“After I had left you, I journeyed three days to the northward, till I came to the mouth of the Forbidden River.  There I found the cache which you spoke to me about; but I did not break into it at that time, as I was still well provided with food and ammunition.  Because you had told me that the Forbidden River was unexplored and never visited, being haunted by Manitous and shades of the dead, I turned into it and travelled up it I thought that I should find safety there.

“On the second day, just as evening was falling, I saw the flare of a camp-fire, about two miles ahead.  You’ll remember that my nerves were badly shaken when I came to you at Murder Point; and they hadn’t been much improved by those five days of flight through the winter loneliness.  When I saw that light blaze up in the distance, I began to be afraid and it wasn’t the fear of men that I was thinking about.  I waited until it was utterly night and then, leaving my dogs behind, stole stealthily forward to prospect.  As I drew nearer, I saw that a hut of boughs had been erected, and that a man was sitting, with his rifle on his knees, before the fire.  He was very old and tall.  But I had no opportunity to get a closer view of him, for, at that moment, he must have heard me; he put his head on one side to listen, and rose to his feet.  Without the waste of any time, he fired in my direction.  Luckily I had thrown myself flat along the snow, for the bullet whizzed over my head.  He advanced towards me a little way, and then, thinking that he had been mistaken, went back to his fire, grumbling to himself, and sat down.  The cold ate into my bones, yet I dared not stir until I was certain that he had gone to sleep.  Presently he arose, looked suspiciously around, piled more wood on his fire, and went into his hut.

“I hurried back to where I had left my dogs, harnessed them in and, leaving the river-bank, travelled into the bush for a distance of about two miles; there I tied them up, and then returned to the river by myself, coming out at a point somewhat nearer to the old man’s hut.  I lay down behind a clump of trees and waited.  Before day had come, I could hear that he was astir; but he seemed to be almighty busy for a Keewatin trapper, who was only changing camp.  About midday he had made his preparations, and, stamping out his fire, set out down-stream, in the direction of the Last Chance River.  I knew that in half-an-hour he must come across my trail, and have his suspicions of the previous night confirmed.  Sure enough, after he had passed my place of hiding and had got below me about three hundred yards, he struck my tracks.  He pulled up sharply, and wheeled round, as if he could feel that my eyes were watching him; he threw up his head like an old bull caribou scenting danger.

“I had left two trails leading from that point, the one towards his hut and back again, the other into the bush to where my dogs were tethered.  If he was determined to follow up the latter and to trace me to my hiding, I was ready for him, and would have the advantage of knowing his whereabouts, whilst he was ignorant of mine.  He must have been going through some such argument himself, for presently he whipped up his dogs and, with one last glance across his shoulder, continued on his journey.  When he had vanished, and I had made certain that he did not intend to return, I went forward to inspect his abandoned camp.

“Inside the hut I found that the floor was of earth and below the snow-level, making evident the fact that it had been erected before the winter had commenced.  When I examined the walls, which were constructed of boughs and mud, I came to the conclusion that they had been standing for many years, but had been renewed from time to time.  All this made it clear to me that you had been mistaken in saying that the Forbidden River had never been travelled.  The next thing to discover was what had brought the old man up there.  The earth of the floor was not packed together, but looked loose and rough, as though it had been newly dug.  This gave me my first clue to the secret.  When I walked above it, it did not sound solid, so I commenced to scrape away the earth.  Six inches down I came to branches of trees spread crosswise, as though to form a roof to a cellar.  Pulling these aside, after another hour of labour, I looked down into a pit which had been hollowed out.  It was getting dark now, so I lit a fire.

“I climbed into the pit, by some rudely fashioned stairs which had been shaped in the side of the wall, and soon found myself on level footing.  Groping about down there, I could feel that the sides were tunnelled, and had been roughly timbered with the stems of trees.  Going above ground, I fetched a torch and then saw all that I had commenced to suspect and a good deal more.

