Fur Pirates/Chapter 10

stared at the speaker and at each other.

"Not in Ahtikamag!" Dunleath exclaimed. "Are you certain?"

"Sure. It's in Shingoos, the last lake as you go through 'em. You go through that lake with all the islands, and a couple more smaller ones, and then you strike Shingoos."

"Yes, that's what we did. But we thought it was Ahtikamag."

"No, Ahtikamag lies off to the west. It's fed by the Little Pipe. Unless you was lookin' for it, you wouldn't know it was there at all, just passin' through. The channel leadin' in to them lakes looks like a blind bay on Saguhegun." He spoke with the certainty of absolute knowledge.

"By George!" Mr. Fothergill exclaimed. "Old Tom made a mistake."

"It looks like it," Dunleath agreed. "That would account for a lot of things. Do you know," he asked, "if there is a creek making into Ahtikamag on the west side near the upper end?"

"Yeh, about a couple of miles from the end. She's quite a crick, too. She cañons a half mile or so from the lake. I went up her once, a good many years ago."

"Well, I'll be hanged!" Mr. Fothergill exclaimed, in disgust. "Here we've wasted two weeks and let our outfit break up. I could have sworn old Tom knew the country. Louis, do you hear that? We made a mistake in the lake."

But Louis, when told what Toft had said, scoffed at it.

"I guess I know bettaire as dat," said he. "I guess I know Tom purty well, an' he don't mak' no mistak', heem."

"Well, I ain't sayin' he did," said Toft mildly. "All I say is that that sink-hole island ain't in Ahtikamag. That's all. I don't know nothin' about this here Tom."

"Ba gosh," said Louis, "I se& dat island my own self. An' for sure she's dere."

"If you seen her," Toft responded, "you seen her in Shingoos Lake—unless she's moved."

"Bah! You mak' me tire'," scoffed Louis. "I guess you ain't know dis co'ntree bettaire as my partner, ol'-timer."

"I don't claim to," Toft returned. "I'm merely tellin' these gents what I know, because they asked me."

"Well, I guess you ain't know so moch," said Louis contemptuously.

Toft let this go without reply; but Dinny Pack took a hand.

"Look here, you big pea soup," said he "you want to go plumb easy on that line of talk, savvy!"

"Is dat so?" Louis retorted ironically. "Well, I guess I do my own talkin', yo'ng feller, wit'out hax you!"

"That will be plenty, Louis," said Dunleath quietly. And to Toft: "Our guide had no doubt that we were in Ahtikamag. He took us there without any hesitation."

"Well, of course I don't know anything about that," Toft replied. "It's none of my business. You asked me about the island and I told you it was in Shingoos. So it is. That's all I've got to say."

"We'll go back," Mr. Fothergill announced. "Will you men take us to the real Ahtikamag?"

The partners looked at each other. They appeared to arrive at an understanding without words.

"If you want us to," Toft replied. "It's pretty much on our way, anyhow."

"Of course we expect to pay you," said Mr. Fothergill. "You name your figure."

"Sho! Tain't worth nothin'," said Toft.

"It is to us," Dunleath told him. "It's pretty important."

"So," said Toft. He asked no question, even by inflection. Possibly this decided Dunleath.

"We are after Nitche McNab's cache," said he, "and we think it is on Ahtikamag. We'd like to make a deal with you to help us find it."

"You can make it," Toft replied.

They made it then and there, and Dunleath told him what we knew about Nitche McNab and the cache. But Louis, who had listened scornfully, made objection.

"Ba gosh," said he, "I t'ink all crazee biz-ness, me. Tom, he's know dem lac, all right. We hunt on dat Ahtikamag already. I ain't want for go back dere an' waste my time."

"You're paid for it," Dunleath reminded him tartly. "And we're not going to the same place."

"You'll go some fool place," Louis returned. "I want for pass myself on dat Carcajou, me. I got plentee for do dere. Dat's de bargain we mak' wit' you. Dem boys an' Tom dey go prospec', an' we pass ourself on home."

"Nonsense, Louis!" said Mr. Fother-gill. "We're not going home now, when there's a good chance of finding what we came after."

"Good chance not'ing!" scoffed Louis. "You hear crazee story 'bout some lac, an' you believe him. Dose man she's fool you wit' dam lie!"

"What's that?" said Dinny Pack sharply, getting to his feet.

