Chapter II. A Face Out Of The Night
Steele came up to the Hudson's Bay Company's post at Lac Bain on theseventh day after the big storm, and Breed, the factor, confided twoimportant bits of information to him while he was thawing out before thebig box-stove in the company's deserted and supply-stripped store.The first was that a certain Colonel Becker and his wife had left FortChurchill, on Hudson's Bay, to make a visit at Lac Bain; the second,that Buck Nome had gone westward a week before and had not returned.Breed was worried, not over Nome's prolonged absence, but over theanticipated arrival of the other two. According to the letter which hadcome to him from the Churchill factor. Colonel Becker and his wife hadcome over on the last supply ship from London, and the colonel was ahigh official in the company's service. Also, he was an old gentleman.Ostensibly he had no business at Lac Bain, but was merely on a vacation,and wished to see a bit of real life in the wilderness.
Breed's grizzled face was miserable.
"Why don't they send 'em down to York Factory or Nelson House?" hedemanded of Steele. "They've got duck feathers, three women, and acivilized factor at the Nelson, and there ain't any of 'em here--noteven a woman!"
Steele shrugged his shoulders as Breed mentioned the three women atNelson.
"There are only two women there now," he replied. "Since a certain BuckyNome passed that way, one of them has gone into the South."
"Well, two, then," said Breed, who had not caught the flash of fire inthe other's eyes. "But I tell you there ain't a one here, Steele, noteven an Indian--and that dirty Cree, Jack, is doing the cooking. BlessedSaints, I caught him mixing biscuit dough in the wash basin the otherday, and I've been eating those biscuits ever since our people wentout to their traplines! There's you, and Nome, two Crees, a 'half'and myself--and that's every soul there'll be at Lac Bain until themid-winter run of fur. Now, what in Heaven's name is the poor old Mrs.Colonel going to do?"
"Got a bed for her?"
"A bunk--hard as nails!"
"Good grub?"
"Rotten!" groaned the factor. "Every trapper's son of them took out bigsupplies this fall and we're stripped. Beans, flour, sugar'n'prunes--andcaribou until I feel like turning inside out every time I smell it. I'dgive a month's commission for a pound of pork. Look here! If this letterain't 'quality' you can cut me into jiggers. Bet the Mrs. Colonel wroteit for her hubby."
From an inside pocket Breed drew forth a square white envelope witha broken seal of red wax, and from it extracted a folded sheet ofcream-tinted paper. Scarcely had Steele taken the note in his hands whena quick thrill passed through him. Before he had read the first linehe was conscious again of that haunting sweetness in the air hebreathed--the perfume of hyacinth. There was not only this perfume, butthe same paper, the same delicately pretty writing of the letter hehad burned more than a week before. He made no effort to suppress theexclamation of astonishment that broke from his lips. Breed was staringat him when he lifted his eyes.
"This is a mighty strange coincidence, Breed," he said, regaining hiscomposure. "I could almost swear that I know this writing, and yet ofcourse such a thing is impossible. Still, it's mighty queer. Will youlet me keep the letter until to-night? I'd like to take it over to thecabin and compare it--"
"Needn't return it at all," interrupted the factor. "Hope you findsomething interesting to tell me at supper--five sharp. It will be ablessing if you know 'em."
Ten minutes later Steele was in the little cabin which he and Nomeoccupied while at Lac Bain. Jack, the Cree, had built a rousing fire inthe long sheet-iron stove, and as Steele opened its furnace-like door,a flood of light poured out into the gathering gloom of early evening.Drawing a chair full into the light, he again opened the letter. Linefor line and word for word he scrutinized the writing, and with eachbreath that he drew he found himself more deeply thrilled by a curiousmental excitement which it was impossible for him to explain. Accordingto the letter. Colonel and Mrs. Becker had arrived at Churchill aboardthe London ship a little over a month previously. He remembered that thedate on the letter from the girl was six weeks old. At the time it waswritten, Colonel Becker and his wife were either in London or Liverpool,or crossing the Atlantic. No matter how similar the two letters appearedto him, he realized that, under the circumstances, the same person couldnot have written them both. For many minutes he sat back in his chair,with his eyes half-closed, absorbing the comforting heat of the fire.Again the old vision returned to him. In a subconscious sort of way hefound himself fighting against it, as he had struggled a score of timesto throw off its presence, since the girl's letter had come to him.And this time, as before, his effort was futile. He saw her again--andalways as on that night of the Hawkins' ball, eyes and lips smiling athim, the light shining gloriously in the deep red gold of her hair.
