"the sun sinks, canim, and the heat of the day is gone!"
so called li wan to the man whose head was hidden beneath the squirrel-skin robe, but she called softly, as though divided between the duty of waking him and the fear of him awake. for she was afraid of this big husband of hers, who was like unto none of the men she had known. the moose-meat sizzled uneasily, and she moved the frying-pan to one side of the red embers. as she did so she glanced warily at the two hudson bay dogs dripping eager slaver from their scarlet tongues and following her every movement. they were huge, hairy fellows, crouched to leeward in the thin smoke-wake of the fire to escape the swarming myriads of mosquitoes. as li wan gazed down the steep to where the klondike flung its swollen flood between the hills, one of the dogs bellied its way forward like a worm, and with a deft, catlike stroke of the paw dipped a chunk of hot meat out of the pan to the ground. but li wan caught him from out the tail of her eye, and he sprang back with a snap and a snarl as she rapped him over the nose with a stick of firewood.
"nay, olo," she laughed, recovering the meat without removing her eye from him. "thou art ever hungry, and for that thy nose leads thee into endless troubles."
but the mate of olo joined him, and together they defied the woman. the hair on their backs and shoulders bristled in recurrent waves of anger, and the thin lips writhed and lifted into ugly wrinkles, exposing the flesh-tearing fangs, cruel and menacing. their very noses serrulated and shook in brute passion, and they snarled as the wolves snarl, with all the hatred and malignity of the breed impelling them to spring upon the woman and drag her down.
"and thou, too, bash, fierce as thy master and never at peace with the hand that feeds thee! this is not thy quarrel, so that be thine! and that!"
as she cried, she drove at them with the firewood, but they avoided the blows and refused to retreat. they separated and approached her from either side, crouching low and snarling. li wan had struggled with the wolf-dog for mastery from the time she toddled among the skin-bales of the teepee, and she knew a crisis was at hand. bash had halted, his muscles stiff and tense for the spring; olo was yet creeping into striking distance.
grasping two blazing sticks by the charred ends, she faced the brutes. the one held back, but bash sprang, and she met him in mid-air with the flaming weapon. there were sharp yelps of pain and swift odors of burning hair and flesh as he rolled in the dirt and the woman ground the fiery embers into his mouth. snapping wildly, he flung himself sidewise out of her reach and in a frenzy of fear scrambled for safety. olo, on the other side, had begun his retreat, when li wan reminded him of her primacy by hurling a heavy stick of wood into his ribs. then the pair retreated under a rain of firewood, and on the edge of the camp fell to licking their wounds and whimpering by turns and snarling.
li wan blew the ashes off the meat and sat down again. her heart had not gone up a beat, and the incident was already old, for this was the routine of life. canim had not stirred during the disorder, but instead had set up a lusty snoring.
"come, canim!" she called. "the heat of the day is gone, and the trail waits for our feet."
the squirrel-skin robe was agitated and cast aside by a brown arm. then the man's eyelids fluttered and drooped again.
"his pack is heavy," she thought, "and he is tired with the work of the morning."
a mosquito stung her on the neck, and she daubed the unprotected spot with wet clay from a ball she had convenient to hand. all morning, toiling up the divide and enveloped in a cloud of the pests, the man and woman had plastered themselves with the sticky mud, which, drying in the sun, covered their faces with masks of clay. these masks, broken in divers places by the movement of the facial muscles, had constantly to be renewed, so that the deposit was irregular of depth and peculiar of aspect.
li wan shook canim gently but with persistence till he roused and sat up. his first glance was to the sun, and after consulting the celestial timepiece he hunched over to the fire and fell-to ravenously on the meat. he was a large indian fully six feet in height, deep-chested and heavy-muscled, and his eyes were keener and vested with greater mental vigor than the average of his kind. the lines of will had marked his face deeply, and this, coupled with a sternness and primitiveness, advertised a native indomitability, unswerving of purpose, and prone, when thwarted, to sullen cruelty.
"to-morrow, li wan, we shall feast." he sucked a marrow-bone clean and threw it to the dogs. "we shall have flapjacks fried in bacon grease, and sugar, which is more toothsome—"
"flapjacks?" she questioned, mouthing the word curiously.
