A CHANGE OF FRONT
For five days the fever raged, and then it left him, a mere wreck of his former self. All through that unconscious period the strangest things had happened. Arms had lifted him up from the pillow, and hands had fed him with liquid foods. Some glorious half-seen stranger had taken him under her care; but her face was hidden in a queer mist that floated before his eyes. At times he had tried to rise from the bed, his unbalanced mind obsessed with the idea of washing for gold, but those same strange, soft hands had always succeeded in preventing this—saving once.
On that occasion he actually succeeded in getting from the bed and standing up. He carefully placed one leaden leg before the other, and 235 was nearly on the threshold of the door when the familiar apparition appeared.
“She doesn’t know—I’m wise to all that happened—but I know. She had to do that—poor gal!... I’ll jest go and tell her it’s all right—not to worry none....”
Two supple arms caught him. He pushed them away, rather irritably.
“Don’t butt in.... It’s her I’m thinkin’ of—Angela. She’s sure hard and cold and can’t see no good in me,... but she’s got to be happy—got to be happy.... Maybe she’s right. I’m only fit for hosses and wild women....”
He found himself in bed again, and quite unconscious of the fact that he had ever been out of it; but he still continued to ramble on in monotonous and eerie fashion, about Angela, Colorado, fifty thousand pounds, and sundry other things.
Full consciousness came early one morning. He had been lying trying to piece together all the queer things that floated to his brain through the medium of his disarranged optic nerve. He succeeded in arriving at the fact that there was a bed and he was lying on it, and that the ceiling 236 was comprised of rough logs.... Then an arm was placed behind his head and a mug of something hot was placed to his lips. But he didn’t drink. His sight was coming back at tremendous speed. The hazy face before him took definite shape. A pair of intensely blue eyes were fixed on him, and red shapely lips seemed to smile.
“Angela!” he gasped.
She nodded and turned her eyes down.
“Yes, it is I. Don’t talk—you are too weak.”
“But I don’t understand. Why did you come back?”
He saw the mouth quiver.
“I came back because——”
“Go on.”
“I came back because I told you a lie.... I didn’t realize then what a despicable lie it was—one that reflected upon the character of a good friend, and made me seem like dirt in your eyes.... I wanted my freedom at any price, but that price was too high.... I—I couldn’t go and let you think—that.”
Her shoulders shook, and he saw that she was trying to conceal her sobs. 237
“When did you come back?” he queried in a slow voice.
“Two days after I left. I found you gone, but knew you must come back, because some of the gear was here.” She hesitated. “Did—did you go after—him?”
He nodded grimly, and she gave a little cry of terror.
“You—you found him?”
He nodded affirmatively.
“And then——?”
“I found him dying from a bad injury.”
“Dying——?”
“Yes. He’s dead now.”
She turned on him with horrified eyes.
“You—you didn’t kill him?”
“Nope. I went there for that, but the Injuns got him first.”
Tears swam in her eyes. She moved her hands nervelessly and put the painful, crucial question.
“Did he know—why you came?”
He inclined his head, much affected by her attitude of abject shame. She gave a smothered cry and sank her head into her hands.
“Don’t, don’t!” he implored. “He understood 238 all right, and he’s dead and gone. Forget it!”
He took the mug of hot cocoa, anxious to drop a subject which caused him as much pain as it did her. Through the frosted windows he could see the sunlit, beautiful landscape, shining with incomparable radiance. Soon the spring would come, and with it the soul-filling song of birds, breaking the long silence of the winter.
“It must be round about March,” he said. “I sure have lost count of time.”
“It’s March the third or fourth,” she replied.
He glanced round the room and was surprised to notice its tidy appearance. All the domestic utensils were clean and neatly arranged on shelves, and the window boasted a pair of curtains. He began to realize how near death he must have been—so near, indeed, but for her he would have crossed the abyss before this.
“Where did you find me?” he asked.
“Away back on the fringe of the wood. The dogs came home with the sled and I followed the tracks till I found you. I—I thought you were dead.”
“And you carried me here?” 239
“I unpacked the sled and went back with it. I managed to get you on to it—the dogs did the rest.”
He gave a low sigh.
“I’ll soon be up and about again.”
“I don’t think you will. You are terribly weak—and look so ill.”
He laughed weakly.
“I ain’t much of an invalid. You’ll see.”
