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diff --git a/19527.txt b/19527.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9baf7f9 --- /dev/null +++ b/19527.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8837 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Yukon Trail, by William MacLeod Raine, +Illustrated by George Ellis Wolfe + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Yukon Trail + A Tale of the North + + +Author: William MacLeod Raine + + + +Release Date: October 11, 2006 [eBook #19527] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YUKON TRAIL*** + + +E-text prepared by David Garcia and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net/) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 19527-h.htm or 19527-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/9/5/0/19527/19527-h/19527-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/9/5/0/19527/19527-h.zip) + + + +-------------------------------------------------------+ + | Transcriber's note: | + | | + | Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original | + | document have been preserved. | + | | + +-------------------------------------------------------+ + + + + + +THE YUKON TRAIL + +A Tale of the North + +by + +WILLIAM MacLEOD RAINE + +Author of +Wyoming, Bucky O'Connor, Etc. + +With Illustrations by George Ellis Wolfe + + + + + + + +[Illustration: NOW HE CAUGHT HER BY THE SHOULDERS (_See page 108_)] + + + +New York +Grosset & Dunlap +Publishers +Copyright, 1917, by William MacLeod Raine +All Rights Reserved +Published May 1917 + + + + + TO + MY BROTHER + EDGAR C. RAINE + + who knew the Lights of Dawson when they were a magnet to the feet + of those answering the call of Adventure, who mushed the Yukon Trail + from its headwaters to Bering Sea, who still finds in the Frozen + North the Romance of the Last Frontier. + + + + +Contents + + + I. Going "In" 1 + II. Enter a Man 10 + III. The Girl from Drogheda 23 + IV. The Crevasse 34 + V. Across the Traverse 49 + VI. Sheba sings--and Two Men listen 58 + VII. Wally gets Orders 71 + VIII. The End of the Passage 82 + IX. Gid Holt goes prospecting 93 + X. The Rah-Rah Boy functions 109 + XI. Gordon invites himself to Dinner--and does not enjoy it 125 + XII. Sheba says "Perhaps" 137 + XIII. Diane and Gordon differ 144 + XIV. Genevieve Mallory takes a Hand 156 + XV. Gordon buys a Revolver 170 + XVI. Ambushed 181 + XVII. "God save you kindly" 193 + XVIII. Gordon spends a Busy Evening 201 + XIX. Sheba does not think so 210 + XX. Gordon finds himself Unpopular 217 + XXI. A New Way of leaving a House 227 + XXII. Gid Holt comes to Kusiak 232 + XXIII. In the Dead of Night 241 + XXIV. Macdonald follows a Clue 247 + XXV. In the Blizzard 256 + XXVI. Hard Mushing 268 + XXVII. Two on the Trail 275 + XXVIII. A Message from the Dead 286 + XXIX. "Don't touch him! Don't you dare touch him!" 292 + XXX. Holt frees his Mind 301 + XXXI. Sheba digs 308 + XXXII. Diane changes her Mind 318 + + + + +Illustrations + + + Now he caught her by the shoulders _Frontispiece_ + "So you think I'm a 'fraid-cat, Mr. Elliot?" 44 + The situation was piquant, even though it was at her expense 236 + For him the beauty of the night lay largely in her presence 322 + + + + + + + The Yukon Trail + + + + +CHAPTER I + +GOING "IN" + + +The midnight sun had set, but in a crotch between two snow-peaks it +had kindled a vast caldron from which rose a mist of jewels, garnet +and turquoise, topaz and amethyst and opal, all swimming in a sea of +molten gold. The glow of it still clung to the face of the broad Yukon, +as a flush does to the soft, wrinkled cheek of a girl just roused from +deep sleep. + +Except for a faint murkiness in the air it was still day. There was +light enough for the four men playing pinochle on the upper deck, though +the women of their party, gossiping in chairs grouped near at hand, had +at last put aside their embroidery. The girl who sat by herself at a +little distance held a magazine still open on her lap. If she were not +reading, her attitude suggested it was less because of the dusk than +that she had surrendered herself to the spell of the mysterious beauty +which for this hour at least had transfigured the North to a land all +light and atmosphere and color. + +Gordon Elliot had taken the boat at Pierre's Portage, fifty miles +farther down the river. He had come direct from the creeks, and his +impressions of the motley pioneer life at the gold-diggings were so +vivid that he had found an isolated corner of the deck where he could +scribble them in a notebook while still fresh. + +But he had not been too busy to see that the girl in the wicker chair +was as much of an outsider as he was. Plainly this was her first trip +in. Gordon was a stranger in the Yukon country, one not likely to be +over-welcome when it became known what his mission was. It may have been +because he was out of the picture himself that he resented a little the +exclusion of the young woman with the magazine. Certainly she herself +gave no evidence of feeling about it. Her long-lashed eyes looked +dreamily across the river to the glowing hills beyond. Not once did they +turn with any show of interest to the lively party under the awning. + +From where he was leaning against the deckhouse Elliot could see only +a fine, chiseled profile shading into a mass of crisp, black hair, but +some quality in the detachment of her personality stimulated gently his +imagination. He wondered who she could be. His work had taken him to +frontier camps before, but he could not place her as a type. The best +he could do was to guess that she might be the daughter of some +territorial official on her way in to join him. + +A short, thick-set man who had ridden down on the stage with Elliot to +Pierre's Portage drifted along the deck toward him. He wore the careless +garb of a mining man in a country which looks first to comfort. + +"Bound for Kusiak?" he asked, by way of opening conversation. + +"Yes," answered Gordon. + +The miner nodded toward the group under the awning. "That bunch lives +at Kusiak. They've got on at different places the last two or three +days--except Selfridge and his wife, they've been out. Guess you can +tell that from hearing her talk--the little woman in red with the snappy +black eyes. She's spillin' over with talk about the styles in New York +and the cabarets and the new shows. That pot-bellied little fellow in +the checked suit is Selfridge. He is Colby Macdonald's man Friday." + +Elliot took in with a quickened interest the group bound for Kusiak. He +had noticed that they monopolized as a matter of course the best places +on the deck and in the dining-room. They were civil enough to outsiders, +but their manner had the unconscious selfishness that often regulates +social activities. It excluded from their gayety everybody that did not +belong to the proper set. + +"That sort of thing gets my goat," the miner went on sourly. "Those +women over there have elected themselves Society with a capital S. They +put on all the airs the Four Hundred do in New York. And who the hell +are they anyhow?--wives to a bunch of grafting politicians mostly." + +From the casual talk that had floated to him, with its many little +allusions punctuating the jolly give-and-take of their repartee, Elliot +guessed that their lives had the same background of tennis, dinners, +hops, official gossip, and business. They evidently knew one another +with the intimacy that comes only to the segment of a small community +shut off largely from the world and forced into close social relations. +No doubt they had loaned each other money occasionally, stood by in +trouble, and gossiped back and forth about their shortcomings and family +skeletons even as society on the outside does. + +"That's the way of the world, isn't it? Our civilization is built on the +group system," suggested Elliot. + +"Maybeso," grumbled the miner. "But I hate to see Alaska come to it. +Me, I saw this country first in '97--packed an outfit in over the Pass. +Every man stood on his own hind legs then. He got there if he was +strong--mebbe; he bogged down on the trail good and plenty if he was +weak. We didn't have any of the artificial stuff then. A man had to have +the guts to stand the gaff." + +"I suppose it was a wild country, Mr. Strong." + +The little miner's eyes gleamed. "Best country in the world. We +didn't stand for anything that wasn't on the level. It was a poor +man's country--wages fifteen dollars a day and plenty of work. Everybody +had a chance. Anybody could stake a claim and gamble on his luck. Now +the big corporations have slipped in and grabbed the best. It ain't +a prospector's proposition any more. Instead of faro banks we've got +savings banks. The wide-open dance hall has quit business in favor +of moving pictures. And, as I said before, we've got Society." + +"All frontier countries have to come to it." + +"Hmp! In the days I'm telling you about that crowd there couldn't 'a' +hustled meat to fill their bellies three meals. Parasites, that's what +they are. They're living off that bunch of roughnecks down there and +folks like 'em." + +With a wave of his hand Strong pointed to a group of miners who had +boarded the boat with them at Pierre's Portage. There were about a dozen +of the men, for the most part husky, heavy-set foreigners. They had been +drinking, and were in a sullen humor. Elliot gathered from their talk +that they had lost their jobs because they had tried to organize an +incipient strike in the Frozen Gulch district. + +"Roughnecks and booze-fighters--that's all they are. But they earn their +way. Not that I blame Macdonald for firing them, mind you," continued +the miner. + +"Were they working for Macdonald?" + +"Yep. His superintendent up there was too soft. These here Swedes got +gay. Mac hit the trail for Frozen Gulch. He hammered his big fist +into the bread-basket of the ringleader and said, 'Git!' That fellow's +running yet, I'll bet. Then Mac called the men together and read the +riot act to them. He fired this bunch on the boat and was out of the +camp before you could bat an eye. It was the cleanest hurry-up job I +ever did see." + +"From what I've heard about him he must be a remarkable man." + +"He's the biggest man in Alaska, bar none." + +This was a subject that interested Gordon Elliot very much. Colby +Macdonald and his activities had brought him to the country. + +"Do you mean personally--or because he represents the big corporations?" + +"Both. His word comes pretty near being law up here, not only because +he stands for the Consolidated, but because he's one man from the ground +up. I ain't any too strong for that New York bunch of capitalists back +of Mac, but I've got to give it to him that he's all there without +leaning on anybody." + +"I've heard that he's a domineering man--rides roughshod over others. +Is that right, Mr. Strong?" + +"He's a bear for getting his own way," grinned the little miner. "If you +won't get out of his road he peels your hide off and hangs it up to dry. +But I can't help liking him. He's big every way you take him. He'll +stand the acid, Mac will." + +"Do you mean that he's square--honest?" + +"You've said two things, my friend," answered Strong dryly. "He's +square. If he tells you anything, don't worry because he ain't put down +his John Hancock before a notary. He'll see it through to a finish--to +a fighting finish if he has to. Don't waste any time looking for fat or +yellow streaks in Mac. They ain't there. Nobody ever heard him squeal +yet and what's more nobody ever will." + +"No wonder men like him." + +"But when you say honest--Hell, no! Not the way you define honesty +down in the States. He's a grabber, Mac is. Better not leave anything +valuable around unless you've got it spiked to the floor. He takes what +he wants." + +"What does he look like?" asked Gordon. + +"Oh, I don't know." Strong hesitated, while he searched for words to +show the picture in his mind. "Big as a house--steps out like a buck +in the spring--blue-gray eyes that bore right through you." + +"How old?" + +"Search me. You never think of age when you're looking at him. +Forty-five, mebbe--or fifty--I don't know." + +"Married?" + +"No-o." Hanford Strong nodded in the direction of the Kusiak circle. +"They say he's going to marry Mrs. Mallory. She's the one with the red +hair." + +It struck young Elliot that the miner was dismissing Mrs. Mallory in too +cavalier a fashion. She was the sort of woman at whom men look twice, +and then continue to look while she appears magnificently unaware of it. +Her hair was not red, but of a lustrous bronze, amazingly abundant, +and dressed in waves with the careful skill of a coiffeur. Half-shut, +smouldering eyes had met his for an instant at dinner across the table +and had told him she was a woman subtle and complex. Slightest shades +of meaning she could convey with a lift of the eyebrow or an intonation +of the musical voice. If she was already fencing with the encroaching +years there was little evidence of it in her opulent good looks. She had +manifestly specialized in graceful idleness and was prepared to meet +with superb confidence the competition of debutantes. The elusive shadow +of lost illusions, of knowledge born of experience, was the only +betrayal of vanished youth in her equipment. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +ENTER A MAN + + +The whistle of the Hannah blew for the Tatlah Cache landing while Strong +and Elliot were talking. Wally Selfridge had just bid three hundred +seventy and found no help in the widow. He pushed toward each of the +other players one red chip and two white ones. + +"Can't make it," he announced. "I needed a jack of clubs." + +The men counted their chips and settled up in time to reach the deck +rail just as the gangplank was thrown out to the wharf. The crew +transferred to the landing a pouch of mail, half a ton of sacked +potatoes, some mining machinery, and several boxes containing provisions +and dry goods. + +A man came to the end of the wharf carrying a suitcase. He was well-set, +thick in the chest, and broad-shouldered. He came up the gangplank with +the strong, firm tread of a man in his prime. Looking down from above, +Gordon Elliot guessed him to be in the early thirties. + +Mrs. Mallory was the first to recognize him, which she did with a +drawling little shout of welcome. "Oh you, Mr. Man. I knew you first. +I speak for you," she cried. + +The man on the gangplank looked up, smiled, and lifted to her his broad +gray Stetson in a wave of greeting. + +"How do you do, Mrs. Mallory? Glad to see you." + +The miners from Frozen Gulch were grouped together on the lower deck. +At sight of the man with the suitcase a sullen murmur rose among them. +Those in the rear pushed forward and closed the lane leading to the +cabins. One of the miners was flung roughly against the new passenger. +With a wide, powerful sweep of his arm the man who had just come aboard +hurled the miner back among his companions. + +"Gangway!" he said brusquely, and as he strode forward did not even +glance in the direction of the angry men pressing toward him. + +"Here. Keep back there, you fellows. None of that rough stuff goes," +ordered the mate sharply. + +The big Cornishman who had been tossed aside crouched for a spring. He +launched himself forward with the awkward force of a bear. The suitcase +described a whirling arc of a circle with the arm of its owner as the +radius. The bag and the head of the miner came into swift impact. Like +a bullock which has been pole-axed the man went to the floor. He turned +over with a groan and lay still. + +The new passenger looked across the huge, sprawling body at the group +of miners facing him. They glared in savage hate. All they needed was a +leader to send them driving at him with the force of an avalanche. The +man at whom they raged did not give an inch. He leaned forward slightly, +his weight resting on the balls of his feet, alert to the finger tips. +But in his eyes a grim little smile of derisive amusement rested. + +"Next," he taunted. + +Then the mate got busy. He hustled his stevedores forward in front of +the miners and shook his fist in their faces as he stormed up and down. +If they wanted trouble, by God! it was waiting for 'em, he swore in +apoplectic fury. The Hannah was a river boat and not a dive for wharf +rats. No bunch of roughnecks could come aboard a boat where he was mate +and start anything. They could not assault any passengers of his and +make it stick. + +The man with the suitcase did not wait to hear out his tirade. He +followed the purser to his stateroom, dropped his baggage beside the +berth, and joined the Kusiak group on the upper deck. + +They greeted him eagerly, a little effusively, as if they were anxious +to prove themselves on good terms with him. The deference they paid and +his assured acceptance of it showed him to be a man of importance. But +apart from other considerations, he dominated by mental and physical +virility the circle of which he instantly became the center. Only Mrs. +Mallory held her own, and even she showed a quickened interest. Her +indolent, half-disdainful manner sheathed a soft sensuousness that held +the provocation of sex appeal. + +"What was the matter?" asked Selfridge. "How did the trouble start?" + +The big man shrugged his shoulders. "It didn't start. Some of the outfit +thought they were looking for a row, but they balked on the job when +Trelawney got his." Turning to Mrs. Mallory, he changed the subject +abruptly. "Did you have a good time down the river?" + +Gordon, as he watched from a little distance, corrected earlier +impressions. This man had passed the thirties. Salt and pepper sprinkled +the temples of his strong, lean