Chapter 19

GRYLLS REDIVIVUS

On the next day but one Natalie's condition took a sharp turn for the worse; and for many days thereafter, Garth put every other thought out of his head. She fell into a high fever and suffered incessantly and cruelly. At this call, Rina showed forth in colours wholly admirable; day or night she seldom left her patient's side; she was never at a loss what to do; and Garth comforted himself with the thought that Natalie could scarcely have had better care anywhere.

During these busy days Rina appeared to forget her own heartache in a measure; and never once on the occasion of their daily trip to the island (Garth forcing her to accompany him) did she again express a wish to speak to Mabyn. At their approach Mabyn always retreated; and they were accustomed to set his rations down on the shore and immediately go back.

But Garth could not trust the breed unreservedly, and unceasing vigilance was his portion. He had little enough sleep before, and now he strove to do without it altogether. For three days and three nights he did not close his eyes. On the fourth day, warned by his tortured, wavering brain that it must be either sleep or madness, he took his fate in his hands and lay down on top of the cache, with his gun beside him.

He was unconscious for nearly twelve hours. When he awoke it was to find Rina's eyes fixed upon him strangely. He sprang up, and she turned away her head. He could not read that expression—still he had lain there at her mercy and she had spared him. Neither had she liberated Mabyn from the island, for Garth could see him moving about. He began to hope that his arguments had real weight with the breed; and little by little, under pressure of his great need, he began to trust her.

But when the dread promontory was weathered at last, and Natalie, a wraith of her blooming self, awoke in her right senses, Rina changed again, resuming her old sullen, moody self; and all his work was undone. It was clear the unfortunate girl was dragged ceaselessly back and forth between her new-fledged soul and the old savage impulses of her blood. She learned to love the irresistible Natalie whom she had snatched back from death—but she likewise hated her; hated her blindly because Mabyn loved her; and inconsistently, but naturally, too, hated her because she despised Mabyn. The same with Garth; over and over she unconsciously showed she trusted him; but her blood still rebelled because he was Mabyn's enemy; and he would sometimes find her eyes fixed on him in a quickly veiled expression of savage, implacable hatred.

On the first day of his imprisonment, Garth, under threat of withholding supplies, had forced Mabyn to cut down the willows fringing the hither side of the island; and his movements about his fire and tepee were in plain view of those on shore. Concealed from him by a tree, Rina would often sit by the hour, watching him wistfully. "God knows what course her harried brain pursues!" Garth, observing her, thought—"if she thinks at all!" One thing was sure: under the strain of continued separation, her resistance to Mabyn's evil suggestions was gradually breaking down.

Meanwhile Garth was straining every nerve to complete the shack that was to be at once their habitation and their fortress. Within the shelter of its walls he hoped to sleep at peace again. His nerves were stretched like violin strings from the lack of it; for all he could permit himself was an hour or two in the morning while Natalie was awake and could warn him. All afternoon he chopped pine trees, which old Cy with an improvised harness dragged into camp; and far into the night, until overtaken with complete exhaustion, he trimmed his logs, squared the ends, and lifted them into place.

It was their second red-letter day, when the last sod was dropped into place on the roof, and Garth carried Natalie inside. Strictly considered, the house was not very much to brag about, perhaps; for it slanted this way and that like the first pothooks in a child's copybook; but Garth, fired by Natalie's enthusiastic praises, could not have been prouder if he had completed the Taj Mahal.

One end had been partitioned off for Natalie's room; and in finishing this part Garth had spent all his pains. The floor was made of small logs, filled and plastered with clay, which he had hardened by building fires upon it; and had then strewn rushes over the whole. There was a rough bunk in one corner, with a low table by its side—the latest thing in rustics, the maker explained. There was a tiny window high up on the side overlooking the lake; it had no glass, but a stout shutter swinging on wooden pins, and which fastened with a strong wooden bar. But the crowning feature of the room, constructed with infinite pains after countless failures, was the fireplace in the corner. Garth deprecated it; it wasn't much of a fireplace; only a sort of little arched doorway of baked clay, so narrow the logs had to stand upright in it, making cooking very difficult—but when Natalie saw the flames curling up the chimney in the most natural way possible, she set up a feeble crow of delight.

The balance of the interior was to serve for Garth's room and storeroom combined. It had a very small door, also on the lake side; but he could not afford a window beside; and he also saved himself the trouble of flooring it. The door was constructed in the same manner as the shutter, of matched poles strongly braced behind, and further strengthened with rawhide lashings.