She did see. His recovery was amazingly rapid. He seemed to change hourly, making new flesh at an astonishing pace. His iron constitution performed miracles of transformation. In three days, despite argument, he was out of bed. On the tenth day he shouldered the shovel and the washing pan and went out to a small creek to hunt the elusive gold. But failure still dogged him. He flung down the shovel and devoted hours to thinking over the position. When the pale sun began to sink behind the multicolored peaks he came to a decision and tramped back to the shack. A meal was awaiting him, spread on a clean white cloth. He noticed that the knives had been cleaned, and that a bowl of water was heated ready for a wash, which he 240 badly needed. It was a pleasant but astonishing change. For the first time it brought a real sense of “home.” He half regretted the decision made but an hour before, but he meant to go through with it, hurt how it might.
“Angela,” he said. “We’re packing up to-morrow.”
She looked at him queerly.
“Where to?”
“Dawson.”
“And then——”
“The break-up is coming, and there’ll be boats out to San Francisco.”
“I see. We are going back?”
“That’s about the size of it.”
“Because you have failed?”
He tightened his lips and his eyes flashed.
“Nope. I ain’t failed. I’ll never let this thing beat me. I’ll git gold if I stay till I’m fifty——”
“But you said we were——”
“I kind o’ got it mixed. I meant that you should go home. See here, I’ve got enough dollars to get you back to England—and it’s about time.”
She put down her knife and fork, and he saw 241 a queer light gathering in her eyes. He had expected a look of joy and triumph, but it wasn’t that.
“Listen,” she said. “A year and a half ago you made a business deal. You bought me, with my own consent, for fifty thousand pounds——”
“Cut that out,” he muttered. “I ain’t sticking to that—now.”
“But I am.”
“Eh!”
“That night when I escaped from you, by a mean trick, I was glad enough—in a way. But out there, in that cruel wilderness, I came to see that a business transaction, properly conducted, is a sacred affair. When one buys a thing, it belongs to one until someone else can pay the price. That’s the position, isn’t it?”
“Nope. I can give away my property if I wish.”
“Not in this case.”
“Hell I can!”
“Hell you can’t!”
“Why not?”
“Because—I can’t accept anything from you. Food is a different matter. You fixed the conditions 242 yourself—‘fifty-fifty’ you called it. And that’s how it stands.”
He jerked his chair back and strode up and down the shack. This unexpected swing of the pendulum upset all his arrangements. He feared she did not understand the true state of affairs.
“Things is different—I’ve failed,” he growled.
“We’ve failed—you mean.”
“And I’m broke.”
“We’re broke,” she corrected.
Impatiently he caught her by the arms. He lowered his voice to impress upon her the necessity of carrying out his plan.
“Don’t you see how we stand? Angela, I’m asking you to do this. I’ve only that passage money left. This ain’t the place for you——”
“Why didn’t you discover that before?”
He bit his lips at the retort.
“I guess I was looking at things squint-eyed. I bin used to rough women who were born to hardship——”
She flared up indignantly.
“And that’s just it. You want to make me less than these—wild women. Women are women all the world over. If they can suffer uncomplainingly, 243 so can I. If they can dig gold and mush dogs, so can I. I dug out there along the creeks when you were ill and unconscious——”
“You dug——” Words failed him.
“Yes. I won’t appear contemptible in your eyes. And I won’t accept gifts—not even of freedom. You bought me and paid for me, and the debt remains.”
“But I didn’t buy your—soul.”
“And I’m not giving it you,” she retorted.
He sunk his head, feeling hopelessly beaten in the argument. All the time he was conscious of inward joy. To let her go was to suffer hell. The sudden fierceness that leaped out from her only increased his insatiable desire for her. She seemed even more beautiful in the rôle of tigress than in the old frigid pose of a Greek goddess.
“Have your own way,” he said.
“I intend to. You fixed the laws and you can’t abuse them. Fifty thousand pounds is a lot of money—more, perhaps, than most men would pay for me. But one day someone may——”
He clutched her and glared into her eyes in deep resentment. 244
“Do you think I would give you up for money?—my God!”
“You gave me your word,” she said. “You never go back on your word—you said so.”
He uttered a groan.
“It was fifty thousand,” she said in level tones. “I shall not forget.”
“Angela!”
“Plus ten per cent. interest,” she added tensely.