A Mating in the Wilds

by Ottwell Binns

He lit his pipe and turned from her to the fire. Helen gave him one glance and guessed that it was useless to try to bribe him further, then she turned and began to walk restlessly to and fro. There was a set, stony look of grief on her face; but deep in the grey eyes burned a light that boded ill for the man who had brought the grief upon her.

Time passed, and she still marched to and fro. The half-breed was nodding over the fire, and his two companions were sound asleep. Under her fur parka she felt the butt of the pistol which Stane had given her, when the attack on the cabin had commenced. She looked at the three men, and with her hand on the pistol-butt the thought came to her mind that it would be a simple thing to kill them in their sleep, and to take the dogs and so effect her escape. They were murderers; they deserved to die; and she felt that she could kill them without compunction. But her eyes swept the dark circle of trees, and for a moment she stared into the darkness with fixed gaze, then her hand slipped from the pistol, and she put from her the thought that had come to her. It was not fear of the darkness or any terror at the hazards of the frozen wilderness that deterred her from the attempt; it was just that there was within her a fierce, overwhelming desire, to meet the man who was the ultimate cause of her lover's death.

When the half-breed rose, and ordered her to resume her place on the sledge, she did so without demur, making herself as comfortable as possible. She was bound to the sledge again, though, when they resumed the journey, she was less like a mere bale than she had been, and was free to lift the blanket which now was thrown over her head for protection from the extreme cold more than for any other reason. But only once before the dawn did she avail herself of this privilege to look about her, and that was when the second halt was made. She lifted the blanket to learn the cause of the delay; and made the discovery that the dog-harness having become entangled in the branch of a fallen tree, had broken and the halt was necessary for repairs. She dropped her head-covering again and lay there in the darkness, wild thoughts mingling with her grief. She chafed at the delay. Her one anxiety was for the meeting that should involve a terrible justice; the man should die as her lover had died; and her own hand should inflict upon him the recompense of God.

The sullen dawn of the Northern winter had broken when she lifted the blanket again. They were still in the forest, having lost the trail in the darkness, and presently a fresh halt was necessary, and whilst two of the men prepared a meal, her chief captor went off through the woods as she guessed to discover their whereabouts. He returned in the course of half an hour and said something to his companion which Helen did not understand; and after a rather leisurely meal they harnessed up once more.

After a time the forest began to open out. They struck a frozen river and descending the bank and taking to its smooth surface, their speed accelerated. The banks of the river widened, and in a little time they swept clear of them on to the open plain of what she easily guessed was a frozen lake. They turned sharply to the right, and a few minutes afterwards a whirl of snow caused her to cover her face. Some considerable time passed before she looked forth again. They were travelling at a great rate. The snow was flying from the shoes of the man who broke the trail. The half-breed who was acting as driver was urging the dogs with both whip and voice, and occasionally he cast an anxious look over his shoulder. Wondering why he should do so Helen also looked back. Then her heart gave a great leap. Behind them was another dog-team with two men. Was it possible that after all the half-breed was mistaken, or that he had told her a lying tale?

She did not know, she could not tell, she could only hope, and her hope was fed by her captor's evident anxiety. He whipped the dogs cruelly, and his glances back became more frequent. Helen also looked back and saw that the sled behind was gaining on them. Was it indeed her lover in pursuit, or were these men who had witnessed the attack on the cabin, and had fired the shots which had compelled the attackers to take flight? Anything now seemed possible, and as the half-breed's anxiety grew more pronounced, her own excited hopes mounted higher.

The snow came again, a blinding whirl that blotted out the whole landscape, then the half-breed gave a sharp order, and the Indian in front breaking trail turned ashore. The half-breed looked back, and then forward, and gave a grunt of satisfaction. The girl also looked forward. They were approaching a tree-crowned bluff, which was apparently their goal. Then suddenly, bewildering in its unexpectedness, came the flash and crack of a rifle from the bushes in shore.

"Sacree!" cried the half-breed, and the next moment three rifles spoke, and he pitched over in the snow, whilst the man at the gee-pole also fell.

The man breaking the trail in front, swerved from the bluff, and the dogs swerved after him, almost upsetting the sledge. Again a rifle, and the remaining man went down. The dogs, in excitement or fear, still moved forward, and Helen strove to free herself, but a moment later the sledge halted abruptly as two of the dogs fell, shot in their traces. She had a momentary vision of two men running towards her from the shore, then the snow came down in a thick veil. Dimly she caught the outline of one of the men by her sled, and the next moment a voice she remembered broke on her ears through the clamour of the wind.

"Thank God, Helen! I am in time."