Isobel (11 page)

"Good God, Pelly, come here!" he cried from the door.

As Pelliter ran out he gripped him by the shoulders.

"Listen!" he commanded. "Listen to that!"

"Wolves!" said Pelliter.

The wind was rising, and sent a whistling blast through the open door
of the cabin. It awakened Little Mystery, who sat up with frightened
cries.

"No, it's not wolves," cried MacVeigh, and it did not sound like
MacVeigh's voice that spoke. "I never heard wolves like that. Listen!"

He clutched Pelliter's arm as on a fresh burst of the wind there came
the strange and terrible sound from out of the night. It was rapidly
drawing nearer— a wailing burst of savage voice, as if a great wolf
pack had struck the fresh and blood-stained trail of game. But with
this there was the other and more fearful sound, a shrieking and
yelping as if half-human creatures were being torn by the fangs of
beasts. As Pelliter and MacVeigh stood waiting for something to appear
out of the gray-and-black mystery of the night they heard a sound that
was like the slow tolling of a thing that was half bell and half drum.

"It's not wolves," shouted Billy. "Whatever it is, there's men with
it! Hurry, Pelly, into the cabin with our dogs and sledge! Those are
dogs we hear— dogs who are howling because they smell us— and there
are hundreds of 'em! Where there's dogs there's men— but who in
Heaven's name can they be?"

He dragged the sledge into the cabin while Pelliter unleashed the
huskies from the lean-to. When he came in with the dogs Pelliter
locked and bolted the door.

Billy slipped a clipful of cartridges into his big-game Remington. His
carbine was already on the table, and as Pelliter stood staring at him
in indecision he pulled out two Savage automatics from under his bunk
and gave one of them to his companion. His face was white and set.

"Better get ready, Pelly," he said, quietly. "I've been in this
country a long time, and I tell you they're dogs and men. Did you hear
the drum? It's made of seal belly, and there's a bell on each side of
it. They're Eskimos, and there isn't an Eskimo village within two
hundred miles of us this winter. They're Eskimos, and they're not on a
hunt, unless it's for us!"

In an instant Pelliter was buckling on his revolver and
cartridge-belt. He grinned as he looked at the wicked little
blue-steeled Savage.

"I hope you ain't mistaken, Billy," he said, "for it 'll be the first
excitement we've had in a year."

None of his enthusiasm revealed itself in MacVeigh's face.

"The Eskimo never fights until he's gone mad, Pelly," he said, "and
you know what madmen are. I can't guess what they've got to fight
over, unless they want our grub. But if they do—" He moved toward the
door, his swift-firing Remington in his hand. "Be ready to cover me,
Pelly. I'm going out. Don't fire until you hear me shoot."

He opened the door and stepped out. The howling had ceased now, but
there came in its place strange barking voices and a cracking which
Billy knew was made by the long Eskimo whips. He advanced to meet many
dim forms which he saw breaking out of the wall of gloom, raising his
voice in a loud holloa. From the Doorway Pelliter saw him suddenly
lost in a mass of dogs and men, and half flung his carbine to his
shoulder. But there was no shooting from MacVeigh. A score of sledges
had drawn up about him, and the whips of dozens of little black men
cracked viciously as their dogs sank upon their bellies in the snow.
Both men and dogs were tired, and Billy saw that they had been running
long and hard. Still as quick as animals the little men gathered about
him, their white-and-black eyes staring at him out of round, thick,
dumb-looking faces. He noted that they were half a hundred strong, and
that all were armed, many with their little javelin-like narwhal
harpoons, some with spears, and others with rifles. From the circle of
strangely dressed and hideously visaged beings that had gathered about
him one advanced and began talking to him in a language that was like
the rapid clack of knuckle bones.

"Kogmollocks!" Billy groaned, and he lifted both hands to show that he
did not understand. Then he raised his voice. "Nuna-talmute," he
cried. "Nuna-talmute— Nuna-talmute! Ain't there one of that lingo
among you?"

He spoke directly to the chief man, who stared at him in silence for a
moment and then pointed both short arms toward the lighted cabin.

