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<h2> CHAPTER XI </h2>
<p>Days of new hope and gladness followed in the camp of Yellow Bird and Slim
Buck. It was as if McKay, after a long absence, had come back to his own
people. The tenderness of mother and sister lay warm in Yellow Bird's
breast. Slim Buck loved him as a brother. The wrinkled faces of the old
softened when he came near and spoke to them; little children followed
him, and at dusk and dawn Sun Cloud held up her mouth to be kissed. For
the first time in years McKay felt as if he had found home. The northland
Indian Summer held the world in its drowsy arms, and the sun-filled days
and the starry nights seemed overflowing with the promise of all time.
Each day he put off his going until tomorrow, and each day Slim Buck urged
him to remain with them always.</p>
<p>But in Yellow Bird's eyes was a strange, quiet mystery, and she did not
urge. Each day and night she was watching—and waiting.</p>
<p>And at last that for which she watched and waited came to pass.</p>
<p>It was night, a dark, still night with a creeping restlessness in it. This
restlessness was like the ghostly pulse of a great living body, still for
a time, then moving, hiding, whispering between the clouds in the sky and
the deeper shadowed earth below. A night of uneasiness, of unseen forces
chained and stifled, of impending doubt and oppressive lifelessness.</p>
<p>There was no wind, yet under the stars gray masses of cloud sped as if in
flight.</p>
<p>There was no breeze in the treetops, yet they whispered and sighed.</p>
<p>In the strange spell of this midnight, heavy with its unrest, the
wilderness lay half asleep, half awake, with the mysterious stillness of
death enshrouding it.</p>
<p>At the edge of the white sands of Wollaston, whose broad water was like
oil tonight, stood the tepees of Yellow Bird's people. Smoke-blackened and
seasoned by wind and rain they were dark blotches sentineling the shore of
the big lake. Behind them, beyond the willows, were the Indian dogs. From
them came an occasional whine, a deep sigh, the snapping of a jaw, and in
the gloom their bodies moved restlessly. In the tepees was the spell of
this same unrest. Sleep was never quite sure of itself. Men, women and
little children twisted and rolled, or lay awake, and weird and distorted
shapes and fancies came in dreams.</p>
<p>In her tepee Yellow Bird lay with her eyes wide open, staring at the gray
blur of the smoke hole above. Her husband was asleep. Sun Cloud, tossing
on her blankets, had flung one of her long braids so that it lay across
her mother's breast. Yellow Bird's slim fingers played with its silken
strands as she looked straight up into nothingness. Wide awake, she was
thinking—thinking as Slim Buck—would never be able to think,
back to the days when a white woman had been her goddess, and when a
little white boy—the woman's son—had called Yellow Bird "my
fairy."</p>
<p>In the gloom, with foreboding eating at her heart, Yellow Bird's red lips
parted in a smile as those days came back to her, for they were pleasing
days to think about. But after that the years sped swiftly in her mind
until the day when the little boy—a man grown—came to save her
tribe, and her own life, and the life of Sun Cloud, and of Slim Buck her
husband. Since then prosperity and happiness had been her lot. The spirits
had been good. They had not let her grow old, but had kept her still
beautiful. And Sun Cloud, her little daughter, was beautiful, and Slim
Buck was more than ever her god among men, and her people were happy. And
all this she owed to the man who was sleeping under the gloom of the sky
outside, the hunted man, the outlaw, "the little boy grown up"—Jolly
Roger McKay.</p>
<p>As she listened, and stared up at the smoke hole, strange spirits were
whispering to her, and Yellow Bird's blood ran a little faster and her
eyes grew bigger and brighter in the darkness. They seemed to be accusing
her. They told her it was because of her that Roger McKay had come in that
winter of starvation and death, and had robbed and almost killed, that she
and Slim Buck and little Sun Cloud might live. That was the beginning, and
the thrill of it had got into the blood of Neekewa, her "little white