Natalie had Garth hang a spare blanket over the doorway between the two rooms; and she produced a shawl to serve for a table cloth. After supper, when they locked themselves in and heaped up the fire, Natalie propped up on her couch, and Garth sitting on a stool, smoking by especial request—it was as snug as Heaven, Natalie said. The nights had been growing dreadfully keen of late; and poor Natalie wrapped in all the blankets they possessed had nevertheless more than once lain awake with the cold. But now, within thick walls—what matter if they were out of the perpendicular?—and under a tight roof, with the flames leaping briskly up the chimney, no king in his palace ever experienced such a sense of opulent and all-sufficing luxury as Garth and Natalie the first night in their miserable shack.

This was the fourteenth day after Natalie's accident. Every day after the first week had shown a slight improvement in her condition; and every day had therefore lessened the hold Rina had over them; until now Garth felt, should it be necessary, he could bring the patient safely back to health unaided. Rina knew this too; and became daily more morose and sullen in her demeanour. To separate her longer from Mabyn would be, Garth felt, simply to promote an explosion. Besides, sufficiently housed now, well armed, and with the food safely stored, he felt strong enough to be merciful. On the night they moved into the shack he pointed out the canoe to Rina, telling her that henceforth she was free to use it as she would. He would go to the island no more, he added; but Rina might come every day for rations for both—as long as Mabyn remained where he was.

He hoped by this to incite the energetic Rina into planning Mabyn's escape from the island. They could catch a couple of horses and ride to their friends at the distant Settlement, or where they would. He felt he could trust Rina, if she ever got Mabyn among her own people, to keep him from coming back. Thus he would at the same stroke be rid of them, and conserve his rapidly diminishing stores. It was no great matter if they drove off all the horses, for he still had old Cy under his eye for Natalie to ride; and their own journey back would have to be undertaken at a walking pace, anyway. He had learned enough of Rina's mixed character to be sure that this would have a greater chance of coming about if he let her think of it for herself, so he said nothing to her.

He was disappointed. Mabyn, too timid to undertake so long a journey without ample supplies, or perhaps too obstinate to go, they remained on the island; and Rina came every day for food. If she was grateful for being allowed to join Mabyn she did not show it. Every trace of her better nature rapidly disappeared, and she seemed wholly the sullen savage. Bad treatment was the explanation they thought; and they pitied her.

Garth waited five days more. Natalie was by that time moving around freely; and they had begun to count the days to their ardently desired retreat from that unhappy valley. The question of food became more and more pressing—their journey would have to be spread over many slow stages; and he finally decided to drive Mabyn and Rina away.

So the next time Rina came, he told her he would give her two days' rations for two persons the following day; and after that they need expect no more. In the meantime, he said, she was free to go up on the prairie and catch the first two horses she met. He even offered her old Cy to round them up, secure in holding the dugout for a hostage. Rina betrayed not the least surprise, or any other feeling at his ultimatum, but coolly rode off as he bid her. She returned within an hour driving Emmy and Timoosis, which she picketed below Mabyn's hut.

What passed between Rina and Mabyn when she returned to the island, the other two could only guess at. However, Garth, up at dawn next morning, saw them striking the tepee. They made two trips back and forth between the island and the mouth of the creek; and afterward, while Mabyn saddled and packed the horses, Rina paddled to Garth's camp to get the promised rations. They both awaited her on the bank.

Rina presented the mask-like face they had grown accustomed to, and maintained a dogged silence. The only sign of feeling she gave was a shadow-like pain drowned deep in her dark eyes. Natalie's own eyes filled at the sight of her stubbornness; in the days of her suffering she had grown very fond of her dark-skinned nurse; and it was she who had insisted throughout on the existence of Rina's better nature, and had never given up hope of reclaiming the worser part. And now it seemed, she must admit herself defeated.

Garth laid out the food he had allotted them; and packed it in a flour-bag convenient to carry. He also gave Rina an open letter he had written, setting forth their situation (without implicating Mabyn or Rina) and asking that food and an escort be sent. That it would ever fall into responsible hands was problematical; but it was a chance. He refrained from any suggestion that it should be concealed from Mabyn, but Rina of her own accord thrust it in her dress; and he argued well from the act.

Rina turned to go without a word; but Natalie called her softly. In her hand she was holding a round silver locket, in which she had put a tiny picture of herself. She held it out to Rina with a wistful smile.

"For you," she murmured. "Keep it because I love you."

Rina looked at the little picture, struggling to maintain her parade of unconcern. But suddenly she snatched it out of Natalie's hand; and thrust it in her own bosom. Her face worked with the pain of those who weep with difficulty; her eyes filled and overflowed at last. With a wild, brusque abandon, she flung herself at Natalie's feet and pressed the hem of her dress to her trembling lips.

