Here the old man paused, and removing the caps from the tubes of his rifle wiped them with a buckskin rag, until all moisture was removed, and then, recapping them, he called the dogs from their resting spot to his side, and said,—

"Pups, there be inimies 'round; do you hear, Rover, there be inimies 'round, and, for aught I know, the vagabonds may be outlyin' about the cabin afore mornin';" and here the old man fingered the locks of his rifle significantly, and pointed toward the open door, while the hounds pricked up their ears and scented the air with lifted muzzles. "Ay, ay, I see ye understand," continued the Trapper, "and I must sleep and ye must wake to-night. Here, pups, come here and make yer bed by the door, and do ye give me warnin' ef ye scent man or beast afore dawn. And do ye remember, Rover," and the Trapper patted the old hound's head, "that yer master sleeps with nothin' but yer nose and yer senses atween him and danger." So saying, the Trapper motioned the dogs to their bed, where they crouched with their muzzles actually resting on the doorsill, while he, throwing some skins on to the floor behind them, with his rifle by his side and his hand resting on the stock, lay down to sleep, knowing that between him and any enmity of men, lay two faithful sentinels who would keep certain watch until the morning should dawn.

The light of early morning was just beginning to redden in the east when the Trapper woke from his slumber. He rose at once from the skins on which he had been sleeping, and, speaking pleasantly to the dogs who still lay stretched side by side as he had placed them hours before, he passed out of the door and ranged his eyes up the lake. Then, calling the hounds to his side, he sent them by a motion of his hand and a word of prompting, circling around the cabin as if in search of game. In a moment the dogs returned, having given no cry, and stood wagging their tails in front of him.

"All right, pups! all right!" exclaimed the Trapper. "I know what ye mean; for ye tell me as plain as words of truth could speak it that foot of man has not touched the shore to-night. Do ye stay where ye be till the meat is ready, and do ye keep yer eyes on the water and your noses toward the bush, for I mistrust the vagabonds, and when they come they must find John Norton waitin' for 'em. Ef fightin' comes in downright arnest," muttered the old man, as he entered the cabin to prepare the meal, "I sartinly wish the boy was here, for his eye is keen and his finger quick; and his piece is a good un, and eight to one is big odds."

The meal was soon prepared, and, moving the table through the doorway, the old Trapper proceeded to eat it with evident relish. The hounds kept their station, while their vigilant eyes and active muzzles bore evidence that even the smell and sight of food could not cause them to forget their master's commands. The sun was already risen, and the fog that heavily swathed the level lake began to roll itself southward, as moved by the rising current of air, resembling nothing so much as gigantic rolls of carded wool, whose tapering ends touched either shore. Before the meal was ended the surface of the lake, lively with ripples, lay plain to view. The old Trapper was cleaning his plate with the last morsel of bread, preliminary to eating it, when a low growl from both of the hounds simultaneously sounded their warning.

"Ay, ay, pups," answered the Trapper; "I see what ye see. It's one of the vagabonds for sartin; for, far off as it is, I can see it's a canoe, and paddled by a man who uses his paddle as ef it was a Dutchwoman's washin'-board. Don't git oneasy, pups, for he's a good mile away yit, and ef he don't git the swing of the ash better than he's got it yit, it'll take him a good hour to cover the distance, onless he quits the canoe and takes to swimmin'. So, pups, come here and take yer breakfast like rational dogs, as ye be, and never mind the canoe. For there's plenty of time, and many a fight and many a race by man and dog alike is won at the table. For a full stomach at the table makes a stout heart in the scrimmage."

So saying, the Trapper proceeded to feed the hounds bountifully, which having done, he cleared away the dishes and carried the table back into the cabin.

By this time the canoe was within a quarter of a mile of the beach, and the Trapper, with his rifle in the hollow of his arm, walked leisurely down to the bank and waited the approach of the canoe, which, with the awkward motion of a novice, was being lumberingly pushed along. It needed but a glance on the part of the Trapper to reveal the fact that the man in the canoe was the same who had been the spokesman of the party on the night of his first call at the camp on the Point, and whose coolness had extorted the old man's admiration.

From the elevation on which the Trapper stood he could easily command not merely a full view of the person of the paddler from head to foot, but the bottom of the canoe, also, from stem to stern; and it was patent at a glance that the man was totally unarmed, and the boat empty of weapons, save in the belt of the paddler was a knife, and on the bow of the canoe, where it was decked over, was a pair of long-barrelled duelling pistols.

