Part 15

Downright anger now came to Natalie's aid. "My arrangements are made," she said curtly. "I do not care to change them."

Grylls's eyes quailed again under the direct look of hers; and a deeper red crept under his skin. His tone changed. "If I can't help, I can hinder," he muttered.

"Threats will not help you," said Natalie, instantly and clearly.

"You don't know what you're up against," he continued, still muttering, "I tell you I carry the breeds in my pocket. No white man knows them but me. I can hold you up wherever I please. I've only to give the word and you'll starve on the trail--you and your reporter!"

Natalie arose. For the moment she was too angry to speak. The man looked on her flashing beauty; and in the madness of his desire to possess it he forgot his awe of her.

"God! How beautiful you are!" was forced from his breast like a groan. "You poison a man's blood!" His speech came in thick blurts like clotting blood. "What business have you got up here? This is no country for the likes of you!... I was a strong man before you came; and since I looked at you I'm sick ... sick ... sick ... you've stolen my manhood out of me! Don't you owe me common civility in return? I'd fawn like a dog for a kindly look!... But don't you provoke me too far--don't think, because maybe I can't meet your eye, I couldn't crush you--or have others do it! You and your damned follower!... Oh, that would give me ease!"

Natalie's breath came like a frightened bird's. Flight she realized was dangerous--but it was as dangerous to stay; and how could she stay listening to such impieties! Nick Grylls's own bulk cut off her retreat in the direction of the settlement--but somewhere in the other direction was Garth. She sized up the man in a darting glance; his swollen bulk promised shortness of breath.

He made a move toward her. "What's to prevent me from taking you now?" he muttered.

Natalie, turning, fled along the path; running like a bird with incredibly swift, short steps.

Nick Grylls plunged after her, passion lending his great bulk lightness and speed. The path, which is used for tracking boats up-stream, skirted the extreme edge of a high-cut-bank bordering the river. On the one hand a single false step would have precipitated them to the beach twenty-five feet below; on the other hand the branches of an impenetrable undergrowth scourged their faces as they ran. Here and there the rain had worn deep fissures, across which leaped the nymph Natalie, with the panting Silenus close at her heels. She was running desperately over unfamiliar ground, knowing nothing of what lay ahead. She got away quicker than he; but he gained on her. The pursuer always has the advantage, in that he can measure his distance; and the quarry must make the pace.

The scene flashed past her like the half-sensed panorama of a hideous dream. She dared not look over her shoulder, but she could hear his heavy steps falling closer and closer. "He can run faster than I," she thought; and a dreadful sinking clutched her heart. She hazarded a fearful glance at the water below. The man's fingers clawed at her back. In another instant she would have leapt over; but she felt the ground tremble and give under her feet. She staggered, and with a desperate leap, gained a firm foothold beyond. Behind her, with a rumble and a hissing roar a great section of the bank half slid, half fell to the river beach beneath, carrying down bushes, trees, stones--and her pursuer.

She ran on without a backward look. In her thankful heart she could now spare a glance of pity for the half-crazed man; but it did not carry her to the length of stopping to see what had befallen him.

A little way farther on, the bank flattened down into a little valley, which conveyed a brook to the river. A path struck inland here. Natalie, leaping from stone to stone across the stream, suddenly saw Garth's figure heave into sight around a bend in the path. Instantly she slackened her pace; and her hands went to her breast to control the agitation of the tenant there. She did not intend he should learn what had happened.

So when they met she was perfectly quiet; but her eyes were luminous, and her voice had a new dove-like note. To tell the truth, at the sight of him striding along, pipe in mouth, with an interested eye for all that showed; so cool and strong; so honest and clean and young; after what she had just been through, Natalie was hard put to it to forbear casting herself on his breast forthwith, and letting her heart still itself there.

He instantly started to scold her for venturing so far alone. She was glad to be scolded. She could not help slipping her arm through his for a moment, just to feel that he was there.

"I will be good," she murmured in a moved, vibrant tone, like the deepest note of the oboe. "Hereafter I will do exactly as you say."

Garth trembled at the sound; and was silent in the excess of his happiness.

Returning, upon reaching the path up the valley, she made him turn inland; and they pursued a roundabout course back to the hotel. Nick Grylls, unhurt except as to certain abrasions of the countenance, and furiously sullen, had reached there before them. During the rest of their stay he carefully avoided them; but Garth was more than once conscious of the venomous little eyes fixed upon him.

NATALIE TELLS ABOUT HERSELF

The little stern-wheeler lay with her nose tucked comfortably in the mud of the river bank; and a hawser taut between her capstan and a tree. Every soul on board, except the three passengers, slept. Garth and Natalie were sitting in the corner of the upper deck astern, on the seat which encircles the rail. The third passenger, a mysterious person, who all unknown to the other two had been making it her business to watch them, observing where they sat, had softly entered the end stateroom; and with her head at the window, stretched her ears to hear their talk.

The Aurora Borealis, after the loss of three precious days, during which Captain Jack endlessly backed and filled, and the water in the river steadily fell, had finally cast off that afternoon; and after ascending twenty miles or so, tied up to the bank to await the dawn. It was now about ten; overcast above; velvety dark below; and still as death. For the first time Garth and Natalie missed, with a catch in the breath, the faint, domestic murmur that rises on the quietest night from an inhabited land. It was so still they could occasionally hear the stealthy fall of tiny, furry feet among the leaves on shore. The trees kept watch on the bank like a regiment of shades at attention. The moment provided Natalie's opportunity to fulfil her promise.

"I will try to be very frank," she began by saying, "I am so anxious you should not misunderstand. You have been so good to me!"

"Please don't," said Garth uncomfortably. "Take me for granted as a man would. I shall never be at ease with you, if you're going to be thanking me at every opportunity!"

"I'll try not to," she said meekly. The darkness swallowed the smile and the shine her eyes bent on him.

If Garth expected a sad beginning he was immediately undeceived. Natalie's invincible spirits launched her gaily on her tale.

"I've lived all my days in a Canadian city back East," she began; "too big a place to be simple; and too small to be finished. I never appreciated the funny side of it until I travelled. You have no idea of the complacency of such a place, the beautiful self-sufficiency of the people; you should hear what a patronizing tone they take toward the outside world! But they have their good points; they're kind and friendly with each other; and not nearly so snobbish as the people of little places are generally pictured. Everybody that is anybody knows all the other somebodies so well, it's like one great family. My people have lived there for ages; and so everybody knows me; and half of them are my cousins.

"We've always been as poor as church mice," she continued in a tone of cheerful frankness. "We live in a huge house that is gradually coming down about our ears; the drawing-room carpet is full of holes; the old silver is shockingly dented and the Royal Worcester all chipped. There are other household secrets I need not go into. People are kind enough to make believe not to notice--even when they get a chunk of plaster on the head.

"Everybody says it's my father's fault; they say he's a ne'er-do-weel; and even unkinder things. But he's such a dear boy"--Natalie's voice softened--"as young, oh! years younger than you! And everything invariably goes wrong with his affairs," she continued briskly; "but he is always good-tempered, and never neglects to be polite to the ladies. My mother has been an invalid for ten years. We do all we can for her; but, poor dear! she isn't much interested in us! Can you blame her? And I have half a dozen dear, bad little brothers and sisters. We're all exactly alike; we fight all the time and love one another to distraction.