“Piled up in one corner was an outfit of miner’s implements, pans, axes, spades, picks, etc., and close beside them was a sack of moose-hide.  Whipping out my knife, I cut through the thongs by which the sack was tied; it lurched over, letting fall a dozen ounces or so of gold dust.  On searching round, I found in another corner a second sack containing nuggets.  When I went about the walls, and pushed my way into some of the tunnels, I was made certain that I was in one of the richest placer-mines that I had ever set eyes on.  Then I went up to consider what all this meant.

“Here was I, a man fleeing for his life, and here was this old man, a pioneer in an unexplored region, who, for some reason of his own, was keeping secret the knowledge of his bonanza, yet taking the gold out all the while.  Couldn’t I, by making the world a present of his knowledge, buy back my life?  Soon I recognised that that was folly; the world would accept the present, but it would also demand my life.  There was nothing for it but to act by stealth.  If I could once get out of Keewatin with all these riches, I would be able to purchase my escape; especially if I should remain in hiding for a year or so, until the search had been abandoned, and I had been given up for dead.  Then I could sneak out and get to South America, where I was not known, and commence life afresh.  The thought of South America brought El Dorado to my mind, and then I remembered you, two hundred miles’ distant at Murder Point.  ‘Why shouldn’t I tell Granger?’ I said.  ’Then we could both escape, and go in search of El Dorado together, as we have always planned.’”

He paused and looked at his companion to see what effect his words had had.  Granger was sitting with his head bent forward, his knees drawn up and his arms about them, all attention, with a strange look of hunger in his eyes.  “Well, for God’s sake don’t keep me waiting, Druce.  Go on,” he said.

It was the second time that Granger had called him “Druce” in less than two hours; he was now certain of his ground.

“If you are willing to help me, I think we can do as we have always planned.  What do you think about it?”

“I’m willing to the death.  But after you’d discovered the mine, what did you do then?  Did the old man come back?”

“The next few days I kept a careful lookout, in case I should be surprised.  When nothing happened, I commenced to prospect for myself.  I could not do much as the ground was frozen; but I thawed out some of the dirt, and gathered a few nuggets of pretty fair size.  Then the river broke up, and I thought that I was safe for at least a time.  But soon my provisions began to run low, so that it became necessary for me to turn back to the Last Chance River to break open the cache.  I postponed the journey as long as I dared, and at last set out, with only enough flour and bacon to keep me going for two days.  It was hard travelling, for my dogs were of no use to me, the snow being too moist for the passage of a sled.  I had to work my way along by the river-bank, through melting drifts and tangled scrub.  I dared not light a fire when I camped at night, lest it should be seen by the old man, and he should steal up and kill me while I slept.

“I thought I began to see why he had gone away so meekly, though he knew that a stranger had found him out and was likely to stumble on his treasure:  so long as I was in hiding, I had had him at a disadvantage; but now, having gone away quietly without resistance, he was able to await me under cover at the Forbidden River’s mouth, and I would be the one who would run most risk when we came to an encounter.  He had known that sooner or later I should run short of grub, and be forced to return to the Last Chance, and to pass by his ambush; all that he had to do was to await me, for there is but one way out.

“It took me three days to make the journey and when, as night was falling, I came in sight of the spit of land which divides the two rivers, on which the cache had been made, I had exhausted my supply of rations.  I was faint with hunger and perished with cold; but I dared do nothing to provide for myself until I had made certain that I was not spied upon.

“The river-mouth looked deserted enough; on either bank it was bare of trees a bald and bleak expanse of withered scrub, affording little cover.  It would be difficult for any man to approach me, without being seen before he had come within gun-range.  I followed along the left-hand bank, which I had been travelling, till I reached the point where the Last Chance and Forbidden Rivers join.  Gazing up and down the Last Chance, the same scene of desolation met my eyes; there was no flash of camp-fire or sign of rising smoke.  In the north, from which quarter the wind was blowing, I could detect no smell of burning.  I began to think that I was safe, and determined to make short work of breaking into the cache and getting back to the hut again.  Then I awoke to a fact which I had overlooked in my anxiety to avoid a surprise attack, that the cache was on the right-hand bank and that I was on the left.

