Chapter XXII: Claw Hits for Dawson

When Claw returned to the flame-lighted clearing, a scant half-hour after he had fled from the avenging figure of Brent, it was to find his keg of rum more than half consumed, and most of the Indians howling drunk. Close about him they crowded, pressing skins upon him and demanding more liquor. The man was quick to see that despite the appearance of Brent and the girl, he held the upper hand. The Indians would remain his as long as the rum held out.

"Ask 'em where the white man went--him an' the girl," he ordered Yondo.

The Indian pointed to the cabin of Wananebish, and a devilish gleam leaped into Claw's eyes: "Tell 'em I'll give a hull keg of rum, er a hundred dollars, cash money to the man that kills him!" he shouted, "an' another keg to the one that brings me the girl!"

The drunken savages heard the offer with a whoop, and yelling like fiends, they rushed to the cabin. The barred door held against their attack, and with sinister singleness of purpose they rushed back to the fires, and securing blazing fagots, began to pile brush against the wall of the building.

With an evil grin on his face, Claw took up his position behind a stump that gave unobstructed view of the door through which the two must rush from the burning cabin, and waited, revolver in hand.

Louder roared the fire, and higher and higher shot the flames, but the door remained closed. Claw waited, knowing that it would take some time for the logs to burn through. But, when, at length, the whole cabin was a mass of flames, and the roof caved in, his rage burst forth in a tirade of abuse:

"They lied!" he shrilled, "They wasn't in there. Ace-In-The-Hole wouldn't never stayed in there an' burnt up! The Injuns lied! An' he's layin' to git me. Mebbe he's got a bead on me right now!" and in a sudden excess of terror, the man started to burrow into the snow.

Yondo stopped, and in the bright light of the flames examined the trail to the river. Then he pointed down the stream in the direction of Brent's cabin, and Claw, too, examined the trail. "They've pulled out!" he cried, "Pulled out for his shack! Tell 'em to come on! We'll burn 'em out up there! I ain't a-goin' to let her git away from me now--an' to hell with Cap Jinkins! I'll take her to Dawson, an' make real money offen her. An' I'll git Ace-In-The-Hole too. I found that girl first! She's mine--an' by God, I'll have her!" He started for the river. At the top of the bank, he paused: "What's ailin 'em?" he roared, "Why don't they come! Standin' there gogglin' like fools!"

"They say," explained Yondo, in jargon, "That they want to see the rum first."

"Tell 'em I left it up to his shack!" roared the man, "Tell 'em anything, jest so they come. Git my dogs an' come on. We'll lead out, an' they'll foller if they think they's hooch in it."

Yondo headed the dogs down the trail, and Claw threw himself upon the sled and watched the drunken Indians string out behind, yelling, whooping, staggering and falling in their eagerness for more hooch.

When they came in sight of the cabin, Claw saw that it was dark. "You slip up and see what you kin find out," he ordered Yondo, "An' I'll stay here with the dogs an' handle the Injuns when they come along."

Five minutes later the Indian returned and reported that there was no one in the cabin, and that the door was open. With a curse, Claw headed the dogs up the bank, and pushed through the open door. Match in hand, he stumbled and fell sprawling over the body of the Captain of the _Belva Lou_, uttering a shriek of terror as his bare hand came in contact with the hairy face. Scrambling to his feet, he fumbled for another match, and with trembling fingers, managed to light the little bracket lamp. "Choked him to death bare handed!" he cried in horror, "And he'd of done me that way, too! But where be they? Look, they be'n here!" The man pointed to the disordered supplies, that had been thrown about in the haste of departure. "They've pulled out!" he cried. "Git out there an' find their trail!"

Yondo returned, and pointed to the westward, holding up three fingers, and making the sign of a heavily loaded sled.

"That'll be him, an' her, an' the Injun," said Claw, "an' they're hittin' fer Fort Norman." Reaching down, he picked up a sack of flour and carrying it out to the sled, ordered Yondo to help with the other supplies. Suddenly, he sprang erect and gazed toward the west. "I wonder if he would?" he cried aloud, "I'll bet he'll take her clean to Dawson!" He laughed harshly, "An' if he does, she's mine--mine, an' no trouble nor risk takin' her there! Onct back among the saloons, Ace-In-The-Hole will start in on the hooch--an' then I'll git her."

From far up the river came the whoop-whoroo of the drunken Indians. "Quick," cried Claw, "Git that pack throw'd together. When they git here an' find out they ain't no more hooch, they'll butcher me an' you!" And almost before the Indian had secured the lashings, Claw started the dogs, and leaving the Indian to handle the gee-pole, struck out on the trail of Brent.