head. He had the thick neck and solid +trunk of middle life, but he carried himself so superbly that his whole +bearing denied that years could touch his splendid physique. The suit he +wore was a wrinkled corduroy, with trouser legs thrust into high-laced +boots. An outdoor tan had been painted upon his face and neck, from the +point where the soft flannel shirt fell away to show the fine slope of +the throat line to the shoulders. + +Strong had stepped to the wharf to talk with an old acquaintance, but +when the boat threw out a warning signal he made a hurried good-bye and +came on board. He rejoined Elliot. + +"Well, what d'you think of him? Was I right?" + +The young man had already guessed who this imperious stranger was. "I +never saw anybody get away with a hard job as easily as he did that one. +You could see with half an eye that those fellows meant fight. They were +all primed for it--and he bluffed them out." + +"Bluffed them--huh! If that's what you call bluffing. I was where I +could see just what happened. Colby Macdonald wasn't even looking at +Trelawney, but you bet he saw him start. That suitcase traveled like +a streak of light. You'd 'a' thought it weighed about two pounds. That +ain't all either. Mac used his brains. Guess what was in that grip." + +"The usual thing, I suppose." + +"You've got another guess--packed in among his socks and underwear was +about twenty pounds of ore samples. The purser told me. It was that +quartz put Trelawney to sleep so thorough that he'd just begun to wake +up when I passed a minute ago." + +The young man turned his eyes again upon the big Canadian Scotchman. +He was talking with Mrs. Mallory, who was leaning back luxuriously +in a steamer chair she had brought aboard at St. Michael's. It would +have been hard to conceive a contrast greater than the one between +this pampered heiress of the ages and the modern business berserk who +looked down into her mocking eyes. He was the embodiment of the dominant +male,--efficient to the last inch of his straight six feet. What he +wanted he had always taken, by the sheer strength that was in him. Back +of her smiling insolence lay a silken force to match his own. She too +had taken what she wanted from life, but she had won it by indirection. +Manifestly she was of those women who conceive that charm and beauty +are tools to bend men to their wills. Was it the very width of the gulf +between them that made the appeal of the clash in the sex duel upon +which they had engaged? + +The dusky young woman with the magazine was the first of those on +the upper deck to retire for the night. She flitted so quietly that +Gordon did not notice until she had gone. Mrs. Selfridge and her friends +disappeared with their men folks, calling gay good-nights to one another +as they left. + +Macdonald and Mrs. Mallory still talked. After a time she too vanished. + +The big promoter leaned against the deck rail, where he was joined by +Selfridge. For a long time they talked in low voices. The little man had +most to say. His chief listened, but occasionally interrupted to ask a +sharp, incisive question. + +Elliot, sitting farther forward with Strong, judged that Selfridge was +making a report of his trip. Once he caught a fragment of their talk, +enough to confirm this impression. + +"Did Winton tell you that himself?" demanded the Scotchman. + +The answer of his employee came in a murmur so low that the words were +lost. But the name used told Gordon a good deal. The Commissioner of the +General Land Office at Washington signed his letters Harold B. Winton. + +Strong tossed the stub of his cigarette overboard and nodded +good-night. A glance at his watch told Elliot that it was past two +o'clock. He rose, stretched, and sauntered back to his stateroom. + +The young man had just taken off his coat when there came the hurried +rush of trampling feet upon the hurricane deck above. Almost instantly +he heard a cry of alarm. Low voices, quick with suppressed excitement, +drifted back to him. He could hear the shuffling of footsteps and the +sound of heavy bodies moving. + +Some one lifted a frightened shout. "Help! Help!" The call had come, he +thought, from Selfridge. + +Gordon flung open the door of his room, raced along the deck, and took +the stairs three at a time. A huddle of men swayed and shifted heavily +in front of him. So close was the pack that the motion resembled the +writhing of some prehistoric monster rather than the movements of +individual human beings. In that half-light tossing arms and legs looked +like tentacles flung out in agony by the mammoth reptile. Its progress +was jerky and convulsive, sometimes tortuous, but it traveled slowly +toward the rail as if by the impulsion of an irresistible pressure. + +Even as he ran toward the mass, Elliot noticed that the only sounds were +grunts, stertorous breathings, and the scraping of feet. The attackers +wanted no publicity. The attacked was too busy to waste breath in futile +cries. He was fighting for his life with all the stark energy nature and +his ancestors had given him. + +Two men, separated from the crowd, lay on the deck farther aft. One was +on top of the other, his fingers clutching the gullet of his helpless +opponent. The agony of the man underneath found expression only in the +drumming heels that beat a tattoo on the floor. The spasmodic feet were +shod in Oxford tans of an ultra-fashionable cut. No doubt the owner of +the smart footwear had been pulled down as he was escaping to shout the +alarm. + +The runner hurdled the two in his stride and plunged straight at the +struggling tangle. He caught one man by the shoulders from behind and +flung him back. He struck hard, smashing blows as he fought his way to +the heart of the melee. Heavy-fisted miners with corded muscles landed +upon his face and head and neck. The strange excitement of the battle +lust surged through his veins. He did not care a straw for the odds. + +The sudden attack of Elliot had opened the pack. The man battling +against a dozen was Colby Macdonald. The very number of his foes had +saved him so far from being rushed overboard or trampled down. In their +desire to get at him they hindered each other, struck blows that found +the wrong mark. His coat and shirt were in rags. He was bruised and +battered and bleeding from the chest up. But he was still slogging hard. + +They had him pressed to the rail. A huge miner, head down, had his arms +around the waist of the Scotchman and was trying to throw him overboard. +Macdonald lashed out and landed flush upon the cheek of a man attempting +to brain him with a billet of wood. He hammered home a short-arm jolt +against the ear of the giant who was giving him the bear grip. + +The big miner grunted, but hung on like a football tackler. With a jerk +he raised Macdonald from the floor just as three or four others rushed +him again. The rail gave way, splintered like kindling wood. The +Scotchman and the man at grips with him went over the side together. + +Clear and loud rang the voice of Elliot. "Man overboard!" + +The wheelsman had known for some minutes that there was trouble afoot. +He signaled to the engine room to reverse and blew short, sharp shrieks +of warning. Already deckhands and officers, scantily clad, were +appearing from fore and aft. + +"Men overboard--two of 'em!" explained Elliot in a shout from the boat +which he was trying to lower. + +The first mate and another man ran to help him. The three of them +lowered and manned the boat. Gordon sat in the bow and gave directions +while the other two put their backs into the stroke. Quite casually +Elliot noticed that the man in the waist had a purple bruise on his left +cheek bone. The young man himself had put it there not three minutes +since. + +Across the water came a call for help. "I'm sinking--hurry!" + +The other man in the river was a dozen yards from the one in distress. +With strong, swift, overhand strokes he shot through the water. + +"All right," he called presently. "I've got him." + +The oarsmen drew alongside the swimmer. With one hand Macdonald caught +hold of the edge of the boat. The other clutched the rescued man by the +hair of his head. + +"Look out. You're drowning him," the mate warned. + +"Am I?" Macdonald glanced with mild interest at the head that had been +until that moment submerged. "Shows how absent-minded a man gets. I was +thinking about how he tried to drown me, I expect." + +They dragged the miner aboard. + +"Go ahead. I'll swim down," Macdonald ordered. + +"Better come aboard," advised the mate. + +"No. I'm all right." + +The Scotchman pushed himself back from the boat and fell into an easy +stroke. Nevertheless, there was power in it, for he reached the Hannah +before the rescued miner had been helped to the deck. + +A dozen passengers, crowded on the lower deck, pushed forward eagerly +to see. Among them was Selfridge, his shirt and collar torn loose at +the neck and his immaculate checked suit dusty and disheveled. He was +wearing a pair of up-to-date Oxford tans. + +The Scotch-Canadian shook himself like a Newfoundland dog. He looked +around with sardonic amusement, a grin on his swollen and disfigured +face. + +"Quite a pleasant welcome home," he said ironically, his cold eyes fixed +on a face that looked as if it might have been kicked by a healthy mule. +"Eh, Trelawney?" + +The Cornishman glared at him, and turned away with a low, savage oath. + +"Are you hurt, Mr. Macdonald?" asked the captain. + +"Hurt! Not at all, Captain. I cut myself while I was shaving this +morning--just a scratch," was the ironic answer. + +"There's been some dirty work going on. I'll see the men are punished, +sir." + +"Forget it, Captain. I'll attend to that little matter." His jaunty, +almost insolent glance made the half-circle again. "Sorry you were too +late for the party, gentlemen,--most of you. I see three or four of you +who were 'among those present.' It was a strictly exclusive affair. And +now, if you don't mind, I'll say good-night." + +He turned on his heel, went up the stairway to the deck above, and +disappeared into his stateroom. + +The rescued miner, propped against the cabin wall where he had been +placed, broke into sudden excited protest. "Ach! He tried to drown me. +Mein head--he hold it under the water." + +"Ain't that just like a Swede?" retorted the mate in disgust. "Mac saves +his life. Then the roughneck kicks because he got a belly full of Yukon. +Sure Mac soused him some. Why shouldn't he?" + +"I ain't no Swede," explained the big miner sullenly. + +The mate did not think it worth his while to explain that "Swede" was +merely his generic term of contempt for all foreigners. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE GIRL FROM DROGHEDA + + +Gordon Elliot was too much of a night owl to be an early riser, but +next morning he was awakened by the tramp of hurried feet along the +deck to the accompaniment of brusque orders, together with frequent +angry puffing and snorting of the boat. From the quiver of the walls he +guessed that the Hannah was stuck on a sandbar. The mate's language gave +backing to this surmise. Divided in mind between his obligation to the +sleeping passengers and his duty to get the boat on her way, that +officer spilled a good deal of subdued sulphurous language upon the +situation. + +"All together now. Get your back into it. Why are you running around +like a chicken without a head, Reeves?" he snapped. + +Evidently the deck hands were working to get the Hannah off by poling. + +Elliot tried to settle back to sleep, but after two or three ineffectual +efforts gave it up. He rose and did one or two setting-up exercises to +limber his joints. The first of these flashed the signal to his brain +that he was stiff and sore. This brought to mind the fight on the +hurricane deck, and he smiled. His face was about as mobile as if it +were in a plaster cast. It hurt every time he twitched a muscle. + +The young man stepped to the looking-glass. Both eyes were blacked, his +lip had been cut, and there was a purple weal well up on his left cheek. +He stopped himself from grinning only just in time to save another +twinge of pain. + +"Some party while it lasted. I never saw more willing mixers. Everybody +seemed anxious to sit in except Mr. Wally Selfridge," he explained to +his reflection. "But Macdonald is the class. He's there with both right +and left. That uppercut of his is vicious. Don't ever get in the way of +it, Gordon Elliot." He examined his injuries more closely in the glass. +"Some one landed a peach on my right lamp and the other is in mourning +out of sympathy. Oh, well, I ain't the only prize beauty on board this +morning." The young man forgot and smiled. "Ouch! Don't do that, Gordon. +Yes, son. 'There's many a black, black eye, they say, but none so bright +as mine.' Now isn't that the truth?" + +He bathed, dressed, and went out on the deck. + +Early though he was, one passenger at least was up before him. The +young woman he had noticed last evening with the magazine was doing a +constitutional. A slight breeze was stirring, and as she moved against +it the white skirt clung first to one knee and then the other, moulding +itself to the long lines of her limbs with exquisite grace of motion. +It was as though her walk were the expression of a gallant and buoyant +personality. + +Irish he guessed her when the deep-blue eyes rested on his for an +instant as she passed, and fortified his conjecture by the coloring of +the clear-skinned face and the marks of the Celtic race delicately +stamped upon it. + +The purser came out of his room and joined Elliot. He smiled at sight of +the young man's face. + +"Your map's a little out of plumb this morning, sir," he ventured. + +"But you ought to see the other fellow," came back Gordon boyishly. + +"I've seen him--several of him. We've got the best collection of bruises +on board I ever clapped eyes on. I've got to give it to you and Mr. +Macdonald. You know how to hit." + +"Oh, I'm not in his class." + +Gordon Elliot meant what he said. He was himself an athlete, had played +for three years left tackle on his college eleven. More than one critic +had picked him for the All-America team. He could do his hundred in just +a little worse than ten seconds. But after all he was a product of +training and of the gymnasiums. Macdonald was what nature and a long +line of fighting Highland ancestors had made him. His sinewy, knotted +strength, his massive build, the breadth of shoulder and depth of +chest--mushing on long snow trails was the gymnasium that had +contributed to these. + +The purser chuckled. "He's a good un, Mac is. They say he liked to have +drowned Northrup after he had saved him." + +Elliot was again following with his eyes the lilt of the girl's +movements. Apparently he had not heard what the officer said. At least +he gave no answer. + +With a grin the purser opened another attack. "Don't blame you a bit, +Mr. Elliot. She's the prettiest colleen that ever sailed from Dublin +Bay." + +The young man brought his eyes home. They answered engagingly the smile +of the purser. + +"Who is she?" + +"The name on the books is Sheba O'Neill." + +"From Dublin, you say." + +"Oh, if you want to be literal, her baggage says Drogheda. Ireland is +Ireland to me." + +"Where is she bound for?" + +"Kusiak." + +The young woman passed them with a little nod of morning greeting to the +purser. Fine and dainty though she was, Miss O'Neill gave an impression +of radiant strength. + +"Been with you all the way up the river?" asked Elliot after she had +passed. + +"Yep. She came up on the Skagit from Seattle." + +"What is she going to do at Kusiak?" + +Again the purser grinned. "What do they all do--the good-looking ones?" + +"Get married, you mean?" + +"Surest thing you know. Girls coming up ask me what to bring by way of +outfit. I used to make out a long list. Now I tell them to bring clothes +enough for six weeks and their favorite wedding march." + +"Is this girl engaged?" + +"Can't prove it by me," said the officer lightly. "But she'll never get +out of Alaska a spinster--not that girl. She may be going in to teach, +or to run a millinery store, or to keep books for a trading company. +She'll stay to bring up kiddies of her own. They all do." + +Three children came up the stairway, caught sight of Miss O'Neill, and +raced pell-mell across the deck to her. + +The young woman's face was transformed. It was bubbling with tenderness, +with gay and happy laughter. Flinging her arms wide, she waited for +them. With incoherent cries of delight they flung themselves upon her. +Her arms enveloped all three as she stooped for their hugs and kisses. + +The two oldest were girls. The youngest was a fat, cuddly little boy +with dimples in his soft cheeks. + +"I dwessed myself, Aunt Sheba. Didn't I, Gwen?" + +"Not all by yourself, Billie?" inquired the Irish girl, registering a +proper amazement. + +He nodded his head slowly and solemnly up and down. "Honeth to +goodness." + +Sheba stooped and held him off to admire. "All by yourself--just think +of that." + +"We helped just the teeniest bit on the buttons," confessed Janet, the +oldest of the small family. + +"And I tied his shoes," added Gwendolen, "after he had laced them." + +"Billie will be such a big man Daddie won't know him." And Sheba gave +him another hug. + +Gwendolen snuggled close to Miss O'Neill. "You always smell so sweet and +clean and violety, Aunt Sheba," she whispered in confidence. + +"You're spoiling me, Gwen," laughed the young woman. "You've kissed the +blarney stone. It's a good thing you're leaving the boat to-day." + +Miss Gwen had one more confidence to make in the ear of her friend. +"I wish you'd come too and be our new mamma," she begged. + +A shell-pink