"You good! You good!" she sobbed. Then springing to her feet as abruptly as she had fallen, she flew away among the trees.

Half an hour later they heard the two horses passing the trail behind their camp; the same trail by which they had all first entered the valley; and the way to Spirit River Crossing.

At first they dared not believe they could really be free of their enemy so easily; and they continually found themselves listening for the sound of their return. Garth saddled Cy at last; and rode along the trail to the top of the bench. He saw Mabyn and Rina two specks in the distance; and still travelling south. When he returned with the news to Natalie, they allowed themselves to rejoice at last; and they were filled with a great peace.

Going home! was the burden of their happy speech; home to the land of friendly faces, the urbane land, the place of comfortable little things, where life was lapped in ease, sane and well-ordered! How their ears ached for a human noise again! the bustle of crowded sidewalks, the clang of gongs, the fall of hoofs on asphalt! How their flesh yearned for the creature comforts! delicate feasting and good clothes to wear! One must be plunged into the wilderness for a while to sense the gifts of civilization at their true value.

"I can understand now why men are so crazy to be explorers and things," said Natalie. "They go away just for the tremendous fun of coming back to it all! Oh-h! Think of dances—and even despised tea-parties now! Think of theatres and restaurants and going to the races!"

"And wouldn't I like to take you straight through to New York, though!" sang Garth. "Oh! Broadway and the Avenue in September! Everything getting under way again! And Coney Island is still going! Picture Luna Park dropped down on the island out there!"

They laughed at the incongruous picture.

"Where would we dine the first night?" asked Natalie.

"Martin's," said Garth. "Fancy us in the balcony looking down on the giddy crowd; and the orchestra sawing off the sextet from Lucia for dear life!"

"Lobster a la Newburg and a peche Melba!" cried Natalie in an ecstasy.

"Not on your life!" said Garth. "Just like a girl's bill-of-fare. Something sensible for yours when you go out with me! How about a filet dernier cri?"

"Don't know it," said Natalie. "Besides, I refuse to be sensible in my imagination," she added.

Garth described the delicacy. "And a cheese sauce on top all browned, with strips of red pepper laid criss-cross; and it comes steaming hot under a little glass cover!"

Natalie groaned. "Oh, talk about something else!" she said faintly.

"What will you wear?" asked Garth with a grin.

Natalie drew a long breath and plunged forthwith into elaborate, excited descriptions.

Their respite was very short—only to the middle of the following morning. They were still dwelling on the subject of home. Garth had carefully lifted Natalie into the saddle; and was leading the horse up and down the strip of grass to see how she bore it. Suddenly she bent her head, and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Horses!" she said.

Garth sharply pulled up old Cy. "The Indian cayuses, perhaps," he said.

Natalie shook her head. "Heavier animals than that," she said. "And more like the steady trot of ridden horses!"

They listened with strained attention; and presently the pound of hoofs was clearly audible returning on the same trail through the woods of the lake shore. The approach of strangers is charged with a tremendous significance to those immured in a wilderness. They bated their breaths to hear better.

Garth scowled. "If they come back they can starve!" he said shortly. "They'll not get another stiver's worth from our store!"

Natalie's ears were very sharp. "There are more than two!" she said suddenly. "Four—six—more than that!"

Garth's face cleared. "Friends, undoubtedly," he said. "Mabyn could never enlist anybody, not even breeds, against us!"

But this was only for Natalie's benefit. Even while he spoke another thought struck a chill to his heart. Lifting Natalie off the horse, he sent her into the house; and taking his gun, he struck back through the woods to the side of the trail, to reconnoitre. He dropped behind a clump of mooseberry bushes where he could see without being seen.

The cavalcade was close upon him. The first to ride past was Herbert Mabyn. His livid face was alight with triumph; and he carried a new Winchester slung over his back. An ill-favoured breed youth followed; his face struck a chord in Garth's memory; but so hard is it to distinguish alien faces that for the moment he could not place him. Next there came six packhorses, laden with food and camp outfit, and driven by the next rider, a breed woman, whose face happened to be turned from Garth as she passed. He had an uncomfortable sense that he knew her too. Rina followed, turning a sad and troubled face in the direction of their camp as she rode by.

This seemed to be all; and Garth was about to rise, when he heard still another rider approaching. He crouched back with a sure foreboding of who it was; hence there was little surprise in the actual sight of the faded check suit enwrapping the burly figure, the broad-rimmed "Stetson," and the ragged cigar ceaselessly twisted between fat lips. He looked older, that was all; and he bore marks of illness. Nick Grylls had found them out.