The Trail of the Golden Horn/Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
Where Strength Counts
WHEN Hugo left the rock and fled from the presence of his enemies, he wished to get as far away as possible. But before doing so, he was determined to see Marion. He could not leave her alone in the cabin, so if she agreed he would endeavor to take her to The Gap. He would be running a great risk, he was well aware, but he could not do otherwise. How he longed to go to her, speed with her to Swift Stream and thence outside. But he knew that would have to be postponed for a while, and perhaps for all time.
He thought of this as he hurried on his way beneath the brow of the high hill, taking special care to keep out of sight of the Police. When he was sure that he would not be observed, he cautiously approached the trail, sped across it, and plunged into the thick woods on the lower side. Had he gone a couple of hundred yards farther on he would have come across the straggling trail made by the half-breed girl when she, too, had sought the shelter of those friendly trees. Of this Hugo was totally unaware as he moved rapidly forward. At times he was but a few rods from where Zell had travelled. Had Hugo swung a little more to the right, and the girl somewhat more to the left, their trails would have met, and how much that would have meant to one, at least.
“Oh, the little more, and how much it is!
And the little less, and what worlds away.”
To Hugo the trackless wilds were as an open book, and he was as sure of his course as if on a well-beaten trail. Years of experience had developed his sense of direction, and he pressed steadily onward without the slightest hesitation. It was only when he came near his cabin did he slacken his speed and peer cautiously forward and around. Silence reigned everywhere as he stepped from his snow-shoes, pushed gently open the door and entered. The dog bounded to meet him, but Hugo motioning him to be still, looked toward the bunk. Marion was lying where he had left her, but she was now awake. She smiled as she saw her father standing there. Then she sat quickly up, an anxious expression showing in her eyes.
“Did you find Zell?” she asked. “Oh, I know you didn’t,” she added. “She is not with you.”
“I didn’t find her,” Hugo replied. “I have proof, though, that she was carried off by someone.”
“Oh!” It was all that Marion said, as she waited for further information.
In a few words Hugo told her what he had discovered, the signs of struggle in the snow, and the blood marks by the ashes of the camping-place.
“Oh, what can we do?” Marion asked, slipping from the bunk and standing before her father. “Can we not follow her, and rescue her from her captors?”
Before Hugo could reply, a bark from the dog, which had gone outside, startled him, causing him to bound to the door. For a second he listened intently, and when he turned around Marion was surprised at the fierce look in his eyes.
“The Police!” he growled. “They’re coming up the trail! I must be off at once. They’ll look after you.”
“Oh, don’t go,” Marion pleaded. “I don’t want to lose you. Why are you so afraid of the Police?”
Hugo made no reply. He left the room, stepped into his snow-shoes, and ordering the dog to remain behind, plunged into a thicket of firs and jack-pines on the upper side of the cabin. His heart was filled with bitterness and hatred as he moved forward. For years he had been fleeing from the Police, ever hounded from place to place. Formerly it had not mattered so much, as he had refuges to which he could go. But now it was different. He wanted to stay with Marion and give up his endless wandering life. But it could not be. The Police were everywhere, tireless and alert.
Ascending the hill which stretched along back of the cabin, he at length stopped at a spot where he could obtain a fairly good view of what was taking place down below. He saw the Police come to the trail leading to the cabin, where they paused to investigate. He could see Sergeant North advancing alone, so he knew that he would soon be with Marion. That she meant anything to him Hugo had not the least idea. Had he known of their love for each other, his troubles would have been greatly increased. Would Marion tell the sergeant of his whereabouts? What reason would she have for keeping silent?
He thought of all this as he crouched there. Then, knowing that to remain longer would be of no avail, he slipped away, sped along the side of the hill, and crossed the main trail half a mile or more farther on. Far away beyond the valley he had another cabin, and there he decided to go for food and rest.
Shaping his course by a distant mountain peak, he strode rapidly onward. Anger and disappointment raged in his bosom, as with great swinging strides he plowed through the snow down toward the valley below. He did not mind the cold, neither did the sombre forest have any terror for him. In fact, he would have welcomed another encounter with a pack of wolves. He was in a fighting mood and would have proven a stern antagonist to any living creature attempting to oppose him.
