Hulbert Footner

“ Tight little curls of spray puffed out of the falling water like jets of smoke, and, spreading and descending, merged into the white cloud that rolled about the foot of the falls. This cloud itself billowed up in successive undulations like full draperies, only to spread out and vanish in the sunshine.
Stonor had the solemn feeling that comes to the man who knows himself to be among the first of his race [101] to gaze on a great natural wonder. He and Imbrie alone had seen this sight. What of the riddle of Imbrie? Doctor, magician, skulker in the night, madman perhaps—and Clare’s husband! ”

“ Nature is merciful to humans, and little by little the strain was eased. The sharpness of their anxiety was dulled. They were conscious only of a dogged longing for the dawn. At intervals Stonor suggested to Clare that she go lie down on the bed, but when she begged to remain beside him, he had not the heart to insist. In all that time they heard nothing beyond the natural sounds of the night; the stirrings of little furry footfalls among the leaves; the distant bark of a fox. ”

“ And with the smiling ladies to grace the head of the board, it was like a glimpse of a fairer world to the men of the North. Miss Pringle was on Gaviller’s right, Miss Starling on his left. Stonor was about half-way down the table, and fortunately on the side opposite the younger lady, where he could gaze his fill.
She was wearing a pink evening dress trimmed with silver, that to Stonor’s unaccustomed eyes seemed like gossamer and moonshine. He was entranced by her throat and by the appealing loveliness of her thin arms. “How could I ever have thought a fat woman beautiful!” he asked himself. ”

“ 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. ”

“ It was a lovely park-like country with graceful, white-stemmed poplars standing about on the sward, and dark spruces in the hollows. The grass was starred with [52] flowers. When Nature sets out to make a park her style has a charming abandon that no landscape-gardener can ever hope to capture. After they mounted the low bench the country rolled shallowly, flat in the prospect, with a single, long, low eminence, blue athwart the horizon ahead.
“That’s the divide between the Spirit and the Swan,” said Stonor. ”

“ Pictures of his boyhood in the old Canadian city presented themselves unasked; the maple-foliage, incredibly dense and verdant, the shabby, comfortable houses behind the trees, and the homely, happy-go-lucky people who lived in the houses and sprayed their lawns on summer evenings; friendly people, like people everywhere prone to laughter and averse to thought. “People are so foolish and likeable, it’s amazing!” thought Stonor, visualizing his kind for the first. ”

“ The man who dwells in a world full of charming women never knows what they may mean to a man. Let him be exiled, and he’ll find out. In that moment the smouldering uneasiness which had made Stonor a burden to himself of late burst into flame, and he knew what was the matter. He beheld his desire.
As the steamboat swept by below them, Stonor automatically dipped the flag, and Gaviller touched off the old muzzle-loader, which vented a magnificent roar for its size. ”

“ He prayed that Imbrie might have many a rapid to buck that day.
On top of the bench the prairie rolled to the horizon with nothing to break the expanse of grass but patches of scrub. Stonor’s heart, burdened as it was, lifted up at the sight. “After all, there’s nothing like the old bald-headed to satisfy a man’s soul,” he thought. “If I only had Miles Aroon under me now!” Taking his bearings, he set off through the grass at the rolling walk he had learned from the Indians. ”

“ But a man is no judge of his own looks. A disinterested observer might have given a different verdict. A young man less well favoured by nature would have gazed at Stonor’s long-limbed ease with helpless envy. He had that rare type of figure that never becomes encumbered with fat. The grace of youth and the strength of maturity met there. He would make a pattern colonel if he lived. Under the simple lines of his uniform one apprehended the ripple and play of unclogged muscles. If all men were like Stonor the tailor’s task would be a sinecure. ”

“ Imbrie was never one to forego such an advantage. He looked from one to another with bright, spiteful eyes. When Stonor came back he said:
“You must excuse me if I gave you a turn. To tell the truth, a man forgets how attractive his wife is. I’m sorry I had to turn up, old man. Perhaps you didn’t know that she had a Mrs. to her name. She took back her maiden name, they told me.”
“I knew it very well,” said Stonor. “Since before we started to look for you.”
“Well, if you knew it, that’s your look-out,” said Imbrie. “You can’t say I didn’t do my best to keep out of your way.” ”

