Menotah Part 20

She touched the box with light finger tips. 'I kept this buried beneath a forest tree; but I feared lest a Spirit might s.n.a.t.c.h it in the storm.'

Lamont laughed. 'Spirits could steal away nothing.'

'They breathe, and the substance vanishes; they touch, and it melts.

Often have I seen the wind carrying a tree uprooted. I have also looked upon a tent borne on the storm. There is a Spirit in the wind.'

A furious roar of thunder convulsed the dread silence. As it died away, Dave burst into renewed howlings, and commenced an attack upon the table with the black bottle.

'You shouldn't have come here.'

'Why not?'

'Two drunken men--and you.' He shrugged his shoulders.

'But when a man drinks much strong water, he is helpless. Besides, you are here.'

Dave staggered to his irregular feet, dimly conscious that someone was speaking close at hand, and fell heavily into Lamont's arms.

'Come--have something--to drink, Alfy. Haven't had good drink--with you--long time.'

Arousing to the fact that his name had been p.r.o.nounced, McAuliffe uplifted a strange, s.h.a.ggy face, to stare helplessly around.

'That 'ud be Dave--old Davey Spencer. Talking through his hat as usual.

No good listening--what he says. He ain't of no account.'

Dave threw his hot arms around Lamont's neck. 'Alfy--you good fellow,'

he s...o...b..red. 'Heard boys run you down--say old Alf McAuliffe wasn't much good anyway. I've given it 'em straight. Your old pal, Davey, will stay right by you.'

McAuliffe stuck a bottle to the perpendicular on the sloppy table, and lectured it with wagging beard,--

'No use at all for chaps that have a lot to say for themselves--no derned bit of good, they ain't! There's Dave Spencer, now--he's one of 'em. Corks me, he do! I've been talking to him to-night--not a single sense-bug under his wool. Can't argue worth shucks. Sits sucking a gla.s.s and stares like a derned old owl whenever I talk straight--squirms like a pesky fish trying to get back to water. It's a terrible waste of time for fellow like me--lots of brains--to argue with a wooden chunk like Dave. Don't you forget it now. What I'm saying's the right thing.'

'd.a.m.n you, keep off!' shouted Lamont, throwing the unsteady Captain back against the wall.

'Not going back on friends, Alfy--not on old Davey Spencer? Always drunk fair with you--never took lager when you had whisky. Just shake, Alf--show no ill feeling. Then we'll go for a walk and have something--ter'ble long time 'tween drinks. My treat, Alf.'

'Get a move on, then!' cried the Factor. He rose clumsily. 'Seems to be a bit of a storm coming around. Don't matter, though. Hook your arm in mine, Davey.'

But then Lamont caught the speaker and pulled him back to the inner room.

McAuliffe struggled like a bear. 'There'll be trouble here!' he howled.

'A fellow can do what he darned well likes in a free country!'

'You'll get twisted up by lightning first thing if you go out.'

'We'll try, anyhow,' hiccoughed the Factor, smiling pleasantly.

'Can't spare you,' muttered the other. 'Come along with me. I'll stay with you, and bring along a stiff eye-opener.'

'You're the stuff!' chuckled McAuliffe. 'I'm right with you. Never mind Davey; haven't got much an opinion of him. Sort of chap to stand you a drink, then make you pay for it. We'll go for a stroll presently, eh?

Sun s.h.i.+ning nice and bright. I want to pick some pretty flowers for my gal.'

Lamont laughed cynically, and dumped the great body on the heap of clothes which stood for a bed. He stood by to check any inclination to rise, until he was recalled to the office by a sound of scuffling and an indignant cry. Then he remembered Dave.

Menotah had quickly commenced to ridicule her companion upon his singular want of graceful motion. The Captain recognised his persecutor, and smiled broadly with pleasure. 'You're a fine gal, and good-looking gal,' he declared. 'Come and sit on my knee.'

Which pleasant invitation was scornfully refused. 'I shall stay here, and you can sit by yourself,' she said. 'What have you been doing to-night?'

'Thinking of you,' replied Dave, effusively. 'Always doing it--first thing in morning, last thing at night.'

She regarded his wobbling figure with a laugh. 'It has been too much for your feet. If you think any more, your legs will give way.'

Dave whined at the imputation. 'I'm all right. See me walk the chalked line.' Then he commenced to gyrate towards her.

She doubled her little fist. 'If you come any nearer, I shall hit you in the face.'

The Captain chuckled happily, and made a fresh lurch onward. 'I know you gals--all the same. Never let a fine-looking man alone. Lots have tried to catch Dave Spencer--shook 'em off, though, every time. Always said--going to marry Menotah and settle down comfortable.'

The girl laughed. 'Why,' she cried frankly, 'you are uglier than a jack-fish, and as stupid as a tree-partridge! Don't you know that?'

The Captain was in a condition only to appreciate compliments. 'You agree to that quick enough. I know you gals--never let a good chance slip. Come, give me a kiss.'

Menotah turned to escape, but in doing so stepped upon a fragment of Lamont's broken gla.s.s. She cried sharply, for she was barefooted; but the next instant Dave had flung two unsteady arms round her, while his hot tainted breath struck against her cheek.

Yet, before he could put his amorous designs in execution, Lamont was across the floor, and had seized him angrily by the collar. He dragged him away, struggling violently, and shouting like a maniac.

'Unfix me. I'll pay you for mauling my carcase. You don't know Dave Spencer, I guess. Who the devil are you, anyway?'

Menotah nursed her foot upon the lounge, watching her protector with soft eyes. Dave s...o...b..red along the floor, cursing and groaning, then turned his dull head round and looked up into Lamont's face. The same moment Menotah turned up the lamp flame, though scanty light could penetrate the blackened chimney. Still, the incessant lightning, across window and half open door, was sufficient by itself.

Suddenly Dave shot a shaking finger upward. 'I know you!' he cried madly. 'White Chief! Ho, ho! White Chief!'

It might have been the electric light that cast the livid hue across Lamont's features. Certainly he started wildly, then recollected in whose presence he stood, and laughed.

'Pshaw!' he muttered, 'if you weren't three sheets in the wind, I'd stuff you with lead for that.'

The Captain kept his strange dark eyes fixed vindictively. 'I saw you once,' he shrieked; 'saw you one evening without your paint. White Chief! I'll hand you over. You will swing along with Riel. You will be hung!'

The thunder rose from the heart of the great silence, and roared fearfully. When it died into mutterings, the thick breathing of the sleeping Factor within was distinctly audible. Lamont kicked the drunken body, and turned to Menotah with a gesture of contempt.

'Come,' he said, 'I will take you to your home.' She looked at him pathetically, almost as a wounded stag who expects the death blow. Then she silently pointed to a scarlet line across the little brown foot.

He fell to his knee and kissed pa.s.sionately the spot indicated. Then he drew the silk scarf from his throat and bound up the delicate limb.

While doing so, she bent down and pressed her lips fervently to the white skin at the back of his neck.

Dave had forgotten his accusation, and, still muttering upon the floor, was rapidly sinking into a natural stupor. The boat departed in the early morning, and in her Lamont had sworn to take pa.s.sage. But much might be performed before the dawning. McAuliffe lay in a dead sleep; Justin tended the Icelander in a riverside hut; Denton was safely out of the way. Good.

'Shall I carry you in my arms, _cherie_?' he asked.