OCR Text |
Show f VICTOR ROU SSEMjg; Li.. nV.r ----- CHAPTER X Continued. 12 "That won't do," said Kitty with fudden fierceness. "She mny come back." "She won't. And If she did, and went down on her knees to him, he wouldn't look nt her." "What do you mean?" asked Kitty breathlessly. Bowyer leaned forward again and tniispeicu ui tier cm. rvmy was as pale as death. "How'U that do for fou?" he asked triumphantly. Kitty rose, trembling. "I'll stick to my word," she said. "But you're the lowest cur I've ever known, Tom Bowyer, end I hope I hope somebody some-body flays you flays the skin off you before you've run your course." "I'll take my chance of that," grinned Bowyer, as he rose. Kitty sank back In her chair, her bands over her face. Of a sudden the abysmal depths of sin had opened beneath be-neath her. She was tempted to run after him and call him back. But she could not stir. It was some time be-bore be-bore she forced herself to rise. She went to the window. She guessed that Bowyer was going to the bank. He would return that way, and she could call him in and tell him that she had changed her mind. Suddenly she started back behind the curtains. Wilton was passing on the other side of the road. He held bis head high, yet he walked like a man who was broken. Kitty watched him go by. ITer heart was full of pity for hira, for his quixotic quix-otic dreams, his foolish faithfulness to Joe. The picture that Bowyer had limned of Molly faded from her nrind under the brighter glow that came Into it. Like Wilton, Bowyer had business to transact with Phayre. He went to the bank ; it was after hours, but he knew Phayre would be there, awaiting await-ing him. "Carruthers is In town," said the bank president. "He Is, eh?" asked Bowyer, darting i keen glance at him. "When did he get in!" I "Day before yesterday. He was i subpoenaed on that case." i "That's so, of course," said Bowyer. I "What did they get?" : "Six months apiece." t ".Vo new light on the murder of our friend?" " 1 "Nothing. Quain didn't go Into that 1 phase of the affair at all. He'd questioned ques-tioned them, and couldn't prove any-lt any-lt thing." I Bowyer fell into a brown study for B s few moments. j) "Carruthers been here yet?" he In- Wired presently. i "Not yet. He's trying to raise a cool ( lalf-mllllon In town. I guess he's been s to the last likely place by now. So oi be'll be here tomorrow to renew the Jj loan." "You'll renew, of course," said Bowyer. "Excellent wheat lands ! . fine Investment for your bank, the j, Mlssatibl I By the way, you hit it rong with that cartoon !" IThey both laughed, first at the cartoon, car-toon, then at Bowyer's raillery. 0 fo more trouble with Clark?" asked to Sowyer. "Not at present. I guess that extra vw wo hundred squared him. He's a fongerous customer to handle, though. 1 "J absolutely Indispensable for a job '9i Uke we had to handle. A first-class nj. "in at his trade, cool as a cucumber, , jt '"d looking like a gentleman. You'll , I Ut hard to beat that combination. ,.jt, could have had more than the two ,i 'Wred he held me up for." ,e1 ti'Hes eertain'y worth It," admitted ;ol Bowyer. "Wha.t'11 you do with him iyt t year?" it' k "Why' he seems t0 llke the work J,re." answered Phayre, laughing. "I'll fP him on, under my eye at a re- iui salary." Sft J'1 both chuckled over that, but 'er grew serious quickly. "Well, le fixed Kitty Bostock," he said. -oni. ifs a ciuch halKing that type womnn. Once they fancy some ",lcuur man, they'll go through h 11 n hlm" fa 0U'Te to'd her you'll buy lier shares -"' 'e said. "You haven't com-' yourself Irrevocably to that?" S CTr "'rew h's bond back and . I m, ne of llls shrt laughs. "Well, ge my mud," he said. "It t In writing." Suppose she raises Cain?" K W! ?'1-t Shes ,n t0 deep. She ,,n know how deep." '1 nevl laughed nSain. but nervously. I ioffTr..CI!red much tor this business, 1 Niit 'ii Sai(i' "If Joe Bostock , Jot miv T3 as lle dld rd Qever have C C oS"P Wlth lt But that gave Client if " Was a very lucky Jonrt we weren't committed be- ' v 1 "Pun ery' rd P"11 0"t even now." "J devil " echoed the otner- "How one., u Can we pull out? The trick's "You've " "I've fixed It about that safe. We bad a devil of a job the first time we tried. He's got a deafmute there who seems to have eyes like a cat and sleeps with them open. Carruthers caught Lee Chambers at the window and smashed his nose. And, of course, Chambers' usefulness at the camp is ended. However, I've fixed it now, and a day or two will see us with what we want, and Carruthers with what he doesn't want." "I suppose there's no doubt those half-breeds did kill Joe Bostock," suggested sug-gested Phayre, darting a keen look at the other. "I guess not," answered Bowyer. "Anyway, It's no business of ours how It happened. Quain put everybody through the mill, including me. That shows he's at his wits' end. If a new clue comes to hand he'll jump at It, for the sake of his reputation. By the wayQuain's the man I came In to see you about. You've had a talk with him?" "I saw him yesterday." "How did he take it?" "Fine!" said Phayre, rubbing his hands. "Hook, bait, and sinker. I could see the flash of Illumination come into his eye as the seed began to sprout." "You didn't suggest ?" "No ; I'm not quite such a fool as that, Bowyer. I spoke to him about Joe Bostock's investments, and the missing half-million that he had drawn out a day or two before his murder. And I left Quain to draw his own Inferences. In-ferences. Don't