"ay," canim answered with superiority; "and i shall teach you new ways of cookery. of these things i speak you are ignorant, and of many more things besides. you have lived your days in a little corner of the earth and know nothing. but i,"—he straightened himself and looked at her pridefully,—"i am a great traveller, and have been all places, even among the white people, and i am versed in their ways, and in the ways of many peoples. i am not a tree, born to stand in one place always and know not what there be over the next hill; for i am canim, the canoe, made to go here and there and to journey and quest up and down the length and breadth of the world."
she bowed her head humbly. "it is true. i have eaten fish and meat and berries all my days and lived in a little corner of the earth. nor did i dream the world was so large until you stole me from my people and i cooked and carried for you on the endless trails." she looked up at him suddenly. "tell me, canim, does this trail ever end?"
"nay," he answered. "my trail is like the world; it never ends. my trail is the world, and i have travelled it since the time my legs could carry me, and i shall travel it until i die. my father and my mother may be dead, but it is long since i looked upon them, and i do not care. my tribe is like your tribe. it stays in the one place—which is far from here,—but i care naught for my tribe, for i am canim, the canoe!"
"and must i, li wan, who am weary, travel always your trail until i die?"
"you, li wan, are my wife, and the wife travels the husband's trail wheresoever it goes. it is the law. and were it not the law, yet would it be the law of canim, who is lawgiver unto himself and his."
she bowed her head again, for she knew no other law than that man was the master of woman.
"be not in haste," canim cautioned her, as she began to strap the meagre camp outfit to her pack. "the sun is yet hot, and the trail leads down and the footing is good."
she dropped her work obediently and resumed her seat.
canim regarded her with speculative interest. "you do not squat on your hams like other women," he remarked.
"no," she answered. "it never came easy. it tires me, and i cannot take my rest that way."
"and why is it your feet point not straight before you?"
"i do not know, save that they are unlike the feet of other women."
a satisfied light crept into his eyes, but otherwise he gave no sign.
"like other women, your hair is black; but have you ever noticed that it is soft and fine, softer and finer than the hair of other women?"
"i have noticed," she answered shortly, for she was not pleased at such cold analysis of her sex-deficiencies.
"it is a year, now, since i took you from your people," he went on, "and you are nigh as shy and afraid of me as when first i looked upon you. how does this thing be?"
li wan shook her head. "i am afraid of you, canim, you are so big and strange. and further, before you looked upon me even, i was afraid of all the young men. i do not know ... i cannot say ... only it seemed, somehow, as though i should not be for them, as though ..."
"ay," he encouraged, impatient at her faltering.
"as though they were not my kind."
"not your kind?" he demanded slowly. "then what is your kind?"
"i do not know, i ..." she shook her head in a bewildered manner. "i cannot put into words the way i felt. it was strangeness in me. i was unlike other maidens, who sought the young men slyly. i could not care for the young men that way. it would have been a great wrong, it seemed, and an ill deed."
"what is the first thing you remember?" canim asked with abrupt irrelevance.
"pow-wah-kaan, my mother."
"and naught else before pow-wah-kaan?"
"naught else."
but canim, holding her eyes with his, searched her secret soul and saw it waver.
"think, and think hard, li wan!" he threatened.
she stammered, and her eyes were piteous and pleading, but his will dominated her and wrung from her lips the reluctant speech.
"but it was only dreams, canim, ill dreams of childhood, shadows of things not real, visions such as the dogs, sleeping in the sun-warmth, behold and whine out against."
"tell me," he commanded, "of the things before pow-wah-kaan, your mother."
"they are forgotten memories," she protested. "as a child i dreamed awake, with my eyes open to the day, and when i spoke of the strange things i saw i was laughed at, and the other children were afraid and drew away from me. and when i spoke of the things i saw to pow-wah-kaan, she chided me and said they were evil; also she beat me. it was a sickness, i believe, like the falling-sickness that comes to old men; and in time i grew better and dreamed no more. and now ... i cannot remember"—she brought her hand in a confused manner to her forehead—"they are there, somewhere, but i cannot find them, only ..."
"only," canim repeated, holding her.
"only one thing. but you will laugh at its foolishness, it is so unreal."