“The river was flowing rapidly, carrying down tree-trunks and grinding blocks of ice, so that it seemed impassable.  Every now and then the hurrying mass would jam and pile up, forming a pathway above the current, but not for so long a time as would allow me to climb across.

“I’d been going on half-rations for several days in order to make my food eke out and, consequently, was miserably nourished.  A death by drowning is preferable any day to the slower tortures of starvation; I made up my mind to cross the river at once, at whatever cost.  I began to forget my fear of the hidden enemy in my eagerness to satisfy my hunger.

“Retracing my steps, I walked up-stream, searching for a tree-trunk which would be of sufficient weight to carry me.  I planned to launch out a quarter of a mile above the point which I wished to make on the other side, and to trust to the current, and what little steering I could manage, to get me across.  I lost much time in my search, for the larger logs which had been driven ashore had got wedged, and required more than one man’s strength to refloat them.

“When I found a trunk of sufficient size, the wind had dropped and a mist was settling down, which made it difficult for me to see anything that was not immediately before my eyes.  A haunting sensation of insecurity began to pervade my mind.  I hardly know how to describe it; it was not dread of a physical death, but fear lest my soul might get lost.  Though I was now about to imperil my life, for the preservation of which, during the last half year, I had made every effort of which a human being is capable, that seemed to me as nothing when compared with this new danger.  If a man dies, he may live again; but if his soul is snatched from him, what is there left that can survive?  This was the menace of which I was aware a menace of spiritual death, to the cause of which I was drawing nearer through the mist.  My whole desire now was to procure the provisions for which I had made the journey, and to escape.

“I got astride the trunk, steadying myself with a long birch-pole which I had cut, and pushed off.  The water was icy cold, causing my legs to ache painfully, as if they were being torn from my body by heavy weights.  Soon the log was caught in the central current and began to race.  Like maddened horses, foaming at my side, before, and behind, the drift-ice rushed.  In the misty greyness of the night, these floating ruins of the winter’s silence assumed curious and terrifying shapes.  Sometimes they appeared to be polar bears, having human hands and faces; sometimes they seemed to be huskies, with the eyes and ears of men; but more often they were creatures utterly corrupt, who, swimming beside me, acclaimed me as their equal and as one of themselves.

“I remembered the reason which you had stated why the Forbidden River is never travelled and I knew the power of fear as never before.  I could not see where I was going; no land was in sight.  I could perceive nothing but mocking befouled faces, and they were on every side.  With my steering pole I pushed continually towards the right, dreading every moment that I would lose my balance, or would be swept out into the Last Chance far below the cache.  These thoughts made me desperate, and I renewed the struggle with something that was more than physical strength; I knew that, should I die at that time, I would become one of those damned grey faces.

“The crossing could not have occupied more than a few minutes, but they seemed like ages.  I felt as though, for so long as I could remember, I had been sitting astride a log, hurrying through a mist on a rushing river.

“Presently I heard the grating of ice against ice and the cannoning of logs, and I knew that I was nearing the other side.  There was a sudden shock; the tree which I rode swung round, and I found myself scrambling wildly up the bank out of the reach of the hands which were thrust out after me.  I rose to my feet and ran, tripping and falling continually as my snowshoes plunged deep in the melting crust.  Each time I fell, it seemed to me that I had not tripped, but had been struck down from behind by the river-creatures which pursued me.  Then the sound of the water grew more faint, the mist closed in upon me, and I sank exhausted.  I had no idea of my position as regards the cache, nor would I have any means of finding out until morning should come and the fog should rise.  But I knew that it would be fatal to sit still in my sodden clothes, on the drenching snow, without a fire, till daylight; so I got upon my feet and commenced to tread slowly about.