worry! He'll draw them !" "Capital !" said Bowyer. "You're a good partner, Phayre, and in a few days our patience will be rewarded." CHAPTER XI. The Conflagration. "I'm going back to work for you, Mr. Phayre," Wilton had said when he left the office. And he had meant It. Without any further hope of keeping the line for. Kitty, he resolved, for the work's sake, that the day when the control passed into Bowyer's hands should see the grade across Big Muskeg. Mus-keg. He found the camp in much the same condition as when he had left it. Anuersen reportea mat tne men were still getting liquor, and were slacking. Wilton, whose mind had no room for rival propositions at the same time, dismissed the subject. He went straight to bed. But he was aroused by Andersen a little after midnight. "There's a big blaze a couple of miles north of us," said the foreman. "Sprung up like lightning. And a gale's sweeping up the swamp. The men wron't turn out to backfire. They say It's Saturday night and most of them are drunk." Wilton put on his clothes quickly, placed Jules In charge of the shack and hurried to the bunkhouses. The workmen obeyed his summons with slow sullenness. They were stupid with drink. Some jeered ; some refused to turn out at all. But some of the engineers and foremen fore-men were already hurrying to the The Fire Was Speeding at a Terrific Rate Toward the Camp. scene. Wilton collected these and started with them in the direction of the conflagration. This was soon seen to be serious. Under the high wind the fire was speeding down at a terrific rate toward the camp, filling the air with dense clouds of smoke. The camp, having cleared ways on three sides, had not been fire-guarded. These should have been wide enough to protect k under , ordinary circumstances, and the work that was being pushed had left no time for anything else. Backfiring was Impossible, for the wind came up Hie cleared road from the muskeg with hurricane force. Wilton Wil-ton posted his men along the near side of the way, to beat out the patches of flame that would spring up from the burning brands carried over it by the wind. The conflagration came roaring down on them before many minutes had passed. It seemed to gather force as it advanced. The smoke was stifling. sti-fling. They could see one another only dimly in the swirling fog. The line of fire shot through the crackling ferns and undergrowth before be-fore them, and reached the edge of the cleared way. Then the workers found themselves surrounded with a ring of flame. The trees and grass were alight behind them. And along the muskeg edge the conflagration had thrust out gripping tentacles of flame that edged round and in toward the engine-sheds. Shouting to those nearest him to follow, fol-low, Wilton ran down toward the swamp. But when the grade came Into sight he saw something that caught his cry and killed it on his lips. Of a sudden his veins seemed to run Ice for blood. The fire had caught the trestllng and was running along the timbers, eating its way toward the east bank. But what made him catch his breath and clench his fists was this: the fire was moving eastward and yet it could not have started on the west bank, for here the trestllng was completely hidden hid-den under the foundation, over which the flames could not pass. The fire had started in the middle of the muskeg, mus-keg, and had been started there of design. It was the end of everything. Big Muskeg would remain unspanned after all, when Bowyer assumed control. The engine-houses were fire-red ruins, ru-ins, belching up a black, sticky smoke that clogged the fighters' lungs and settled in fine particles of black dust all over them. Drums of oil and gasoline gaso-line exploded with the salvoes of artillery, ar-tillery, shooting up streamers of flame sky-high. Rivulets of fire broke forth and streamed through the camp, spreading the destruction. The encircling arms of the conflagration confla-gration had thrust their fingers all about them through the- forest, which was ablaze in every direction. But in the open space Itself the fire had been stayed, though hardly anything was left except the kitchens and bunk-houses. The sheds and engine-houses engine-houses had gone up in a few minutes, and now glowed fiercely with an Intense In-tense heat, but without flame. The fighters had done all they could do, and thnt was nothing. They could do nothing more now, except to guard the bunk-houses from the rivers of blazing oil. Wilton found a few men and told them to take spades and throw up mounds along the courses of these torrents, In order to divert them. The Hunkles, mad with drink, gathered gath-ered In clusters at the doors of the bunk-houses and jeered at the men who fought to save them ; and these, too disconsolate to care, having at last secured the remaining structures, flung down their spades and drew out of their way. Everyone knew this was the end. Out of the smoke came the figure of McGee, the head locomotive engineer. engi-neer. His hair was crisped like n negro's ne-gro's he was as black, and the tears had furrowed white channels down his cheeks. "It's all gone !" he shouted. "Nothing "Noth-ing but scrap-iron and junk. We'll have a bargain sale!" He recognized Wilton and seized him by the arm. "Who set that blaze?" he screamed. "Man, there was gasoline, gallons of It, soaking the sheds before ever the fire come there. They were soaked with it. Who did it? Show me the d n skunk !" he shouted, half beside