ТОП просматриваемых книг сайта:
Philip Steele of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police. James Oliver Curwood
Читать онлайн.Название Philip Steele of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police
Год выпуска 0
isbn 4064066234300
Автор произведения James Oliver Curwood
Жанр Языкознание
Издательство Bookwire
For a long time after he had rolled himself in his own blanket Philip lay awake, wondering at the strangeness of this thing that had happened to him. It was Her hair that he had seen shining this night under the old spruce, lustrous and soft, and coiled in its simple glory, as he had seen it last on the night when Chesbro had broken in on them at the ball. It was very easy for him to imagine that it had been Her face, with soul and heart and love added to its beauty. More than ever he knew what had been missing for him now, and blessed Chesbro for his blundering, and fell asleep to dream of the new face, and to awaken hours later to the unpleasant realization that his visions were but dream-fabric after all, and that the woman was the wife of Colonel Becker.
Chapter III. A Skull And A Flirtation
It was late afternoon when they came into Lac Bain, and as soon as Philip had turned over the colonel and his wife to Breed, he hurried to his own cabin. At the door he encountered Buck Nome. The two men had not met since a month before at Nelson House, and “there was but little cordiality in Steele to say howdy to 'em,” explained Nome, pausing for a moment. “Deuce of a good joke on you, Steele! How do you like the job of bringing in an old colonel's frozen wife, or a frozen colonel's old wife, eh?”
Every fiber in Steele's body grew tense at the banter in the other's voice. He whirled upon Nome, who had partly turned away.
“You remember—you lied down there at Nelson to get just such a 'job' as this,” he reminded. “Have you forgotten what happened—after that?”
“Don't get miffed about it, man,” returned Nome with an irritating laugh. “All's fair in love and war. That was love down there, 'pon my word of honor it was, and this is about as near the other thing as I want to come.”
There was something in his laugh that drew Steele's lips in a tight line as he entered the cabin. It was not the first time that he had listened to Nome's gloating chuckle at the mention of certain women. It was this more than anything else that made him hate the man.
Physically, Nome was a magnificent specimen, beyond doubt the handsomest man in the service north of Winnipeg; so that while other men despised him for what they knew, women admired and loved him—until, now and then too late for their own salvation, they discovered that his moral code was rotten to the core.
Such a thing had happened at Nelson House, and Philip felt himself burning with a desire to choke the life out of Nome as he recalled the tragedy there. And what would happen—now? The thought came to him like a dash of cold water, and yet, after a moment, his teeth gleamed in a smile as a vision rose before him of the love and purity which he had seen in the sweet face of the colonel's wife. He chuckled softly to himself as he dragged out a pack from under his bunk; but there was no humor in the chuckle. From it he took a bundle wrapped in soft birch-bark, and from this produced the skull that he had brought up with him from the South. There was a tremble of excitement in his low laugh as he glanced about the gloomy interior of the cabin.
From the log ceiling hung a big oil lamp with a tin reflector, and under this he hung the skull.
“You'll make a pretty ornament, M'sieur Janette,” he exclaimed, standing off to contemplate the white thing leering and bobbing at him from the end of its string. “Mon Dieu, I tell you that when the lamp is lighted Bucky Nome must be blind if he doesn't recognize you, even though you're dead, M'sieur!”
He lighted a smaller lamp, shaved himself, and changed his clothes. It was dark when he was ready for supper, and Nome had not returned. He waited a quarter of an hour longer, then put on his cap and coat and lighted the big oil lamp. At the door he turned to look back. The cavernous sockets of the skull stared at him. From where he stood he could see the ragged hole above the ear.
“It's your game to-night, M'sieur Janette,” he cried back softly, and closed the door behind him.
They were gathered before a huge fire of logs in the factor's big living-room when Philip joined the others. A glance told him why Nome had not returned to the cabin. Breed and the colonel were smoking cigars over a ragged ledger of stupendous size, which the factor had spread out upon a small table, and both were deeply absorbed. Mrs. Becker was facing the fire, and close beside her sat Nome, leaning toward her and talking in a voice so low that only a murmur of it came to Steele's ears. The man's face was flushed when he looked up, and his eyes shone with the old fire which made Philip hate him.
As the woman turned to greet him Steele felt a suddenly sickening sensation grip at his heart. Her cheeks, too, were flushed, and the color in them deepened still more when he bowed to her and joined the two men at the table. The colonel shook hands with him, and Philip noticed that once or twice after that his eyes shifted uneasily in the direction of the two before the fire, and that whenever the low laughter of Mrs. Becker and Nome came to them he paid less attention to the columns of figures which Breed was pointing out to him. When they rose to go into supper, Philip's blood boiled as Nome offered his arm to Mrs. Becker, who accepted it with a swift, laughing glance at the colonel. There was no response in the older man's pale face, and Philip's fingers dug hard into the palms of his hands. At the table Nome's attentions to Mrs. Becker were even more marked. Once, under pretext of helping her to a dish, he whispered words which brought a deeper flush to her cheeks, and when she looked at the colonel his eyes were fixed upon her in stern reproof. It was abominable! Was Nome mad? Was the woman—
Steele did not finish the thought in his own mind. His eyes encountered those of the colonel's wife across the table. He saw a sudden, quick catch of breath in her throat; even as he looked the flush faded from her face, and she rose from her seat, her gaze still upon him.
“I—I am not feeling well,” she said. “Will you please excuse me?”
In an instant Nome was at her side, but she turned quickly from him to the colonel, who had risen from his chair.
“Please take me to my room,” she begged. “Then—then you can come back.”
Once more her face turned to Steele. There was a pallor in it now that startled him. For a few moments he stood alone, as Breed and Nome left the table. He listened, and heard the opening and closing of a second door.
Then a footstep, and Nome reappeared.
“By Heaven, but she's a beauty!” he exclaimed. “I tell you, Steele—”
Something in his companion's eyes stopped him. Two red spots burned in Steele's cheeks as he advanced and gripped the other fiercely by the arm.
“Yes, she is pretty—very pretty,” he said quietly, his fingers sinking deeper into Nome's arm. “Get your hat and coat, Nome. I want to see you in the cabin.”
Behind them the door opened and closed again, and Steele shoved past his associate to meet Breed.
“Buck and I have a little matter to attend to over at the cabin,” he explained. “When they—when the colonel returns tell him we'll be over to smoke an after-supper pipe with him a little later, will you? And give our compliments to—her.” With a half-sneer on his lips he rejoined Nome, who stared hard at him, and followed him through the outer door.
“Now, what the devil does this mean?” Nome demanded when they were outside. “If you have anything on your mind, Steele—”
“I have,” interrupted Philip, “and I'm going to relieve myself of it. Pretty? She's as beautiful as an angel, Buck—the colonel's wife, I mean. And you—” He laughed harshly. “You're always the lucky dog, Buck Nome. You think she's half in love with you now. Too bad she was taken ill just at the psychological moment, as you might say, Buck. Wonder what was the matter?”
“Don't