tinge crept into the milky skin of the Irish girl. She was +less sure of herself, more easily embarrassed, than the average American +of her age and sex. Occasionally in her manner was that effect of +shyness one finds in the British even after they have escaped from +provincialism. + +"Are all your things gathered ready for packing, Janet?" she asked +quietly. + +The purser gave information to Elliot. "They call her Aunt Sheba, +but she's no relative of theirs. The kids are on their way in to their +father, who is an engineer on one of the creeks back of Katma. Their +mother died two months ago. Miss O'Neill met them first aboard the +Skagit on the way up and she has mothered them ever since. Some women +are that way, bless 'em. I know because I've been married to one myself +six months. She's back there at St. Michael's, and she just grabs at +every baby in the block." + +The eyes of Elliot rested on Miss O'Neill. "She loves children." + +"She sure does--no bluff about that." An imp of mischief sparkled in +the eye of the supercargo. "Not married yourself, are you, Mr. Elliot?" + +"No." + +"Hmp!" + +That was all he said, but Gordon felt the blood creep into his face. +This annoyed him, so he added brusquely,-- + +"And not likely to be." + +When the call for breakfast came Miss O'Neill took her retinue of +youngsters with her to the dining-room. Looking across from his seat at +an adjoining table, Elliot could see her waiting upon them with a fine +absorption in their needs. She prepared an orange for Billie and offered +to the little girls suggestions as to ordering that were accepted by +them as a matter of course. Unconsciously the children recognized in her +the eternal Mother. + +Before they had been long in the dining-room Macdonald came in carrying +a sheaf of business papers. He glanced around, recognized Elliot, and +made instantly for the seat across the table from him. On his face and +head were many marks of the recent battle. + +"Trade you a cauliflower ear for a pair of black eyes, Mr. Elliot," he +laughed as he shook hands with the man whose name he had just learned +from the purser. + +The grip of his brown, muscular hand was strong. It was in character +with the steady, cool eyes set deep beneath the jutting forehead, with +the confident carriage of the deep, broad shoulders. He looked a dynamic +American, who trod the way of the forceful and fought for his share of +the spoils. + +"You might throw in several other little souvenirs to boot and not miss +them," suggested Elliot with a smile. + +Macdonald nodded indifferently. "I gave and I took, which was as it +should be. But it's different with you, Mr. Elliot. This wasn't your +row." + +"I hadn't been in a good mix-up since I left college. It did me a lot of +good." + +"Much obliged, anyhow." He turned his attention to a lady entering the +dining-room. "'Mornin', Mrs. Selfridge. How's Wally?" + +She threw up her hands in despair. "He's on his second bottle of +liniment already. I expect those ruffians have ruined his singing voice. +It's a mercy they didn't murder both him and you, Mr. Macdonald. When I +think of how close you both came to death last night--" + +"I don't know about Wally, but I had no notion of dying, Mrs. Selfridge. +They mussed us up a bit. That was all." + +"But they _meant_ to kill you, the cowards. And they almost did it too. +Look at Wally--confined to his bed and speaking in a whisper. Look at +you--a wreck, horribly beaten up, almost drowned. We must drive the +villains out of the country or send them to prison." + +Mrs. Selfridge always talked in superlatives. She had an enthusiasm +for the dramatics of conversation. Her supple hands, her shrill, eager +voice, the snapping black eyes, all had the effect of startling +headlines to the story she might be telling. + +"Am I a wreck?" the big Scotchman wanted to know. "I feel as husky as a +well-fed malamute." + +"Oh, you _talk_. But we all know you--how brave and strong you are. +That's why this outrage ought to be punished. What would Alaska do if +anything happened to you?" + +"I hadn't thought of that," admitted Macdonald. "The North would have to +go out of business, I suppose. But you're right about one thing, Mrs. +Selfridge. I'm brave and strong enough at the breakfast table. Steward, +will you bring me a double order of these shirred eggs--and a small +steak?" + +"Well, I'm glad you can still joke, Mr. Macdonald, after such a terrible +experience. All I can say is that I hope Wally isn't permanently +injured. He hasn't your fine constitution, and one never can tell about +internal injuries." Mrs. Selfridge sighed and passed to her place. + +The eyes of the big man twinkled. "Our little fracas has been a godsend +to Mrs. Selfridge. Wally and I will both emerge as heroes of a desperate +struggle. You won't even get a mention. But it's a pity about Wally's +injuries--and his singing voice." + +The younger man agreed with a gravity back of which his amusement was +apparent. The share of Selfridge in the battle had been limited to leg +work only, but this had not been good enough to keep him from being +overhauled and having his throat squeezed. + +Elliot finished breakfast first and left Macdonald looking over a +long typewritten document. He had it propped against a water-bottle +and was reading as he ate. The paper was a report Selfridge had brought +in to him from a clerk in the General Land Office. The big Canadian +and the men he represented were dealing directly with the heads of the +Government departments, but they thought it the part of wisdom to keep +in their employ subordinates in the capacity of secret service agents +to spy upon the higher-ups. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE CREVASSE + + +For an hour before the Hannah reached Katma Miss O'Neill was busy +getting her little brood ready. In that last half-day she was a creature +of moods to them. They, too, like Sheba herself, were adventuring into +a new world. Somehow they represented to her the last tie that bound her +to the life she was leaving. Her heart was tender as a Madonna to these +lambs so ill-fitted to face a frigid waste. Their mother had been a good +woman. She could tell that. But she had no way of knowing what kind of +man their father might be. + +Sheba gave Janet advice about where to keep her money and when to wear +rubbers and what to do for Billie's cold. She put up a lunch for them to +take on the stage. When they said their sniffling good-byes at Katma she +was suspiciously bright and merry. Soon the children were laughing again +with her. + +One glance at their father, who introduced himself to Miss O'Neill +as John Husted, relieved her mind greatly. His spontaneous delight at +seeing them again and his choking gratitude to her for having looked +after them were evidence enough that this kind-eyed man meant to be both +father and mother to his recovered little folks. His emotion was too +poignant for him to talk about his wife, but Sheba understood and liked +him better for it. + +Her temporary family stood on the end of the wharf and called good-byes +to the girl. + +"Tum soon and see us, Aunt Sheba," Billie shouted from his seat on the +shoulder of his father. + +The children waved handkerchiefs as long as she could be distinguished +by them. When they turned away she went directly to her room. + +Elliot was passing forward when Miss O'Neill opened her stateroom door +to go in. The eyes of the young woman were blind with tears and she was +biting her lip to keep back the emotion that welled up. He knew she was +very fond of the motherless children, but he guessed at an additional +reason for her sobs. She too was as untaught as a child in the life of +this frontier land. Whatever she found here--how much of hardship or +happiness, of grief or woe--she knew that she had left behind forever +the safe harborage of quiet waters in which her life craft had always +floated. + +It came on to rain in the afternoon. Heavy clouds swept across from the +mountains, and the sodden sky opened like a sluice-box. The Kusiak +contingent, driven indoors, resorted to bridge. Miss O'Neill read. +Gordon Elliot wrote letters, dawdled over magazines, and lounged +alternately in the ladies' parlor and the smoking-room, where Macdonald, +Strong, a hardware merchant from Fairbanks, and a pair of sour-dough +miners had settled themselves to a poker game that was to last all night +and well into the next day. + +Of the two bridge tables all the players were old-timers except Mrs. +Mallory. Most of them were young enough in years, but they had been of +the North long enough to know the gossip of the country and its small +politics intimately. They shared common hopes of the day when Alaska +would be thrown open to industry and a large population. + +But Mrs. Mallory had come in over the ice for the first time last +winter. The other women felt that she was a bird of passage, that the +frozen Arctic could be no more than a whim to her. They deferred a +little to her because she knew the great world--New York, Vienna, +London, Paris. Great names fell from her lips casually and carelessly. +She referred familiarly to princes and famous statesmen, as if she had +gossiped with them tete-a-tete over the teacups. She was full of spicy +little anecdotes about German royalty and the British aristocracy. It +was no wonder, Gordon Elliot thought, that she had rather stunned the +little social set of Kusiak. + +Through Northrup and Trelawney a new slant on Macdonald was given to +Gordon. He had fallen into casual talk with them after dinner on the +fore deck. It was still raining, but all three were equipped with +slickers or mackintoshes. To his surprise the young man discovered that +they bore him no grudge at all for his interference the night before. + +"But we ain't through with Colby Macdonald yet," Trelawney explained. +"Mind, I don't say we're going to get him. Nothing like that. He +knocked me cold with that loaded suitcase of his. By the looks of him +I'm even for that. Good enough. But here's the point. We stand for +Labor. He stands for Capital. See? Things ain't what they used to be +in Alaska, and it's because of Colby Macdonald and his friends. They're +grabbers--that's what they are. They want the whole works. A hell of a +roar goes up from them when the Government stops their combines, but +all the time they're bearing down a little harder on us workingmen. +Understand? It's up to us to fight, ain't it?" + +Later Elliot put this viewpoint before Strong. + +"There's something in it," the miner agreed. "Wages have gone down, and +it's partly because the big fellows are consolidating interests. Alaska +ain't a poor man's country the way it was. But Mac ain't to blame for +that. He has to play the game the way the cards are dealt out." + +The sky was clear again when the Hannah drew in to the wharf at Moose +Head to unload freight, but the mud in the unpaved street leading to the +business section of the little frontier town was instep deep. Many of +the passengers hurried ashore to make the most of the five-hour stop. +Macdonald, with Mrs. Mallory and their Kusiak friends, disappeared in +a bus. Elliot put on a pair of heavy boots and started uptown. + +At the end of the wharf he passed Miss O'Neill. She wore no rubbers and +she had come to a halt at the beginning of the mud. After a momentary +indecision she returned slowly to the boat. + +The young man walked up into the town, but ten minutes later he crossed +the gangplank of the Hannah again with a package under his arm. Miss +O'Neill was sitting on the forward deck making a pretense to herself of +reading. This was where Elliot had expected to find her, but now that +the moment of attack had come he had to take his fear by the throat. +When he had thought of it first there seemed nothing difficult about +offering to do her a kindness, yet he found himself shrinking from the +chance of a rebuff. + +He moved over to where she sat and lifted his hat. "I hope you won't +think it a liberty, Miss O'Neill, but I've brought you some rubbers from +a store uptown. I noticed you couldn't get ashore without them." + +Gordon tore the paper wrapping from his package and disclosed half a +dozen pairs of rubbers. + +The girl was visibly embarrassed. She was not at all certain of the +right thing to do. Where she had been brought up young men did not offer +courtesies of this sort so informally. + +"I--I think I won't need them, thank you. I've decided not to leave the +boat," she answered shyly. + +Elliot had never been accused of being a quitter. Having begun this, he +proposed to see it out. He caught sight of the purser superintending the +discharge of cargo and called to him by name. The officer joined them, +a pad of paper and a pencil in his hand. + +"I'm trying to persuade Miss O'Neill that she ought to go ashore while +we're lying here. What was it you told me about the waterfall back of +the town?" + +"Finest thing of its kind in Alaska. They're so proud of it in this burg +that they would like to make it against the law for any one to leave +without seeing it. Every one takes it in. We won't get away till night. +You've plenty of time if you want to see it." + +"Now, will you please introduce me to Miss O'Neill formally?" + +The purser went through the usual formula of presentation, adding that +Elliot was a government official on his way to Kusiak. Having done his +duty by the young man, the busy supercargo retired. + +"I'm sure it would do you good to walk up to the waterfall with me, Miss +O'Neill," urged Elliot. + +She met a little dubiously the smile that would not stay quite +extinguished on his good-looking, boyish face. Why shouldn't she go with +him, since it was the American way for unchaperoned youth to enjoy +itself naturally? + +"If they'll fit," the girl answered, eyeing the rubbers. + +Gordon dropped to his knee and demonstrated that they would. + +As they walked along the muddy street she gave him a friendly little nod +of thanks. "Good of you to take the trouble to look out for me." + +He laughed. "It was myself I was looking out for. I'm a stranger in the +country and was awfully lonesome." + +"Is it that this is your first time in too?" she asked shyly. + +"You're going to Kusiak, aren't you? Do you know anybody there?" replied +Elliot. + +"My cousin lives there, but I haven't seen her since I was ten. She's an +American. Eleven years ago she visited us in Ireland." + +"I'm glad you know some one," he said. "You'll not be so lonesome with +some of your people living there. I have two friends at Kusiak--a girl I +used to go to school with and her husband." + +"Are you going to live at Kusiak?" + +"No; but I'll be stationed in the Territory for several months. I'll be +in and out of the town a good deal. I hope you'll let me see something +of you." + +The fine Irish coloring deepened in her cheeks. He had a way of taking +in his stride the barriers between them, but it was impossible for her +to feel offended at this cheery, vigorous young fellow with the winning +smile and the firm-set jaw. She liked the warmth in his honest brown +eyes. She liked the play of muscular grace beneath his well-fitting +clothes. The sinuous ease of his lean, wide-shouldered body stirred +faintly some primitive instinct in her maiden heart. Sheba did not know, +as her resilient muscles carried her forward joyfully, that she was +answering the call of youth to youth. + +Gordon respected her shyness and moved warily to establish his contact. +He let the talk drift to impersonal topics as they picked their way out +from the town along the mossy trail. The ground was spongy with water. +On either side of them ferns and brakes grew lush. Sheba took the porous +path with a step elastic. To the young man following she seemed a +miracle of supple lightness. + +The trail tilted up from the lowlands, led across dips, and into a draw. +A little stream meandered down and gurgled over rocks worn smooth by +ages of attrition. Alders brushed the stream and their foliage checkered +the trail with sunlight and shadow. + +They were ascending steadily now along a pathway almost too indistinct +to follow. The air was aromatic with pine from a grove that came +straggling down the side of a gulch to the brook. + +"Do you know, I have a queer feeling that I've seen all this before," +the Irish girl said. "Of course I haven't--unless it was in my dreams. +Naturally I've thought about Alaska a great deal because my father lived +here." + +"I didn't know that." + +"Yes. He came in with the Klondike stampeders." She added quietly: "He +died on Bonanza Creek two years later." + +"Was he a miner?" + +"Not until he came North. He had an interest in a claim. It later turned +out worthless." + +A bit of stiff climbing brought them to a boulder field back of which +rose a mountain ridge. + +"We've got off the trail somehow," Elliot said. "But I don't suppose it +matters. If we keep going we're bound to come to the waterfall." + +Beyond the boulder field the ridge rose sharply. Gordon looked a little +dubiously at Sheba. + +"Are you a good climber?" + +As she stood in the sunpour, her cheeks flushed with exercise, he could +see that her spirit courted adventure. + +"I'm sure I must be," she answered with a smile adorable. "I believe I +could do the Matterhorn to-day." + +Well up on the shoulder of the ridge they stopped to breathe. The +distant noise of falling water came faintly to them. + +"We're too far to the left--must have followed the wrong spur," Elliot +explained. "Probably we can cut across the face of the mountain." + +Presently they came to an impasse. The gulch between the two spurs +terminated in a rock wall that fell almost sheer for two hundred feet. + +The color in the cheeks beneath the eager