When some fifty rods from the shore the paddler checked his boat, and, taking a white handkerchief from his pocket, waved it over his head.

"Ay, ay," called the Trapper, in answer to the signal; "I know the language of yer sign, and many be the times I've seed it waved when smoke was thick and bodies of men covered the ground. Yis, yis, hist yer craft along ef ye can, or I shall have to come out and tow ye in."

Thus encouraged, the boatman renewed his efforts, and, by dint of great exertion, soon brought it within forty yards of the beach, when he again checked his efforts, and for a full moment inspected the Trapper. The Trapper returned the inquisition of the stranger, and it is safe to say that there was little about the other that either of them didn't see.

The stranger was of medium size, and dressed in a manner which divided his garments equally between the fashion of the woods and the city. His moccasins were almost snow-white, and gayly ornamented with beads of many colors. His pantaloons were of checked cassimere, of sober shade, and as clean and unseamed as if just from the hands of a tailor. His belt was of the color of his moccasins, and as gayly ornamented. The handle of his knife was of solid pearl. His white shirt—for he wore neither vest nor coat—was immaculately clean, and from the centre of its ruffled front blazed a magnificent diamond. On the little finger of his left hand, as it rested carelessly on the paddle shaft, glowed with equal splendor a companion gem. The hands themselves were white, and, for a man's, exceedingly delicate. His face, in the clean-cut outline of the dominant features, was positively classical; and, as it was clean-shaven, save as to the mustache, it showed to great advantage against the background of long, wavy, jet-black hair that fell in a curling mass even to his shoulders. His lips were full and curved like a girl's. His nose straight as a Greek's, the nostrils thin. His eyes a keen, steely gray.

"Good-morning, old man," said the stranger, breaking the silence at last, and as he spoke his lips parted pleasantly, and the teeth showed snow-white behind the smiling lines. "I've come down to make you a call, and have a little fun with you, if you feel good-natured enough to grant me an interview. Then there's something I want to talk over with you about the camp on the Point, so there needn't be any misunderstanding about matters. Can I come ashore, old man?"

"Yis," answered the old man, "ye can come in, but afore ye come in it's best we understand each other; for ef ye expect to come any of yer leetle pranks on an old man whose eye and ear and finger, for that matter, larnt their tricks on the trail and in the scrimmage, I might as well tell ye, young man, that ye'll come in a good deal livelier than ye'll go out; for I've stood about all the sass I shall from ye chaps on the P'int. And ef ye poke me up any more, somethin' will happen. Yis, ye can come in, and ef ye act square ye can go out, but ef ye try to play any nasty trick on me, or even git sassy-like with yer tongue, why then some of yer comrades in yer deviltry will have to come and fetch ye out. Ye understand the tarms now, and ef ye like the conditions ye can paddle in and welcome; but let me say that any leetle motions ye might make toward them pistils there, in passin', would send ye into etarnity afore yer finger could tech a trigger. For I've a piece that works quick, and my muzzle always covers onsartin game when I go into a thicket."

"Oh, that's all right," said the man pleasantly. "If you and I ever fight, we'll fight on an even deal. I didn't come to fight, John Norton, and if I had, I'd shuffle fair. I bet on luck and go my pile on the fickle jade. If she favors and I win, I laugh; if she frowns and I lose, I laugh as gayly. She's favored me thus far, and I shall trust her to the end of the game. When the game ends is pure luck also. How's that for doctrine, John Norton?" and so saying the gambler stepped ashore, and, climbing the bank, stopped in front of the old Trapper, while he busied himself in brushing the sand from his gayly wrought moccasins.

"It's the devil's own doctrine, young man," answered the Trapper. "A man dies when he dies, by the Lord's app'intment, for he has numbered the hairs of our heads, and the length of our days, be they few or many, be writ in his Book. It's not by luck that I have passed through the dangers of sixty year, spent on the trail and the deadly scrimmage, or that my hairs be whitenin' in peace, but because the hour that the Lord has fixed for me to stand in the Great Clearin' has not yit come, and the eend of my trail is not yit reached. That's my doctrine, young man, and it's good in Scriptur' and reason both, as I conceit."