With an effort Steele aroused himself and looked at his watch. It wasa quarter of five. He stooped to close the stove door, and stoppedsuddenly, his hand reaching out, head and shoulders hunched over. Acrosshis knee, shining in the firelight, like a thread of spun gold, lay asingle filament of a woman's hair.
He rose slowly, holding the hair between him and the light. His fingerstrembled, his breath came quickly. The hair had fallen upon his kneefrom the letter--or the envelope, and it was wonderfully like HER hair!
From the direction of the factor's quarters came the deep bellowing ofBreed's moose-horn, calling him to supper. Before he responded to it,Steele wound the silken thread of gold about his ringer, then placedit carefully among the papers and cards which he carried in his leatherwallet. His face was flushed when he joined the factor. Not since thenight at the Hawkins' ball, when he had felt the touch of a beautifulwoman's hands, the warmth of her breath, the soft sweep of her hairagainst his lips as he had leaned over her in his half-surrender, hadthought of woman stirred him as he felt himself stirred now. He wasglad that Breed was too much absorbed in his own troubles to observe anypossible change in himself or to ask questions about the letter.
"I tell you, it may mean the short birch for me, Steele," saidthe factor gloomily. "Lac Bain is just now the emptiest, mostfallen-to-pieces, unbusiness-like post between the Athabasca and theBay. We've had two bad seasons running, and everything has gone wrong.Colonel Becker is a big one with the company. Ain't no doubt about that,and ten to one he'll think it's a new man that's wanted here."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Steele. A sudden flash shot into his face as helooked hard at Breed. "See here, how would you like to have me go out tomeet them?" he asked. "Sort of a welcoming committee of one, you know.Before they got here I could casually give 'em to understand what LacBain has been up against during the last two seasons."
Breed's face brightened in an instant.
"That might save us, Steele. Will you do it?"
"With pleasure."
Philip was conscious of an increasing warmth in his face as he bent overhis plate. "You're sure--they're elderly people?" he asked.
"That is what MacVeigh wrote me from Churchill; at least he said thecolonel was an old man."
"And his wife?"
"Has got her nerve," growled Breed irreverently. "It wouldn't be so badif it was only the colonel. But an old woman--ugh! What he doesn't thinkof she'll remind him of, you can depend on that."
Steele thought of his mother, who looked at things through a magnifyinglorgnette, and laughed a little cheerlessly.
"I'll go out and meet them, anyway," he comforted. "Have Jack fix me upfor the hike in the morning, Breed. I'll start after breakfast."
He was glad when supper was over and he was back in his own cabinsmoking his pipe. It was almost with a feeling of shame that he tookthe golden hair from his wallet and held it once more so that it shonebefore his eyes in the firelight.
"You're crazy, Phil Steele," he assured himself. "You're an unalloyedidiot. What the deuce has Colonel Becker's wife got to do with you--evenif she has golden hair and uses cream-tinted paper soaked in hyacinth?Confound it--there!" and he released the shining hair from his fi
ngersso that the air currents sent it floating back into the deeper gloom ofthe cabin.