eyes of the girl was warm. +"Let's try it," she begged. + +The young man had noticed that she was as sure-footed as a mountain goat +and that she could stand on the edge of a precipice without dizziness. +The surface of the wall was broken. What it might be beyond he could not +tell, but the first fifty feet was a bit of attractive and not too +difficult rock traverse. + +Now and again he made a suggestion to the young woman following him, +but for the most part he trusted her to choose her own foot and hand +holds. Her delicacy was silken strong. If she was slender, she was yet +deep-bosomed. The movements of the girl were as certain as those of an +experienced mountaineer. + +The way grew more difficult. They had been following a ledge that +narrowed till it ran out. Jutting knobs of feldspar and stunted shrubs +growing from crevices offered toe-grips instead of the even foothold of +the rock shelf. As Gordon looked down at the dizzy fall beneath them his +judgment told him they had better go back. He said as much to his +companion. + +The smile she flashed at him was delightfully provocative. It served to +point the figure she borrowed from Gwen. "So you think I'm a 'fraid-cat, +Mr. Elliot?" + +His inclination marched with hers. It was their first adventure together +and he did not want to spoil it by undue caution. There really was not +much danger yet so long as they were careful. + +Gordon abandoned the traverse and followed an ascending crack in the +wall. The going was hard. It called for endurance and muscle, as well +as for a steady head and a sure foot. He looked down at the girl wedged +between the slopes of the granite trough. + +She read his thought. "The old guard never surrenders, sir," was her +quick answer as she brushed in salute with the tips of her fingers a +stray lock of hair. + +The trough was worse than Elliot had expected. It had in it a good deal +of loose rubble that started in small slides at the least pressure. + +"Be very careful of your footing," he called back anxiously. + +A small grassy platform lay above the upper end of the trough, but the +last dozen feet of the approach was a very difficult bit. Gordon took +advantage of every least projection. He fought his way up with his back +against one wall and his knees pressed to the other. Three feet short of +the platform the rock walls became absolutely smooth. The climber could +reach within a foot of the top. + +"Are you stopped?" asked Sheba. + +"Looks that way." + +A small pine projected from the edge of the shelf out over the +precipice. It might be strong enough to bear his weight. It might not. +Gordon unbuckled his belt and threw one end over the trunk of the dwarf +tree. Gingerly he tested it with his weight, then went up hand over hand +and worked himself over the edge of the little plateau. + +"All right?" the girl called up. + +"All right. But you can't make it. I'm coming down again." + +"I'm going to try." + +"I wouldn't, Miss O'Neill. It's really dangerous." + +"I'd like to try it. I'll stop if it's too hard," she promised. + +The strength of her slender wrists surprised him. She struggled up the +vertical crevasse inch by inch. His heart was full of fear, for a +misstep now would be fatal. He lay down with his face over the ledge and +lowered to her the buckled loop of his belt. Twice she stopped +exhausted, her back and her hands pressed against the walls of the +trough angle for support. + +"Better give it up," he advised. + +"I'll not then." She smiled stubbornly as she shook her head. + +Presently her fingers touched the belt. + +[Illustration: "SO YOU THINK I'M A 'FRAID-CAT, MR. ELLIOT?"] + +Gordon edged forward an inch or two farther. "Put your hand through the +loop and catch hold of the leather above," he told her. + +She did so, and at the same instant her foot slipped. The girl swung out +into space suspended by one wrist. The muscles of Elliot hardened into +steel as they responded to the strain. His body began to slide very +slowly down the incline. + +In a moment the acute danger was past. Sheba had found a hold with her +feet and relieved somewhat the dead pull upon Elliot. + +She had not voiced a cry, but the face that looked up into his was very +white. + +"Take your time," he said in a quiet, matter-of-fact way. + +With his help she came close enough for him to reach her hand. After +that it was only a moment before she knelt on the plateau beside him. + +"Touch and go, wasn't it?" Sheba tried to smile, but the colorless lips +told the young man she was still faint from the shock. + +He knew he was going to reproach himself bitterly for having led her +into such a risk, but he could not just now afford to waste his energies +on regrets. Nor could he let her mind dwell on past dangers so long as +there were future ones to be faced. + +"You might have sprained your wrist," he said lightly as he rose to +examine the cliff still to be negotiated. + +Her dark eyes looked at him with quick surprise. "So I might," she +answered dryly. + +But his indifferent tone had the effect upon her of a plunge into cold +water. It braced and stiffened her will. If he wanted to ignore the +terrible danger through which she had passed, certainly she was not +going to remind him of it. + +Between where they stood and the summit of the cliff was another rock +traverse. A kind of rough, natural stairway led down to a point opposite +them. But before this could be reached thirty feet of granite must be +crossed. The wall looked hazardous enough in all faith. It lay in the +shade, and there were spots where a thin coating of ice covered the +smooth slabs. But there was no other way up, and if the traverse could +be made the rest was easy. + +Gordon was mountaineer enough to know that the climb up is safer than +the one back. The only possible way for them to go down the trough was +for him to lower her by the belt until she found footing enough to go +alone. He did not quite admit it to himself, but in his heart he doubted +whether she could make it safely. + +The alternative was the cliff face. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +ACROSS THE TRAVERSE + + +Elliot took off his shoes and turned toward the traverse. + +"Think I'll see if I can cross to that stairway. You had better wait +here, Miss O'Neill, until we find out if it can be done." + +His manner was casual, his voice studiously light. + +Sheba looked across the cliff and down to the boulder bed two hundred +feet below. "You can never do it in the world. Isn't there another way +up?" + +"No. The wall above us slopes out. I've got to cross to the stairway. If +I make it I'm going to get a rope." + +"Do you mean you're going back to town for one?" + +"Yes." + +Her eyes fastened to his in a long, unspoken question. She read the +answer. He was afraid to have her try the trough again. To get back to +town by way of their roundabout ascent would waste time. If he was going +to rescue her before night, he must take the shortest cut, and that was +across the face of the sheer cliff. For the first time she understood +how serious was their plight. + +"We can go back together by the trough, can't we?" But even as she +asked, her heart sank at the thought of facing again that dizzy height. +The moment of horror when she had thought herself lost had shaken her +nerve. + +"It would be difficult." + +The glance of the girl swept again the face of the wall he must cross. +It could not be done without a rope. Her fear-filled eyes came back to +his. + +"It's my fault. I made you come," she said in a low voice. + +"Nonsense," he answered cheerfully. "There's no harm done. If I can't +reach the stairway I can come back and go down by the trough." + +Sheba assented doubtfully. + +It had come on to drizzle again. The rain was fine and cold, almost a +mist, and already it was forming a film of ice on the rocks. + +"I can't take time to go back by the trough. The point is that I don't +want you camped up here after night. There has been no sun on this side +of the spur and in the chill of the evening it must get cold even in +summer." + +He was making his preparations as he talked. His coat he took off and +threw down. His shoes he tied by the laces to his belt. + +"I'll try not to be very long," he promised. + +"It's God's will then, so it is," she sighed, relapsing into the +vernacular. + +Her voice was low and not very steady, for the heart of the girl was +heavy. She knew she must not protest his decision. That was not the way +to play the game. But somehow the salt had gone from their light-hearted +adventure. She had become panicky from the moment when her feet had +started the rubble in the trough and gone flying into the air. The +gayety that had been the note of their tramp had given place to fears. + +Elliot took her little hand in a warm, strong grip. "You're not going to +be afraid. We'll work out all right, you know." + +"Yes." + +"It's not just the thing to leave a lady in the rain when you take her +for a walk, but it can't be helped. We'll laugh about it to-morrow." + +Would they? she wondered, answering his smile faintly. Her courage was +sapped. She wanted to cry out that he must not try the traverse, but she +set her will not to make it harder for him. + +He turned to the climb. + +"You've forgotten your coat," she reminded. + +"I'm traveling light this trip. You'd better slip it on before you get +chilled." + +Sheba knew he had left it on purpose for her. + +Her fascinated eyes followed him while he moved out from the +plateau across the face of the precipice. His hand had found a knob +of projecting feldspar and he was feeling with his right foot for a +hold in some moss that grew in a crevice. He had none of the tools for +climbing--no rope, no hatchet, none of the support of numbers. All the +allies he could summon were his bare hands and feet, his resilient +muscles, and his stout heart. To make it worse, the ice film from the +rain coated every jutting inch of quartz with danger. + +But he worked steadily forward, moving with the infinite caution of +one who knows that there will be no chance to remedy later any mistake. +A slight error in judgment, the failure in response of any one of fifty +muscles, would send him plunging down. + +Occasionally he spoke to Sheba, but she volunteered no remarks. It was +her part to wait and watch while he concentrated every faculty upon his +task. He had come to an impasse after crossing a dozen feet of the wall +and was working up to get around a slab of granite which protruded, a +convex barrier, from the surface of the cliff. It struck the girl that +from a distance he must look like a fly on a pane of glass. Even to her, +close as she was, that smooth rock surface looked impossible. + +Her eye left him for an instant to sweep the gulf below. She gave a +little cry, ran to his coat, and began to wave it. For the first time +since Elliot had begun the traverse she took the initiative in speech. + +"I see some people away over to the left, Mr. Elliot. I'm going to call +to them." Her voice throbbed with hope. + +But it was not her shouts or his, which would not have carried one tenth +the distance, that reached the group in the valley. One of them caught a +glimpse of the wildly waving coat. There was a consultation and two or +three fluttered handkerchiefs in response. Presently they moved on. + +Sheba could not believe her eyes. "They're not leaving us surely?" she +gasped. + +"That's what they're doing," answered Gordon grimly. "They think we're +calling to them out of vanity to show them where we climbed." + +"Oh!" She strangled a sob in her throat. Her heart was weighted as with +lead. + +"I'm going to make it. I think I see my way from here," her companion +called across to her. "A fault runs to the foot of the stairway, if I +can only do the next yard or two." + +He did them, by throwing caution to the winds. An icy, rounded boulder +projected above him out of reach. He unfastened his belt again and put +the shoes, tied by the laces, around his neck. There was one way to get +across to the ledge of the fault. He took hold of the two ends of the +belt, crouched, and leaned forward on tiptoes toward the knob. The loop +of the belt slid over the ice-coated boss. There was no chance to draw +back now, to test the hold he had gained. If the leather slipped he was +lost. His body swung across the abyss and his feet landed on the little +ledge beyond. + +His shout of success came perhaps ten minutes later. "I've reached +the stairway, Miss O'Neill. I'll try not to be long, but you'd better +exercise to keep up the circulation. Don't worry, please. I'll be back +before night." + +"I'm so glad," she cried joyfully. "I was afraid for you. And I'll not +worry a bit. Good-bye." + +Elliot made his way up to the summit and ran along a footpath which +brought him to a bridge across the mountain stream just above the falls. +The trail zigzagged down the turbulent little river close to the bank. +Before he had specialized on the short distances Gordon had been a +cross-country runner. He was in fair condition and he covered the ground +fast. + +About a mile below the falls he met two men. One of them was Colby +Macdonald. He carried a coil of rope over one shoulder. The big +Alaskan explained that he had not been able to get it out of his +head that perhaps the climbers who had waved at his party had been in +difficulties. So he had got a rope from the cabin of an old miner and +was on his way back to the falls. + +The three climbed to the falls, crossed the bridge, and reached the top +of the cliff. + +"You know the lay of the land down there, Mr. Elliot. We'll lower you," +decided Macdonald, who took command as a matter of course. + +Gordon presently stood beside Sheba on the little plateau. She had +quite recovered from the touch of hysteria that had attacked her courage. +The wind and the rain had whipped the color into her soft cheeks, had +disarranged a little the crinkly, blue-black hair, wet tendrils of which +nestled against her temples. The health and buoyancy of the girl were in +the live eyes that met his eagerly. + +"You weren't long," was all she said. + +"I met them coming," he answered as he dropped the loop of the rope over +her head and arranged it under her shoulders. + +He showed her how to relieve part of the strain of the rope on her flesh +by using her hands to lift. + +"All ready?" Macdonald called from above. + +"All ready," Elliot answered. To Sheba he said, "Hold tight." + +The girl was swung from the ledge and rose jerkily in the air. She +laughed gayly down at her friend below. + +"It's fun." + +Gordon followed her a couple of minutes later. She was waiting to give +him a hand over the edge of the cliff. + +"Miss O'Neill, this is Mr. Macdonald," he said, as soon as he had freed +himself from the rope. "You are fellow passengers on the Hannah." + +Macdonald was looking at her straight and hard. "Your father's name--was +it Farrell O'Neill?" he asked bluntly. + +"Yes." + +"I knew him." + +The girl's eyes lit. "I'm glad, Mr. Macdonald. That's one reason I +wanted to come to Alaska--to hear about my father's life here. Will you +tell me?" + +"Sometime. We must be going now to catch the boat--after I've had a look +at the cliff this young man crawled across." + +He turned away, abruptly it struck Elliot, and climbed down the natural +stairway up which the young man had come. Presently he rejoined those +above. Macdonald looked at Elliot with a new respect. + +"You're in luck, my friend, that we're not carrying you from the foot +of the cliff," he said dryly. "I wouldn't cross that rock wall for a +hundred thousand dollars in cold cash." + +"Nor I again," admitted Gordon with a laugh. "But we had either to +homestead that plateau or vacate it. I preferred the latter." + +Miss O'Neill's deep eyes looked at him. She was about to speak, then +changed her mind. