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at the sight of Jees Uck. As for Amos, the very thought of the
girl was sufficient to send his blood pounding up into a
hemorrhage.
Jees Uck, whose mind was simple, who thought elementally and was
unused to weighing life in its subtler quantities, read Amos
Pentley like a book. She warned Bonner, openly and bluntly, in few
words; but the complexities of higher existence confused the
situation to him, and he laughed at her evident anxiety. To him,
Amos was a poor, miserable devil, tottering desperately into the
grave. And Bonner, who had suffered much, found it easy to forgive
greatly.
But one morning, during a bitter snap, he got up from the
breakfast-table and went into the store. Jees Uck was already
there, rosy from the trail, to buy a sack of flour. A few minutes
later, he was out in the snow lashing the flour on her sled. As he
bent over he noticed a stiffness in his neck and felt a premonition
of impending physical misfortune. And as he put the last half-
hitch into the lashing and attempted to straighten up, a quick
spasm seized him and he sank into the snow. Tense and quivering,
head jerked back, limbs extended, back arched and mouth twisted and
distorted, he appeared as though being racked limb from limb.
Without cry or sound, Jees Uck was in the snow beside him; but he
clutched both her wrists spasmodically, and as long as the
convulsion endured she was helpless. In a few moments the spasm
relaxed and he was left weak and fainting, his forehead beaded with
sweat, and his lips flecked with foam.
“Quick!” he muttered, in a strange, hoarse voice. “Quick!
Inside!”
He started to crawl on hands and knees, but she raised him up, and,
supported by her young arm, he made faster progress. As he entered
the store the spasm seized him again, and his body writhed
irresistibly away from her and rolled and curled on the floor.
Amos Pentley came and looked on with curious eyes.
“Oh, Amos!” she cried in an agony of apprehension and helplessness,
“him die, you think?” But Amos shrugged his shoulders and
continued to look on.
Bonner’s body went slack, the tense muscles easing down and an
expression of relief coming into his face. “Quick!” he gritted
between his teeth, his mouth twisting with the on-coming of the
next spasm and with his effort to control it. “Quick, Jees Uck!
The medicine! Never mind! Drag me!”
She knew where the medicine-chest stood, at the rear of the room
beyond the stove, and thither, by the legs, she dragged the
struggling man. As the spasm passed he began, very faint and very
sick, to overhaul the chest. He had seen dogs die exhibiting
symptoms similar to his own, and he knew what should be done. He
held up a vial of chloral hydrate, but his fingers were too weak
and nerveless to draw the cork. This Jees Uck did for him, while
he was plunged into another convulsion. As he came out of it he
found the open bottle proffered him, and looked into the great
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black eyes of the woman and read what men have always read in the
Mate-woman’s eyes. Taking a full dose of the stuff, he sank back
until another spasm had passed. Then he raised himself limply on
his elbow.
“Listen, Jees Uck!” he said very slowly, as though aware of the
necessity for haste and yet afraid to hasten. “Do what I say.
Stay by my side, but do not touch me. I must be very quiet, but
you must not go away.” His jaw began to set and his face to quiver
and distort with the fore-running pangs, but he gulped and
struggled to master them. “Do not got away. And do not let Amos
go away. Understand! Amos must stay right here.”
She nodded her head, and he passed off into the first of many
convulsions, which gradually diminished in force and frequency.
Jees Uck hung over him remembering his injunction and not daring to
touch him. Once Amos grew restless and made as though to go into
the kitchen; but a quick blaze from her eyes quelled him, and after
that, save for his laboured breathing and charnel cough, he was
very quiet.
Bonner slept. The blink of light that marked the day disappeared.
Amos, followed about by the woman’s eyes, lighted the kerosene
lamps. Evening came on. Through the north window the heavens were
emblazoned with an auroral display, which flamed and flared and
died down into blackness. Some time after that, Neil Bonner
roused. First he looked to see that Amos was still there, then
smiled at Jees Uck and pulled himself up. Every muscle was stiff
and sore, and he smiled ruefully, pressing and prodding himself as
if to ascertain the extent of the ravage. Then his face went stern
and businesslike.
“Jees Uck,” he said, “take a candle. Go into the kitchen. There
is food on the table–biscuits and beans and bacon; also, coffee in
the pot on the stove. Bring it here on the counter. Also, bring
tumblers and water and whisky, which you will find on the top shelf
of the locker. Do not forget the whisky.”
Having swallowed a stiff glass of the whisky, he went carefully
through the medicine chest, now and again putting aside, with
definite purpose, certain bottles and vials. Then he set to work
on the food, attempting a crude analysis. He had not been unused
to the laboratory in his college days and was possessed of
sufficient imagination to achieve results with his limited
materials. The condition of tetanus, which had marked his
paroxysms, simplified matters, and he made but one test. The
coffee yielded nothing; nor did the beans. To the biscuits he
devoted the utmost care. Amos, who knew nothing of chemistry,
looked on with steady curiosity. But Jees Uck, who had boundless
faith in the white man’s wisdom, and especially in Neil Bonner’s
wisdom, and who not only knew nothing but knew that she knew
nothing watched his face rather than his hands.
Step by step he eliminated possibilities, until he came to the
final test. He was using a thin medicine vial for a tube, and this
he held between him and the light, watching the slow precipitation
of a salt through the solution contained in the tube. He said
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nothing, but he saw what he had expected to see. And Jees Uck, her
eyes riveted on his face, saw something too,–something that made
her spring like a tigress upon Amos, and with splendid suppleness
and strength bend his body back across her knee. Her knife was out
of its sheaf and uplifted, glinting in the lamplight. Amos was
snarling; but Bonner intervened ere the blade could fall.
“That’s a good girl, Jees Uck. But never mind. Let him go!”
She dropped the man obediently, though with protest writ large on
her face; and his body thudded to the floor. Bonner nudged him
with his moccasined foot.
“Get up, Amos!” he commanded. “You’ve got to pack an outfit yet
to-night and hit the trail.”
“You don’t mean to say–” Amos blurted savagely.
“I mean to say that you tried to kill me,” Neil went on in cold,
even tones. “I mean to say that you killed Birdsall, for all the
Company believes he killed himself. You used strychnine in my
case. God knows with what you fixed him. Now I can’t hang you.
You’re too near dead as it is. But Twenty Mile is too small for
the pair of us, and you’ve got to mush. It’s two hundred miles to
Holy Cross. You can make it if you’re careful not to over-exert.
I’ll give you grub, a sled, and three dogs. You’ll be as safe as
if you were in jail, for you can’t get out of the country. And
I’ll give you one chance. You’re almost dead. Very well. I shall
send no word to the Company until the spring. In the meantime, the
thing for you to do is to die. Now MUSH!”
“You go to bed!” Jees Uck insisted, when Amos had churned away into
the night towards Holy Cross. “You sick man yet, Neil.”
“And you’re a good girl, Jees Uck,” he answered. “And here’s my
hand on it. But you must go home.”
“You don’t like me,” she said simply.
He smiled, helped her on with her PARKA, and led her to the door.
“Only too well, Jees Uck,” he said softly; “only too well.”
After that the pall of the Arctic night fell deeper and blacker on
the land. Neil Bonner discovered that he had failed to put proper
valuation upon even the sullen face of the murderous and death-
stricken Amos. It became very lonely at Twenty Mile. “For the
love of God, Prentiss, send me a man,” he wrote to the agent at