"nay, li wan. dreams are dreams. they may be memories of other lives we have lived. i was once a moose. i firmly believe i was once a moose, what of the things i have seen in dreams, and heard."
strive as he would to hide it, a growing anxiety was manifest, but li wan, groping after the words with which to paint the picture, took no heed.
"i see a snow-tramped space among the trees," she began, "and across the snow the sign of a man where he has dragged himself heavily on hand and knee. and i see, too, the man in the snow, and it seems i am very close to him when i look. he is unlike real men, for he has hair on his face, much hair, and the hair of his face and head is yellow like the summer coat of the weasel. his eyes are closed, but they open and search about. they are blue like the sky, and look into mine and search no more. and his hand moves, slow, as from weakness, and i feel ..."
"ay," canim whispered hoarsely. "you feel—?"
"no! no!" she cried in haste. "i feel nothing. did i say 'feel'? i did not mean it. it could not be that i should mean it. i see, and i see only, and that is all i see—a man in the snow, with eyes like the sky, and hair like the weasel. i have seen it many times, and always it is the same—a man in the snow—"
"and do you see yourself?" he asked, leaning forward and regarding her intently. "do you ever see yourself and the man in the snow?"
"why should i see myself? am i not real?"
his muscles relaxed and he sank back, an exultant satisfaction in his eyes which he turned from her so that she might not see.
"i will tell you, li wan," he spoke decisively; "you were a little bird in some life before, a little moose-bird, when you saw this thing, and the memory of it is with you yet. it is not strange. i was once a moose, and my father's father afterward became a bear—so said the shaman, and the shaman cannot lie. thus, on the trail of the gods we pass from life to life, and the gods know only and understand. dreams and the shadows of dreams be memories, nothing more, and the dog, whining asleep in the sun-warmth, doubtless sees and remembers things gone before. bash, there, was a warrior once. i do firmly believe he was once a warrior."
canim tossed a bone to the brute and got upon his feet. "come, let us begone. the sun is yet hot, but it will get no cooler."
"and these white people, what are they like?" li wan made bold to ask.
"like you and me," he answered, "only they are less dark of skin. you will be among them ere the day is dead."
canim lashed the sleeping-robe to his one-hundred-and-fifty-pound pack, smeared his face with wet clay, and sat down to rest till li wan had finished loading the dogs. olo cringed at sight of the club in her hand, and gave no trouble when the bundle of forty pounds and odd was strapped upon him. but bash was aggrieved and truculent, and could not forbear to whimper and snarl as he was forced to receive the burden. he bristled his back and bared his teeth as she drew the straps tight, the while throwing all the malignancy of his nature into the glances shot at her sideways and backward. and canim chuckled and said, "did i not say he was once a very great warrior?"
"these furs will bring a price," he remarked as he adjusted his head-strap and lifted his pack clear of the ground. "a big price. the white men pay well for such goods, for they have no time to hunt and are soft to the cold. soon shall we feast, li wan, as you have feasted never in all the lives you have lived before."
she grunted acknowledgment and gratitude for her lord's condescension, slipped into the harness, and bent forward to the load.
"the next time i am born, i would be born a white man," he added, and swung off down the trail which dived into the gorge at his feet.
the dogs followed close at his heels, and li wan brought up the rear. but her thoughts were far away, across the ice mountains to the east, to the little corner of the earth where her childhood had been lived. ever as a child, she remembered, she had been looked upon as strange, as one with an affliction. truly she had dreamed awake and been scolded and beaten for the remarkable visions she saw, till, after a time, she had outgrown them. but not utterly. though they troubled her no more waking, they came to her in her sleep, grown woman that she was, and many a night of nightmare was hers, filled with fluttering shapes, vague and meaningless. the talk with canim had excited her, and down all the twisted slant of the divide she harked back to the mocking fantasies of her dreams.
"let us take breath," canim said, when they had tapped midway the bed of the main creek.
he rested his pack on a jutting rock, slipped the head-strap, and sat down. li wan joined him, and the dogs sprawled panting on the ground beside them. at their feet rippled the glacial drip of the hills, but it was muddy and discolored, as if soiled by some commotion of the earth.