Passing through a heavy tract of timber he came out into a region where the trees were small and scattered. Here the snow was deep and in places it had been whipped by the wind in long drifts. Part way across this desolate stretch he came suddenly upon a straggling trail which caused him to stop and examine it with the greatest attention. He could easily tell that it was made by a human being floundering wildly along. He looked first to the right and then to the left, wondering which way the traveller had gone.
“What in time could anyone be doing here without snow-shoes?” he asked himself. “Why, the fellow must be crazy!”
Then an illuminating idea flashed through his mind. It must be the half-breed girl! She had no doubt escaped from her captor, and in trying to get back to her camping-place had lost her way. But where was Bill? Why had he not followed her? Then he thought of the blood he had seen upon the snow by the cold ashes. Had the girl in some way wounded him? Perhaps she was armed, and had disabled the villain.
Thinking thus, he decided that the girl had gone up the valley, and could not be very far away, judging by the depth of the snow, and the crookedness of her trail. Forgotten were his own troubles as he thought of the girl’s desperate situation. He must follow after and do what he could for her welfare, providing she were still alive.
It did not take Hugo long to speed across the snowy waste, and reach a thicket of trees beyond. But at every stride his eyes were upon the marks in the snow. At times he saw where the girl had circled to the right and then to the left, showing plainly the bewildered state of her mind. He could not tell how long before she had passed that way. If but a few minutes, he might be able to save her. But if an hour, or even less, had elapsed, he feared he might be too late. But with feverish haste he pressed onward, entered the thicket, passed through and came out shortly on the opposite side. Here he halted and looked around. It was a region over which a fire had swept the year before, and forms of trees stood gaunt and bare. His eyes searched keenly for some moving object in the midst of the mass of upturned roots and fallen trees. But no sign of life could he see.
He was about to continue his journey when a peculiar sound fell upon his ears. Listening intently, he found that it came from the left. It was like a human voice, yet he could not distinguish what was being said. He knew that it must be the girl, and his heart leaped with hope as he hurried forward. It took him only a few minutes to reach the place where Zell was lying upon the snow, still babbling and crooning about other days.
“Hello, girl, what are you doing here?” Hugo demanded.
But Zell gave no sign of recognition. She kept on talking, all the time clawing at the snow with her mittened hands. In an instant Hugo knew what was the trouble. The girl’s mind was affected by the experience through which she had recently passed. He stood for a few seconds looking upon her, while an overwhelming rage welled up in his heart against the villain responsible for her sad condition. He longed to track him, and bestow upon him the punishment he rightly deserved. But he had no time to think about such things now, as the girl demanded his immediate attention. He must do something for her welfare. But what could he do? He thought of his cabin on the hillside which he had left but a short time before. That was the place where he should take the girl, for Marion was there to attend to her. But to go back was out of the question. The Police were there. No, he must take the girl to his cabin beyond the valley toward which he was headed. It would be a difficult task, he was well aware, to carry the girl all that distance. But he knew that he could do it, for she was slight while he was very strong.
He was about to stoop and lift her from the snow, when Zell tottered to her feet, and looked wildly around. Her eyes were wide with terror, and she pressed fearfully back from some imaginany foe.
“Keep back! Keep back!” she shrieked. “Oh! Oh!”
“Hush,” Hugo ordered, laying his hand upon her shoulder. “I won’t let anything harm you.”
But the girl shrank aside at his touch, and beat the air with her hands.
“The wolves! The wolves!” she cried. “They are upon me! Don’t let them get me!”
To attempt to reason with the girl Hugo knew would be useless. He must get her to the cabin as speedily as possible. Stooping, he lifted her from the snow, and with her in his arms he started forward. For a few minutes Zell struggled and screamed so furiously that Hugo found it difficult to make much progress. But at length she quieted down, and lay panting in his arms. At first he did not mind her weight, but after he had travelled some distance he was forced to lay her down in the snow to relieve his aching arms. Then up and on again over that desolate waste.