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +SHEBA SINGS--AND TWO MEN LISTEN + + +Elliot did not see Miss O'Neill next morning until she appeared in the +dining-room for breakfast. He timed himself to get through so as to join +her when she left. They strolled out to the deck together. + +"Did you sleep well?" he asked. + +"After I fell asleep. It took me a long time. I kept seeing you on the +traverse." + +He came abruptly to what was on his mind. "I have an apology to make, +Miss O'Neill. If I made light of your danger yesterday, it was because I +was afraid you might break down. I had to seem unsympathetic rather than +risk that." + +She smiled forgiveness. "All you said was that I might have sprained my +wrist. It was true too. I might have--and I did." Sheba showed a white +linen bandage tied tightly around her wrist. + +"Does it pain much?" + +"Not so much now. It throbbed a good deal last night." + +"Your whole weight came on it with a wrench. No wonder it hurt." + +Sheba noticed that the Hannah was drawing up to a wharf and the +passengers were lining up with their belongings. "Is this where we +change?" + +"Those of us going to Kusiak transfer here. But there's no hurry. +We wait at this landing two hours." + +Gordon helped Sheba move her baggage to the other boat and joined +her on deck. They were both strangers in the land. Their only common +acquaintance was Macdonald and he was letting Mrs. Mallory absorb his +attention just now. Left to their own resources the two young people +naturally drifted together a good deal. + +This suited Elliot. He found his companion wholly delightful, not the +less because she was so different from the girls he knew at home. She +could be frank, and even shyly audacious on occasion, but she held a +little note of reserve he felt bound to respect. Her experience of the +world had clearly been limited. She was not at all sure of herself, of +the proper degree of intimacy to permit herself with a strange and +likable young man who had done her so signal a service. + +Macdonald left the boat twenty miles below Kusiak with Mrs. Mallory and +the Selfridges. A chauffeur with a motor-car was waiting on the wharf to +run them to town, but he gave the wheel to Macdonald and took the seat +beside the driver. + +The little miner Strong grinned across to Elliot, who was standing +beside Miss O'Neill at the boat rail. + +"That's Mac all over. He hires a fellow to run his car--brings him up +here from Seattle--and then takes the wheel himself every time he rides. +I don't somehow see Mac sitting back and letting another man run the +machine." + +It was close to noon before the river boat turned a bend and steamed up +to the wharf at Kusiak. The place was an undistinguished little log town +that rambled back from the river up the hill in a hit-or-miss fashion. +Its main street ran a tortuous course parallel to the stream. + +Half of the town, it seemed, was down to meet the boat. + +"Are you going to the hotel or direct to your cousin's?" Gordon asked +Miss O'Neill. + +"To my cousin's. I fancy she's down here to meet me. It was arranged +that I come on this boat." + +There was much waving of handkerchiefs and shouting back and forth as +the steamer slowly drew close to the landing. + +Elliot caught a glimpse of the only people in Kusiak he had known before +coming in, but though he waved to them he saw they did not recognize +him. After the usual delay about getting ashore he walked down the +gangway carrying the suitcases of the Irish girl. Sheba followed at his +heels. On the wharf he came face to face with a slender, well-dressed +young woman. + +"Diane!" he cried. + +She stared at him. "You! What in Heaven's name are you doing here, +Gordon Elliot?" she demanded, and before he could answer had seized both +hands and turned excitedly to call a stocky man near. "Peter--Peter! +Guess who's here?" + +"Hello, Paget!" grinned Gordon, and he shook hands with the husband of +Diane. + +Elliot turned to introduce his friend, but she anticipated him. + +"Cousin Diane," she said shyly. "Don't you know me?" + +Mrs. Paget swooped down upon the girl and smothered her in her embrace. + +"This is Sheba--little Sheba that I have told you so often about, +Peter," she cried. "Glory be, I'm glad to see you, child." And Diane +kissed her again warmly. "You two met on the boat, of course, coming +in, I hope you didn't let her get lonesome, Gordon. Look after Sheba's +suitcases, Peter. You'll come to dinner to-night, Gordon--at seven." + +"I'm in the kind hands of my countrywoman," laughed Gordon. "I'll +certainly be on hand." + +"But what in the world are you doing here? You're the last man I'd have +expected to see." + +"I'm in the service of the Government, and I've been sent in on +business." + +"Well, I'm going to say something original, dear people," Mrs. Paget +replied. "It's a small world, isn't it?" + +While he was dressing for dinner later in the day, Elliot recalled +early memories of the Pagets. He had known Diane ever since they had +been youngsters together at school. He remembered her as a restless, +wiry little thing, keen as a knife-blade. She had developed into a very +pretty girl, alive, ambitious, energetic, with a shrewd eye to the main +chance. Always popular socially, she had surprised everybody by refusing +the catch of the town to marry a young mining engineer without a penny. +Gordon was in college at the time, but during the next long vacation +he had fraternized a good deal with the Peter Pagets. The young +married people had been very much in love with each other, but not too +preoccupied to take the college boy into their happiness as a comrade. +Diane always had been a manager, and she liked playing older sister +to so nice a lad. He had been on a footing friendly enough to drop in +unannounced whenever he took the fancy. If they were out, or about to go +out, the freedom of the den, a magazine, and good tobacco had been his. +Then the Arctic gold-fields had claimed Paget and his bride. That had +been more than ten years ago, and until to-day Gordon had not seen them +since. + +While Elliot was brushing his dinner coat before the open window of the +room assigned him at the hotel, somebody came out to the porch below. +The voice of a woman floated faintly to him. + +"Seen Diane's Irish beauty yet, Ned?" + +"Yes," a man answered. + +The woman laughed softly. "Mrs. Mallory came up on the same boat with +her." The inflection suggested that the words were meant not to tell a +fact, but some less obvious inference. + +"Oh, you women!" the man commented good-naturedly. + +"She's wonderfully pretty, and of course Diane will make the most of +her. But Mrs. Mallory is a woman among ten thousand." + +"I'd choose the girl if it were me," said the man. + +"But it isn't you. We'll see what we'll see." + +They were moving up the street and Gordon heard no more. What he had +heard was not clear to him. Why should any importance attach to the fact +that Mrs. Mallory and Sheba O'Neill had come up the river on the same +boat? Yet he was vaguely disturbed by the insinuation that in some way +Diane was entering her cousin as a rival of the older woman. He resented +the idea that the fine, young personality of the Irish girl was being +cheapened by management on the part of Diane Paget. + +Elliot was not the only dinner guest at the Paget home that evening. He +found Colby Macdonald sitting in the living-room with Sheba. She came +quickly forward to meet the newly arrived guest. + +"Mr. Macdonald has been telling me about my father. He knew him on +Frenchman Creek where they both worked claims," explained the girl. + +The big mining man made no comment and added nothing to what she said. +There were times when his face was about as expressive as a stone wall. +Except for a hard wariness in the eyes it told nothing now. + +The dinner went off very well. Diane and Peter had a great many +questions to ask Gordon about old friends. By the time these had been +answered Macdonald was chatting easily with Sheba. The man had been in +many out-of-the-way corners of the world, had taken part in much that +was dramatic and interesting. If the experience of the Irish girl had +been small, her imagination had none the less gone questing beyond the +narrow bars of her life upon amazing adventure. She listened with +glowing eyes to the strange tales this man of magnificent horizons had +to tell. Never before had she come into contact with any one like him. + +The others too succumbed to his charm. He dominated that little +dining-room because he was a sixty-horse-power dynamo. For all his bulk +he was as lean as a panther and as sinewy. There was virility in the +very economy of his motions, in the reticence of his speech. Not even +a fool could have read weakness there. When he followed Sheba into the +living-room, power trod in his long, easy stride. + +Paget was superintendent of the Lucky Strike, a mine owned principally +by Macdonald. The two talked business for a few minutes over their +cigars, but Diane interrupted gayly to bring them back into the circle. +Adroitly she started Macdonald on the account of a rescue of two men +lost in a blizzard the year before. He had the gift of dramatizing his +story, of selecting only effective details. There was no suggestion of +boasting. If he happened to be the hero of any of his stories the fact +was of no importance to him. It was merely a detail of the picture he +was sketching. + +Gordon interrupted with a question a story he was telling of a fight he +had seen between two bull moose. + +"Did you say that was while you were on the way over to inspect the +Kamatlah coal-fields for the first time?" + +The eyes of the young man were quick with interest. + +"Yes." + +"Four years ago last spring?" + +Macdonald looked at him with a wary steadiness. Some doubt had found +lodgment in his mind. Before he could voice it, if, indeed, he had any +such intention, Elliot broke in swiftly,-- + +"Don't answer that question. I asked it without proper thought. I am a +special agent of the General Land Office sent up to investigate the +Macdonald coal claims and kindred interests." + +Slowly the rigor of the big Scotchman's steely eyes relaxed to a smile +that was genial and disarming. If this news hit him hard he gave no sign +of it. And that it was an unexpected blow there could be no doubt. + +"Glad you've come, Mr. Elliot. We ask nothing but fair play. Tell the +truth, and we'll thank you. The men who own the Macdonald group of +claims have nothing to conceal. I'll answer that question. I meant to +say two years ago last spring." + +His voice was easy and his gaze unwavering as he made the correction, +yet everybody in the room except Sheba knew he was deliberately lying +to cover the slip. For the admission that he had inspected the Kamatlah +field just before his dummies had filed upon it would at least tend to +aggravate suspicion that the entries were not _bona-fide_. + +It was rather an awkward moment. Diane blamed herself because she had +brought the men together socially. Why had she not asked Gordon more +explicitly what his business was? Peter grinned a little uncomfortably. +It was Sheba who quite unconsciously relieved the situation. + +"But what about the big moose, Mr. Macdonald? What did it do then?" + +The Alaskan went back to his story. He was talking for Sheba alone, +for the young girl with eager, fascinated eyes which flashed with +sympathy as they devoured selected glimpses of his wild, turbulent +career. Her clean, brave spirit was throwing a glamour over the man. +She saw him with other eyes than Elliot's. The Government official +admired him tremendously. Macdonald was an empire-builder. He blazed +trails for others to follow in safety. But Gordon could guess how +callously his path was strewn with brutality, with the effects of an +ethical color-blindness largely selfish, though even he did not know +that the man's primitive jungle code of wolf eat wolf had played havoc +with Sheba's young life many years before. + +Diane, satisfied that Macdonald had scored, called upon Sheba. + +"I want you to sing for us, dear, if you will." + +Sheba accompanied herself. The voice of the girl had no unusual range, +but it was singularly sweet and full of the poignant feeling that +expresses the haunting pathos of her race. + + "It's well I know ye, Sheve Cross, ye weary, stony hill, + An' I'm tired, och, I'm tired to be looking on ye still. + For here I live the near side an' he is on the far, + An' all your heights and hollows are between us, so they are. + Och anee!" + +Gordon, as he listened, felt the strange hunger of that homesick cry +steal through his blood. He saw his own emotions reflected in the face +of the Scotch-Canadian, who was watching with a tense interest the slim, +young figure at the piano, the girl whose eyes were soft and dewy with +the mysticism of her people, were still luminous with the poetry of the +child in spite of the years that heralded her a woman. + +Elliot intercepted the triumphant sweep of Diane's glance from Macdonald +to her husband. In a flash it lit up for him the words he had heard on +the hotel porch. Diane, an inveterate matchmaker, intended her cousin to +marry Colby Macdonald. No doubt she thought she was doing a fine thing +for the girl. He was a millionaire, the biggest figure in the Northwest. +His iron will ran the town and district as though the people were +chattels of his. Back of him were some of the biggest financial +interests in the United States. + +But the gorge of Elliot rose. The man, after all, was a law-breaker, +a menace to civilization. He was a survivor by reason of his strength +from the primitive wolf-pack. Already the special agent had heard many +strange stories of how this man of steel had risen to supremacy by +trampling down lesser men with whom he had had dealings, of terrible +battles from which his lean, powerful body had emerged bloody and +battered, but victorious. The very look of his hard, gray eyes was +dominant and masterful. He would win, no matter how. It came to Gordon's +rebel heart that if Macdonald wanted this lovely Irish girl,--and the +young man never doubted that the Scotchman would want her,--he would +reach out and gather in Sheba just as if she were a coal mine or a +placer prospect. + +All this surged through the mind of the young man while the singer was +on the first line of the second stanza. + + "But if 't was only Sheve Cross to climb from foot to crown, + I'd soon be up an' over that, I'd soon be runnin' down. + Then sure the great ould sea itself is there beyont the bar, + An' all the windy wathers are between us, so they are. + Och anee!" + +The rich, soft, young voice with its Irish brogue died away. The little +audience paid the singer the tribute of silence. She herself was the +first to speak. + +"'Divided' is the name of it. A namesake of mine, Moira O'Neill, wrote +it," she explained. + +"It's a beautiful song, and I thank ye for singing it," Macdonald said +simply. "It minds me of my own barefoot days by the Tay." + +Later in the evening the two dinner guests walked back to the hotel +together. The two subjects uppermost in the minds of both were not +mentioned by either. They discussed casually the cost of living in the +North, the raising of strawberries at Kusiak, and the best way to treat +the mosquito nuisance, but neither of them referred to the Macdonald +coal claims or to Sheba O'Neill. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +WALLY GETS ORDERS + + +Macdonald, from his desk, looked up at the man in the doorway. Selfridge +had come in jauntily, a cigar in his mouth, but at sight of the grim +face of his chief the grin fled. + +"Come in and shut the door," ordered the Scotchman. "I sent for you to +congratulate you, Wally. You did fine work outside. You told me, didn't +you, that it was all settled at last--that our claims are clear-listed +for patent?" + +The tubby little man felt the edge of irony in the quiet voice. "Sure. +That's what Winton told me," he assented nervously. + +"Then you'll be interested to know that a special field agent of the +Land Department sat opposite me last night and without batting an eye +came across with the glad news that he was here to investigate our +claims." + +Selfridge bounced up like a rubber ball from the chair into which he had +just settled. "What!" + +"Pleasant surprise, isn't it? I've been wondering what you were doing +outside. Of course I know you had to take in the shows and cabarets of +New York. But couldn't you edge in an hour or two once a week to attend +to business?" + +Wally's collar began to choke him. The cool, hard words of the big +Scotchman pelted like hail. + +"Must be a bluff, Mac. The muckrake magazines have raised such a row +about the Guttenchild crowd putting over a big steal on the public that +the party leaders are scared stiff. I couldn't pick up a newspaper +anywhere without seeing your name in the headlines. It was fierce." +Selfridge had found his glib tongue and was off. + +"I understand that, Wally. What I don't get is how you came to let them +slip this over on you without even a guess that it was going to happen." + +That phase of the subject Selfridge did not want to discuss. + +"Bet you a hat I've guessed it right--just a grand-stand play of the +Administration to fool the dear people. This fellow has got his orders +to give us a clean bill of health. Sure. That must be it. I suppose it's +this man Elliot that came up on the boat with us." + +"Yes." + +"Well, that's easy. If he hasn't been seen we can see him." + +Macdonald looked his man Friday over with a scarcely veiled contempt. +"You have a beautiful, childlike faith in every man's dishonesty, Wally. +Did it ever occur to you that some people are straight--that they won't +sell out?" + +"All he gets is a beggarly two thousand or so a year. We can fix him all +right." + +"You've about as much vision as a breed trader. Unless I miss my guess +Elliot isn't that kind. He'll go through to a finish. What I'd like to +know is how his mind works. If he sees straight we're all right, but if +he is a narrow conservation fanatic he might go ahead and queer the +whole game." + +"You wouldn't stand for that." The quick glance of Selfridge asked a +question. + +The lips of the Scotchman were like steel traps and his eyes points of +steel. "We'll cross that bridge if we come to it. Our first move is to +try to win him to see this thing our way. I'll have a casual talk with +him before he leaves for Kamatlah and feel him out." + +"What's he doing here at all? If he's investigating the Kamatlah claims, +why does he go hundreds of miles out of his way to come in to Kusiak?" +asked Selfridge. + +Macdonald smiled sardonically. "He's doing this job right. Elliot as +good as told me that he's on the job to look up my record thoroughly. So +he comes to Kusiak first. In a few days he'll leave for Kamatlah. That's +where you come in, Wally." + +"How do you mean?" + +"You're going to start for Kamatlah to-morrow. You'll arrange the stage +before he gets there--see all the men and the foremen. Line them up so +they'll come through with the proper talk. If you have any doubts about +whether you can trust some one, don't take any chances. Fire him out of +the camp. Offer Elliot the company hospitality. Load him down with +favors. Take him everywhere. Show him everything. But don't let him get +any proofs that the claims are being worked under the same management." + +"But he'll suspect it." + +"You can't help his suspicions. Don't let him get proof. Cover all the +tracks that show company control." + +"I can fix that," he said. "But what about Holt? The old man