TO THE DEATH
The forest gloom is broken by gladdening
beams of sunlight. They sketch a mazy fretwork
pattern of light and shade on the dank underlay of
rotting vegetation which the melting snow has laid
bare. The air is weighted down with heavy, resinous
odours, and an enervating warmth has descended to
the depths of the lower forests. But Winter has
not yet spread its wings for its last flight.
Spring’s approach has been heralded by its feathered
trumpeters, garbed in their sober plumage. It
is on its way, that is all. The transition of
the seasons is at hand. Winter still resists,
and the gentle legions of Spring have yet to fight
out their annual battle. The forests are astir
with wild, furred life; the fierce life which emphasizes
the solitude of the mountain world. The pine-cones
scrunch under the feet of the prowling beast as he
moves solemnly upon his dread way; there is a swish
of bush or a snapping of wood as some startled animal
seeks cover; or a heavy crashing of branches, as the
mighty-antlered moose, solemn-eyed, unheeding, thrusts
himself through the undergrowth.
Ralph was bending over a large trap.
It was still set although the bait had been removed.
It had been set at the mouth of a narrow track where
it opened out in a small, snow-covered clearing.
The blood stains of the raw meat with which it had
been baited were still moist, but the flesh itself
had been taken. He turned from his inspection.
There were footprints in the snow, evidently the tracks
of a timber-wolf. His face expressed his disgust
as he rebaited the trap. Wolves were the pest
of his life. Their skins were almost worthless,
and they were as cunning as any dog-fox. A trap
had no terrors for them. He moved away to continue
on his journey. Suddenly he drew up and scanned
the white carpet. His trailing instincts were
keenly alert.
The snow was disturbed by other marks
than those made by the wolf. In places the ground
was laid bare, and broken pine-cones were displayed
upon its surface as though some great weight had crushed
them. Moose suggested itself. He looked
keenly at the marks. No, the snow displayed no
imprint of cloven hoofs. It looked as though it
had been raked by a close-set harrow. To him
there was much significance in what he saw. Only
one creature could have left such a track. There
was but one animal in that forest world that moved
with shambling gait, and whose paws could rake the
snow in such a manner. That animal was the grizzly,
the monarch of the mountain forest.
The man looked further over the snow,
and, in a few moments, had learned all he wished to
know. There were two distinct trails, one approaching,
the other departing. But there was a curious difference
between them. The approach had evidently been
at a slovenly, ambling pace. The raking of the
trailing feet showed this. But the departing track
displayed every sign of great haste. The snow
had been flurried to an extent that had obliterated
all semblance of footprints.
Ralph unslung his rifle. Ahead
of him was the track, ahead of him also was a further
break in the forest where the sun shone down with dazzling
brilliancy. He passed on and looked up at the
perfect sky. Then he took the direction of the
track. It struck out for the northeast.
“I wonder if Nick’s lit
on it,” he muttered. “It ’ud
be his luck, anyway.”
He further examined the tracks, and
the whiteness of the snow warned him they were quite
fresh.
“Ain’t been made more’n
an hour,” he added, in further soliloquy.
“Guess, I’ll trail him.”
And he set off hot-foot through the forest.
The trail was well marked, and he
followed it with ease. And as he moved slowly
on his mind had much leisure from his task. The
direction the bear had taken was towards the country
over which Nick was working. Also Ralph could
not help recollecting that the northeast was the direction
in which lay the Moosefoot camp. True there were
many miles of wild country between him and the Indians,
but the knowledge of the direction he was taking quickly
turned his thoughts into other channels, and his quarry
no longer solely occupied his mind. His eyes followed
the trail, his thoughts went on miles ahead.
It was three days since Nick had first
told Ralph of his meeting with Aim-sa. And
ever since the latter had sought her himself, but his
search had been in vain. And each of those three
days Nick had returned to camp happy and smiling in
a manner which maddened his brother. Now he thought
of these things. He told himself, with warped
reasoning, that Nick had gone behind his back, that
he had taken undue advantage in his winning of Aim-sa’s
regard. He forgot, or admitted not, his own doings,
his own secret meeting with her on the night of her
flight from the dugout.
Such was his mood as he traversed
the forest paths. Through dell and brake; through
endless twilight maze of black tree-trunks; over moss-grown
patches, and roots and stumps reeking with the growth
of rank fungus. But his eyes never lost the indications
of his quarry, and at intervals he paused listening
for some sound which should tell him of the beast’s
proximity.
A frozen creek crossed his way.
The surface was covered with the watery slush of melting
snow, and great cracks ran in many directions through
the ice.
He crossed it and the forest closed
about him again. The beast he was trailing had
paused here, had moved roundabout as though seeking
the direction he required. Ralph followed the
creature’s movements, understanding with the
acuteness of his forest breeding.
Suddenly he started and a half-stifled
cry broke from him. He dashed forward to a point
where the snow had drifted and was now disturbed.
He halted, and looked down. Other footprints
mingled with those of the bear. They were small,
and had been made by moccasin-shod feet. He had
seen such footprints before. He knew the owner
of the feet which had made these imprints. Aim-sa’s
were such as these Aim-sa’s!