The dawn of a new day found Hugo about half a mile from his cabin. He was walking slowly now, for he was greatly exhausted. His coat he had taken off and wrapped it carefully around the girl. Even then he feared lest she should freeze, for the night was very cold. He even wondered at himself as he bore his burden up hills, across valleys, and through thick forests. He could not account for his sympathy for this poor demented half-breed girl. It was a feeling similar to that which had animated his soul when he had journeyed with the little child from the river to the hospital. Time and time again he had rescued sick and injured miners and prospectors, and had taken them to the nearest mining camp. He had done it because there was nothing else to do, and he could not leave them to perish. He had felt a certain degree of pity for them, but his heart had never been stirred in such a manner as when caring for the child and especially the girl. She had been deeply wronged, so perhaps that was the reason, for Hugo was ever the champion of the ill-treated.
Slowly the moon faded off in the west as the weary man plodded onward. The sun rose above the mountain peaks, and skimmed low along the eastern horizon. Ere long Hugo could see the spot where nestled his little cabin, and with a great sigh of relief he climbed the hill, reached the door, pushed it open and entered. Upon a rude bunk on one side of the room he laid the helpless girl. Tired though he was, he at once started a fire in the little camping-stove, and prepared some food from a supply he always kept on hand. In a short time he had heated some stewed moose meat left from his last meal there, and forced a few spoonfuls between the girl’s firm-set teeth. It was all that he could do except cover her with two thick gray four-point blankets. He stood watching her as she lay there, now asleep, worn out with the fatigue of the night. What was he to do with her? he wondered. Where could he take her? That she needed more attention than he could give her, he was certain. But where could he go for assistance?
Hugo thought of these things as he ate his supper, and afterwards sat smoking near the stove. It felt good to be back once more in the shelter of his own cabin, and but for his worry about the girl he would have felt quite happy. He mused upon the events of the day and wondered how Marion was getting along. He was quite sure that she would go away with the Police, but just where he had no idea. He did not feel so bitter now about being driven forth into the night. If he had remained there with Marion the half-breed girl would surely have perished. During his long sojourn in the wilderness Hugo had often puzzled over the mystery of life. Notwithstanding his spirit of rebellion for man-made law, deep down in his heart there was a profound respect for the unchanging law of Nature. As he journeyed along the trails; as he watched the western sky burnished with the glory of the setting sun; as he faced the furious storms of winter, or stood in some great silent valley, he had learned over and over again that there was no effect without some corresponding cause. He never could believe that things happened according to blind chance. Several times he had tried to force himself to that way of thinking, but all in vain. The great book spread out before him was so unmistakably clear that he could never remain in doubt for any length of time.
So sitting now in the silent cabin he thought of the events which had led him to the side of that lost girl. At first appearance it seemed as if those two guardians of the North were the cause. But the more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that they were but instruments in the hands of a greater force, a Divine power overruling all things. What had led them so unerringly that night from the distant trail where he had seen them the day before? What had changed their course? He could arrive at only one conclusion, and it filled his soul with awe. It thrilled him, too, making him feel that he was surrounded by a sustaining influence working on his behalf. He suddenly thought of the night he had spent in the shack with the sleeping child, and the wonderful vision he had there beheld of the mysterious light, and the strange presence hovering over the little one.
For some time Hugo sat there, thinking of these things. The transformation which had been going on in his soul of late was steadily gaining in strength. A new vision had come to him, and with the vision was a new desire. He felt that he was no longer merely Hugo, the trapper, the outcast, but an instrument in the hands of an unseen power. He looked toward the sleeping girl, and felt that in some way she was being used as an important instrument in the shaping of his life. And as he watched her, his future line of action became strangely clear, and a new sense of power possessed his entire being.
Rising suddenly from his seat, he passed out of the cabin and laid his hands upon a small toboggan half-buried in the snow. This he carried into the room, and placed it near the stove. When it was well thawed out and dry, he began to repair the broken parts. With strong moose-hide thongs he deftly repaired the damages wrought by many a hard trail. He then laid the toboggan aside, stepped across the room and examined his scanty supply of provisions upon a rough shelf fastened to the wall.