it was the beginning of august—the flying-up moon—when pierrot returned from lac bain, and in three days more it would be the willow’s seventeenth birthday. he brought back with him many things for nepeese—ribbons for her hair, real shoes, which she wore at times like the two englishwomen at nelson house, and chief glory of all, some wonderful red cloth for a dress. in the three winters she had spent at the mission these women had made much of nepeese. they had taught her to sew as well as to spell and read and pray, and at times there came to the willow a compelling desire to do as they did.
so for three days nepeese worked hard on her new dress and on her birthday she stood before pierrot in a fashion that took his breath away. she had piled her hair in great glowing masses and coils on the crown of her head, as yvonne, the younger of the englishwomen, had taught her, and in the rich jet of it had half buried a vivid sprig of the crimson fire-flower. under this, and the glow in her eyes, and the red flush of her lips and cheeks came the wonderful red dress, fitted to the slim and sinuous beauty of her form—as the style had been two winters ago at nelson house. and under the dress, which reached just below the knees—nepeese had quite forgotten the proper length, or else her material had run out—came the coup de maître of her toilet, real stockings and the wonderful shoes with high heels! she was a vision before which the gods of the forests might have felt their hearts stop beating. pierrot turned her round and round without a word, but smiling; but when she left him, followed by baree, and limping a little in the tightness of her shoes, the smile faded from his face, leaving it cold and staring.
“mon dieu,” he whispered to himself in french, with a thought that was like a sharp stab at his heart, “she is not of her mother’s blood—non. it is french. she is—yes—like an angel.”
there was a change in pierrot. during the three days of her dressmaking nepeese had been quite too excited to notice this change, and pierrot had tried to keep it from her. he had been away ten days on the trip to lac bain, and he brought back to nepeese the joyous news that m’sieu mctaggart was very sick with pechipoo—the blood-poison—news that made the willow clap her hands and laugh happily. but he knew that the factor would get well, and that he would come again to their cabin on the gray loon. and when next time he came——
it was when he was thinking of this that his face grew cold and hard, and his eyes burned. and he was thinking of it on this her birthday, even as her laughter floated to him like a song. dieu, in spite of her seventeen years, she was nothing but a child—a baby! she could not guess his horrible visions. and the dread of awakening her for all time from that beautiful childhood kept him from telling her the whole truth so that she might have understood fully and completely. non, it should not be that. his soul beat with a great and gentle love. he, pierrot du quesne, would do the watching. and she should laugh and sing and play—and have no share in the black forebodings that had come to spoil his life.
on this day there came up from the south macdonald, the government map-maker. he was gray and grizzled, with a great, free laugh and a clean heart. two days he remained with pierrot. he told nepeese of his daughters at home, of their mother, whom he worshipped more than anything else on earth—and before he went on in his quest of the last timber-line of banksian pine, he took pictures of the willow as he had first seen her on her birthday: her hair piled in glossy coils and masses, her red dress, the high-heeled shoes. he carried the negatives on with him, promising pierrot that he would get a picture back in some way. thus fate works in its strange and apparently innocent ways as it spins its webs of tragedy.
for many weeks after this there followed tranquil days on the gray loon. they were wonderful days for baree. at first he was suspicious of pierrot. after a little he tolerated him, and at last accepted him as a part of the cabin—and nepeese. it was the willow whose shadow he became. pierrot noted the attachment with the deepest satisfaction.
“ah, in a few months more, if he should leap at the throat of m’sieu the factor,” he said to himself one day.
in september, when he was six months old, baree was almost as large as gray wolf—big-boned, long-fanged, with a deep chest, and jaws that could already crack a bone as if it were a stick. he was with nepeese whenever and wherever she moved. they swam together in the two pools—the pool in the forest and the pool between the chasm walls. at first it alarmed baree to see nepeese dive from the rock wall over which she had pushed mctaggart, but at the end of a month she had taught him to plunge after her through that twenty feet of space.
it was late in august when baree saw the first of his kind outside of kazan and gray wolf. during the summer pierrot allowed his dogs to run at large on a small island in the centre of a lake two or three miles away, and twice a week he netted fish for them. on one of these trips nepeese accompanied him and took baree with her. pierrot carried his long caribou-gut whip. he expected a fight. but there was none. baree joined the pack in their rush for fish, and ate with them. this pleased pierrot more than ever.
“he will make a great sledge-dog,” he chuckled. “it is best to leave him for a week with the pack, ma nepeese.”
reluctantly nepeese gave her consent. while the dogs were still at their fish, they started homeward. their canoe had stolen well out before baree discovered the trick they had played on him. instantly he leaped into the water and swam after them—and the willow helped him into the canoe.
early in september a passing indian brought pierrot word of bush mctaggart. the factor had been very sick. he had almost died from the blood-poison, but he was well now. with the first exhilarating tang of autumn in the air a new dread oppressed pierrot. but at present he said nothing of what was in his mind to nepeese. the willow had almost forgotten the factor from lac bain, for the glory and thrill of wilderness autumn was in her blood. she went on long trips with pierrot, helping him to blaze out the new trap-lines that would be used when the first snows came, and on these journeys she was always accompanied by baree.
most of nepeese’s spare hours she spent in training him for the sledge. she began with a babiche string and a stick. it was a whole day before she could induce baree to drag this stick without turning at every other step to snap and growl at it. then she fastened another length of babiche to him, and made him drag two sticks. thus little by little she trained him to the sledge-harness, until at the end of a fortnight he was tugging heroically at anything she had a mind to fasten him to. pierrot brought home two of the dogs from the island, and baree was put into training with these, and helped to drag the empty sledge. nepeese was delighted. on the day the first light snow fell she clapped her hands and cried to pierrot:
“by mid-winter i will have him the finest dog in the pack, mon père!”
this was the time for pierrot to say what was in his mind. he smiled. diantre—would not that beast the factor fall into the very devil of a rage when he found how he had been cheated! and yet——
he tried to make his voice quiet and commonplace.
“i am going to send you down to the school at nelson house again this winter, ma chérie,” he said. “baree will help draw you down on the first good snow.”
the willow was tying a knot in baree’s babiche, and she rose slowly to her feet and looked at pierrot. her eyes were big and dark and steady.
“i am not going, mon père!”
it was the first time nepeese had ever said that to pierrot—in just that way. it thrilled him. and he could scarcely face the look in her eyes. he was not good at bluffing. she saw what was in his face; it seemed to him that she was reading what was in his mind, and that she grew a little taller as she stood there. certainly her breath came quicker, and he could see the throb of her breast. nepeese did not wait for him to gather speech.
“i am not going!” she repeated with even greater finality, and bent again over baree.
with a shrug of his shoulders pierrot watched her. after all, was he not glad? would his heart not have turned sick if she had been happy at the thought of leaving him? he moved to her side and with great gentleness laid a hand on her glossy head. up from under it the willow smiled at him. between them they heard the click of baree’s jaws as he rested his muzzle on the willow’s arm. for the first time in weeks the world seemed suddenly filled with sunshine for pierrot. when he went back to the cabin he held his head higher. nepeese would not leave him! he laughed softly. he rubbed his hands together. his fear of the factor from lac bain was gone. from the cabin door he looked back at nepeese and baree.
“the saints be blessed!” he murmured. “now—now—it is pierrot du quesne who knows what to do!”