brother grown up." And now he was out there, alone with his dog in the
night—and the red-coated avengers of the law were hunting him. They
wanted him for many things, but chiefly for the killing of a man.</p>
<p>Yellow Bird sat up, her little hands clenched about the thick braid of Sun
Cloud's hair. She had conjured with the spirits and had let the soul go
out of her body that she might learn the future for Neekewa, her white
brother. And they had told her that Roger McKay had done right to think of
killing.</p>
<p>Their voices had whispered to her that he would not suffer more than he
had already suffered—and that in the Country Beyond he would find
Nada the white girl, and happiness, and peace. Yellow Bird did not
disbelieve. Her faith was illimitable. The spirits would not lie. But the
unrest of the night was eating at her heart. She tried to lift herself to
the whisperings above the tepee top. But they were unintelligible, like
many voices mingling, and with them came a dull fear into her soul.</p>
<p>She put out a hand, as if to rouse Slim Buck. Then she drew it back, and
placed Sun Cloud's braid away from her. She rose to her feet so quietly
that even in their restlessness they did not fully awake. Through the
tepee door she went, and stood up straight in the night, as if now she
might hear more clearly, and understand.</p>
<p>For a space she breathed in the oppressive something that was in the air,
and her eyes went east and west for sign of storm. But there was no threat
of storm. The clouds were drifting slowly and softly, with starlight
breaking through their rifts, and there was no moan of thunder or wail of
wind far away. Her heart, for a little, seemed to stop its beating, and
her hands clasped tightly at her breast. She began to understand, and a
strange thrill crept into her. The spirits had put a great burden upon the
night so that it might drive sleep from her eyes. They were warning her.
They were telling her of danger, approaching swiftly, almost impending.
And it was peril for the white man who was sleeping somewhere near.</p>
<p>Swiftly she began seeking for him, her naked little brown feet making no
sound in the soft white sands of Wollaston.</p>
<p>And as she sought, the clouds thinned out above, and the stars shone
through more clearly, as if to make easier for her the quest in the gloom.</p>
<p>Where he had made his bed of blankets in the sand, close beside a flat
mass of water-washed sandstone, Jolly Roger lay half asleep. Peter was
wide awake. His eyes gleamed brightly and watchfully. His lank and bony
body was tense and alert. He did not whine or snap his jaws, though he
heard the Indian dogs occasionally doing so. The comradeship of a
fugitive, ever on the watch for his fellow men, had made him silent and
velvet-footed, and had sharpened his senses to the keenness of knives. He,
too, felt the impelling force of an approaching menace in this night of
stillness and mystery, and he watched closely the restless movements of
his master's body, and listened with burning eyes to the name which he had
spoken three times in the last five minutes of his sleep.</p>
<p>It was Nada's name, and as Jolly Roger cried it out softly in the old way,
as if Nada was standing before them, he reached out, and his hands struck
the sandstone rock. His eyes opened, and slowly he sat up. The sky had
cleared of clouds, and there was starlight, and in that starlight Jolly
Roger saw a figure standing near him in the sand. At first he thought it
was Sun Cloud, for Peter stood with his head raised to her. Then he saw it
was Yellow Bird, with her beautiful eyes looking at him steadily and
strangely as he awakened.</p>
<p>He got upon his feet and went to her, and took one of her hands. It was
cold. He felt the shiver that ran through her slim body, and suddenly her
eyes swept from him out into the night.</p>
<p>"Listen, Neekewa!"</p>
<p>Her fingers tightened in his hand. For a space he could hear the beating
of her heart.</p>
<p>"Twice I have heard it," she whispered then. "Neekewa, you must go!"</p>
<p>"Heard what?" he asked.</p>
<p>She shook her head.</p>
<p>"Something—I don't know what. But it tells me there is danger. And I
saw danger over the tepee top, and I have heard whisperings of it all