himself. "It doesn't matter now," said Wilton. Wil-ton. McGee raved, cursing and sobbing, and suddenly rushed away Into the smoke and was lost to view. Wilton was making his way toward his shack before it occurred to him that he would not find it. Yet there was the safe. He would stay guard over that. To his Immense surprise, however, he discovered that the shack had escaped the conflagration, though nothing remained of Kitty's but a few blackened beams. A bnckfire had been set successfully. The grass was burned all about the place, and some of the timbers were scorched, but that was all. The shack was an oasis in the devastation of cinders. Jules ha,I stuck to his post. Wilton knew there had been treachery. treach-ery. He knew that Bowyer's appearance appear-ance at the portage had not been chance. Bowyer had not driven miles from Cold Junction by coincidence. Wilton had no doubt that the fire was of his making. And even that did not matter. At the door of his shack he stopped. He had a strange Instinct of danger the instinct of the beast returning to Its den, which tells It that something has been there during lis absence. He unlocked the office door and went In. For a moment he thought his suspicions sus-picions groundless. Then he saw thn: the door of the safe was open. He ran to it, and found the papers inside and apparently intact, just as they had been. Jules must have scared the thieves away before they could accomplish their design. But how had they got the combination? Wilton shouted for Jules, and then, remembering that the deaf-mute could not hear him, went out of the room toward the little wooden outbuilding which Jules had constructed for his abode. But the Muskegon was not their- ' He went back IhruugL Uie Kitchen, In the middle of the room he saw something dimly outlined on the floor. He strui k a match and found Jules In a pool of blood. One side of his head had been almost battered to pieces with a hatchet that lay on the floor nearby. And yet Jules was not dead, for, as Wilton Lent over him, he opened his eyes and smiled very faintly into his master's face. And the fingers of one outstretched hand quivered and pointed point-ed toward the office. Wilton raised Jules gently in his arms and carried him within, and laid him on the floor. The Indian was almost al-most at his last gasp, and he seemed struggling to express something before he died. The fluttering fingers pointed upward. up-ward. All that was left of life within the broken body seemed to be concentrated concen-trated in them. Wilton watched them. The fingers squirmed and twisted. It seemed to Wilton that there was something in the room that Jules wanted. They were pointing now toward the safe. Wilton raised the dying man In his arms and supported the shoulders against his knees, so that Jules might see. Jules pointed straight at the safe, looked up, and nodded. Wilton nodded. Jules seemed to lose Interest then, but Wilton Raised Jules Gently In His Arms. the fingers still twisted, and now they pointed toward the wall behind. Wilton Wil-ton shifted his position, and raised the shade of the lamp, to illuminate the other half of the room. The fingers wandered over the woodwork, and stopped upon the caricature car-icature of Lee Chambers that Jules had drawn. Jules Halfhead smiled up into Wilton's face and nodded. Wilton nodded. Then Jules died. CHAPTER XII Kidnaped I Since Bowyer's last visit to the store Molly had been making plans, but, when these were made, she did not dare to place them before the factor. She knew that they could not long remain at the portage. There was his Increasing Infirmity ; there was Tom Bowyer's enmity his hold ' over her father, which was bringing him Into his grave. Yet she feared one of the factor's wild outbursts of rage If she renewed her suggestion that they should go to Winnipeg. On the other hand, gradually gradu-ally she began to believe that McDonald McDon-ald was forming plans of his own. If that were so, in due time, and In his own way, he would talk to her about them. Meanwhile she watched her fathei anxiously. He still dragged his leg as ne walked, and the tear tnat was always upon him now had made him an old man within the past year. The girl's love for him, which her humiliation humilia-tion at Bowyer's hands had never entirely en-tirely killed, burned up again after she had broken with Wilton. But she wondered constantly what was the power thnt Bowyer had over her father. Had McDonald given her any encouragement she would have spoken to him, and begged for an understanding un-derstanding that might remove the cloud which hung over them both. But the factor was more morose than eve, especially when the winter trading ended and time hung heavily upou their hands. The talk came at last. McDonald was in his chair upstairs, Molly reading read-ing to him. But the factor did not seem to hoar her; he was looking out of the window nnd brooding as of old. Suddenly he turned to her. "I'm thinking of leaving here before winter, lass," he said. "Leaving here, father? For good?" "For aye," he exploded. "I thocht I'd die here and be laid beside your mother. And I've held on! God, how I've hold on! But I'm done with thnt hope. Would ye leave the portage, Molly?" he asked wistfully. "Yes, father! I wish we could. I wish we could go somewhere together where we'd never have cause to remember re-member It." "Aye, never to remember It!" he echoed. "To Winnipeg?" she suggested timidly. tim-idly. (TO EE CONTTNTETa) |