“ The big lofty store, with its glass front, its electric lights, its stock of expensive goods set forth on varnished shelves, suggested a city emporium rather than the Company’s most north-westerly post, nearly a thousand miles from civilization; but human energy accomplishes seeming miracles in the North as elsewhere, and John Gaviller the trader was above all an energetic man. Throughout the entire North they point with pride to Gaviller’s flour mill, his big steamboat, his great yellow clap-boarded house—two storeys and attic, and a fence of palings around it! ”

“ Everything is all right now. You have nothing to fear. People who lose their memories always get them back again. If you do not remember of yourself I promise to tell you everything that has happened.”
“I will try to be patient,” she said dutifully.
Presently she asked: “Is there no one here but us? I thought I remembered a woman—or did I dream it?”
Stonor called Mary in and introduced her. Clare’s eyes widened. “An Indian woman!” their expression said.
Stonor said, as if speaking of the most everyday matter: “Mary, Miss Starling’s memory is gone. ”

“ Myengeen became visibly excited and began to harangue Imbrie in a fiery style, with sidelong looks at the policeman. Stonor out of the tail of his eye saw answering scowls gather on the faces of the other Indians as they listened. Myengeen’s gestures were significant; with a sweep of his arm he called attention to the number of his followers, and then pointed to Stonor, who was but one.
Imbrie said with a sneering laugh: “He’s telling me that I have only to say the word, and you’ll never take me.”
“Rubbish!” said Stonor coolly. “Men do not oppose the police.” ”

“ John Gaviller carried Miss Pringle and the charming unknown up to the clap-boarded villa until the humble shack attached to the English mission could be made fit to receive them. Stonor went for a long walk to cool his fevered blood. He was thoroughly disgusted with himself. By his timidity, not to use a stronger word, he had lost precious hours; indeed, now that he had missed his first opportunity, he might be overlooked altogether. The other men would not be likely to help him out at all. ”

“ Clare was harder to rouse out of herself to-day. Stonor did his best not to show that he perceived anything amiss, and strove to cheer her with chaff and foolishness—likewise to keep his own heart up, but not altogether with success.
On one occasion Clare sought to reassure him by saying, à propos of nothing that had gone before: “The worst of having an imagination is, that when you have anything to go through with, it keeps presenting the most horrible alternatives in advance until you are almost incapable of facing the thing. ”

“ The Kakisas had been in the store above an hour when Mahtsonza, without warning, produced a note from the inner folds of his dingy capote, and, handling it gingerly between thumb and forefinger, silently offered it to Gaviller. The trader’s eyes almost started out of his head.
“A letter!” he cried stupidly. “Where the hell did you get that?—Boys! Look here! A note from Swan River! Who in thunder at Swan River can write a white man’s hand?”
Stonor, Doc Giddings, Strange, and Mathews, who were in the store, hastened to him. ”

“ Stonor then ordered all the people into their tepees, and such is the power of a single resolute voice that they meekly obeyed. Proceeding from tepee to tepee he called out likely-looking individuals to be questioned out of sight of the others. For a long time it was without result; men and women alike, having taken their cue from Myengeen, feigned not to understand. Such children as he tried to question were scared almost into insensibility. Stonor began to feel as if he were butting his head against a stone wall. ”

“ For a moment Stonor thought of murder—but only for a moment. A glance showed him that the bullet was of thirty-eight calibre, a revolver-bullet. Revolvers are unknown to the Indians. Stonor knew that there were no revolvers in all the country round except his own, Gaviller’s forty-four, and one that the dead man himself might have possessed. Consequently he saw no reason to change his original theory of suicide. Imbrie, faced by that terrible drop, had merely hastened the end by putting a bullet through his heart. ”

“ He returned to where Clare and Mary awaited him at a little distance from the fire. Meanwhile the horses galloped away out of hearing into the bush beyond the little meadow. Imbrie was still secure in his bonds. Stonor kept a close watch on him.
They had not long to wait before dawn began to weave colour in the sky. Light revealed nothing living but themselves in the little valley, or around its rim. The horse Stonor had shot still lay where he had dropped. Stonor returned to him, taking Mary. The animal was dead, with a bullet behind its shoulder. ”

