The Promise Read online

  CHAPTER XXXVI

  TOLD ON THE TRAIL

  It was a merry party that clambered into the big tote-wagon in thelittle town of Creighton one morning in early November. Upon request ofAppleton and Sheridan, two of the road's heaviest lumber shippers, aprivate car had been coupled to the rear of the Imperial Limited atWinnipeg.

  Later the big train hesitated at Hilarity long enough to permit ahalf-breed guide in full hunting regalia to step proudly aboard, to theenvy of the dead little town's assembled inhabitants. And later stillthe Limited stopped at Creighton and shunted the private car onto aspur.

  Appleton promptly impressed one of his own tote-wagons which had beensent to town for supplies; and before noon the four-horse team wasswung into the tote-road carrying the hunting party into the woods.

  Tents, blankets, and robes had been ranged into more or lesscomfortable seats for the accommodation of the party, while youngCharlie Manton insisted upon climbing onto the high driver's seat,where he wedged himself uncomfortably between the teamster and BloodRiver Jack, the guide.

  From the time the latter had joined the party at Hilarity the boy hadstuck close to his side, asking innumerable questions and listeningwith bated breath to the half-breed's highly colored narratives inwhich wolves, bears, and Indians played the important parts.

  In the evening, when they camped beside the tote-road, and he waspermitted to help with the tents and the fire-wood, the youngsterfairly bristled with importance, and after supper when the whole partydrew about the great camp-fire the boy seated himself close by the sideof the guide.

  "You never told me your name," he ventured.

  "Blood River Jack," the man replied.

  "That's a funny kind of a name," puzzled the boy. "Why did they nameyou that?"

  "Jacques--that is my name. Blood River--that is where I live. It isthat my lodge is near the bank of the river and in the Blood Rivercountry I hunt and lay my trap lines, and in the waters of the river Ifish. What is your name?"

  "New York Charlie," unhesitatingly replied the boy and flushed deeplyat the roar of laughter with which the others of the party greeted hisanswer. But the long-haired, dark-skinned guide, noting the angry flashof the wide, blue eyes, refrained from laughter.

  "That is a good name," he said gravely. "In the land of the white manmen are called by the name of their fathers. In the woods it is notoften so, except when it be written upon papers. The best man in theNorth is one of whom men know only his first name. He is M's'u'Bill--The-Man-Who-Cannot-Die."

  "Why can't he die?" asked the youngster eagerly.

  Jacques shook his head.

  "Wa-ha-ta-na-ta says 'all men die,'" he replied; "but--did not the_chechako_ come into the North in the time of a great snow, and withoutrackets mush forty miles in two days? Did he not kill with a knifeDiablesse, the werwolf, whom all men feared, and with an axe chop inpieces the wolves of her pack?

  "Did he not strike fear to the heart of the great Moncrossen with alook of his eye? And, with three blows of his fist, lay the mightyStromberg upon the floor like a wet rag? Did he not come without hurtthrough the fire when Creed locked him in the burning shack? And did henot go down through the terrible Blood River rapids, riding upon a log,and live, when Moncrossen ordered the breaking out of the jam that hemight be killed among the pounding logs? These are the things that killmen--yet the _chechako_ lives."

  "Gee, Eth, think of that!" exclaimed the boy, turning toward hissister, who from her place by the side of her Aunt Margaret had been aninterested listener. "He must be _some man_! Where does he live? Willwe see him?"

  Before the half-breed could reply Appleton broke in.

  "He sure is _some man_!" he exclaimed enthusiastically. "And you willsee him about day after to-morrow night, if we have good luck. I don'tknow about all the adventures Blood River Jack mentioned, but I haveheard of some of them, and I can add the story of the outwitting of acouple of card-sharps and a fight in the dark, in the cramped quartersof an overturned railway coach, in which he all but choked the life outof a human fiend who was robbing the dead and injured.

  "And I might tell of another fight--the gamest fight of all--but, waittill you know him. He is foreman of the camp which will be ourheadquarters for the next two or three weeks."

  "To hear them talk," said Mrs. Appleton to her niece, "one wouldimagine this man a huge, bloodthirsty ruffian; but he isn't. Hubertsays that he is in every respect a gentleman."

  "Yes," agreed her husband, "but one who is not afraid to get out andwork with his two hands--and work hard--and who has never learned themeaning of fear. I took a chance on him, and he has made good."

  The phrase fell upon the ears of the girl with a shock. They were thewords _he_ had used, she remembered. Was _he_ making good--somewhere?She felt her heart go out with a rush to this big man she had neverseen, and she found herself eagerly looking forward to their meeting.

  "Oh, he must be splendid!" she exclaimed impulsively, and her faceglowed in the play of the firelight--a glow that faded almost to pallorat the words of the half-breed.

  "He has come again into the woods?" he asked quickly. "It is well. Fornow Jeanne need have no fear. He promised her that he would returnagain into the North--and to her."

  "What?" cried Appleton in surprise. "Who is this Jeanne? And why shouldhe return to her?"

  "She is my sister," Jacques replied simply. "Her skin is white like theskin of my father. She is beautiful, and she loves him. She helpedWa-ha-ta-na-ta to draw him from the river, and through all the longdays and nights of his sickness she took care of him. When he went outof the woods she accompanied him for three days and three nights uponthe trail to the land of the white man, and he promised her that hewould come again into the woods and protect her from harm."

  At a hurried glance from his wife Appleton changed the subjectabruptly. "I wish to thunder it would snow!" he exclaimed. "Huntingdeer without snow is like fishing without bait. You might accidentallyhook one, but it's a long chance."

  Blood River Jack sniffed the air and shrugged, glancing upward.

  "Plenty of snow in a few days," he said. "Maybe too much."