CHAPTER V
"FOR MY MOTHER'S SAKE"
Among the Indians in Perdue's store none watched the proceedings more intently than Yukon Jennie, the orphan, whose home was in every camp, but with no certain abiding place. Wrapped in her old shawl, she crouched on the floor, taking no part in the rough-and-tumble fight. Her eyes were constantly fixed upon Pritchen with a strange fascination, which seemed never to waver. Once, when he sprang at Amos, she half started from her place, moved by some sudden impulse. But it was only for an instant, and then she shrank back to her former position.
When, however, the wild scene had ended, and the missionary had left the building, her whole being roused to activity. With the agility and stealthiness of a young tigress she glided from the room into the darkness without, and made straight for the Indian village. Reaching this, she wound her way among the various lodges till, stopping before one larger than the rest, she drew back the skin from the door and entered.
With no light to guide her she went at once to a corner of the room, and drew from a bundle of rags a small parcel. Unwrapping this, she brought forth a formidable looking knife, and with intense eagerness ran her small finger over the keen edge and sharp point. So satisfied was she at the result of this performance that a low chuckle of pleasure escaped her lips. Then, hastily concealing the weapon within the folds of her shawl, she left the lodge and started for the store.
"Ding, dong. Ding, dong. Ding, dong." The sharp sound spit the frosty air and stayed the feet of the little hurrying maid. She had never refused to obey its summons, which spoke to her like a living voice. To her childlike mind that dark thing hanging high aloft had a great meaning. It was the centre of an unseen world, and many were the strange and beautiful pictures she wove in her busy brain whenever the bell sounded out its message. But this night it was speaking directly to her in a warning sense. It seemed to understand her secret.
"Tell him. Tell him. Tell him," it was saying, over and over again.
She tried to go forward. She clutched the knife more firmly, and moved a few steps. She paused again, as a sudden thought came into her mind. Yes, she would listen to it. She would tell him first; after that there would be time.
Turning to the left, she started toward the church. The bell had ceased before she reached the building, and all was still. Pushing open the door, she entered and slipped quietly into her accustomed place in a back seat. The rows of bowed heads in front of her were unseen; the altar, with its little wooden cross, flanked by the Ten Commandments in the Indian tongue, did not interest her as on other occasions, neither did the small mission harmonium, the delight of the natives, which had cost such an effort to bring to Klassan. She saw none of these. Her attention was fixed upon the kneeling form of the missionary, repeating several of the prayers of the Church.