His eyes took in every detail slowly,
fondly. Where was she now? He must follow.
Then he remembered. Something else was following,
not him, but her. He straightened himself up,
and a muttered exclamation broke from his lips.
Now he understood. Away there, back in the distant
woods, the bear must have scented the woman’s
presence and was tracking her down. She had gone
on through the forest, unknowing of the danger that
lurked behind her, which was hard upon her trail.
Forgetful of Nick, forgetful of all
else, Ralph pursued the double trail. Danger
threatened the woman he loved, for aught he knew had
already overtaken her. To his credit be it said,
that, as he raced over the sodden carpet of the forest,
not one selfish thought possessed him. Aim-sa
was in danger, and so he went headlong to the rescue.
His quiet eyes were lit with a fiery determination
such as one might have expected in the eyes of Nick,
but not in those of Ralph. His soul was afire
with anxiety. Aim-sa was an expert in forest-craft,
but she was a woman. So he hasted.
The world about him might have been
bathed in the blackness of night for all he heeded
it; only the track of footsteps stood out to his gaze
like a trail of fire. His speed was great; nor
was he conscious how great. He no longer walked,
but ran, and thought nothing of distance, nor the
passing of time. The trail of pursuer and pursued
still lit, red-hot, before him, and the cry of his
heart still rang out On! On!
It was noon when his speed slackened.
Nor was it weariness that checked him. Once in
the echoing wood he had heard the distant sound of
breaking undergrowth. The prospect about him
had changed. The forest had become a tangled
maze of low-growing shrub, dotted with giant growths
of maple, spruce, and blue-gum. It was a wider,
deeper hollow than any hitherto passed, and the air
was warmer. It was the valley of a wide, swift-flowing
river.
The declivity was abrupt, and the
rush of the river, too swift to succumb to the grip
of winter, sounded faintly up from below. Suddenly
he halted listening, and the sound of breaking undergrowth
came to him again and again; he waited for the cry
of the human, but it did not come. With beating
heart he hurried on, his mind was easier and his thoughts
centred upon the killing of the grizzly. His rifle
was ready to hand and he looked for a sight of the
dark fur through the bush ahead.
Now his movements became almost Indian-like
in their stealth. Bending low to avoid the rustling
branches, he crept on, silently and swiftly.
He no longer followed the tracks. He had turned
off, meaning to come up with his quarry against the
wind. At every opening in the bush he paused,
his keen eyes alert for a sign of his prey. But
the leafless branches of the scrub, faintly tinged
with the signs of coming spring, alone confronted
him; only that, and the noise of breaking brushwood
ahead.
It quickly became plain to him that
the bear was no longer advancing, but was moving about
uncertainly; and as he realized this, his heart was
gripped with a terrible fear. Had the brute come
up with his prey? Had the tragedy been played
out? He dashed forward, throwing all caution to
the winds; but ere he had gone fifty yards he came
to a halt, like one paralyzed.
His eyes, which had been peering ever
ahead, had suddenly dropped to the ground. It
seemed as though they could no longer face that which
they looked upon. For a moment his face worked
as might that of a man in great pain. Then its
expression changed and a flush mounted to his brow;
a flush of indescribable rage. Again his eyes
were raised and a devilish look peered out from them.
An opening not two acres in extent
lay before him. In its midst was a blackened
tree-trunk, limbless, riven; a forest giant blasted
by some mountain storm. Nick was standing beside
it; his gun rested against its blackened sides, and,
upon a fallen bough, scarcely a yard away, Aim-sa
was seated. They were in deep converse, and Ralph
was near enough to hear the sound of their voices,
but not to distinguish their words. As he strained
his tingling ears to catch the tenor of their speech,
he could hear the movements of the bear in the adjacent
woods.
The two in the open seemed all unconscious
of what was going on so near them. Nick was gazing
upon the woman, his heart laid bare in his eyes.
And Aim-sa was smiling up into his face with all
the arch coquetry of her sex, with that simple, trusting
look which, however guileful, must ever appeal to
the strong man.
For awhile Ralph looked on. The
exquisite torture of his heart racked him, but he
did not turn away to shut out the sight. Rather
it seemed as if he preferred to thus harass himself.
It was the working of his own angry passion which
held him, feeding itself, fostering, nursing itself,
and goading him to fury.
Suddenly the sound of movement close
at hand broke the spell which held him. He looked,
and saw the bear less than twenty yards off.
He gripped his rifle, and his first
thought was to slay. It was the hunter’s
instinct which rose within him. But something
held him, and his weapon did not move from his side;
somewhere in his heart a harsh voice whispered to
him, and he listened to words of evil counsel.
Then a revulsion of feeling swept over him, and he
shook himself as though to get rid of something which
clung about him and oppressed him. But the moment
passed, leaving him undecided, his brain maddened with
bitter thoughts.
The dark form in the bush beyond moved.