It was midnight before he went to bed. He was up with the first coldgray of dawn. All that day he strode steadily eastward on snowshoes,over the company's trail to the bay. Two hours before dusk he put up hislight tent, gathered balsam for a bed, and built a fire of dry spruceagainst the face of a huge rock in front of his shelter. It was stilllight when he wrapped himself in his blanket and lay down on the balsam,with his feet stretched out to the reflected heat of the big rock. Itseemed to Steele that there was an unnatural stillness in the air, asthe night thickened beyond the rim of firelight, and, as the gloom grewstill deeper, blotting out his vision in inky blackness, there creptover him slowly a feeling of loneliness. It was a new sensation toSteele, and he shivered as he sat up and faced the fire. It was thissame quiet, this same unending mystery of voiceless desolation that hadwon him to the North. Until to-night he had loved it. But now there wassomething oppressive about it, something that made him strain his eyesto see beyond the rock and the fire, and set his ears in tense listeningfor sounds which did not exist. He knew that in this hour he was longingfor companionship--not that of Breed, nor of men with whom he huntedmen, but of men and women whom he had once known and in whose lives hehad played a part--ages ago, it seemed to him. He knew, as he sat withclenched hands and staring eyes, that chiefly he was longing for awoman--a woman whose eyes and lips and sunny hair haunted him aftermonths of forgetfulness, and whose face smiled at him luringly, now,from out the leaping flashes of fire--tempting him, calling him over athousand miles of space. And if he yielded--
The thought sent his nails biting into the flesh of his palms and hesank back with a curse that held more of misery than blasphemy. Physicalexhaustion rather than desire for sleep closed his eyes, at last, inhalf-slumber, and after that the face seemed nearer and more real tohim, until it was close at his side, and was speaking to him. He heardagain the soft, rippling laugh, girlishly sweet, that had fascinated himat Hawkins' ball; he heard the distant hum and chatter of other voices,and then one loud and close--that of Chesbro, who had unwittinglyinterrupted them, and saved him, just in the nick of time.
Steele moved restlessly; after a moment wriggled to his elbow and lookedtoward the fire. He seemed to hear Chesbro's voice again as he awoke,and a thrill as keen as an electric shock set his nerves tingling whenhe heard once more the laughing voice of his dream, hushed and low. Inamazement he sat bolt upright and stared. Was he still dreaming? Thefire was burning brightly and he was aware that he had scarce falleninto sleep.
A movement--a sound of feet crunching softly in the snow, and a figurecame between him and the fire.
It was a woman.
He choked back the cry that rose to his lips and sat motionless andwithout sound. The figure approached a step nearer, peering into thedeep gloom of the tent. He caught the silver glint in the firelighton heavy fur, the whiteness of a hand touching lightly the flap of histent, and then for an instant he saw a face. In that instant he sat asrigid as if he had stopped the beat of his own life. A pair of dark eyeslaughing in at him, a flash of laughing teeth, a low titter that wasscarce more than a rippling throat-note, and the face was gone, leavinghim still staring into the blank space where it had been.
With a cough to give warning of his wakefulness, Steele flung off hisblanket and drew himself through the low opening of the tent. On theextreme right of the fire stood a man and woman, warming themselves overthe coals. They straightened from their leaning posture as he appeared.
"This is too bad, too bad, Mr. Steele," exclaimed the man, advancingquickly. "I was afraid we'd make a blunder and awaken you. We were aboutto camp on a mountain back there when we saw your fire and drove on toit. I'm sorry--"
"Wouldn't have had you miss me for anything," interrupted Steele,gripping the other's proffered hand. "You see, I'm out from Lac Bain tomeet Colonel and Mrs. Becker, and--" He hesitated purposely, his whiteteeth gleaming in the frank smile which made people like him immensely,from the first.
"You've met them," completed the laughing voice from across the fire."Please, Mr. Steele, will you forgive me for looking in at you andwaking you up? But your feet looked so terribly funny, and I assure youthat was all I could see, though I tried awfully hard. Anyway, I sawyour name printed on the flap of your tent."
Steele felt a slow fire burning in his cheeks as he encountered thebeautiful eyes glowing at him from behind the colonel. The woman wassmiling at him. In the heat of the fire she had pushed back her furturban, and he saw that her hair was the same shining red gold that hadcome to him in the letter, and that her lips and eyes and the gloriouscolor in her face were remarkably like those of which he had dreamed,and of which waking visions had come with the hyacinth letter to fillhim with unrest and homesickness. In spite of himself he had reasonedthat she would be young and that she would have golden hair, but theseother things, the laughing beauty of her face, the luring depth of hereyes.
He caught himself staring.
"I--I was dreaming," he almost stammered. He pulled himself togetherquickly. "I was dreaming of a face, Mrs. Becker, It seems strange thatthis should happen--away up here, in this way. The face that I dreamedof is a thousand miles from here, and it is wonderfully like yours."
The colonel was laughing at him when he turned. He was a little man,as straight as a gun rod, pale of face except for his nose, which wasnipped red by the cold, and with a pointed beard as white as the snowunder his feet. That part of his countenance which exposed itself abovethe top of his great fur coat and below his thick beaver cap was alivewith good cheer, notwithstanding its pallor.
