Northern Lights, Complete. Gilbert Parker. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Gilbert Parker
Издательство: Bookwire
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Жанр произведения: Языкознание
Год издания: 0
isbn: 4057664156891
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closed up, I’ve only got a little cough now and again; and I’m off East. I don’t want to go alone.” He suddenly caught her in his arms. “I want you—you, to go with me, Nancy—Nance!”

      Her brain swam. To leave the West behind, to go East to a new life full of pleasant things, as this man’s wife! Her great heart rose, and suddenly the mother in her as well as the woman in her was captured by his wooing. She had never known what it was to be wooed like this.

      She was about to answer, when there came a sharp knock at the door leading from the backyard, and Lambton’s Indian lad entered. “The soldier—he come—many. I go over the ridge; I see. They come quick here,” he said.

      Nance gave a startled cry, and Lambton turned to the other room for his pistols, overcoat, and cap, when there was the sound of horses’ hoofs, the door suddenly opened, and an officer stepped inside.

      “You’re wanted for smuggling, Lambton,” he said brusquely. “Don’t stir!” In his hand was a revolver.

      “Oh, bosh! Prove it,” answered the young man, pale and startled, but cool in speech and action. “We’ll prove it all right. The stuff is hereabouts.” The girl said something to the officer in the Chinook language. She saw he did not understand. Then she spoke quickly to Lambton in the same tongue.

      “Keep him here a bit,” she said. “His men haven’t come yet. Your outfit is well hid. I’ll see if I can get away with it before they find it. They’ll follow, and bring you with them, that’s sure. So if I have luck and get through, we’ll meet at Dingan’s Drive.”

      Lambton’s face brightened. He quickly gave her a few directions in Chinook, and told her what to do at Dingan’s if she got there first. Then she was gone. The officer did not understand what Nance had said, but he realised that, whatever she intended to do, she had an advantage over him. With an unnecessary courage he had ridden on alone to make his capture, and, as it proved, without prudence. He had got his man, but he had not got the smuggled whiskey and alcohol he had come to seize. There was no time to be lost. The girl had gone before he realised it. What had she said to the prisoner? He was foolish enough to ask Lambton, and Lambton replied coolly: “She said she’d get you some supper, but she guessed it would have to be cold—What’s your name? Are you a colonel, or a captain, or only a principal private?”

      “I am Captain MacFee, Lambton. And you’ll now bring me where your outfit is. March!”

      The pistol was still in his hand, and he had a determined look in his eye. Lambton saw it. He was aware of how much power lay in the threatening face before him, and how eager that power was to make itself felt, and provide “Examples”; but he took his chances.

      “I’ll march all right,” he answered, “but I’ll march to where you tell me. You can’t have it both ways. You can take me, because you’ve found me, and you can take my outfit too when you’ve found it; but I’m not doing your work, not if I know it.”

      There was a blaze of anger in the eyes of the officer, and it looked for an instant as though something of the lawlessness of the border was going to mark the first step of the Law in the Wilderness, but he bethought himself in time, and said quietly, yet in a voice which Lambton knew he must heed:

      “Put on your things-quick.”

      When this was accomplished, and MacFee had secured the smuggler’s pistols, he said again, “March, Lambton.”

      Lambton marched through the moonlit night towards the troop of men who had come to set up the flag of order in the plains and hills, and as he went his keen ear heard his own mules galloping away down towards the Barfleur Coulee. His heart thumped in his breast. This girl, this prairie-flower, was doing this for him, was risking her life, was breaking the law for him. If she got through, and handed over the whiskey to those who were waiting for it, and it got bundled into the boats going North before the redcoats reached Dingan’s Drive, it would be as fine a performance as the West had ever seen; and he would be six hundred dollars to the good. He listened to the mules galloping, till the sounds had died into the distance, but he saw now that his captor had heard too, and that the pursuit would be desperate.

      A half-hour later it began, with MacFee at the head, and a dozen troopers pounding behind, weary, hungry, bad-tempered, ready to exact payment for their hardships and discouragement.

      They had not gone a dozen miles when a shouting horseman rode furiously on them from behind. They turned with carbines cocked, but it was Abe Hawley who cursed them, flung his fingers in their faces, and rode on harder and harder. Abe had got the news from one of Nancy’s half-breeds, and, with the devil raging in his heart, had entered on the chase. His spirit was up against them all; against the Law represented by the troopers camped at Fort Fair Desire, against the troopers and their captain speeding after Nancy Machell—his Nonce, who was risking her life and freedom for the hated, pale-faced smuggler riding between the troopers; and his spirit was up against Nance herself.

      Nance had said to him, “Come back in an hour,” and he had come back to find her gone. She had broken her word. She had deceived him. She had thrown the four years of his waiting to the winds, and a savage lust was in his heart, which would not be appeased till he had done some evil thing to someone.

      The girl and the Indian lad were pounding through the night with ears strained to listen for hoof-beats coming after, with eyes searching forward into the trail for swollen creeks and direful obstructions. Through Barfleur Coulee it was a terrible march, for there was no road, and again and again they were nearly overturned, while wolves hovered in their path, ready to reap a midnight harvest. But once in the open again, with the full moonlight on their trail, the girl’s spirits rose. If she could do this thing for the man who had looked into her eyes as no one had ever done, what a finish to her days in the West! For they were finished, finished for ever, and she was going—she was going East; not West with Bantry, nor South with Nick Pringle, nor North with Abe Hawley, ah, Abe Hawley, he had been a good friend, he had a great heart, he was the best man of all the western men she had known; but another man had come from the East, a man who had roused something in her never felt before, a man who had said she was wonderful; and he needed someone to take good care of him, to make him love life again. Abe would have been all right if Lambton had never come, and she had meant to marry Abe in the end; but it was different now, and Abe must get over it. Yet she had told Abe to come back in an hour. He was sure to do it; and, when he had done it, and found her gone on this errand, what would he do? She knew what he would do. He would hurt someone. He would follow too. But at Dingan’s Drive, if she reached it before the troopers and before Abe, and did the thing she had set out to do; and, because no whiskey could be found, Lambton must go free; and they all stood there together, what would be the end? Abe would be terrible; but she was going East, not North, and when the time came she would face it and put things right somehow.

      The night seemed endless to her fixed and anxious eyes and mind, yet dawn came, and there had fallen no sound of hoof-beats on her ear. The ridge above Dingan’s Drive was reached and covered, but yet there was no sign of her pursuers. At Red Man’s River she delivered her load of contraband to the traders waiting for it, and saw it loaded into the boats and disappear beyond the wooded bend above Dingan’s.

      Then she collapsed into the arms of her brother Bantry, and was carried, fainting, into Dingan’s Lodge. A half-hour later MacFee and his troopers and Lambton came. MacFee grimly searched the post and the shore, but he saw by the looks of all that he had been foiled. He had no proof of anything, and Lambton must go free.

      “You’ve fooled us,” he said to Nance sourly, yet with a kind of admiration too. “Through you they got away with it. But I wouldn’t try it again, if I were you.”

      “Once is enough,” answered the girl laconically, as Lambton, set free, caught both her hands in his and whispered in her ear.

      MacFee turned to the others. “You’d better drop this kind of thing,” he said. “I mean business.” They saw the troopers by the horses, and nodded.

      “Well, we was about quit of it anyhow,” said Bantry.