"Come on!" said Billy. He caught the little Eskimo by one of his thick
arms and led him boldly through the breach that was made for them in
the circle. The chief man's voice broke out in a few words of command,
like a dozen quick, sharp yelps of a dog, and six other Eskimos
dropped in behind them.

"Kogmollocks— the blackest-hearted little devils alive when it comes
to trading wives and fighting," said MacVeigh to Pelliter, as he came
up at the head of the seven little black men. " Watch the door, Pelly.
They're coming in."

He stepped into the cabin, and the Eskimos followed. From Pelliter's
bunk Little Mystery looked at the strange visitors with eyes which
suddenly widened with surprise and joy, and in another moment she had
given the strange story that Pelliter or Billy had ever heard her
utter. Scarcely had that cry fallen from her lips when one of the
Eskimos sprang toward her. His black hands were already upon her,
dragging the child from the bunk, when with a warning yell of rage
Pelliter leaped from the door and sent him crashing back among his
companions. In another instant both men were facing the seven Eskimos
with leveled automatics.

"If you fire don't shoot to kill!" commanded MacVeigh.

The chief man was pointing to Little Mystery, his weird voice rising
until it was almost a scream. Suddenly he doubled himself back and
raised his javelin. Simultaneously two streams of fire leaped from the
automatics. The javelin dropped to the floor, and with a shrill cry
which was half pain and half command the leader staggered back to the
door, a stream of blood running from his wounded hand. The others
sprang out ahead of him, and Pelliter closed and bolted the door. When
he turned MacVeigh was closing and slipping the bolts to the heavy
barricades of the two windows. From Pelliter's bunk Little Mystery
looked at them and laughed.

"So it's you?" said Billy, coming to her, and breathing hard. "It's
you they want, eh? Now, I wonder why? "

Pelliter's face was flushed with excitement. He was reloading his
automatic. There was almost a triumph in his eyes as he met MacVeigh's
questioning gaze.

They stood and listened, heard only the rumbling monotone of the
drifting ice— not the breath of a sound from the scores of men and
dogs.

"We've given them a lesson," said Pelliter, at last, smiling with the
confidence of a man who was half a tenderfoot among the little brown
men.

Billy pointed to the door.

"That door is about the only place vulnerable to their bullets," he
said, as though he had not heard Pelliter. "Keep out of its range. I
don't believe what guns they've got are heavy enough to penetrate the
logs. Your bunk is out of line and safe."

He went to Little Mystery, and his stern face relaxed into a smile as
she put up her arms to greet him.

"So it's you, is it? " he asked again, taking her warm little face and
soft curls between his two hands. "They want you, an' they want you
bad. Well, they can have grub, an' they can have me, but"— he looked
up to meet Pelliter's eyes— "I'm damned if they can have you," he
finished.

Suddenly the night was broken by another sound, the sharp, explosive
crack of rifles. They could hear the beat of bullets against the log
wall of the cabin. One crashed through the door, tearing away a
splinter as wide as a man's arm, and as MacVeigh nodded to the path of
the bullet he laughed. Pelliter had heard that laugh before. He knew
what it meant. He knew what the death-whiteness of MacVeigh's face
meant. It was not fear, but something more terrible than fear. His own
face was flushed. That is the difference in men.

MacVeigh suddenly darted across the danger zone to the opposite half
of the cabin.

"If that's your game, here goes," he cried. "Now, damn y', you're so
anxious to fight— get at it 'n' fight!"

He spoke the last words to Pelliter. Billy always swore when he went
into action.

On his own side of the cabin Pelliter began tugging at a small, thin
block laid between two of the logs. The shooting outside had ceased
when the two men opened up the loopholes that commanded a range
seaward. Almost immediately it began again, the dull red flashes
showing the location of the Eskimos, who had drawn back to the ridge
that sloped down to the Bay. As the last of five shots left his
Remington Billy pulled in his gun and faced across to Pelliter, who
was already reloading.

"Pelly, I don't want to croak," he said, "but this is the last of Law
at Fullerton Point— for you and me. Look at that!"

He raised the muzzle of his rifle to one of the logs over his head.
Pelliter could see the fresh splinters sticking out.