"It may be as you say, touching yourself, John Norton," answered the gambler, "but I belong to another generation, and see things differently. The Book you put faith in I don't care a deuce for, and luck is better than reason, when the wheel goes round, and the coin is plenty. Scripture and reason ain't mentioned in the rules of the game I play, and in my business luck governs the points." And the man laughed lightly and even merrily, as he spoke.

"What be your business?" asked the Trapper.

"I amuse people," answered the man, "and take the conceit out of fools." And again he laughed pleasantly.

"I don't understand ye," replied the Trapper, "and ag'in I ax ye what be yer business, and how do ye amuse people?"

"With these!" And the man whipped a pack of cards from his pocket and shuffled them carelessly, "with these I amuse people and take the conceit out of fools."

"Ye be a gambler," exclaimed the Trapper, "and ye be the devil's own child!"

"I shouldn't wonder," replied the man, "if I was. The relationships in genteel society are a good deal mixed, and it's a wise son that knows his own father. You don't play, old man?" The fellow put the interrogation with the coolness of long habit.

"The Lord forbid!" answered the Trapper, "I never tetched a keerd in my life, nor do I know the picturs one from another." And the look of abhorrence and contempt on his rugged features gave supreme emphasis to the assertion.

"I'm sorry," replied the gambler—and for the first time since he landed, his face took a sober expression,—"I swear by the aces and the bowers, I'm sorry, for if you even knew the value of the cards we could have settled the matter between us without further trouble."

"What matter do you mean?" queried the Trapper. "I've had no traffic with ye, and there's nothin' to settle."

"Yes, there is something between us," coolly answered the gambler, "and something mighty serious, too, and something that's got to be settled pleasantly before I leave this beach, or it will be settled unpleasantly after I leave it." And the man paused and looked at the Trapper significantly.

"Ye sartinly know a good deal more than I do," answered the Trapper, "and as I never say anything onless I have something to say, ye'd better speak fust."

"Very well," replied the gambler, "I don't know much about the game I'm playing, but it's always safe to lead an ace; so here goes. The matter I came to speak to you about, and to arrange if possible, is the camp on the Point. There it is, old man, on the board; cover it."

"Sartin," answered the Trapper, "I don't quite ketch the meanin' of your gambler's talk, but I'll settle that business on the P'int there in about a week, as the signs now p'int."

"What do you propose to do?" asked the gambler coolly.

"I conceit I shall know what's inside the big tent in about a week," answered the Trapper as coolly; "but a day more or less, when yer arter game of that size, don't matter, and I shan't be perticerler."

"You will be more likely to know what's in heaven," laughingly replied the gambler. "No, no, old man, I told the captain when I got up this morning that it wasn't a fair game. The cards are stocked, and we hold the whole pack—seven to one! It's no fair. There's no chance for luck; it is nothing short of murder, and I told the captain to his face, that I wouldn't see a man wiped out in that style. And so I came down to see if we couldn't sort of ante up, and get out of it without any unpleasantness."

The gambler was unmistakably in earnest, that the old Trapper could see. To him the death of the Trapper seemed a foregone conclusion. He knew the character of the crowd to which he belonged, and the deadliness of their purpose. He knew the skill and murderous energy with which they would launch themselves against the man in whom they all recognized a common enemy. It was certainly evident that however debasing the practice of his profession might be, the gambler recognized the code, and was exerting himself to the full extent of his power to avoid what seemed to him not battle but murder. The motive which had prompted him to this visit was honorable, and the old man was not slow to see that underneath the surface of reckless wickedness there still survived those honorable instincts which make the civilized man to differ from the barbarian.

"I am much obleeged to ye," answered the Trapper, "for though yer arrand be foolish, yit yer motive was a good un; but ye needn't worry about me. I know the man I have to deal with on the P'int, and there's a leetle outstandin' account atween us that orter be settled; and as for the odds, it's enough to make the issue onsartin; and that's all there is to say about it. Ef it be the Lord's will that I meet my eend this week and on this lake, he'll find John Norton ready when he calls. But there's deviltry on that P'int, and I'll find it out."

"Egad, old man, I must say that I like the way you hold your cards, and though I know it would be against luck, and we would be bound to lose, yet I swear, if I wasn't dealing for the other side I'd assist, myself; but as it is, you've got to play it alone, and I tell you the cards are against you, for I made the deal; and now for God's sake let us settle this thing peaceably. I have heard of your fame, and I never heard but one thing of you; and now that I look upon you, and see your white head—well, damn it, it almost makes a fool of me, and the game can't be played out. I told the captain that it couldn't be played out, but if I go back without an arrangement, it will be played out; so don't shake your head, but let me make a proposition."