won't do a +thing but tell all he knows, and a lot more that he suspects. You know +how bitter he is--and crazy. He ought to be locked away with the +flitter-mice." + +"You mustn't let Elliot meet Holt." + +"How the deuce can I help it? No chance to keep them apart in that +little hole. It can't be done." + +"Can't it?" + +Something in the quiet voice rang a bell of alarm in the timid heart of +Selfridge. + +"You mean--" + +"A man who works for me as my lieutenant must have nerve, Wally. Have +you got it? Will you take orders and go through with them?" + +His hard eyes searched the face of the plump little man. This was a job +he would have liked to do himself, but he could not get away just now. +Selfridge was the only man about him he could trust with it. + +Wally nodded. His lips were dry and parched. "Go to it. What am I to do?" + +"Get Holt out of the way while Elliot is at Kamatlah." + +"But, Good Lord, I can't keep the man tied up a month," protested the +leading tenor of Kusiak. + +"It isn't doing Holt any good to sit tight clamped to that claim of his! +He needs a change. Besides, I want him away so that we can contest his +claim. Run him up into the hills. Or send him across to Siberia on a +whaler. Or, better still, have him arrested for insanity and send him to +Nome. I'll get Judge Landor to hold him a while." + +"That would give him an alibi for his absence and prevent a contest." + +"That's right. It would." + +"Leave it to me. The old man is going on a vacation, though he doesn't +know it yet." + +"Good enough, Wally. I'll trust you. But remember, this fight has +reached an acute stage. No more mistakes. The devil of it is we never +seem to land the knockout punch. We've beaten this bunch of reform +idiots before Winton, before the Secretary of the Interior, before the +President, and before Congress. Now they're beginning all over again. +Where is it to end?" + +"This is their last kick. Probably Guttenchild agreed to it so as to +let the party go before the people at the next election without any +apologies. Entirely formal investigation, I should say." + +This might be true, or it might not. Macdonald knew that just now the +American people, always impulsive in its thinking, was supporting +strongly the movement for conservation. A searchlight had been turned +upon the Kamatlah coal-fields. Magazines and newspapers had hammered +it home to readers that the Guttenchild and allied interests were +engaged in a big steal from the people of coal, timber, and power-site +lands to the value of more than a hundred million dollars. + +The trouble had originated in a department row, but it had spread until +the Macdonald claims had become a party issue. The officials of the Land +Office, as well as the National Administration, were friendly to the +claimants. They had no desire to offend one of the two largest money +groups in the country. But neither did they want to come to wreck on +account of the Guttenchilds. They found it impossible to ignore the +charge that the entries were fraudulent and if consummated would result +in a wholesale robbery of the public domain. Superficial investigations +had been made and the claimants whitewashed. But the clamor had +persisted. + +Though he denied it officially, Macdonald made a present to the public +of the admission that the entries were irregular. Laws, he held, were +made for men and should be interpreted to aid progress. Bad ones ought +to be evaded. + +The facts were simple enough. Macdonald was the original promoter of +the Kamatlah coal-field. He had engaged dummy entrymen to take up one +hundred and sixty acres each under the Homestead Act. Later he intended +to consolidate the claims and turn them over to the Guttenchilds under +an agreement by which he was to receive one eighth of the stock of the +company formed to work the mines. The entries had been made, the fee +accepted by the Land Office, and receipts issued. In course of time +Macdonald had applied for patents. + +Before these were issued the magazines began to pour in their +broadsides, and since then the papers had been held up. + +The conscience of Macdonald was quite clear. The pioneers in Alaska were +building out of the Arctic waste a new empire for the United States, and +he held that a fair Government could do no less than offer them liberal +treatment. To lock up from present use vast resources needed by Alaskans +would be a mistaken policy, a narrow and perverted application of the +doctrine of conservation. The Territory should be thrown open to the +world. If capital were invited in to do its share of the building, +immigration would flow rapidly northward. Within the lives of the +present generation the new empire would take shape and wealth would pour +inevitably into the United States from its frozen treasure house. + +The view held by Macdonald was one common to the whole Pacific Coast. +Seattle, Portland, San Francisco were a unit in the belief that the +Government had no right to close the door of Alaska and then put a +padlock upon it. + +Feminine voices drifted from the outer office. Macdonald opened the door +to let in Mrs. Selfridge and Mrs. Mallory. + +The latter lady, Paris-shod and gloved, shook hands smilingly with the +Scotch-Canadian. "Of course we're intruders in business hours, though +you'll tell us we're not," she suggested. + +He was not a man to surrender easily to the spell of woman, but when he +looked into her deep-lidded, smouldering eyes something sultry beat in +his blood. + +"Business may fly out of the window when Mrs. Mallory comes in at the +door," he answered. + +"How gallant of you, especially when I've come with an impertinent +question." Her gay eyes mocked him as she spoke. + +"Then I'll probably tell you to mind your own business," he laughed. +"Let's have your question." + +"I've just been reading the 'Transcontinental Magazine.' A writer there +says that you are a highway robber and a gambler. I know you're a robber +because all the magazines say so. But are you only a big gambler?" + +He met her raillery without the least embarrassment. + +"Sure I gamble. Every time I take a chance I'm gambling. So does +everybody else. When you walk past the Flatiron Building you bet it +won't fall down and crush you. We've got to take chances to live." + +"How true, and I never thought of it," beamed Mrs. Selfridge. "What a +philosopher you are, Mr. Macdonald." + +The Scotchman went on without paying any attention to her effervescence. +"I've gambled ever since I was a kid. I bet I could cross Death Valley +and get out alive. That time I won. I bet it would rain once down in +Arizona before my cattle died. I lost. Another time I took a contract +to run a tunnel. In my bid I bet I wouldn't run into rock. My bank went +broke that trip. When I joined the Klondike rush I was backing my luck +to stand up. Same thing when I located the Kamatlah field. The coal +might be a poor quality. Maybe I couldn't interest big capital in the +proposition. Perhaps the Government would turn me down when I came to +prove up. I was betting my last dollar against big odds. When I quit +gambling it will be because I've quit living." + +"And I suppose I'm a gambler too?" Mrs. Mallory demanded with a little +tilt of her handsome head. + +He looked straight at her with the keen eyes that had bored through her +from the first day they had met, the eyes that understood the manner of +woman she was and liked her none the less. + +"Of all the women I know you are the best gambler. It's born in you." + +"Why, Mr. Macdonald!" screamed Mrs. Selfridge in her high staccato. "I +don't think that's a compliment." + +Mrs. Mallory did not often indulge in the luxury of a blush, but she +changed color now. This big, blunt man sometimes had an uncanny +divination. Did he, she asked herself, know what stake she was gambling +for at Kusiak? + +"You are too wise," she laughed with a touch of embarrassment very +becoming. "But I suppose you are right. I like excitement." + +"We all do. The only man who doesn't gamble is the convict in stripes, +and the only reason he doesn't is that his chips are all gone. It's true +that men on the frontier play for bigger stakes. They back their bets +with all they have got and put their lives on top for good measure. But +kids in the cradle all over the United States are going to live easier +because of the gamblers at the dropping-off places. That writer fellow +hit the nail on the head about me. My whole life is a gamble." + +She moved with slow grace toward the door, then over her shoulder +flashed a sudden invitation at him. "Mrs. Selfridge and I are doing a +little betting to-day, Big Chief Gambler. We're backing our luck that +you two men will eat lunch with us at the Blue Bird Inn. Do we win?" + +Macdonald reached for his hat promptly. "You win." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE END OF THE PASSAGE + + +Wally Selfridge was a reliable business subordinate, even though he had +slipped up in the matter of the appointment of Elliot. But when it came +to facing the physical hardships of the North he was a malingerer. The +Kamatlah trip had to be taken because his chief had ordered it, but the +little man shirked the journey in his heart just as he knew his soft +muscles would shrink from the aches of the trail. + +His idea of work was a set of tennis on the outdoor wooden court of the +Kusiak clubhouse, and even there his game was not a hard, smashing one, +but an easy foursome with a girl for partner. He liked better to play +bridge with attendants at hand to supply drinks and cigars. By nature he +was a sybarite. The call of the frontier found no response in his +sophisticated soul. + +The part of the journey to be made by water was not so bad. Left to his +own judgment, he would have gone to St. Michael's by boat and chartered +a small steamer for the long trip along the coast through Bering Sea. +But this would take time, and Macdonald did not mean to let him waste +a day. He was to leave the river boat at the big bend and pack across +country to Kamatlah. It would be a rough, heavy trail. The mosquitoes +would be a continual torment. The cooking would be poor. And at the end +of the long trek there awaited him monotonous months in a wretched coal +camp far from all the comforts of civilization. No wonder he grumbled. + +But though he grumbled at home and at the club and on the street about +his coming exile, Selfridge made no complaints to Macdonald. That man of +steel had no sympathy with the yearnings for the fleshpots. He was used +to driving himself through discomfort to his end, and he expected as +much of his deputies. Wherefore Wally took the boat at the time +scheduled and waved a dismal farewell to wife and friends assembled upon +the wharf. + +Elliot said good-bye to the Pagets and Miss O'Neill ten days later. +Diane was very frank with him. + +"I hear you've been sleuthing around, Gordon, for facts about Colby +Macdonald. I don't know what you have heard about him, but I hope you've +got the sense to see how big a man he is and how much this country here +owes him." + +Gordon nodded agreement. "Yes, he's a big man." + +"And he's good," added Sheba eagerly. "He never talks of it, but one +finds out splendid things he has done." + +The young man smiled, but not at all superciliously. He liked the stanch +faith of the girl in her friend, even though his investigations had not +led him to accept goodness as the outstanding quality of the Scotchman. + +"I don't know what we would do without him," Diane went on. "Give him +ten years and a free hand and Alaska will be fit for white people to +live in. These attacks on him by newspapers and magazines are an +outrage." + +"It's plain that you are a partisan," charged Gordon gayly. + +"I'm against locking up Alaska and throwing away the key, if that is +what you mean by a partisan. We need this country opened up--the farms +settled, the mines worked, the coal-fields developed, railroads built. +It is one great big opportunity, the country here, and the narrow little +conservation cranks want to shut it up tight from the people who have +energy and foresight enough to help do the building." + +"The Kusiak Chamber of Commerce ought to send you out as a lecturer to +change public opinion, Diane. You are one enthusiastic little booster +for freedom of opportunity," laughed the young man. + +"Oh, well!" Diane joined in his laughter. It was one of her good points +that she could laugh at herself. "I dare say I do sound like a real +estate pamphlet, but it's all true anyhow." + +Gordon left Kusiak as reluctantly as Wally Selfridge had done, though +his reasons for not wanting to go were quite different. They centered +about a dusky-eyed young woman whom he had seen for the first time a +fortnight before. He would have denied even to himself that he was in +love, but whenever he was alone his thoughts reverted to Sheba O'Neill. + +At the big bend Gordon left the river boat for his cross-country trek. +Near the roadhouse was an Indian village where he had expected to get a +guide for the journey to Kamatlah. But the fishing season had begun, and +the men had all gone down river to take part in it. + +The old Frenchman who kept the trading-post and roadhouse advised Gordon +not to attempt the tramp alone. + +"The trail it ees what you call dangerous. Feefty-Mile Swamp ees a +monster that swallows men alive, Monsieur. You wait one week--two +week--t'ree week, and some one will turn up to take you through," he +urged. + +"But I can't wait. And I have an official map of the trail. Why can't +I follow it without a guide?" Elliot wanted to know impatiently. + +The post-trader shrugged. "Maybeso, Monsieur--maybe not. Feefty-Mile--it +ees one devil of a trail. No chechakoes are safe in there without a +guide. I, Baptiste, know." + +"Selfridge and his party went through a week ago. I can follow the +tracks they left." + +"But if it rains, Monsieur, the tracks will vaneesh, n'est ce pas? Lose +the way, and the little singing folk will swarm in clouds about Monsieur +while he stumbles through the swamp." + +Elliot hesitated for the better part of a day, then came to an impulsive +decision. He knew the evil fame of Fifty-Mile Swamp--that no trail in +Alaska was held to be more difficult or dangerous. He knew too what a +fearful pest the mosquitoes were. Peter had told him a story of how he +and a party of engineers had come upon a man wandering in the hills, +driven mad by mosquitoes. The traveler had lost his matches and had been +unable to light smudge fires. Day and night the little singing devils +had swarmed about him. He could not sleep. He could not rest. Every +moment for forty-eight hours he had fought for his life against them. +Within an hour of the time they found him the man had died a raving +maniac. + +But Elliot was well equipped with mosquito netting and with supplies. He +had a reliable map, and anyhow he had only to follow the tracks left by +the Selfridge party. He turned his back upon the big river and plunged +into the wilderness. + +There came a night when he looked up into the stars of the deep, still +sky and knew that he was hundreds of miles from any other human being. +Never in all his life had he been so much alone. He was not afraid, but +there was something awesome in a world so empty of his kind. Sometimes +he sang, and the sound of his voice at first startled him. It was like +living in a world primeval, this traverse of a land so void of all the +mechanism that man has built about him. + +The tracks of the Selfridge party grew fainter after a night of rain. +More rain fell, and they were obliterated altogether. + +Gordon fished. He killed fresh game for his needs. Often he came on the +tracks of moose and caribou. Sometimes, startled, they leaped into view +quite close enough for a shot, but he used his rifle only to meet his +wants. A huge grizzly faced him on the trail one afternoon, growled its +menace, and went lumbering into the big rocks with awkward speed. + +The way led through valley and morass, across hills and mountains. It +wandered in a sort of haphazard fashion through a sun-bathed universe +washed clean of sordidness and meanness. Always, as he pushed forward, +the path grew more faint and uncertain. Elk runs crossed it here and +there, so that often Gordon went astray and had to retrace his steps. + +The maddening song of the mosquitoes was always with him. Only when he +slept did he escape from it. The heavy gloves, the netting, the smudge +fires were at best an insufficient protection. + +It was the seventh night out that Elliot suspected he was off the trail. +Rain sluiced down in torrents and next day continued to pour from a dun +sky. His own tracks were blotted out and he searched for the trail in +vain. Before the rain stopped, he was thoroughly disturbed in mind. It +would be a serious business if he should be lost in the bad lands of the +bogs. Even though he knew the general direction he must follow, there +was no certainty that he would ever emerge from this swamp into which he +had plunged. + +Before he knew it he was entangled in Fifty-Mile. His map showed him the +morass stretched for fifty miles to the south, but he knew that it had +been charted hurriedly by a surveying party which had made no extensive +explorations. A good deal of this country was _terra incognita_. It +ran vaguely into a No Man's Land unknown to the prospector. + +The going was heavy. Gordon had to pick his way through the mossy swamp, +leading the pack-horse by the bridle. Sometimes he was ankle-deep in +water of a greenish slime. Again he had to drag the animal from the bog +to a hummock of grass which gave a spongy footing. This would end in +another quagmire of peat through which they must plough with the mud +sucking