Chapter XIV: The Man-Hunter

All went well, though slowly and with vast labor, for a few hundred yards; and then the girl stalled. Jim turned back, lifted her to her knees again and shook her again.

"Are you frozen anywhere?" he asked,

"I'm not cold," she replied faintly. "I'm tired out. Please leave me alone."

He rubbed her face with handfuls of snow. She protested angrily and burst into tears.

"Leave me be!" she sobbed. "Let me rest!"

"You can't rest here!" he cried, and shook her roughly. "I've a shelter somewhere. It isn't far. You can rest there."

She exerted herself again, but after a few yards subsided on her face and refused to budge. He struggled and argued with her in vain for several minutes, then realized that he was wasting his own strength for nothing. He unslung the snowshoes and pack and fastened the snowshoes to the collar of one of the dogs and the pack to the back of the other. Then he burrowed under the girl, raised himself to his hands and one knee beneath her and continued his journey.

It was slow work. The dogs ceased to frisk. Jim was frequently forced to shake the girl from his back and extricate one or the other of the dogs from either its load or the drift. The dogs understood and did their best--but the snowshoes on the pack were ever-lastingly slipping around and dragging beneath them. Only Flora did not seem to understand or to make any effort to do so. She rolled off Jim's back when he wanted her to stay on, and several times roused herself sufficiently to clutch at his neck when he wanted to roll her off. And yet so unreasonable a thing is the human heart, the more trouble she gave him the more kindly did he feel toward her. All his bitterness had gone at the first glimpse of her lying helpless; and now that she made no effort to help herself, and exerted herself only to impede his progress, he felt only tenderness and admiration for her. The fact that she had not believed his word was forgotten; that she had thought him a shooter from ambush seemed a small thing; that she had thought him a coward--even that appeared a small matter now. She had come out alone to find him; that was the great thing! And she had admitted her shame for having thought meanly of him, and that was another great thing! So he struggled onward.

The wind began to fail. It blew less violently, lifted the snow no more than five or six feet and dropped it almost immediately. It struck less frequently, baffled, and finally died away.

Jim reached the thicket from which a thin plume of smoke arose straight into the still air. He freed the floundering dogs of their burdens, dragged the girl through the tangle and deposited her in the den and sank on his face beside her. He lay motionless for fully ten minutes, then turned over and sat up. Flora, too, was sitting up, with her back against the wall of brush and snow. Her eyes were open and their green gaze was fixed anxiously and wonderingly upon him.

"How did you--get me here?" she whispered.

"You crawled part of the way," he answered. "Then I lugged you on my back. Are you feeling better?"

"I feel dizzy--and sick. I thought I was dead. But I remember crawling. You saved my life."

"I'll make some tea. Your pack's just outside."

"You saved my life--and I thought you hated me."

"It was my fault. I shouldn't have crawled away last night."

He staggered up, crawled out and brought in the pack. He made tea and buttered toast, the girl and the dogs watching him in silence.

"I didn't eat any breakfast," she said as he handed her the only mug, full of tea.

"I was a fool to crawl away last night," he said.

"You might have started your leg bleeding again," said the girl.

"It would have served me right," he answered.

"Can you forgive me for--for thinking you lied to me?"

"I forgave you long ago--when I saw you on your face in the snow. I wanted to kick myself then for having raised such a row about a little thing like that."

He took the empty mug from her and filled it for himself.

"I am glad you saved my life, even if you do feel--that way about me," she said.

"What way?" he asked.

"As if I--wasn't capable of--really understanding you."

He moved over closer beside her.

"I--only want you to think well of me," he said. "It was my pride that was talking last night, but seeing you helpless out there in the drift took the silly pride out of me."

"I think--very well of you. I think, I know, that you are brave and honest. But what do you think of me, Jim?"

"I think you are as brave as--as you are--dashed beautiful!"

"Beautiful! I have green eyes!"

"They are beautiful. Flora, do you know I--I don't want to make you angry but--I kissed you once, out there in the snow. And if you can forgive me--I was quite desperate, don't you know--I'd like to do it again."

"Hands up!" cried a voice; and they looked up and beheld the head and shoulders and rifle of Homer Steeves at the edge of the pit. Jim didn't remove his arm from Flora's waist.

"Hands up, I said!" cried Homer. "An' move away from that girl! Pack yer dunnage an' come along out of that!"

Jim stood up.

"What's the matter with yer leg?" asked Homer.

"Cut it. What's the matter with you?" asked Jim.

"Cut it, did ye. Well, ye got to come along all the same. I figgered on tyin' you an' haulin' you anyhow--an' Flora can help me."

"Very kind of you, but why are you pointing that rifle at me?"

"To shoot you if you resist, that's why."

"He will come quietly, Homer. Don't shoot!" cried the girl.