"I say you fool dese pilgrim wit' dam lie," Louis reiterated flatly. "You don't know not'ing about dem lac."

"Maybe I don't," Pack admitted. "But my partner does if he says he does, and no pea soup's going to call him a liar. Take it back or eat it!"

"Hold on, hold on!" cried Jim Dunleath, springing up.

"I don' tak' not'ing" Louis began, and Dinny Pack's fist cut the sentence in half.

It cracked against Louis' jaw like a mallet on a plank, but with little more result, though it would have dropped an ordinary man. But Louis was not an ordinary man.

With a tremendous bass bellow, he sprang at Pack, and, though he took another punch which should have stopped him, it entirely failed to do so. He caught him about the body, and in an instant there was a furious struggle which whirled about the fire, scattering cooking utensils in all directions. They went right through the blaze, stamping it to a red glow and plunging us into partial darkness, and as they fought they cursed pantingly through clenched teeth.

Dunleath tried to part them, but the weight of their locked, twisting bodies brushed him aside. They went down, still locked, rolling over and over like dogs, for neither could pin the other to the ground.

It was Louis who at last came uppermost and reached for Pack's throat. But Jim Dunleath and Mr. Fothergill both caught him and dragged him off. And the former got a twisting grip on him which held him, strong as he was, momentarily powerless.

"Quit it, Louis!" he cried. "No more of this goes, understand!"

"He's ponch me on my face," cried Louis.. "Ba gosh I bus' heem up for dat!"

"Turn him loose!" Dinny Pack challenged. "I'll bet he don't clinch me again."

But his partner pushed him back, and the others held Louis, and finally they calmed down a little.

"Make it up," Jim Dunleath advised. "You shouldn't have said what you did, Louis. Shake hands and let it go, Pack."

"Well, mebbe I tak' dat back w'at I say," said Louis. "I shake hands wit' heem if he's lak." But I thought I saw the ghost of a wicked smile in his eyes.

"Suits me, if you say so," said Dinny Pack. "I never refused to shake with a good man, if he wanted it that way. And I'll own up that you're the strongest man I ever had hold of." He held out his hand.

"You t'ink so," said Louis. "Well, we jus' shake on dat. Catch holt."

He caught Pack's hand. For a moment it looked like an ordinary handshake, and then I saw that it was not. The big Frenchman did not let go. He was putting all his power into his fingers. From wrist to shoulder I saw the sinews and muscles tauten, harden, and swell. The veins stood out upon his forehead with the concentration of the grip.

But Pack, I think, had divined his purpose before it was too late. He had shot his hand in thumb crotch to thumb crotch, and before the heaviness of the grip was laid on him he had made a quick step forward, so that the two hands were close beside his hip. And this gave him added power and leverage. Less heavily muscled than Louis, he held him even by superior fiber.

But gradually the Frenchman's vast strength told. I could see Pack's arm quiver a little with the strain which he was now forcing, and Louis knew it, too. He grinned, and suddenly dropped his shoulder six inches. The action brought his face close to Pack's, which grew white. And then Louis loosed the limp hand and laughed.

"By gar," said he, "you'll be strong man, too, but not so strong lak ol' Louis. I guess mebbe dat mak' us square on dat ponch you hand me, hey?"

Dinny Pack wrung his powerless fingers.

"You're lucky I don't hand you another," he said. "Well, I can take my medicine when I can't help it. Only don't try nothin' like that again."

But Louis laughed as if he regarded it as a huge joke, and filled his pipe.

"All right," he responded, "we be good frien's now, hey?" And, turning to Mr. Fothergill, he said: "I guess, if you want for pass yourself on dose lac again, dat's your biz-ness, an' I don't kick some more. I come wit' you. I guess you don't get along so well wit'out me to cook, yes!"

And so, the trouble having blown over, leaving a clear sky, we rolled up in our blankets, and I for one slept like the proverbial log.

I woke in the morning to see old Ike Toft by a freshly kindled fire, busy preparing breakfast. And while I was wondering hazily why he was doing Louis' work, Dunleath stirred and sat up.

"Hello!" he said. "What are you rustling grub for?"

"Somebody's got to," Toft replied.

"But where's Louis? That's his work."

Toft greased the pan methodically.

"I dunno where he is," he answered. "But it's a cinch he ain't here. And neither is our canoes. Dinny, he's piked off downriver to look for 'em."