at their feet. It was hard, wearing toil. There was nothing to +do but keep moving. The young man staggered forward till dusk. Utterly +exhausted, he camped for the night on a hillock of moss that rose like +an island in the swamp. + +After he had eaten he fed his fire with green boughs that raised a dense +smoke. He lay on the leeward side where the smoke drifted over him and +fought mosquitoes till a shift of the wind lessened the plague. Toward +midnight he rigged up a net for protection and crawled into his +blankets. Instantly he fell sound asleep. + +Elliot traveled next day by the compass. He had food for three days +more, but he knew that no living man had the strength to travel for so +long in such a morass. It was near midday when he lost his horse. The +animal had bogged down several times and Gordon had wasted much time and +spent a good deal of needed energy in dragging it to firmer footing. +This time the pony refused to answer the whip. Its master unloaded pack +and saddle. He tried coaxing; he tried the whip. + +"Come, Old-Timer. One plunge, and you'll make it yet," he urged. + +The pack-horse turned upon him dumb eyes of reproach, struggled to free +its limbs from the mud, and sank down helplessly. It had traveled its +last yard on the long Alaska trails. + +After the sound of the shot had died away, Gordon struggled with the +pack to the nearest hummock. He cut holes in a gunny-sack to fit his +shoulders and packed into it his blankets, a saucepan, the beans, the +coffee, and the diminished handful of flour. Into it went too the three +slices of bacon that were left. + +He hoisted the pack to his back and slipped his arms through the slits +he had made. Painfully he labored forward over the quivering peat. Every +weary muscle revolted at the demands his will imposed upon it. He drew +on the last ounce of his strength and staggered forward. Sometimes he +stumbled and went down into the oozing mud, minded to stay there and +be done with the struggle. But the urge of life drove him to his feet +again. It sent him pitching forward drunkenly. It carried him for weary +miles after he despaired of ever covering another hundred yards. + +With old, half-forgotten signals from the football field he spurred his +will. Perhaps his mind was already beginning to wander, though through +it all he held steadily to the direction that alone could save him. + +He clapped his hands feebly and stooped for the plunge at the line of +the enemy. "'Attaboy, Gord--'attaboy--nine, eleven, seventeen. Hit 'er +low, you Elliot." + +When at last he went down to stay it was in an exhaustion so complete +that not even his indomitable will could lash him to his feet again. +For an hour he lay in a stupor, never stirring even to fight the swarm +of mosquitoes that buzzed about him. + +Toward evening he sat up and undid the pack from his back. The matches, +in a tin box wrapped carefully with oilskin, were still perfectly dry. +Soon he had a fire going and coffee boiling in the frying-pan. From +the tin cup he carried strung on his belt he drank the coffee. It went +through him like strong liquor. He warmed some beans and fried himself a +slice of bacon, sopping up the grease with a cold biscuit left over from +the day before. + +Again he slept for a few hours. He had wound his watch mechanically +and it showed him four o'clock when he took up the trail once more. +In Seattle and San Francisco people were still asleep and darkness was +heavy over the land. Here it had been day for a long time, ever since +the summer sun, hidden for a while behind the low, distant hills, had +come blazing forth again in a saddle between two peaks. + +Gordon had reduced his pack by discarding a blanket, the frying-pan, +and all the clothing he was not wearing. His rifle lay behind him in the +swamp. He had cut to a minimum of safety what he was carrying, according +to his judgment. But before long his last blanket was flung aside. He +could not afford to carry an extra pound, for he knew he was running a +race, the stakes of which were life and death. + +A cloud of mosquitoes moved with him. He carried in his hand a spruce +bough for defense against them. His hands were gloved, his face was +covered with netting. But in spite of the best he could do they were an +added torture. + +Afternoon found him still staggering forward. The swamps were now +behind him. He had won through at last by the narrowest margin possible. +The ground was rising sharply toward the mountains. Across the range +somewhere lay Kamatlah. But he was all in. With his food almost gone, +a water supply uncertain, reserve strength exhausted, the chances of +getting over the divide to safety were practically none. + +He had come, so far as he could see, to the end of the passage. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +GID HOLT GOES PROSPECTING + + +As soon as Selfridge reached Kamatlah he began arranging the stage +against the arrival of the Government agent. His preparations were +elaborate and thorough. A young engineer named Howland had been in +charge of the development work, but Wally rearranged his forces so as +to let each dummy entryman handle the claim entered in his name. One or +two men about whom he was doubtful he discharged and hurried out of the +camp. + +Selfridge had been given a free hand as to expenses and he oiled his +way by liberal treatment of the men and by a judicious expenditure. +He let them know pretty plainly that if the agent on his way to Kamatlah +suspected corporate ownership of the claims, the Government would close +down all work and there would be no jobs for them. + +The company boarding-house became a restaurant, above which was +suspended a newly painted sign with the legend, "San Francisco Grill, +J. Glynn, Proprietor." The store also passed temporarily into the hands +of its manager. Miners moved from the barracks that had been built by +Macdonald into hastily constructed cabins on the individual claims. +Wally had always fancied himself as a stage manager for amateur +theatricals. Now he justified his faith by transforming Kamatlah +outwardly from a company camp to a mushroom one settled by wandering +prospectors. + +Gideon Holt alone was outside of all these activities and watched them +with suspicion. He was an old-timer, sly but fearless, who hated Colby +Macdonald with a bitter jealousy that could not be placated and he +took no pains to hide the fact. He had happened to be in the vicinity +prospecting when Macdonald had rushed his entries. Partly out of mere +perversity and partly by reason of native shrewdness, old Holt had +slipped in and located one of the best claims in the heart of the +group. Nor had he been moved to a reasonable compromise by any amount +of persuasion, threats, or tentative offers to buy a relinquishment. +He was obstinate. He knew a good thing when he had it, and he meant to +sit tight. + +The adherents of the company might charge that Holt was cracked in the +upper story, but none of them denied he was sharp as a street Arab. He +guessed that all this preparation was not for nothing. Kamatlah was +being dressed up to impress somebody who would shortly arrive. The +first thought of Holt was that a group of big capitalists might be +coming to look over their investment. But he rejected this surmise. +There would be no need to try any deception upon them. + +Mail from Seattle reached camp once a month. Holt sat down before his +stove to read one of the newspapers he had brought from the office. It +was the "P.-I." On the fifth page was a little boxed story that gave him +his clue. + + ELLIOT TO INVESTIGATE MACDONALD COAL CLAIMS + + The reopening of the controversy as to the Macdonald claims, + which had been clear-listed for patent by Harold B. Winton, + the Commissioner of the General Land Office, takes on another + phase with the appointment of Gordon Elliot as special field + agent to examine the validity of the holdings. The new field + agent won a reputation by his work in unearthing the Oklahoma + "Gold Brick" land frauds. + + Elliot leaves Seattle in the Queen City Thursday for the North, + where he will make a thorough investigation of the whole situation + with a view to clearing up the matter definitely. If his report + is favorable to the claimants, the patents will be granted without + further delay. + +This was too good to keep. Holt pulled on his boots and went out to twit +such of the enemy as he might meet. It chanced that the first of them +was Selfridge, whom he had not seen since his arrival, though he knew +the little man was in camp. + +"How goes it, Holt? Fine and dandy, eh?" inquired Wally with the +professional geniality he affected. + +The old miner shook his head dolefully. "I done bust my laig, Mr. +Selfish," he groaned. It was one of his pleasant ways to affect a +difficulty of hearing and a dullness of understanding, so that he could +legitimately call people by distorted versions of their names. "The old +man don't amount to much nowadays. Onct a man or a horse gits stove up +I don't reckon either one pans out much pay dust any more." + +"Nothing to that, Gid. You're younger than you ever were, judging by +your looks." + +"Then my looks lie to beat hell, Mr. Selfish." + +"My name is Selfridge," explained Wally, a trifle irritated. + +Holt put a cupped hand to his ear anxiously. "Shellfish, did you say? +Tha' 's right. Howcome I to forget? The old man's going pretty fast, +Mr. Shellfish. No more memory than a jackrabbit. Say, Mr. Shellfish, +what's the idee of all this here back-to-the-people movement, as the +old sayin' is?" + +"I don't know what you mean. And my name is Selfridge, I tell you," +snapped the owner of that name. + +"'Course I ain't got no more sense than the law allows. I'm a buzzard +haid, but me I kinder got to millin' it over and in respect to these +here local improvements, as you might say, I'm doggoned if I _sabe_ +the whyfor." There was an imp of malicious deviltry in the black, beady +eyes sparkling at Selfridge from between narrowed lids. + +"Just some business changes we're making." + +Holt showed his tobacco-stained teeth in a grin splenetic. "Oh. That's +all. I didn't know but what you might be expecting a visitor." + +Selfridge flashed a sharp sidelong glance at him. "What do you mean--a +visitor?" + +"I just got a notion mebbe you might be looking for one, Mr. Pelfrich. +But I don't know sic' 'em. Like as not you ain't fixing up for this +Gordon Elliot a-tall." + +Wally had no come-back, unless it was one to retort in ironic +admiration. "You're a wonder, Holt. Pity you don't start a detective +bureau." + +The old man went away cackling dryly. + +If Selfridge had held any doubts before, he discarded them now. Holt +would wreck the whole enterprise, were he given a chance. It would never +do to let Elliot meet and talk with him. He knew too much, and he was +eager to tell all he knew. + +Macdonald's lieutenant got busy at once with plans to abduct Holt. That +it was very much against the law did not disturb him much so long as his +chief stood back of him. The unsupported word of the old man would not +stand in court, and if he became obstreperous they could always have him +locked up as a lunatic. The very pose of the old miner--the make-believe +pretension that he was half a fool--would lend itself to such a charge. + +"We'll send the old man off on a prospecting trip with some of the +boys," explained Selfridge to Rowland. "That way we'll kill two birds. +He's back on his assessment work. The time limit will be up before he +returns and we'll start a contest for the claim." + +Howland made no comment. He was an engineer and not a politician. In his +position it was impossible for him not to know that a good deal about +the legal status of the Macdonald claims was irregular. But he was a +firm believer in a wide-open Alaska, in the use of the Territory by +those who had settled it. The men back of the big Scotchman were going +to spend millions in development work, in building railroads. It would +help labor and business. The whole North would feel a healthful reaction +from the Kamatlah activities. So, on the theory that the end sometimes +justifies doubtful means, he shut his eyes to many acts that in his own +private affairs he would not have countenanced. + +"Better arrange it with Big Bill, then, but don't tell me anything about +it. I don't want to know the details," he told Selfridge. + +Big Bill Macy accepted the job with a grin. There was double pay in it +both for him and the men he chose as his assistants. He had never liked +old Holt anyhow. Besides, they were not going to do him any harm. + +Holt was baking a batch of sour-dough bread that evening when there came +a knock at the cabin door. At sight of Big Bill and his two companions +the prospector closed the oven and straightened with alert suspicion. +He was not on visiting terms with any of these men. Why had they come +to see him? He asked point-blank the question in his mind. + +"We're going prospecting up Wild-Goose Creek, and we want you to go +along, Gid," explained Macy. "You're an old sour-dough miner, and we-all +agree we'd like to have you throw-in with us. What say?" + +The old miner's answer was direct but not flattering. "What do I want to +go on a wild-goose mush with a bunch of bums for?" he shrilled. + +Bill Macy scratched his hook nose and looked reproachfully at his host. +At least Holt thought he was looking at him. One could not be sure, for +Bill's eyes did not exactly track. + +"That ain't no kind o' way to talk to a fellow when he comes at you with +a fair proposition, Gid." + +"You tell Selfridge I ain't going to leave Kamatlah--not right now. I'm +going to stay here on the job till that Land Office inspector comes--and +then I'm going to have a nice, long, confidential chat with him. See?" + +"What's the use of snapping at me like a turtle? Durden says Wild-Goose +looks fine. There's gold up there--heaps of it." + +"Let it stay there, then. I ain't going. That's flat." Holt turned to +adjust the damper of his stove. + +"Oh, I don't know. I wouldn't say that," drawled Bill insolently. + +The man at the stove caught the change in tone and turned quickly. He +was too late. Macy had thrown himself forward and the weight of his body +flung Holt against the wall. Before the miner could recover, the other +two men were upon him. They bore him to the floor and in spite of his +struggles tied him hand and foot. + +Big Bill rose and looked down derisively at his prisoner. "Better change +your mind and go with us, Holt. We'll spend a quiet month up at the +headquarters of Wild-Goose. Say you'll come along." + +"You'll go to prison for this, Bill Macy." + +"Guess again, Gid, and mebbe you'll get it right this time." Macy turned +to his companions. "George, you bring up the horses. Dud, see if that +bread is cooked. Might as well take it along with us--save us from +baking to-morrow." + +"What are you going to do with me?" demanded Holt. + +"I reckon you need a church to fall on you before you can take a hint. +Didn't I mention Wild-Goose Creek three or four times?" jeered his +captor. + +"Every step you take will be one toward the penitentiary. Get that into +your cocoanut," the old miner retorted sharply. + +"Nothing to that idee, Gid." + +"I'll scream when you take me out." + +"Go to it. Then we'll gag you." + +Holt made no further protest. He was furious, but at present quite +helpless. However it went against the grain, he might as well give in +until rebellion would do some good. + +Ten minutes later the party was moving silently along the trail that led +to the hills. The pack-horses went first, in charge of George Holway. +The prisoner walked next, his hands tied behind him. Big Bill followed, +and the man he had called Dud brought up the rear. + +They wound up a rising valley, entering from it a canon with precipitous +walls that shut out the late sun. It was by this time past eleven +o'clock and dusk was gathering closer. The winding trail ran parallel +with the creek, sometimes through thickets of young fir and sometimes +across boulder beds that made traveling difficult and slow. They went in +single file, each of them with a swarm of mosquitoes about his head. + +Macy had released the hands of his prisoner so that he might have a +chance to fight the singing pests, but he kept a wary eye upon him and +never let him move more than a few feet from him. The trail grew steeper +as it neared the head of the canon till at last it climbed the left wall +and emerged from the gulch to an uneven mesa. + +The leader of the party looked at his watch. "Past midnight. We'll camp +here, George, and see if we can't get rid of the 'skeeters." + +They built smudge fires of green wood and on the lee side of these +another one of dry sticks. Dud made coffee upon this and cooked bacon +to eat with the fresh bread they had taken from the oven of Holt. While +George chopped wood for the fires and boughs of small firs for bedding, +Big Bill sat with a rifle across his knees just back of the prisoner. + +"Gid's a shifty old cuss, and I ain't taking any chances," he explained +aloud to Dud. + +Holt was beginning to take the outrage philosophically. He sat close to +a smudge and smoked his pipe. + +"I wouldn't either if I were you. Sometime when you ain't watching, I'm +liable to grab that gun and shoot a hole in the place where your brains +would be if you had any," countered the old man. + +He slept peacefully while they took turns watching him. Just now there +would be no chance to escape, but in a few days they would become +careless. The habit of feeling that they had him securely would grow +upon them. Then, reasoned Holt, his opportunity would come. One of the +guards would take a chance. Perhaps he might even fall