The Huntress. Footner Hulbert

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СКАЧАТЬ Meanwhile the sun went down in troubled crimson splendour over the pines, presaging more squalls.

      When she came to the end he said sententiously: "You foolish go alone. You want a man."

      Bela was mum.

      "What you want of me now?" he asked.

      "Grease for the wound," said Bela. "A little food for myself."

      "All right. I give you. You goin' back?"

      "To-night."

      "I go with you," suggested Musq'oosis.

      Bela shook her head a little sullenly.

      She had good reasons, but it was difficult to explain them.

      "I got go alone," she said.

      "All right," replied Musq'oosis huffily. "Why you want talk to me?"

      Bela glanced at him appealingly. "You speak me good words," she said. "You moch my friend. But I go alone. I can't tell it good. When I alone I keep myself moch secret lak you tell me. They not see me come and go; think I got magic. They scare of me."

      "All right," repeated Musq'oosis. "I lak sleep in my teepee. What you goin' do when you go back?"

      "When the bishop come I goin' marry the cook," said Bela calmly.

      "Um," grunted Musq'oosis. "Is he the bigges'?"

      "No," answered Bela. "He littles'. I watch him. He got stronges' eye."

      "So?"

      "He is a pretty man," she said, suddenly lowering her head. "He mak' me want him bad. His eyes lak the sky at tam wild roses come. Hair bright lak mink-skin. He has kindness for women lak my fat'er got."

      "H-m!" growled Musq'oosis; "you talk lak white woman."

      "Tell me how to get him," said Bela simply.

      Musq'oosis affected scorn. "Wa! All tam ask me what to do. Then go do what you lak, anyhow."

      "You have good words," she put in meekly.

      "I tell you before," grumbled Musq'oosis. "Don't let him see you want him or he never want you."

      "I think he not want me moch," said Bela dejectedly. "Not lak ot'er men."

      "Wait a while," encouraged Musq'oosis. "Hard wood slow to catch, but burn longer. I tell you again – keep your mouth shut. Don't let anythin' on. If ot'er men think you want the cook, they kill him maybe. White men sometam crazy lak that. You mus' all same mak' friends wit' all. Ask moch question. Watch them well. When you know their ways, you know what to do. Bam-by maybe you get your man to leave the ot'ers. Then it is easy."

      "I do all you tell me," promised Bela.

      "Come home to-morrow night," he said.

      She rebelled at this. "No. I lak stay there. I can't be paddling over every day. Too far."

      "Are you a fool?" asked Musq'oosis, exasperated. "Where you goin' stay at night?"

      "I got little cache by the creek," she replied. "They no good in the bush. Can't see not'ing. I fool them all I lak. They never find me."

      "Watch yourself," advised Musq'oosis. "It's a dangerous game."

      "I got my little gun," she returned, tapping her breast. "They plenty scare of me now."

      As soon as it cleared up Young Joe casually remarked that he guessed he'd wash his shirt and let it dry before the fire while he slept. Big Jack and Shand both allowed that it was a good idea, and presently the three of them were squatting together by the creek, sousing their garments in the icy water.

      Later Jack and Joe made a dicker to cut each other's hair. Shand, hearing of this, was obliged to part with a necktie to get Jack to cut his also. A general shave ended the ablutions. This was remarkable, for Joe had shaved only the day before.

      "A fellow hadn't ought to let himself get careless up in the bush," he opined.

      There was a great beating and shaking of clothes, and a combined cleaning of the shack. Sam made a broom out of willow branches; Jack cut some poles, out of which he designed to make a chair after supper.

      "She's got to have something to sit in when she's watching beside Husky's bed like," he said.

      It did not occur to him that Bela had probably never in her life before sat in a chair.

      "You're damned lucky to get her to nurse you after you brought it on yourself," Joe said to Husky.

      Husky was now looking forward to her return no less than the others. He had taken a turn for the better, and no longer thought of dying.

      After supper a high degree of amity prevailed in the shack. Joe and Shand helped with the chair, and then they all planned to make a table next day.

      "Shand, lend a hand with this piece while I drive a nail, will you?" requested Jack politely.

      "Sure thing! Say this is going to be out o' sight! You certainly have a good knack of making things, Jack."

      "Oh, so-so. I ought to have a flat piece to put on the seat."

      "I'll go out to the stable and see if I can find a box-cover."

      "You stay here. I'll go," said Joe.

      Sam, washing the dishes, harkened to this, and smiled a little grimly to himself, wondering how long it would last.

      They retired early. The bed was given up to Husky, and the other four rolled up in their blankets across the room like a row of mummies. Calm brooded over the shack throughout the night.

      Sam had not had so much time as the others to make himself presentable the night before, so he got up extra early for that purpose. Issuing out of the shack with soap, towel, razor, and glass, the first thing he beheld on rounding the shack was Bela. She was kneeling on a piece of wood to protect her knees from the wet ground, tearing and rolling some pieces of cotton for bandages.

      She was dressed differently to-day – all in buckskin.

      The newly risen sun was behind her, shooting misty beams across a lake of mother-of-pearl. The artist, latent in every man, arrested Sam, forcing him to wonder and admire.

      Bela looked up calmly. "I waitin' till the men get up," she remarked.

      "I'll call them," he offered, making a move to turn.

      "Let them sleep," commanded Bela. "It is early."

      Sam became uncomfortably conscious of his unkempt condition. "You caught me unawares," he said. "I haven't washed up yet."

      She glanced at him sidewise. Had he known it, he did not appear altogether at a disadvantage with his fair hair tousled and his shirt open at the throat.

      "I don't care," she said, with a child's air of unconcern.

      Presently she caught sight of the razor. "You got hair grow on your chin, too? That is fonny thing. Ot'er day I watch the curly-head one scrape his face. He not see me. What for you want scrape your face?"

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