"They've got some heavy calibers," continued Billy, "and they've
hidden behind the slope, where they're safe from us for a thousand
years. As soon as it grows light enough to see they'll fill this shack
as full of holes as an old cheese."

As if to verify his words a single shot rang out and a bullet plowed
through a log so close to Pelliter that the splinters flew into his
face.

"I know these little devils, Pelly," went on MacVeigh. "If they were
Nuna-talmutes you could scare 'em with a sky-rocket. But they're
Kogmollocks. They've murdered the crews of half a dozen whalers, and I
shouldn't wonder if they'd got the kid in some such way. They wouldn't
let us off now, even if we gave her up. It wouldn't do. They know
better than to let the Law get any evidence against them. If we're
killed and the cabin burned, who's going to say what happened to us?
There's just two things for us to do—"

Another fusillade of shots came from the snow ridge, and a third
bullet crashed into the cabin.

"Just two things," Billy went on, as he completely shaded the dimly
burning lamp. "We can stay here 'n' die— or run."

"Run!"

This was an unknown word in the Service, and in Pelliter's voice there
were both amazement and contempt.

"Yes, run," said Billy, quietly. "Run— for the kid's sake."

It was almost dark in the cabin, and Pelliter came close to his
companion.

"You mean—"

"That it's the only way to save the kid. We might give her up, then
fight it out, but that means she'd go back to the Eskimos, 'n' mebbe
never be found again. The men and dogs out there are bushed. We are
fresh. If we can get away from the cabin we can beat 'em out."

"We'll run, then," said Pelliter. He went to Little Mystery, who sat
stunned into silence by the strange things that were happening, and
hugged her up in his arms, his back turned to the possible bullet that
might come through the wall. "We're going to run, little sweetheart,"
he mumbled, half laughingly, in her curls.

Billy began to pack, and Pelliter put Little Mystery down on the bunk
and started to harness the six dogs, ranging them close along the
wall, with old one-eyed Kazan, the hero who had saved him from Blake,
in the lead. Outside the firing had ceased. It was evident that the
Eskimos had made up their minds to save their ammunition until dawn.

Fifteen minutes sufficed to load the sledge; and while Pelliter was
fastening the sledge traces MacVeigh bundled Little Mystery into her
thick fur coat. The sleeves caught, and he turned it back, exposing
the white edge of the lining. On that lining was something which drew
him down close, and when the strange cry that fell from his lips drew
Pelliter's eyes toward him he was staring down into Little Mystery's
upturned face with the look of one who saw a vision.

"Mother of Heaven!" he gasped, "she's—" He caught himself, and
smothered Little Mystery up close to him for a moment before he
brought her to the sledge. "She's the bravest little kid in the
world," he finished; and Pelliter wondered at the strangeness of his
voice. He tucked her into a nest made of blankets and then tied her in
securely with babiche rope. Pelliter stood up first and saw the
hungry, staring look in MacVeigh's face as he kept his eyes steadily
upon Little Mystery.

"What's the matter, Mac?" he asked. "Are you very much afraid— for
her? "

"No," said MacVeigh, without lifting his head. "If you're ready,
Pelly, open the door." He rose to his feet and picked up his rifle. He
did not seem like the old MacVeigh; but the dogs were nipping and
whining, and there was no time for Pelliter's questions.

"I'm going out first, Billy," he said. "You can make up your mind
they're watching the cabin pretty close, and as soon as the dogs nose
the open air they'll begin yapping 'n' let 'em on to us. We can't risk
her under fire. So I'm going to back along the edge of the ridge and
give it to 'em as fast as I can work the gun. They'll all turn to me,
and that's the time for you to open the door and make your getaway.
I'll be with you inside of five minutes."

He turned out the lights as he spoke. Then he opened the door and
slipped out into the darkness without a protesting word from MacVeigh.
Hardly had he gone when the latter fell upon his knees beside Little
Mystery and in the deep gloom crushed his rough face down against her
soft, warm little body.

"So it's you, is it?" he cried, softly; and then he mumbled things
which the little girl could not possibly have understood.

Suddenly he sprang to his feet and ran to the door with a word to
faithful old Kazan, the leader.

From far down the snow-ridge there came the rapid firing of Pelliter's
rifle.