Read Ebook: The Woman from Outside [On Swan River] by Footner Hulbert

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Ebook has 685 lines and 23488 words, and 14 pages

"You know I do."

"Yes, I know, but I had to make you say it, because I've got to tell you. I love you. I adore you. If loving you in my mind is wicked, I shall have to be a wicked woman. Oh, I'll keep the law. From what I told you in the beginning, I must have already done some man a wrong. I shall not wrong another. But I had to tell you. You knew already, so it can do no great harm."

He glanced back at Imbrie. "If the law should insist on keeping up such a horrible thing it would have to be defied," he said--"even if I am a policeman!"

"I tell you he is not the man."

"I hope you're right."

"But if I am not free, I should not let you ruin yourself on my account."

"Ruin? That's only a word. A man's all right as long as he can work."

"Oh, Martin, it seems as if I brought trouble and unhappiness on all whom I approach!"

"That's nonsense!" he said quickly. "You've made me! However this thing turns out. You've brought beauty into my life. You've taken me out of myself. You've given me an ideal to live up to!"

"Ah, how sweet for you to say it!" she murmured. "It makes me feel real. I am only a poor wandering ghost of a woman, and you're so solid and convincing!

"She was not badly wounded," he said. "We'll probably overtake her to-morrow."

"And you? I thought I saw a ghost when you rose up from the bushes."

"No magic in that," said Stonor. "I just walked round by the hills."

"Just walked round by the hills," she echoed, mocking his offhand manner, and burst out laughing. "That was nothing at all!" Her eyes added something more that she dared not put into words: "You were made for a woman to love to distraction!"

When they returned to the dug-out, Imbrie studied their faces through narrowed lids, trying to read there what had passed between them. Their serenity discomposed him. Hateful taunts trembled on his lips, but he dared not utter them.

As for Clare and Stonor, neither of them sentimental persons, their breasts were eased. Each now felt that he could depend on the other in the best sense until death: meanwhile passion could wait. They made a fire together and cooked their supper with as unconscious an air as if they had just come out from home a mile or two to picnic. They ignored Imbrie, particularly Clare, who, with that wonderful faculty that women possess, simply obliterated him by her unconsciousness of his presence. The prisoner could not understand their air towards each other. He watched them with a puzzled scowl. Clare was like a child over the prairie-chicken. An amiable dispute arose over the division of it, which Stonor won and forced her to eat every mouthful.

She washed the dishes while he cleared a space among the bushes on top of the bank, and pitched her little tent. The camp-bed was still in Imbrie's outfit, and Stonor set it up with tender hands, thinking of the burden it would bear throughout the night. Also in Imbrie's outfit he found his own service revolver, which he returned to Clare for her protection.

Afterwards they made a little private fire for themselves a hundred feet or so from Imbrie, and sedately sat themselves down beside it to talk.

Stonor said: "If you feel like it, tell me what happened after I went to hunt my horses that morning."

"I feel like it," she said, with a smile. "It is such a comfort to be able to talk again. Mary and I scarcely dared whisper. You had been gone about half an hour that morning when all the Indians rode down out of the woods, and crossed the ford to our side. There were about thirty of them, I should say. I did just what you told me, that is, went on with my packing as if they were not there. For a little while they stood around staring like sulky children. Finally one of them said to me through Mary with a sort of truculent air, like a child experimenting to see how far he can go, that they were going to take Imbrie back. I told Mary to tell him that that was up to him; that he would have to deal with you later, if they did. Meanwhile I noticed they were edging between me and Imbrie, and presently Imbrie stood up, unbound. He took command of the band. It seemed he had known they were coming. I was only anxious to see them all ride off and leave us.

"Soon I saw there was worse coming. At first I knew only by Mary's scared face. She argued with them. She would not tell me what it was all about. Gradually I understood that Imbrie was telling them I was his wife, and they must take me, too. I almost collapsed. Mary did the best she could for me. I don't know all that she said. It did no good. The principal Indian asked me if I was Imbrie's wife, and I could only answer that I did not know, that I had lost my memory. I suppose this seemed like a mere evasion to them. When Mary saw that they were determined, she said they must take her, too. She thought this was what you would want. They refused, but she threatened to identify every man of them to the police, so they had to take her.

"One man's horse had been killed, and they sent him and three others off to the Horse Track village on foot to get horses to ride home on. That provided horses for Imbrie, Mary, and me. They made them go at top speed all day. I expect it nearly killed the horses. I was like a dead woman; I neither felt weariness nor anything else much. If it had not been for Mary I could not have survived it.

"We arrived at their village near Swan Lake early in the afternoon. Imbrie stopped there only long enough to collect food. We never had anything to eat but tough smoked meat of some kind, dry biscuits, and bitter tea, horrible stuff! It didn't make much difference, though.

"Imbrie told the Indians what to say when the police came. He couldn't speak their language very well, so he had to use Mary to translate, and Mary told me. Mary was trying to get on Imbrie's good side now. She said it wouldn't do any harm, and might make things easier for us. If we lulled his suspicions we might get a chance to escape later, she said. She wanted me to make up to Imbrie, too, but I couldn't.

"What about the breed woman?" interrupted Stonor.

"She was waiting there at the Swan Lake village. She came with us as a matter of course, and helped paddle the dug-out. Mary paddled, too, but she didn't work as hard as she made believe. We got in the river before dark, but Imbrie made them paddle until late. I dreaded the first camp, but Imbrie let me alone. Mary said he was afraid of me because he thought I was crazy. After that, you may be sure, I played up to that idea. It worked for a day or two, but I saw from his eyes that he was gradually becoming suspicious.

"At night Imbrie and the breed woman took turns watching. Whenever we got a chance Mary and I talked about you, and what you would do. We knew of course that the man was coming out from Fort Enterprise, and I was sure that you would send him back for aid, and come right after us yourself. So Mary wrote you the note on a piece of bark, and set it adrift in the current. It was wonderful how she deceived them right before their eyes. But they gave us a good deal of freedom. They knew we could do nothing unless we could get weapons, or steal the canoes. She went down the shore a little way to launch her message to you.

"Later, he put the breed woman ashore. She had her gun. We were terrified for you, but could do nothing. Imbrie carried us a long way further before he camped. That was a dreadful night. We had no way of knowing what was happening. Then came this morning. You saw what happened then."

Stonor asked: "What did you make of that breed woman?"

"Nothing much, Martin. I felt just as I had with Imbrie, that I must have known her at some time. She treated me well enough; that is to say, she made no secret of the fact that she despised me, but was constrained to look after me as something that Imbrie valued."

"Jealous?"

"No."

"What is the connection between her and Imbrie?"

"I don't know. They just seemed to take each other for granted."

"How did Imbrie address her?"

"I don't know. They spoke to each other in some Indian tongue. Mary said it sounded a little like the Beaver language, but she could not understand it."

"Where do you suppose this woman kept herself while Imbrie was living beside the falls?"

Clare shook her head.

"If we knew that it would explain much!"

"Well, that's all of my story," said Clare. "Now tell me every little thing you've done and thought since you left us."

"That's a large order," said Stonor, smiling.

When he had finished his tale he took her to the door of her tent.

"Where are you going to sleep?" she asked anxiously.

"Down by the fire."

"Near--him?"

"That won't keep me awake."

"But if he should work loose and attack you?"

"I'll take precious good care of that."

"It's so far away!" she said plaintively.

"Twenty-five feet!" he said smiling.

"Couldn't you--sleep close outside my tent where I could hear you breathing if I woke?"

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