“Presently behind the mist I could hear something moving, which was following and keeping pace with me stride by stride.  Its footsteps did not seem to be those of a man, but more frequent and lighter.  I was in that state of mind when suspense is the worst part of danger; I did not care particularly how much I had to suffer if only I might know completely what death and by whose hands I was to die.  Drawing my revolver, I made a plunge forward in the direction from which the sound had come.  I saw nothing; but, when I stopped and listened, I could hear the footsteps going round about me at just the same distance away.  I determined to pursue them; at any rate such an occupation would keep me in motion and prevent me from perishing from cold and dampness.  But it’s difficult to hunt the thing by which you are hunted.  Towards daybreak a slight breeze got up which, coming in little gusts, cleared alleys in the heavy atmosphere as it forced a passage.  The footsteps had ceased by this time, but I could hear the creature’s panting breath; for some reason it had ceased to follow.  I waited until I heard the breeze coming and then made a rush in the direction from which the breathing came.  There, straight before me, sitting on its haunches, I saw the shadow of what appeared to be a gigantic timber-wolf; the only part of it which I could discern plainly was its eyes, which, to my terrified imagination, blazed out dazzling and huge through the gloom like carriage lamps.

“And another thing I noticed, that it was sitting beside the cache for which I was searching.  Then the breeze died down, the mist closed in again, and I could detect nothing of the creature’s presence but the sound of its breath.

“With my revolver in my right hand and my knife in my left, I crept slowly forward.  Just ahead of me I could see something stirring, and I fired.  There was a scramble of hurrying feet, and then silence.

“When I came to the cache, it was deserted.  I should have delayed till daylight, but my hunger was so great that I could not wait.  Breaking it open, I sat down to gorge myself on the first thing that came handy some raw fish which had been buried there.  Something moved behind me; before I had time to turn properly round, it had leapt on my back.  I could not draw my revolver, there was no time; my only weapon was my knife.  I saw the great face and eyes peering over my left shoulder and made a downward stab, gashing open a deep wound from the ear to the lower fangs.  With a cry that was almost human, the beast jumped back and vanished.

“When day had come, I took as much of the provisions as I could carry, and made good my escape.  I was surprised at the old man’s absence, and fearful lest at any moment he might turn up.  I did not cross the river at the mouth, but worked my way along the right-hand bank, intending to cross higher up and nearer the hut, where it was more narrow.  At noon I made a halt and snatched a little sleep, for I had purposed to travel through the night.  Some hours after darkness had fallen, I began to be haunted with the old sense that something was following.  At first I heard no sound, for I was travelling over open ground.  Presently I had to enter a thicket, and there I was made certain; for I could distinctly hear the snapping of branches, as if bent and forced aside by the passage of some forest animal.  I pushed rapidly ahead, for it was not the safest place in which to be attacked.  As I glanced across my shoulder and from side to side, I continually caught glimpses of a thing which was grey.

“Sometimes I was certain that I saw a face peering out at me from above the brake; but whether it was that of the old man or of the timber-wolf, I could not tell strangely enough, their faces seemed to me to be one and the same.  When the day came, I felt that I was free again, and making camp I slept.  The same thing happened next night, and the night after that, for it took me more than three days to make the homeward journey.  But each night, as I moved farther away from the Forbidden River’s mouth, the creature which followed had to traverse a longer and longer trail to come up with me, as I approached nearer to my destination.

“After I had crossed the river and reached the hut, he rarely came; and then only when the dusk had fallen early because of clouds or rain.  Yet there were times, just before the dawn, when I fancied that I could see him watching me from the bank.”

“But what has this got to do with the half-breed?” Granger broke in impatiently.

“That’s what I’d like to know myself.  But I don’t know, so I’m simply giving you facts as they happened.  The horror of that wolf’s face, which I confused with my memory of the old man’s, made a deep impression on me; I suppose that’s why I’ve said so much about it.

“However mistaken you may have been about the Forbidden River never having been travelled, you were correct enough when you told me that it was haunted. . . .  And it isn’t pleasant to be living a five-days’ journey from the nearest white man, in a place where the beasts look like lost souls and have the eyes of the damned.”