There came no sound, and the waiting man wondered
if his eyes deceived him. No cat could have moved
more silently upon its prey. Not a twig creaked.
It moved on stealthily, inexorably, till it paused
at the edge of the opening.
Ralph’s eyes turned upon the
dead tree. Nick’s back was turned, and
Aim-sa was intent upon her companion. She
seemed to be hanging upon his every word. And
Ralph’s heart grew harder within him. His
hand held his rifle in a nervous clutch and his finger-nails
scored the stock. A shout from him would avert
disaster; a shot would arrest that terrible advance.
But the shout remained unborn; the trigger still waited
the compressing hand. And the unconscious brother
stood with death stealing upon him from beyond the
fringe of the woods.
Solemnly the great grizzly advanced.
Once in the open he made no pause. The lumbering
beast looked so clumsy that the inexperienced might
have been forgiven a smile of ridicule. Its ears
twitched backward and forward, its head lolled to
its gait, and though its eyes shone with a baleful
ferocity they seemed to gaze anywhere but at its intended
victims.
Ralph stood watching, with lips compressed
and jaws set, and a cruel frown darkening his brow.
But his heart was beating in mighty pulsations, and
somewhere within him a conflict was raging, in which
Evil had attacked in overwhelming force, and Good was
being beaten back.
Within ten yards of the tree the bear
halted and reared itself upon its haunches. Thus
for a moment it towered in terrible menace.
It was the last chance. Ralph’s
lips moved as though to shout, but only a low muttered
curse came from them. Suddenly the air was split
with a piercing scream. Aim-sa stood erect,
one arm was outstretched pointing, the other rested
against the tree as though she would steady herself.
Her eyes were staring in terror at the huge brute as
it came towards them.
Nick swung round. He was too
late. There was no time to reach his rifle.
His right hand plunged at his belt, and he drew a long
hunting-knife from its sheath, and thrust himself,
a shield, before Aim-sa.
The cry smote the savage heart of
Ralph, smote it with the sear of white-hot iron.
A wave of horror passed over him. It was not of
his brother he thought, but of the woman he loved.
Nick’s death would only be the forerunner of
hers. In a flash his rifle sprang to his shoulder.
A second passed while his keen eyes ran over the sights,
the compressing hand was upon the trigger. A
puff of smoke. A sharp report. The grizzly
swung round with a lurch. He had not stopped,
he merely changed the direction of his steps and came
straight for the forest where Ralph stood.
But the magnificent brute only took
a few strides. Ralph went out to meet him, but,
ere he came up, the creature tottered. Then, reeling,
it dropped upon all fours, only, the next instant,
to roll over upon its side, dead.
Ralph gave one glance at the body
of the great bear; the next moment its presence was
forgotten. He passed on, and confronted those
whom he had unwillingly rescued. The depression
of his brows, and the glint of his eyes and merciless
set of his jaws, all gave warning of a danger that
dwarfed to insignificance that which had just passed.
“I ‘lows I hadn’t
reckoned to find you wi’ company,” Ralph
said, addressing his brother with a quietness that
ill-concealed the storm underlying his words.
“Mebbe I didn’t calc’late to find
you, anyway.”
There was no mistaking the challenge
in his look. Nick saw it. His impetuous
temper rose in response. The bear was forgotten.
Neither alluded to it. The two men faced each
other with the concentrated jealous hatred of weeks’
growth uppermost in their hearts.
“Wal, I guess y’ve found me. What
then?”
Nick squared himself, and his expression
was as relentless as that of the older man.
Ralph paid no heed to the taunting
inquiry. He looked over at Aim-sa, who had
shrunk away. Now she answered his look with one
that was half-pleading, half-amused. She realized
the feud which was between the men, but she did not
understand the rugged, forceful natures which she
had so stirred.
“Say, gal,” Ralph said
abruptly. “Ther’s jest us two.
Ye gave yourself to me that night, maybe you’ve
give yourself to him since. Which is it, him
or me? Ye’ll choose right here. Choose!”
Nick turned and looked at her with
strained, anxious eyes. Ralph’s face belied
his outward calm.
“An’ what if Aim-sa
loves neither?” the woman asked, with a laugh
in which there was no mirth, and some fear.
“Then she’s lied.”
Ralph’s teeth shut with a snap.
Aim-sa looked from one to the
other. She was beginning to understand, and with
understanding came a great dread. She longed to
flee, but knew that to do so would be impossible.
“Aim-sa loves both,” she said at
last.
There was a long, deathly silence.
The brooding solitude of the wild was never more pronounced
than at that moment.
Then Ralph looked into the face of
his brother, and Nick returned his gaze.
“You hear?” said Ralph.
“She is an Injun, I guess, an’ don’t
know no better. Maybe we’d best settle
it for her.”
“That’s so.”
Ralph threw off his buckskin shirt. Nick removed
his heavy clothing.
“Stand aside, woman,”
said Ralph. “Ye’ll wait by, an’
your man’ll claim ye.”
“Knives?” said Nick, through his clenched
teeth.
“Knives.”
And then again silence reigned.