about me. It is coming. It is coming slowly and cautiously. It is very
near. Hark, Neekewa! Was that not a sound out on the water?"</p>
<p>"I think it was the wing of a duck, Yellow Bird."</p>
<p>"And THAT!" she cried swiftly, her fingers tightening still more. "That
sound—as if wood strikes on wood!"</p>
<p>"The croak of a loon far up the shore, Yellow Bird."</p>
<p>She drew her hand away.</p>
<p>"Neekewa, listen to me," she importuned him in Cree. "The spirits have
made this night heavy with warning. I could not sleep. Sun Cloud twitches
and moans. Slim Buck whispers to himself. You were crying out the name of
Nada—Oo-Mee the Pigeon—when I came to you. I know. It is
danger. It is very near. And it is danger for you."</p>
<p>"And only a short time ago you were confident happiness and peace were
coming to me, Yellow Bird," reminded Jolly Roger. "The spirits, you said,
promised the law should never get me, and I would find Nada again in that
strange place you called the Country Beyond. Have the spirits changed
their message, because the night is heavy?"</p>
<p>Yellow Bird's eyes were staring into darkness.</p>
<p>"No, they have not changed," she whispered. "They have spoken the truth.
They want to tell me more, but for some reason it is impossible. They have
tried to tell me where lies this place they call the Country Beyond—where
you will again find Oo-Mee the Pigeon. But a cloud always comes between.
And they are trying to tell me what the danger is off there—in the
darkness." Suddenly she caught his arm. "Nee-kewa, DID YOU HEAR?"</p>
<p>"A fish leaping in the still water, Yellow Bird."</p>
<p>He heard a low whimper in Peter's throat, and looking down he saw Peter's
muzzle pointing toward the thick cloud of gloom over the lake.</p>
<p>"What is it, Pied-Bot?" he asked.</p>
<p>Peter whimpered again.</p>
<p>Jolly Roger touched the cold hand that rested on his arm.</p>
<p>"Go back to your bed, Yellow Bird. There is only one danger for me—the
red-coated police. And they do not travel in the dark hours of a night
like this."</p>
<p>"They are coming," she replied. "I cannot hear or see, but they are
coming!"</p>
<p>Her fingers tightened.</p>
<p>"And they are near," she cried softly.</p>
<p>"You are nervous, Yellow Bird," he said, thinking of the two days and
three nights of her conjuring, when she had neither slept nor taken food,
that she might more successfully commune with the spirits. "There is no
danger. The night is a hard one for sleep. It has frightened you."</p>
<p>"It has warned me," she persisted, standing as motionless as a statue at
his side. "Neekewa, the spirits do not forget. They have not forgotten
that winter when you came, and my people were dying of famine and sickness—when
I dreaded to see little Sun Cloud close her eyes even in sleep, fearing
she would never open them again. They have not forgotten how all that
winter you robbed the white people over on the Des Chenes, that we might
live. If they remember those things, and lie, I would not be afraid to
curse them. But they do not lie."</p>
<p>Jolly Roger McKay did not answer. Deep down in him that strange something
was at work again, compelling him to believe Yellow Bird. She did not look
at him, but in her low Cree voice, soft as the mellow notes of a bird, she
was saying:</p>
<p>"You will be going very soon, Neekewa, and I shall not see you again for a
long time. Do not forget what I have told you. And you must believe.
Somewhere there is this place called the Country Beyond. The spirits have
said so. And it is there you will find your Oo-Mee the Pigeon—and
happiness. But if you go back to the place where you left The Pigeon when
you fled from the red-coated men of the law, you will find only blackness
and desolation. Believe, and you shall be guided. If you disbelieve—"</p>
<p>She stopped.</p>
<p>"You heard that, Neekewa? It was not the wing of a duck, nor was it the
croak of a loon far up the shore, or a fish leaping in the still water. IT
WAS A PADDLE!"</p>
<p>In the star-gloom Jolly Roger McKay bowed his head, and listened.</p>
<p>"Yes, a paddle," he said, and his voice sounded strange to him. "Probably
it is one of your people returning to camp, Yellow Bird."</p>
<p>She turned toward him, and stood very near. Her hands reached out to him.