It was no part of Claw's plan to overtake the trio. Indeed, it was the last thing in the world he wanted to do. At midnight they camped with a good ten miles between themselves and the drunken Dog Ribs. In the morning they pushed on, keeping a sharp lookout ahead. Soon Brent's trail began to drift full of snow, and by noon it was obliterated altogether. Thereupon Claw ordered the Indian to shape his own course for Fort Norman, and because of Yondo's thorough knowledge of the country, arrived in sight of the post on the evening of the sixteenth day.

When he learned from an Indian wood chopper, that no other outfit had arrived, Claw pulled a mile up the river and waited.

Two days later, from the summit of a nearby hill, he saw the outfit pull in, and with glittering eyes he watched it depart, knowing that Brent would hit for the Yukon by way of the Bonnet Plume Pass.

Claw paid off Yondo and struck straight westward alone, crossing the divide by means of a steep and narrow pass known only to a few. Thus, shortening the trail by some four or five days, he showed up in Cuter Malone's Klondike Palace at the height of an evening's hilarity.

Cuter greeted him from behind the bar: "Hello, Claw! Thought you was over with the whalers!"

"Was," answered Claw, "Jest got back," he drained the glass Malone had set before him, and with a sidewise quirk of the head, sauntered into a little back room.

A few minutes later, Cuter followed, carefully closing and locking the door after him: "What's on yer mind?" he asked, as he seated himself beside the little table.

"They's aplenty on it. But mostly it's a girl."

"What's the matter? One git away from you?"

"She ain't yet, but she's damn near it. She'll be here in a few days, an' she's the purtiest piece that ever hit the Yukon."

"Must be right pert then, cause that's coverin' quite a bit of territory."

"Yes, an' you could cover twict as much an' still not find nothin' that would touch her fer looks."

"Where is she?"

"She's comin'. Ace-In-The-Hole's bringin' her in."

"Ace-In-The-Hole! Yer crazy as hell! First place, Ace-In-The-Hole ain't here no more. Folks says old R.E. Morse got him an' he drounded hisself in the river. Camillo Bill an' that bunch he used to trot with, has combed Dawson with a fine tooth comb fer him, an' they can't find him nowheres."

"Drounded?--hell!" exclaimed Claw, "Ain't I be'n to his shack on the Coppermine? Didn't he come up to the _Belva Lou_ an' git drunk, an' then git lost, an' then find his way back to his shack an' choke the life out of Cap Jinkins? Yes sir, bare handed! I looked at Cap's throat where he lay dead on the floor an' it was damn near squose in two! An' he'd of squose mine, if he could caught me!"

"What about the gal? What's he got to do with her? He wouldn't stand fer no such doin's, an' you'd ort to know it. Didn't he knock you down fer whalin' one with a dog whip!"

"Yes, an' I'll even up the score," growled Claw savagely, "An' me an' you'll shove a heft of dust in the safe fer profits. It's like this. She's his girl, an' he's bringin' her here."

"His girl! Say Claw, what you handin' me? Time was when Ace-In-The-Hole could of had his pick of any of 'em. But that time's gone. They wouldn't no _klooch_ look at him twict, now. He's that fer gone with the hooch. He's a bum."

"You know a hell of a lot about it! Didn't you jest git through tellin' me he was drounded? An' now he's a bum! Both of which they ain't neither one right--by a damn sight. He's be'n out there where they ain't no hooch, an' he's as good a man as he ever was--as long as he can't git the hooch. But here in Dawson he kin git it--see? An' me an' you has got to see that he does git it. An' we'll git the girl. I've figured it all out, comin' over. Was goin' to fetch her myself, but it would of be'n a hell of a job, an' then there's the Mounted. But this way we git her delivered, C.O.D. right to our door, you might say. Startin' about day after tomorrow, we'll put lookouts on the Klondike River, an' the Indian River. They're comin' in over the Bonnet Plume. When they git here the lookout will tell us where they go. Then we rig up some kind of excuse to git him away, an' when we've got him paralysed drunk, we'll send a message to the girl that he needs her, an' we'll bring her here--an'--well, the middle room above the little dance hall up stairs will hold her--it's helt 'em before."

Malone grinned: "Guess I didn't know what I was up to when I built that room, eh? They kin yell their head off an' you can't hear 'em outside the door. All right, Claw, you tend to the gittin' her here an' I'll pass the word around amongst the live ones that's got the dust. We ain't had no new ones in this winter, an' the boys'll 'preciate it."