"why is this?" li wan asked.
"because of the white men who work in the ground. listen!" he held up his hand, and they heard the ring of pick and shovel, and the sound of men's voices. "they are made mad by gold, and work without ceasing that they may find it. gold? it is yellow and comes from the ground, and is considered of great value. it is also a measure of price."
but li wan's roving eyes had called her attention from him. a few yards below and partly screened by a clump of young spruce, the tiered logs of a cabin rose to meet its overhanging roof of dirt. a thrill ran through her, and all her dream-phantoms roused up and stirred about uneasily.
"canim," she whispered in an agony of apprehension. "canim, what is that?"
"the white man's teepee, in which he eats and sleeps."
she eyed it wistfully, grasping its virtues at a glance and thrilling again at the unaccountable sensations it aroused. "it must be very warm in time of frost," she said aloud, though she felt that she must make strange sounds with her lips.
she felt impelled to utter them, but did not, and the next instant canim said, "it is called a cabin."
her heart gave a great leap. the sounds! the very sounds! she looked about her in sudden awe. how should she know that strange word before ever she heard it? what could be the matter? and then with a shock, half of fear and half of delight, she realized that for the first time in her life there had been sanity and significance in the promptings of her dreams.
"cabin" she repeated to herself. "cabin." an incoherent flood of dream-stuff welled up and up till her head was dizzy and her heart seemed bursting. shadows, and looming bulks of things, and unintelligible associations fluttered and whirled about, and she strove vainly with her consciousness to grasp and hold them. for she felt that there, in that welter of memories, was the key of the mystery; could she but grasp and hold it, all would be clear and plain—
o canim! o pow-wah-kaan! o shades and shadows, what was that?
she turned to canim, speechless and trembling, the dream-stuff in mad, overwhelming riot. she was sick and fainting, and could only listen to the ravishing sounds which proceeded from the cabin in a wonderful rhythm.
"hum, fiddle," canim vouchsafed.
but she did not hear him, for in the ecstasy she was experiencing, it seemed at last that all things were coming clear. now! now! she thought. a sudden moisture swept into her eyes, and the tears trickled down her cheeks. the mystery was unlocking, but the faintness was overpowering her. if only she could hold herself long enough! if only—but the landscape bent and crumpled up, and the hills swayed back and forth across the sky as she sprang upright and screamed, "daddy! daddy!" then the sun reeled, and darkness smote her, and she pitched forward limp and headlong among the rocks.
canim looked to see if her neck had been broken by the heavy pack, grunted his satisfaction, and threw water upon her from the creek. she came to slowly, with choking sobs, and sat up.
"it is not good, the hot sun on the head," he ventured.
and she answered, "no, it is not good, and the pack bore upon me hard."
"we shall camp early, so that you may sleep long and win strength," he said gently. "and if we go now, we shall be the quicker to bed."
li wan said nothing, but tottered to her feet in obedience and stirred up the dogs. she took the swing of his pace mechanically, and followed him past the cabin, scarce daring to breathe. but no sounds issued forth, though the door was open and smoke curling upward from the sheet-iron stovepipe.
they came upon a man in the bend of the creek, white of skin and blue of eye, and for a moment li wan saw the other man in the snow. but she saw dimly, for she was weak and tired from what she had undergone. still, she looked at him curiously, and stopped with canim to watch him at his work. he was washing gravel in a large pan, with a circular, tilting movement; and as they looked, giving a deft flirt, he flashed up the yellow gold in a broad streak across the bottom of the pan.
"very rich, this creek," canim told her, as they went on. "sometime i will find such a creek, and then i shall be a big man."
cabins and men grew more plentiful, till they came to where the main portion of the creek was spread out before them. it was the scene of a vast devastation. everywhere the earth was torn and rent as though by a titan's struggles. where there were no upthrown mounds of gravel, great holes and trenches yawned, and chasms where the thick rime of the earth had been peeled to bed-rock. there was no worn channel for the creek, and its waters, dammed up, diverted, flying through the air on giddy flumes, trickling into sinks and low places, and raised by huge water-wheels, were used and used again a thousand times. the hills had been stripped of their trees, and their raw sides gored and perforated by great timber-slides and prospect holes. and over all, like a monstrous race of ants, was flung an army of men—mud-covered, dirty, dishevelled men, who crawled in and out of the holes of their digging, crept like big bugs along the flumes, and toiled and sweated at the gravel-heaps which they kept in constant unrest—men, as far as the eye could see, even to the rims of the hilltops, digging, tearing, and scouring the face of nature.
li wan was appalled at the tremendous upheaval. "truly, these men are mad," she said to canim.