"I said, young man," answered the Trapper, "that ye was the devil's own child, and I don't say that I will change my idees of ye; but I will say that ef ye be the devil's own child ye've got a good broad streak of righteousness in ye somewhere. But it's mighty resky the way yer goin' on, for ye be in a mighty bad set."

"Look here, old man," answered the gambler, "you listen: Now you understand that I shall play this thing through unless you settle; but don't think that I don't know that I am playing with mighty dirty cards. I didn't choose the pack. You see I didn't start the thing. A friend of mine had it in hand. He had done me a good turn once—a little matter where pistols and a morning ride came in. He is a little careless,—careless footed, you know, and coming out of a house in Quebec, one night, he stumbled. There happened to be a knife at the bottom of the steps, and the knife accidentally went through him. He killed the fellow, and staggered to my lodgings before he started the knife. The doctor said he would live, but the upshot of it was that I had to take his cards; that's the way I got into this little matter, and that's why, old man, I've got to play the game through. If it was mine, I would throw it up. So I've come down here to make you a proposition."

"Ye can say what ye've got to say," answered the Trapper. "Ye can say what ye've got to say, young man, but I don't conceit that the signs p'int towards peace, for there is a right and a wrong about it, and that makes bargainin' out of the question, as I jedge."

"I tell you what I will do," responded the gambler; "I'll draw with you for it," and as he spoke he shuffled all the face cards out of the pack on to the ground; "you don't understand the value of the pictures, but you do know that two is more than one, and ten more than five. I make this proposition: the highest number wins. If you draw higher than I, you shall not be disturbed; if I draw higher than you, you shan't disturb us. Come, how do you like it?"

"I don't do things that way," answered the Trapper. "When I draw, as ye call it, it will be in a different fashion."

For a moment the gambler stood perplexed, and an expression almost of pain crossed his handsome features, and the customary nonchalance of his manner sobered into gravity, and then he said,—

"Old man, the game has got to stop; it's all one-sided, and it is simply murder. I will give you a second plan, and, for God's sake, don't say nay to it. There is a man about your age down on the coast,—he and I have not had much to do with each other for some years. You see, we had a little conversation one evening, and I left that night. I have not seen him since. He's about your age; your head makes me think of him. There is a slight relationship between us; they call it father, I think. Well, no matter about that; I want to stop this thing right here, and this is what I propose: You see those pistols—they are favorites of mine. I say, plainly, that there is but one man in the world to whom I cannot give odds and win. I know your skill, and the piece that lies in your arm is, I suppose, your favorite. I tell you what we will do. If you won't draw for it, we will shoot for it. Any way so that the cards shan't be packed, old man,—any way so that the cards shan't be packed;" and then the man, after a moment's pause, said, "Will you shoot for it?"

"What's the match?" asked the Trapper.

"Do you mean what's the prize?" interrogated the gambler.

"Sartin, sartin," answered the Trapper, "a man don't want to barn powder for nothin', not to speak of the caps and the lead, though the caps be plenty and the boy sends in lead by the ton."

"The prize is this," answered the gambler, "we will shoot three shots; if I win, you are to let the camp alone; if you win, the game goes on,—if you choose. What say you to that?"

"The matter of shootin'," answered the Trapper, "is a kind of pleasant divarsion to a man of my gifts at this time of the year, when the bucks be lean, the does be with fawn, and the fur loose in the skin. And ef ye want a leetle playfulness, why the air be clear and the light jest about right; and as for yer pistol shootin', Henry has told me a good deal, off and on, about the tricks that the perfessors have, and, it may be, ye can show an old man some new devices, and a surer way to drive lead than he has larnt in sixty year of practice with the weepon. Yis, ye name yer targets, and we'll shoot the three shots, and ef ye beat me at the shootin' I'll take the pups and start for the Saranac, afore ye can paddle yer canoe to yer camp; for the boy is comin' in soon, and the Lord knows I wouldn't have him see the man that beat me in shootin' when I was usin' the lead and the powder and the caps he has sent me. Yis, I'll accept the tarms."