"Glad you're good humored about it, Steele," he cried with an immediatetone of comradeship. "We wouldn't have ventured into your camp if ithadn't been for Isobel. She was positively insistent, sir. Wanted tosee who was here and what it looked like. Eh, Isobel, my dear, are yousatisfied?"
"I surely didn't expect to find 'It' asleep at this time of the day,"said Mrs. Becker. She laughed straight into Philip's face, and soroguishly sweet was the curve of her red lips and the light in her eyesthat his heart quickened its beating, and the flush deepened in hischeeks.
"It's only six," he said, looking at his watch. "I don't usually turnin this early. I was tired to-night--though I am not, now," he addedquickly. "I could sit up until morning--and talk. We don't often meetpeople from outside, you know. Where are the others?"
"Back there," said the colonel, waving an arm into the gloom. "Isobelmade 'em sit down and be quiet, dogs and all, sir, while we came onalone. There are Indians, two sledges, and a ton of duff."
"Call them," said Steele. "There's room for your tent beside mine,Colonel, close against the face of this rock. It's as good as afurnace."
The colonel moved a little out into the gloom and shouted to thosebehind. Philip turned to find Mrs. Becker looking at him in a timid,questioning sort of way, the laughter gone from her eyes. For a momentshe seemed to be on the point of speaking to him, then picked up a shortstick and began toying with the coals.
"You must be tired, Mrs. Becker," he said. "Now that you are near afire, I would suggest that you throw off your heavy coat. You will bemore comfortable, and I will bring you a blanket to sit on."
He dived into his tent and a moment later reappeared with a blanket,which he spread close against the butt of a big spruce within half adozen feet of the fire. When he turned toward her, the colonel's wifehad thrown off her coat and turban and stood before him, a slim andgirlish figure, bewitchingly pretty as she smiled her gratitude andnestled down into the place he had prepared for her. For a moment hebent over her, tucking the thick fur about her feet and knees, and inthat moment he breathed from the heavy coils of her shining hair theflower-like sweetness which had already stirred him to the depths of hissoul.
Colonel Becker was smiling down upon them when he straightened up, andat the humorous twinkle in his eyes, as he gazed from one to the other,Steele felt that the guilt of his own thoughts
was blazing in his face.He was glad that the Indians came up with the sledges just at thismoment, and as he went back to help them with the dogs and packs heswore softly at himself for the heat that was in his blood and thestrange madness that was firing his brain. And inwardly he cursedhimself still more when he returned to the fire. From out the deep gloomhe saw the colonel sitting with his back against the spruce and Mrs.Becker nestling against him, her head resting upon his shoulder, talkingand laughing up into his face. Even as he hesitated for an instant,scarce daring to break upon the scene, he saw her pull the gray-beardedface down to hers and kiss it, and in the ineffable contentment andhappiness shining in the two faces in the firelight Philip Steele knewthat he was looking upon that which had broken for ever the hauntingimage of another woman in his heart. In its place would remain thispicture of love--love as he had dreamed of it, as he had hoped for it,and which he had found at last--but not for himself--in the heart of awilderness.
He saw now something childishly sweet and pure in the face that smiledwelcome to him as he came noisily through the snow-crust; and something,too, in the colonel's face, which reached out and gripped at his veryheartstrings, and filled him with a warm glow that was new and strangeto him, and which was almost the happiness of these two. It swept fromhim the sense of loneliness which had oppressed him a short time before,and when at last, after they had talked for a long time beside the fire,the colonel's wife lifted her pretty head drowsily and asked if shemight go to bed, he laughed in sheer joy at the pouting tenderness withwhich she rubbed her pink cheek against the grizzled face above her, andat the gentle light in the colonel's eyes as he half carried her intothe tent.
For a long time after he had rolled himself in his own blanket Philiplay awake, wondering at the strangeness of this thing that had happenedto him. It was Her hair that he had seen shining this night under theold spruce, lustrous and soft, and coiled in its simple glory, as hehad seen it last on the night when Chesbro had broken in on them at theball. It was very easy for him to imagine that it had been Her face,with soul and heart and love added to its beauty. More than ever heknew what had been missing for him now, and blessed Chesbro for hisblundering, and fell asleep to dream of the new face, and to awakenhours later to the unpleasant realization that his visions were butdream-fabric after all, and that the woman was the wife of ColonelBecker.