"small wonder. the gold they dig after is a great thing," he replied. "it is the greatest thing in the world."
for hours they threaded the chaos of greed, canim eagerly intent, li wan weak and listless. she knew she had been on the verge of disclosure, and she felt that she was still on the verge of disclosure, but the nervous strain she had undergone had tired her, and she passively waited for the thing, she knew not what, to happen. from every hand her senses snatched up and conveyed to her innumerable impressions, each of which became a dull excitation to her jaded imagination. somewhere within her, responsive notes were answering to the things without, forgotten and undreamed-of correspondences were being renewed; and she was aware of it in an incurious way, and her soul was troubled, but she was not equal to the mental exultation necessary to transmute and understand. so she plodded wearily on at the heels of her lord, content to wait for that which she knew, somewhere, somehow, must happen.
after undergoing the mad bondage of man, the creek finally returned to its ancient ways, all soiled and smirched from its toil, and coiled lazily among the broad flats and timbered spaces where the valley widened to its mouth. here the "pay" ran out, and men were loth to loiter with the lure yet beyond. and here, as li wan paused to prod olo with her staff, she heard the mellow silver of a woman's laughter.
before a cabin sat a woman, fair of skin and rosy as a child, dimpling with glee at the words of another woman in the doorway. but the woman who sat shook about her great masses of dark, wet hair which yielded up its dampness to the warm caresses of the sun.
for an instant li wan stood transfixed. then she was aware of a blinding flash, and a snap, as though something gave way; and the woman before the cabin vanished, and the cabin and the tall spruce timber, and the jagged sky-line, and li wan saw another woman, in the shine of another sun, brushing great masses of black hair, and singing as she brushed. and li wan heard the words of the song, and understood, and was a child again. she was smitten with a vision, wherein all the troublesome dreams merged and became one, and shapes and shadows took up their accustomed round, and all was clear and plain and real. many pictures jostled past, strange scenes, and trees, and flowers, and people; and she saw them and knew them all.
"when you were a little bird, a little moose-bird," canim said, his eyes upon her and burning into her.
"when i was a little moose-bird," she whispered, so faint and low he scarcely heard. and she knew she lied, as she bent her head to the strap and took the swing of the trail.
and such was the strangeness of it, the real now became unreal. the mile tramp and the pitching of camp by the edge of the stream seemed like a passage in a nightmare. she cooked the meat, fed the dogs, and unlashed the packs as in a dream, and it was not until canim began to sketch his next wandering that she became herself again.
"the klondike runs into the yukon," he was saying; "a mighty river, mightier than the mackenzie, of which you know. so we go, you and i, down to fort o' yukon. with dogs, in time of winter, it is twenty sleeps. then we follow the yukon away into the west—one hundred sleeps, two hundred—i have never heard. it is very far. and then we come to the sea. you know nothing of the sea, so let me tell you. as the lake is to the island, so the sea is to the land; all the rivers run to it, and it is without end. i have seen it at hudson bay; i have yet to see it in alaska. and then we may take a great canoe upon the sea, you and i, li wan, or we may follow the land into the south many a hundred sleeps. and after that i do not know, save that i am canim, the canoe, wanderer and far-journeyer over the earth!"
she sat and listened, and fear ate into her heart as she pondered over this plunge into the illimitable wilderness. "it is a weary way," was all she said, head bowed on knee in resignation.
then it was a splendid thought came to her, and at the wonder of it she was all aglow. she went down to the stream and washed the dried clay from her face. when the ripples died away, she stared long at her mirrored features; but sun and weather-beat had done their work, and, what of roughness and bronze, her skin was not soft and dimpled as a child's. but the thought was still splendid and the glow unabated as she crept in beside her husband under the sleeping-robe.