A sudden, reckless rage took possession of Jim. He stooped swiftly, snatched the largest brand from the fire and flung it in Homer's face. Homer swore and twitched his finger. The hammer of the Snider fell, the cap in the base of the cartridge detonated with a sharp crack--and that was all! And before the volunteer man-hunter could eject the worthless charge and insert another--another equally worthless, had he only known it--Jim was at him. Homer clubbed his rifle and swung it, but Jim ducked, grabbed with his right hand and yanked Homer into the pit, rifle and snowshoes and all. Despite the fact that he kept his left foot clear of the ground all the time, Jim had the intruder disarmed and bound helplessly at wrist and ankle in thirty seconds.

Jim crawled out of the den and thicket to look for the sled which Steeves had mentioned. Flora followed him.

"He tried to kill you," she whispered.

"He doesn't like me, evidently," replied Jim. "Lucky for me the cartridge didn't explode!"

"What will we do next?" she asked.

"Start for home first thing to-morrow morning, if you feel fit to travel."

"But you can't crawl all the way."

"Homer will have to drag me on the sled. That's what he brought it for."

"But he intended to haul you home as a prisoner. Now it will be a different matter entirely when he knows that the sheriff doesn't want you. He will refuse to haul you, for he is very stubborn; and then what can we do? You wouldn't shoot him."

"No, I wouldn't shoot him. I couldn't do more than threaten him."

"And if he saw that you were anxious to get back to the glen, then he would know that you are innocent and he would refuse to haul you a foot. We'll have to fool him."

"How?"

"Let him go on thinking you are guilty. And I'll tie you up early to-morrow morning and set him free, but I'll throw his cartridges away and keep your rifle handy. He will haul you right up to the kitchen door, Jim; and then it will be time to tell him the truth."

"Flora, you are a wonder! And you are not angry with me, are you?"

"Angry? Why should I be angry now that we are good friends again?"

"Then I'll chance it again!" he exclaimed, and he did.

They returned to their prisoner and the fire. They did not talk to each other or Homer. Jim ejected the unexploded cartridge from the Snider and pocketed it. He took the other cartridges from Homer's pocket and was about to throw them away when a bright scratch on the brass of one of them caught his eye. He examined it carefully, then extracted the bullet with the point of his knife. He did the same to the other shells.

"Where did you get your ammunition?" he asked.

"What's wrong with it?" asked the prisoner, who had watched the operations keenly and curiously.

"No explosive charges," replied Jim.

"The devil you say!" cried Homer. "No powder! That's old Hercules Ducat, the tricky old skunk. He loaned me the rifle an' ca'tridges. But he'll wish he hadn't been so smart when I put the law onto him."

"You should be very grateful to him," returned Jim. "You would be a murderer now if they had been all right."

The rest of the evening was passed in silence. Supper was eaten in silence.

Jim was awakened by Flora before dawn.

"Now I must tie you up," she whispered, with her lips very close to his ear.

She bound his wrists comfortably. She bound his ankles. Then she kissed him swiftly and slipped away. He smiled and fell asleep again. His dreams were scattered again half an hour later by the sharp punching of a moccasined toe against his ribs. He opened his eyes and beheld Homer Steeves standing over him.

"Wake up an' feed yer face, Mr. Dood!" cried Homer; and then, as Jim pretended to try to free his wrists, he laughed with loud derision.

Jim scowled and maintained a sullen silence throughout breakfast, but he ate heartily.

"Go to it," jeered Homer. "It's a durn sight better'n the grub ye'll get in jail."

Flora hung her head as if in shame, but whenever the man-hunter's back was turned she winked at the captive and blew him a kiss.

Jim made no protest when Homer told him to sit on the sled. The day was bright, without wind, but the going was heavy. Homer pulled mightily, while Flora beat a trail in front. They rested often; and Homer turned frequently and damned the passenger. By the time they had gone four miles, Homer's wind and temper were both demoralized. He dropped the rope, slipped his feet from his webs and went back and kicked Jim off the sled. Jim lay helpless and half smothered in the deep snow.

"Crawl, durn ye!" cried Homer.

The girl came back on the jump, raised Jim to a sitting position, and flashed green fire at Homer.

"How can he crawl when he's tied hand and foot?" she asked.

"I dassent risk lettin' him loose, but we'd sure get along quicker if he could crawl a piece now an' agin," replied Homer.

"Untie me, and I give you my word I won't hurt you and I'll crawl part of the way," promised Jim.

Homer agreed to this and the girl loosed the thongs. Jim crawled behind the sled for a distance of several hundred yards, then grabbed the sled and pulled himself onto it. After traveling at his ease for half a mile, he rolled off and crawled again.

Jim was tied again before camp was made that night, and the night passed uneventfully. Homer, who had been the first to sleep, was the first to wake. He was in a bad humor, despite the fact that his rival was in his power and would soon be in the grasp of the law. He built up the fire. Then he went over to his captive and kicked him in the ribs as hard as he could without hurting his soft-shod toes.

Again they traveled glenward, with Flora and the dogs leading, Homer hauling the sled and Jim sometimes on and sometimes off the sled. The hauls were long and the crawls were short, but they went forward at a fair pace.