The angel that keeps the book in which the emotions of human hearts are recorded, will surely remember in the hour of his deepest need the flush of satisfaction that lighted the pale face of the gambler, and the joy which leapt to his heart as the old man, whose whitened head had reminded him of his distant and deserted father, closed with his propositions. He turned toward his canoe with a foot swift and light as a boy's, when buoyant with happiness; for, knowing his own almost matchless skill, he felt confident of winning the match and thus saving from murderous violence the old man to whom his heart had, as he conversed with him, more and more strongly gone out. With a fine touch of chivalry, which the Trapper was not slow to notice, the gambler left one pistol in the boat, and, returning, with equal chivalry proposed to shoot the first shot himself.

"Ye needn't think I mistrust ye, boy, for I don't," said the Trapper. "But it may be the thought of my faith in ye will make yer narves steadier in the trial,—make it seem more like a leetle playfulness atween us, and not a matter of life and death, as it's pretty sartin to be, so pick out yer target and show us the natur of yer gifts. Lord-a-massy, ef the boy was here, what fun we three might have!"

"This is the first trial," said the man. "You see two cones on that pine,—the two that stand tipping the third branch from the water. I will take the lower. If it is left you can take it," said the gambler laughingly; "if not, the other," and as the last word sounded, his pistol cracked sharp and quick, and the little cone, no larger than a marble, disappeared.

"Ye did it well," said the Trapper. "I've picked that tree nearly clean myself;—but I will take the one ye left," and the vibrations of the last word were lost in the ring of the piece as he discharged it.

The gambler looked at the twig, now bare, then he looked at the Trapper, and said,—

"Honors are easy, old man," and he laughed like a boy; but through the laughter quivered a vibration of graver quality, almost of pain.

In a moment each of the two men had reloaded his weapon; and the Trapper said,—

"What next, friend?"

"This!" answered the gambler, and walking off some twenty paces, he put a deuce of spades against a stump, and returning, he said, "I take the lower," and again his pistol cracked quick as a thought.

"And I take the upper," said the Trapper, and his bullet drove through the upper spot, as the gambler's had through the lower.

Again they recharged their pieces.

"What next?" asked the Trapper. "There is only one more bullet, and it isn't sartin whether I go to the Saranac or to the P'int."

"Say, rather, old man, that it is not certain whether you go to the Saranac or to your death," almost solemnly reiterated the gambler.

"The Lord beyend doubt knows," answered the Trapper; "but the shootin' may help him decide."

But the humor of the Trapper started no answering smile on the countenance of the gambler. He said not a word, but took two glass balls, brightly gilded, from his pocket, and giving one to the Trapper, he said,—

"A flying shot. I never missed but once." And steadying himself for a moment, he breathed his breath from his chest and tossed the shining globe high into the air. Up, up it went; another second and it would reach the apex of its upward flight, at which point the Trapper knew full well the gambler had calculated to take it. Was it fate, was it Providence, was it the gambler's "luck," that even at the instant when it came to the point of its highest flight, a puff of wind caught it suddenly, and blew it outward as if it were a feather, and the bullet from the gambler's pistol missed it by its width?

But another bullet did not miss it, for scarcely had the pistol cracked before the Trapper jumped his rifle to his cheek, and as the wind swept the shining globe out over the lake, his bullet caught it as it flew, and the globe burst into gilded fragments.

"The game goes on," said the gambler, and he turned carelessly toward the canoe; but his face was white in its excitement, though not a muscle moved. He had nearly reached the canoe when he turned, and, stepping quickly back in front of the Trapper, he said,—

"Look here, old man, the game will go against you; for the cards are stocked and you stand no chance. I thought to stop the play and save your life; but for the first time in years luck has turned against me, and when we meet again we meet as enemies. Still, I like the way you hold your cards; and though you play a lone hand—one against seven—still luck may pull you through, so not knowing how 'twill end, we'll part man style. Your heart is right, your eye sure, and your finger quick, and though I'm in for it, and shall play the game through and kill you if I can, yet, in my heart, old white-head, I trust to God you'll win, and there's Dick Raymond's hand upon it."

"And there's my hand, young man," answered the Trapper promptly. "Ye've come on a fool's arrand, but yer motive was right, and though I honestly think the devil will have ye, yit it may be the Lord of marcy will give ye a chance in the jedgment—leastwise, I'll put a word or two in for ye when yer case comes up for hearin'."

"All right," answered the gambler, as he turned away, laughing in his own light, reckless fashion, "small change is good when you can't get bills. There'll be enough to testify the other way." And entering his canoe he pushed it out upon the lake and paddled the best he might toward the Point.