she lay awake, staring up at the blue of the sky and waiting for canim to sink into the first deep sleep. when this came about, she wormed slowly and carefully away, tucked the robe around him, and stood up. at her second step, bash growled savagely. she whispered persuasively to him and glanced at the man. canim was snoring profoundly. then she turned, and with swift, noiseless feet sped up the back trail.
mrs. evelyn van wyck was just preparing for bed. bored by the duties put upon her by society, her wealth, and widowed blessedness, she had journeyed into the northland and gone to housekeeping in a cosey cabin on the edge of the diggings. here, aided and abetted by her friend and companion, myrtle giddings, she played at living close to the soil, and cultivated the primitive with refined abandon.
she strove to get away from the generations of culture and parlor selection, and sought the earth-grip her ancestors had forfeited. likewise she induced mental states which she fondly believed to approximate those of the stone-folk, and just now, as she put up her hair for the pillow, she was indulging her fancy with a palaeolithic wooing. the details consisted principally of cave-dwellings and cracked marrow-bones, intersprinkled with fierce carnivora, hairy mammoths, and combats with rude flaked knives of flint; but the sensations were delicious. and as evelyn van wyck fled through the sombre forest aisles before the too arduous advances of her slant-browed, skin-clad wooer, the door of the cabin opened, without the courtesy of a knock, and a skin-clad woman, savage and primitive, came in.
"mercy!"
with a leap that would have done credit to a cave-woman, miss giddings landed in safety behind the table. but mrs. van wyck held her ground. she noticed that the intruder was laboring under a strong excitement, and cast a swift glance backward to assure herself that the way was clear to the bunk, where the big colt's revolver lay beneath a pillow.
"greeting, o woman of the wondrous hair," said li wan.
but she said it in her own tongue, the tongue spoken in but a little corner of the earth, and the women did not understand.
"shall i go for help?" miss giddings quavered.
"the poor creature is harmless, i think," mrs. van wyck replied. "and just look at her skin-clothes, ragged and trail-worn and all that. they are certainly unique. i shall buy them for my collection. get my sack, myrtle, please, and set up the scales."
li wan followed the shaping of the lips, but the words were unintelligible, and then, and for the first time, she realized, in a moment of suspense and indecision, that there was no medium of communication between them.
and at the passion of her dumbness she cried out, with arms stretched wide apart, "o woman, thou art sister of mine!"
the tears coursed down her cheeks as she yearned toward them, and the break in her voice carried the sorrow she could not utter. but miss giddings was trembling, and even mrs. van wyck was disturbed.
"i would live as you live. thy ways are my ways, and our ways be one. my husband is canim, the canoe, and he is big and strange, and i am afraid. his trail is all the world and never ends, and i am weary. my mother was like you, and her hair was as thine, and her eyes. and life was soft to me then, and the sun warm."
she knelt humbly, and bent her head at mrs. van wyck's feet. but mrs. van wyck drew away, frightened at her vehemence.
li wan stood up, panting for speech. her dumb lips could not articulate her overmastering consciousness of kind.
"trade? you trade?" mrs. van wyck questioned, slipping, after the fashion of the superior peoples, into pigeon tongue.
she touched li wan's ragged skins to indicate her choice, and poured several hundreds of gold into the blower. she stirred the dust about and trickled its yellow lustre temptingly through her fingers. but li wan saw only the fingers, milk-white and shapely, tapering daintily to the rosy, jewel-like nails. she placed her own hand alongside, all work-worn and calloused, and wept.
mrs. van wyck misunderstood. "gold," she encouraged. "good gold! you trade? you changee for changee?" and she laid her hand again on li wan's skin garments.