* * * * *

It was evening. Brent and Snowdrift had climbed from the little trail camp at the edge of the timber line, to the very summit of the great Bonnet Plume Pass to watch the sun sink to rest behind the high-flung peaks of the mighty Alaskan ranges.

"Oh, isn't it grand! And wonderful!" cried the girl as her eyes swept the vast panorama of glistening white mountains. "How small and insignificant I feel! And how stern, and rugged, and hard it all looks."

"Yes, darling," whispered Brent, as his arm stole about her waist, "It is stern, and rugged, and hard. But it is clean, and honest, and grand. It is the world as God made it."

"I have never been in the mountains before," said the girl, "I have seen them from the Mackenzie, but they were so far away they never seemed real. We have always hunted upon the barrens. Tell me, is it all like this? And where is the Yukon?"

Brent smiled at her awe of the vastness: "Pretty much all like this," he answered. "Alaska is a land of mountains. Of course there are wide valleys, and mighty rivers, and along the rivers are the towns and the mining camps."

"I have never seen a town," breathed the girl, "What will we do when we get there?"

"We will go straight to the Reeves," he answered, with a glad smile. "Reeves is the man who staked me for the trip into the barrens, and his wife is an old, old friend of mine. We were born and grew up in the same town, and we will go straight to them."

"I wonder whether she will like me? I have known no white women except Sister Mercedes."

"Darling, she will love you!" cried Brent, "Everyone will love you! And we will be married in their house."

"But, what will he think when you tell him you have not made a strike?"

Brent laughed: "He will be the first to see that I have made a strike, dear--the richest strike in all the North."

"And you didn't tell me!" cried the girl, "Tell me about it, now! Was it on the Coppermine?"

"Yes, it was on the Coppermine. I made the great strike, one evening in the moonlight--when the dearest girl in the world told me she loved me."

Snowdrift raised her wondrous dark eyes to his: "Isn't it wonderful to love as we love?" she whispered, "To be all the world to each other? I do not care if we never make a strike. All I want is to be with you always. And if we do not make a strike we will live in our tepee and snare rabbits, and hunt, and be happy, always."

Brent covered the upturned face with kisses: "I guess we can manage something better than a tepee," he smiled. "I've got more than half of Reeves' dust left, and I've been thinking the matter over. The fact is, I don't think much of that Coppermine country for gold. I reckon we'll get a house and settle down in Dawson for a while, and I'll take the job Reeves offered me, and work till I get him paid off, and Camillo Bill, and enough ahead for a grub-stake, and then we'll see what's to be done. We'll have lots of good times, too. There's the Reeves' and--and----"

Brent paused, and the girl smiled, "What's the matter? Can't you think of any more?"

"Well, to tell the truth, I don't know any others who--that is, married folks, our kind, you know. The men I knew best are all single men. But, lots of people have come in with the dredge companies. The Reeves will know them."

"There is that girl you called Kitty," suggested Snowdrift.

"Yes--" answered Brent, a little awkwardly, "That's so. But, she's--a little different."

"But I will like her, I am sure, because she nursed you when you were sick. I know what you mean!" she exclaimed abruptly, and Brent saw that the dark eyes flashed, "You mean that people point at her the finger of scorn--as they would have pointed at me, had I been--as I thought I was. But it is all wrong, and I will not do that! And I will hate those who do! And I will tell them so!" she stamped her moccasined foot in anger, and the man laughed:

"My goodness!" he exclaimed feigning alarm, "I can see from here where I better get home to meals on time, and not forget to put the cat out."

"Now, you are making fun of me," she pouted, "But it is wrong, and you know it is, and maybe the very ones who do the pointing are worse in their hearts than she is."

"You said it!" cried Brent, "The ones that look down upon the frailties of others, are the very ones who need watching themselves. And that is a good thing to remember in picking out friends. And, darling, you can go as far as you like with Kitty. I'm for you. She's got a big heart, and there's a lot more to her than there is to most of 'em. But, come, it's dark, and we must be getting back to camp. See the little fire down on the edge of the timber line. It looks a thousand miles away."

And as they picked their way, side by side, down the long slope, Brent was conscious that with the growing tenderness that each day's association with his wonder woman engendered, there was also a growing respect for her outlook upon life. Her years in the open had developed a sense of perception that was keen to separate the dross from the pure gold of human intent. "She's a great girl," he breathed, as he glanced at her profile, half hidden in the starlight, "She deserves the best that's in a man--and she'll get it!"