Her hair and eyes were filled with the velvety glow of the stars, and for
an instant he saw the tremble of her parted lips.</p>
<p>"Goodby, Neekewa," she whispered.</p>
<p>And then, without letting her hands touch him, she was gone. Swiftly she
ran to Slim Buck's tepee, and entered, and very soon she came out again
with Slim Buck beside her. Jolly Roger did not move, but watched as Yellow
Bird and her husband went down to the edge of the lake, and stood there,
waiting for the strange canoe to pass—or come in. It was
approaching. Slowly it came up, an indistinct shadow at first, but growing
clearer, until at last he could see the silhouette of it against the
star-silvered water beyond. There were two people in it. Before the canoe
reached the shore Slim Buck stood out knee-deep in the water and hailed
it.</p>
<p>A voice answered. And at the sound of that voice McKay dropped like a shot
beside Peter, and Peter's lips curled up, and he snarled. His master's
hand warned him, and together they slipped back into the shadows, and from
under a piece of canvas Jolly Roger dragged forth his pack, and quietly
strapped it over his shoulders while he waited and listened.</p>
<p>And then, as he heard the voice again, he grinned, and chuckled softly.</p>
<p>"It's Cassidy, Pied-Bot! We can't lose that redheaded fox, can we?"</p>
<p>A good humored deviltry lay in his eyes, and Peter—looking up—thought
for a moment his master was laughing. Then Jolly Roger made a megaphone of
his hands, and called very clearly out into the night.</p>
<p>"Ho, Cassidy! Is that you, Cassidy?"</p>
<p>Peter's heart was choking him as he listened. He sensed a terrific danger.
There was no sound at the edge of the lake. There was no sound anywhere.
For a few moments a death-like stillness followed Jolly Roger's words.</p>
<p>Then a voice came in answer, each word cutting the gloom with the decisive
clearness of a bullet coming from a gun.</p>
<p>"Yes, this is Cassidy—Corporal Terence Cassidy, of 'M' Division,
Royal Northwest Mounted Police. Is that you, McKay?"</p>
<p>"Yes, it's me," replied Jolly Roger. "Does the wager still hold, Cassidy?"</p>
<p>"It holds."</p>
<p>There was a shadowy movement on the beach. The voice came again.</p>
<p>"Watch yourself, McKay. If I see you I shall fire!"</p>
<p>With drawn gun Cassidy rushed toward the spot where Jolly Roger and Peter
had stood. It was empty now, except for the bit of old canvas. Cassidy's
Indian came up and stood behind him, and for many minutes they listened
for the crackling of brush. Slim Buck joined them, and last came Yellow
Bird, her dark eyes glowing like pools of fire in their excitement.
Cassidy looked at her, marveling at her beauty, and suspicious of
something that was in her face. He went back to the beach. There he caught
himself short, astonishment bringing a sharp exclamation from his lips.</p>
<p>His canoe and outfit were gone!</p>
<p>Out of the star-gloom behind him floated a soft ripple of laughter as
Yellow Bird ran to her tepee.</p>
<p>And from the mist of water—far out—came a voice, the voice of
Jolly Roger McKay.</p>
<p>"Goodby, Cassidy!"</p>
<p>With it mingled the defiant bark of a dog.</p>
<p>In her tepee, a moment later, Yellow Bird drew Sun Cloud's glossy head
close against her warm breast, and turned her radiant face up thankfully
to the smoke hole in the tepee top, through which the spirits had
whispered their warning to her. Indistinctly, and still farther away, her
straining ears heard again the cry,</p>
<p>"Goodby, Cassidy!"</p>
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