Granger shrugged his shoulders, “And the half-breed?” he inquired.

“The half-breed turned up five weeks after my return from the cache.  I’d been out cutting cord-wood and, when I came back, he was sitting at the door of the hut.  How long he’d been there, I could not tell; I had been absent for perhaps two hours.  I tried to find out how he’d come, but he pretended not to understand; so, as I know no Cree, our conversation wasn’t very lengthy.  At first, however, in spite of the danger of his discovering who I was and what I was doing there, I was pleased to see him, for I was getting moody and low-spirited with living by myself.  I tried to be content with supposing that he was a trapper, who had strayed out of his district and had lighted on me by accident.

“We sat by the fire outside the hut and smoked together, smiling and exchanging signs every now and then, to show that we were friendly.  But I watched him closely, and soon perceived that he was far more knowing than he was willing to admit; I began to believe that he had visited me with a purpose.  I hadn’t allowed him inside the hut for fear he should see the pit, which was uncovered, and should guess the secret or get suspicious; but I noticed that, whenever he thought that I was not watching, his eyes would slowly turn in that direction.  I determined to put him to the test.  Though it was as yet quite early, I built up the fire for the night and signed to him that I was sleepy.  He nodded his head and went on smoking; so I lay down and feigned to close my eyes.  I must have fallen asleep, for when I woke the blaze had died down to a mound of charcoal and glowing ash, with here and there a little spurt of flame.  When I looked stealthily round, I discovered that my companion was missing, but by listening I could hear a sound of moving within the hut.  Just then I saw his figure coming out, so I lay down as though I had never wakened.  He stood in the doorway smiling to himself, holding something which sparkled in his hand.  Then he returned to the fire and sat down quite near to me, so that he could watch my face.

“I suppose I must have betrayed myself for, without any warning, he flung himself upon me, slipping a noose about my neck as I attempted to rise, which he drew tight, so that I was nearly strangled.  Standing behind me, jerking at the noose, he commanded me to hold up my hands.  I was too choked and dazed for struggle, so did as he bade me.  When he had bound me hand and foot, and gagged me, he threw me inside the hut and, without a word of explanation, departed down-stream on his journey.

“I tried to burst the thongs, but they were too stout either to loosen or to break.  I wormed my way out on to the river-bank and tried to chafe them against a rock, but only succeeded in bruising my flesh.  The sun came out and shone down upon me till my thirst grew agonising.  It seemed to me that at last I had run to the end of my tether.  Then a thought occurred to me; wriggling toward the fire, I found that it still smouldered.  By pushing and scraping with my bound hands and feet, I managed to get some leaves and twigs together, which soon sprang into a blaze.  I waited until it had died down into a narrow flame, over which I held my hands till the thongs were charred; then, with a quick twist of the wrists, which caused my scorched flesh to flake off in shreds, I wrenched my hands apart.  This is all true that I am telling you; you can see for yourself.  Already you must have noticed those marks.”  He held out his wrists for Granger’s inspection; they were horribly mutilated.

“And after that, when you got better, did the half-breed leave you undisturbed or did he come back?”

“I did not see either the half-breed or the old man again until that early morning when I gazed in through the window at Murder Point . . . and, do you know, that scar on the old man’s face is in the same place as the wound which I gave the timber-wolf?”

Granger laughed nervously.  “And what d’you make of that?”

“I hardly dare to say; but, somehow, that beast seemed to me to be more than a wolf it looked like a dead soul.”

“A dead what?  You’ve said that once before to-night.”

Spurting stared at him, amazed at his agitation.  “A dead soul,” he repeated; “a soul which has gone out from a man, and left his body still alive.”

“Do you know what name the Indians have given to that old man?” asked Granger in an awe-struck voice.

“How should I know?  I think you called him Beorn.”

“Yes, but his other name is the Man with the Dead Soul.”