“ Stonor kept the bullet as possible evidence. He then looked about for a suitable burial-place. His instinct was to provide the poor fellow with a fair spot for his last long rest. Up on top of the low precipice of rock that has been mentioned, there was a fine point of vantage visible up-river beyond the head of the rapids. At no small pains Stonor dragged the body up here, and with his knife dug him a shallow grave between the roots of a conspicuous pine. ”

“ They were regarding something very far away. In the dusk the wistfulness which hid behind a smile in daylight looked forth fully and broodingly.
Yet when she spoke the matter was ordinary enough. “All the men here tell me about the mysterious stranger who lives on the Swan River. They can’t keep away from the subject. And the funny part of it is, they all seem to be angry at him. Yet they know nothing of him. Why is that?”
“It means nothing,” said Stonor, smiling. “You see, all the men pride themselves on knowing every little thing that happens in the country. It’s all they have to talk about. ”

“ Give them good talk. Let them understand that we have no object but to be their friends. If there is a good reason why we shouldn’t go down the river let them speak it plainly. But this talk of danger and magic simply makes white men laugh.”
Mary dutifully took her way down to the tepees. She returned in time to get supper—but threw no further light on the mystery.
“What about it, Mary?” asked Stonor.
“Don’t go down the river,” she said earnestly. “Plenty bad trip, I think. I ’fraid for her. She can’t paddle a canoe in the rapids nor track up-stream. What if we capsize and lose our grub? ”

“ Stonor hailed him with pleasure; for of all the Kakisa Indians only this one had acted towards them like a man and a brother.
But the policeman was doomed to disappointment. When they overtook Etzooah they saw that the red man’s open, friendly look had changed. He turned a hard, wary eye on them, just like all the other Kakisas. Stonor guessed that he must have visited his people in the interim, and have been filled up with their nonsensical tales. Affecting to notice no change, Stonor said:
“We are going to spell here. Will you eat with us?”
No Indian was ever known to refuse a meal. ”

“ Several were polishing bits of brass already dazzling; one sat voraciously chewing gum and staring into vacancy; one paced up and down like a caged animal; another tried to pick a quarrel with his mates, and the eighth, Sergeant Stonor—the hero of Swan River they called him when they wished to annoy him—sat in a corner writing a letter. ”

“ They passed the last little shack and the last patch of grain before anybody was astir. When they rode out into the open country everybody’s spirits rose. There is nothing like taking the trail to lift up the heart—and on a June morning in the north! Troubles, heart-aches and anxieties were left behind with the houses. Even Mary Moosa beamed in her inscrutable way.
Stonor experienced a fresh access of confidence, and proceeded to deceive himself all over again. “I’m cured!” he thought. “There’s nothing to mope about. She’s my friend. ”

“ Stonor sat in his barrel chair that he had made himself, and Tole sat on the floor nursing his knees. Both were smoking Dominion mixture.
Said Tole: “Stonor, what you make of this Swan River mystery?”
“Oh, anything can be a mystery until you learn the answer. I don’t see why a man shouldn’t settle out on Swan River if he has a mind to.”
“Why do all the white men talk against him?”
“Don’t ask me. I doubt if they could tell you themselves. When men talk in a crowd they get started on a certain line and go on from bad to worse without thinking what they mean by it.” ”

“ Stonor resented their curiosity. Good manners are much the same the world over, and a self-respecting people would not have acted so, he told himself. None offered to stir hand or foot to assist them to unpack.
Stonor somewhat haughtily desired the head man to show himself. When one stepped forward, he received him sitting in magisterial state on a box at the door. Personally the most modest of men, he felt for the moment that Authority had to be upheld in him. So the Indian was required to stand.
His name was Ahchoogah (as near as a white man could get it) and he was about forty years old. ”

“ All these men were hunting their dinners. Close to [72] the shore they paddled softly against the current, or drifted silently down, searching the bushes with their keen flat eyes for the least stir. Since everything had to come down to the river sooner or later to drink, they could have had no better point of vantage. Every man had a gun in his canoe, but ammunition is expensive on the Swan River, and for small fry, musk-rat, duck, fool-hen, or rabbit, they still used the prehistoric bow and arrow.
“The Swan River is like the Kakisas’ Main Street,” said Stonor. ”