"how much? you sell? how much?" she persisted, running her hand against the way of the hair so that she might make sure of the sinew-thread seam.
but li wan was deaf as well, and the woman's speech was without significance. dismay at her failure sat upon her. how could she identify herself with these women? for she knew they were of the one breed, blood-sisters among men and the women of men. her eyes roved wildly about the interior, taking in the soft draperies hanging around, the feminine garments, the oval mirror, and the dainty toilet accessories beneath. and the things haunted her, for she had seen like things before; and as she looked at them her lips involuntarily formed sounds which her throat trembled to utter. then a thought flashed upon her, and she steadied herself. she must be calm. she must control herself, for there must be no misunderstanding this time, or else,—and she shook with a storm of suppressed tears and steadied herself again.
she put her hand on the table. "table," she clearly and distinctly enunciated. "table," she repeated.
she looked at mrs. van wyck, who nodded approbation. li wan exulted, but brought her will to bear and held herself steady. "stove" she went on. "stove."
and at every nod of mrs. van wyck, li wan's excitement mounted. now stumbling and halting, and again in feverish haste, as the recrudescence of forgotten words was fast or slow, she moved about the cabin, naming article after article. and when she paused finally, it was in triumph, with body erect and head thrown back, expectant, waiting.
"cat," mrs. van wyck, laughing, spelled out in kindergarten fashion. "i—see—the—cat—catch—the—rat."
li wan nodded her head seriously. they were beginning to understand her at last, these women. the blood flushed darkly under her bronze at the thought, and she smiled and nodded her head still more vigorously.
mrs. van wyck turned to her companion. "received a smattering of mission education somewhere, i fancy, and has come to show it off."
"of course," miss giddings tittered. "little fool! we shall lose our sleep with her vanity."
"all the same i want that jacket. if it is old, the workmanship is good—a most excellent specimen." she returned to her visitor. "changee for changee? you! changee for changee? how much? eh? how much, you?"
"perhaps she'd prefer a dress or something," miss giddings suggested.
mrs. van wyck went up to li wan and made signs that she would exchange her wrapper for the jacket. and to further the transaction, she took li wan's hand and placed it amid the lace and ribbons of the flowing bosom, and rubbed the fingers back and forth so they might feel the texture. but the jewelled butterfly which loosely held the fold in place was insecurely fastened, and the front of the gown slipped to the side, exposing a firm white breast, which had never known the lip-clasp of a child.
mrs. van wyck coolly repaired the mischief; but li wan uttered a loud cry, and ripped and tore at her skin-shirt till her own breast showed firm and white as evelyn van wyck's. murmuring inarticulately and making swift signs, she strove to establish the kinship.
"a half-breed," mrs. van wyck commented. "i thought so from her hair."
miss giddings made a fastidious gesture. "proud of her father's white skin. it's beastly! do give her something, evelyn, and make her go."
but the other woman sighed. "poor creature, i wish i could do something for her."
a heavy foot crunched the gravel without. then the cabin door swung wide, and canim stalked in. miss giddings saw a vision of sudden death, and screamed; but mrs. van wyck faced him composedly.
"what do you want?" she demanded.
"how do?" canim answered suavely and directly, pointing at the same time to li wan. "um my wife."
he reached out for her, but she waved him back.
"speak, canim! tell them that i am—"
"daughter of pow-wah-kaan? nay, of what is it to them that they should care? better should i tell them thou art an ill wife, given to creeping from thy husband's bed when sleep is heavy in his eyes."
again he reached out for her, but she fled away from him to mrs. van wyck, at whose feet she made frenzied appeal, and whose knees she tried to clasp. but the lady stepped back and gave permission with her eyes to canim. he gripped li wan under the shoulders and raised her to her feet. she fought with him, in a madness of despair, till his chest was heaving with the exertion, and they had reeled about over half the room.
"let me go, canim," she sobbed.
but he twisted her wrist till she ceased to struggle. "the memories of the little moose-bird are overstrong and make trouble," he began.
"i know! i know!" she broke in. "i see the man in the snow, and as never before i see him crawl on hand and knee. and i, who am a little child, am carried on his back. and this is before pow-wah-kaan and the time i came to live in a little corner of the earth."
"you know," he answered, forcing her toward the door; "but you will go with me down the yukon and forget."
"never shall i forget! so long as my skin is white shall i remember!" she clutched frantically at the door-post and looked a last appeal to mrs. evelyn van wyck.
"then will i teach thee to forget, i, canim, the canoe!"
as he spoke he pulled her fingers clear and passed out with her upon the trail.
该作者的其它作品
《野性的呼唤 the call of the wild》
《白牙 white fang》
《martin eden马丁·伊登》