asleep on duty. +It was not reasonable to suppose that in the next week or two he would +not catch them napping once for a short ten seconds. + +There was, of course, just the possibility that they intended to murder +him, but Holt could not associate Selfridge with anything so lawless. +The man was too soft of fiber to carry through such a programme, and as +yet there was need of nothing so drastic. No, this little kidnapping +expedition would not run to murder. He would be set free in a few weeks, +and if he told the true story of where he had been his foes would spread +the report that he was insane in his hatred of Macdonald and imagined +all sorts of persecutions. + +They followed Wild-Goose Creek all next day, getting always closer to +its headwaters near the divide. On the third day they crossed to the +other side of the ridge and descended into a little mountain park. They +were in a country where prospectors never came, one deserted even by +trappers at this season of the year. + +The country was so much a primeval wilderness that a big bull moose +stalked almost upon their camp before discovering the presence of a +strange biped. Big Bill snatched up a rifle and took a shot which sent +the intruder scampering. + +From somewhere in the distance came a faint sound. + +"What was that?" asked George. + +"Sounded like a shot. Mebbe it was an echo," returned Dud. + +"Came too late for an echo," Big Bill said. + +Again faintly from some far corner of the basin the sound drifted. It +was like the pop of a scarcely heard firecracker. + +The men looked at one another and at their prisoner. Their eyes +consulted once more. + +"Think we better break camp and drift?" asked Dud. + +"No. We're in a little draw here--as good a hiding-place as we'd be +likely to find. Drive the horses into the brush, George. We'll sit +tight." + +"Got the criminals guessing," Holt contributed maliciously. "You lads +want to take the hide offen Macy if he lands you in the pen through that +fool shot of his. Wonder if I hadn't better yell." + +"I'll stop your clock right then if you do," threatened Big Bill with a +scowl. + +Dud had been busy stamping out the camp-fire while Holway was driving +the horses into the brush. + +"Mebbe you had better get the camp things behind them big rocks," Macy +conceded. + +Even as he spoke there came the crack of a revolver almost at the +entrance to the draw. + +One of the men swore softly. The gimlet eyes of the old miner fastened +on the spot where in another moment his hoped-for rescuers would appear. + +A man staggered drunkenly into view. He reeled halfway across the mouth +of the draw and stopped. His eyes, questing dully, fell upon the camp. +He stared, as if doubtful whether they had played him false, then +lurched toward the waiting group. + +"Lost, and all in," Holway said in a whisper to Dud. + +The other man nodded. Neither of them made a move toward the stranger, +who stopped in front of their camp and looked with glazed eyes from one +to another. His face was drawn and haggard and lined. Extreme exhaustion +showed in every movement. He babbled incoherently. + +"Seven--eighteen--ninety-nine. 'Atta-boy," he said thickly. + +"Don't you see he's starving and out of his head?" snapped Holt +brusquely. "Get him grub, _pronto_." + +The old man rose and moved toward the suffering man. "Come, pard. Tha' +'s all right. Sit down right here and go to it, as the old sayin' is." +He led the man to a place beside Big Bill and made him sit down. "Better +light a fire, boys, and get some coffee on. Don't give him too much +solid grub at first." + +The famished man ate what was given him and clamored for more. + +"Coming up soon, pardner," Holt told him soothingly. "Now tell us +howcome you to get lost." + +The man nodded gravely. "Hit that line low, Gord. Hit 'er low. Only +three yards to gain." + +"Plumb bughouse," commented Dud, chewing tobacco stolidly. + +"Out of his head--that's all. He'll be right enough after he's fed up +and had a good sleep. But right now he's sure some Exhibit A. Look at +the bones sticking through his cheeks," Big Bill commented. + +"Come, Old-Timer. Get down in your collar to it. Once more now. Don't +lie down on the job. All together now." The stranger clucked to an +imaginary horse and made a motion of lifting with his hands. + +"Looks like his hawss bogged down in Fifty-Mile Swamp," suggested Holt. + +"Looks like," agreed Dud. + +The old miner said no more. But his eyes narrowed to shining slits. If +this man had come through Fifty-Mile Swamp he must have started from the +river. That probably meant that he had come from Kusiak. He was a young +man, talking the jargon of a college football player. Without doubt he +was, in the old phrasing of the North, a chechako. His clothing, though +much soiled and torn, had been good. His voice held the inflections of +the cultured world. + +Gideon Holt's sly brain moved keenly to the possibility that he could +put a name to this human derelict they had picked up. He began to see +it as more than a possibility, as even a probability, at least as a +fifty-fifty chance. A sardonic grin hovered about the corners of his +grim mouth. It would be a strange freak of irony if Wally Selfridge, +to prevent a meeting between him and the Government land agent, had +sent him a hundred miles into the wilderness to save the life of Gordon +Elliot and so had brought about the meeting that otherwise would never +have taken place. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE RAH-RAH BOY FUNCTIONS + + +Big Bill grumbled a good deal at the addition to the party. It would be +decidedly awkward if this stranger should become rational and understand +the status of the camp he had joined. The word of old Holt alone might +be negligible, but supported by that of a disinterested party it would +be a very different matter. Still, there was no help for it. They would +have to take care of the man until he was able to travel. Perhaps he +would go in with them as an additional guard. At the worst Big Bill +could give him a letter to Selfridge explaining things and so pass the +buck to that gentleman. + +Gid Holt had, with the tacit consent of his guards, appointed himself as +a sort of nurse to the stranger. He lit a smudge fire to the windward +side of him, fed him small quantities of food at intervals, and arranged +a sleeping-place for him with mosquito netting for protection. + +Early in the evening the sick man fell into a sound sleep from +which he did not awake until morning. George was away looking after the +pack-horses, Dud was cooking breakfast, and Big Bill, his rifle close at +hand, was chopping young firs fifty feet back of the camp. The cook also +had a gun, loaded with buckshot, lying on a box beside him, so that they +were taking no chances with their prisoner. He could not have covered +twenty yards without being raked by a cross-fire. + +The old miner turned from rearranging the boughs of green fir on the +smudge to see that his patient was awake and his mind normal. The quiet, +steady eyes resting upon him told that the delirium had passed. + +"Pretty nearly all in, wasn't I?" the young man said. + +The answer of Gid Holt was an odd one. "Yep. Seven--eleven--fifteen. +Take 'er easy, old man," he said in his shrill, high voice as he moved +toward the man in the blankets. Then, in a low tone, while he pretended +to arrange the bedding over the stranger, he asked a quick question. + +"Are you Elliot?" + +"Yes." + +"Don't tell them. Talk football lingo as if you was still out of your +haid." Holt turned and called to Dud. "Says he wants some breakfast." + +"On the way," the cook answered. + +Holt seemed to be soothing the delirious man. What he really said was +this. "Selfridge has arranged a plant for you at Kamatlah. The camp has +been turned inside out to fool you. They've brought me here a prisoner +so as to keep me from telling you the truth. Pst! Tune up now." + +Big Bill had put down his axe and was approaching. He was not exactly +suspicious, but he did not believe in taking unnecessary chances. + +"I tell you I'm out of training. Played the last game, haven't we? Come +through with a square meal, you four-flusher," demanded Elliot in a +querulous voice. He turned to Macy. "Look here, Cap. Haven't I played +the game all fall? Don't I get what I want now we're through?" + +The voice of the young man was excited. His eyes had lost their quiet +steadiness and roved restlessly to and fro. If Big Bill had held any +doubts one glance dissipated them. + +"Sure you do. Hustle over and help Dud with the breakfast, Holt. I'll +look out for our friend." + +Elliot and Holt found no more chance to talk together that morning. +Sometimes the young Government official lay staring straight in front +of him. Sometimes he appeared to doze. Again he would talk in the +disjointed way of one not clear in the head. + +An opportunity came in the afternoon for a moment. + +"Keep your eyes skinned for a chance to lay out the guard to-night and +get his gun," Holt said quickly. + +Gordon nodded. "I don't know that I've got to do everything just as you +say," he complained aloud for the benefit of George, who was passing on +his way to the place where the horses were hobbled. + +"Now--now! There ain't nobody trying to boss you," Holt explained in a +patient voice. + +"They'd better not," snapped the invalid. + +"Some scrapper--that kid," said the horse wrangler with a grin. + +Macy took the first watch that night. He turned in at two after he had +roused Dud to take his place. The cook had been on duty about an hour +when Elliot kicked Holt, who was sleeping beside him, to make sure that +he was ready. The old man answered the kick with another. + +Presently Gordon got up, yawned, and strolled toward the edge of the +camp. + +"Don't go and get lost, young fellow," cautioned Dud. + +Gordon, on his way back, passed behind the guard, who was sitting tailor +fashion before a smudge with a muley shotgun across his knees. + +"This ain't no country for chechakoes to be wandering around without a +keeper," the cook continued. "Looks like your folks would have better +sense than to let their rah-rah boy--" + +He got no farther. Elliot dropped to one knee and his strong fingers +closed on the gullet of the man so tightly that not even a groan could +escape him. His feet thrashed to and fro as he struggled, but he could +not shake off the grip that was strangling him. The old miner, waiting +with every muscle ready and every nerve under tension, flung aside his +blanket and hurled himself at the guard. It took him less time than it +takes to tell to wrest the gun from the cook. + +He got to his feet just as Big Bill, his eyes and brain still fogged +with sleep, sat up and began to take notice of the disturbance. + +"Don't move," warned Holt sharply. "Better throw your hands up. You +reach for the stars, too, Holway. No monkey business, do you hear? I'd +as lief blow a hole through you as not." + +Big Bill turned bitterly upon Elliot. "So you were faking all the time, +young fellow. We save your life and you round on us. You're a pretty +slick proposition as a double-crosser." + +"And that ain't all," chirped up Holt blithely. "Let me introduce our +friend to you, Mr. Big Bill Macy. This is Gordon Elliot, the land agent +appointed to look over the Kamatlah claims. Selfridge gave you lads this +penitentiary job so as I wouldn't meet Elliot when he reached the camp. +If he hadn't been so darned anxious about it, our young friend would +have died here on the divide. But Mr. Selfridge kindly outfitted a party +and sent us a hundred miles into the hills to rescue the perishing, as +the old sayin' goes. Consequence is, Elliot and me meet up and have that +nice confidential talk after all. The ways of Providence is strange, as +you might say, Mr. Macy." + +"Your trick," conceded Big Bill sullenly. "Now what are you going to do +with us?" + +"Not a thing--going to leave you right here to prospect Wild-Goose +Creek," answered Holt blandly. "Durden says there's gold up here--heaps +of it." + +Bill Macy condemned Durden in language profane and energetic. He didn't +stop at Durden. Holt came in for a share of it, also Elliot and +Selfridge. + +The old miner grinned at him. "You'll feel better now you've got that +out of your system. But don't stop there if you'd like to say a few more +well-chosen words. We got time a-plenty." + +"Cut it out, Bill. That line o' talk don't buy you anything," said +Holway curtly. "What's the use of beefing?" + +"Now you're shouting, my friend," agreed old Gideon. "I guess, Elliot, +you can loosen up on the chef's throat awhile. He's had persuading +enough, don't you reckon? I'll sit here and sorter keep the boys company +while you cut the pack-ropes and bring 'em here. But first I'd step in +and unload all the hardware they're packing. If you don't one of them is +likely to get anxious. I'd hate to see any of them commit suicide with +none of their friends here to say, 'Don't he look natural?'" + +Elliot brought back the pack-ropes and cut them into suitable lengths. +Holt's monologue rambled on. He was garrulous and affable. Not for a +long time had he enjoyed himself so much. + +"Better begin with Chief Big Bill," he suggested. "No, I wouldn't make +that move if I was you, Mr. Macy. This old gun is liable to go off +accidental in your direction and she spatters like hell. That's the +idee. Be reasonable. Not that I give a hoot, but a man hadn't ought to +let his impulses run away with his judgment, as the old sayin' is." + +Gordon tied the hands of Big Bill behind him, then roped his feet +together, after which he did the same for Holway. The old miner +superintended the job and was not satisfied till he had added a few +extra knots on his own behalf. + +"That'll hold them for awhile, I shouldn't wonder. Now if you'll just +cover friend chef with this sawed-off gat, Elliot, I'll throw the +diamond hitch over what supplies we'll need to get back to Kamatlah. +I'll take one bronch and leave the other to the convicts," said Holt +cheerfully. + +"Forget that convict stuff," growled Macy. "With Macdonald back of us +and the Guttenchilds back of him, you'll have a hectic time getting +anything on us." + +"That might be true if these folks were back of you. But are they? +Course I ain't any Sherlock Holmes, but it don't look to me like they'd +play any such fool system as this." + +Big Bill opened his mouth to answer--and said nothing. He had caught a +look flashed at him by Holway, a look that warned him he was talking too +much. + +After Holt had packed one of the animals he turned to Elliot. + +"I reckon we're ready." + +Under orders from Elliot, Dud fixed up the smudges and arranged the +mosquito netting over the bound men so as to give them all the +protection possible. + +"We're going to take Dud with us for a part of the trip. We'll send him +back to you later in the day. You'll have to fast till he gets back, but +outside of that you'll do very well if you don't roll around trying to +get loose. Do that, and you'll jar loose the mosquito netting. You know +what that means," explained Gordon. + +"It ain't likely any grizzlies will come pokin' their noses into camp. +But you never can tell. Any last words you want sent to relatives?" +asked Gideon Holt. + +The last words they heard from Big Bill as they moved down the draw were +sulphuric. + +"Macy he ain't wearin' any W. J. Bryan smile this glad mo'nin'," mused +old Holt aloud. + +It was three o'clock in the morning by the watch when they started. +About nine they threw off for breakfast. By this time they were just +across the divide and were ready to take the down trail. + +"I think we'll let Dud go now," Elliot told his partner in the +adventure. + +"Better hold him till afternoon. Then they can't possibly reach us till +we get to Kamatlah." + +"What does it matter if they do? We have both rifles and have left them +only one revolver. Besides, I don't like to leave two bound men alone in +so wild a district for any great time. No, we'll start Dud on the back +trail. That grizzly you promised Big Bill might really turn up." + +The two men struck the headwaters of Wild-Goose Creek about noon and +followed the stream down. They traveled steadily without haste. So long +as they kept a good lookout there was nothing to be feared from the men +they had left behind. They had both a long start and the advantage of +weapons. + +If Elliot had advertised for a year he could not have found a man who +knew more of Colby Macdonald's past than Gideon Holt. The old man had +mushed on the trail with him in the Klondike days. He had worked a +claim on Frenchman Creek with him and had by sharp practice--so at +least he had come to believe--been lawed out of his rights by the shrewd +Scotchman. For seventeen years he had nursed a grudge against Macdonald, +and he was never tired of talking about him. He knew many doubtful +things charged to the account of the big man as he had blazed a way +to success over the failures of less fortunate people. One story in +particular interested Gordon. It came out the second day, as they were +getting down into the foothills. + +"There was Farrell O'Neill. He was a good fellow, Farrell was, but he +had just one weakness. There was times when he liked the bottle too +well. He'd let it alone for months and then just lap the stuff up. It +was the time of the stampede to Bonanza Creek. Men are just like sheep. +They wear wool on their backs like them and have their habits. You can +start 'em any fool way for no cause a-tall. Don't you know it? Well, the +news of the strike on Bonanza reached Dawson and we all burnt up the +trail to get to the new ground first. O'Neill was one of the first. +He got in about twenty below discovery, if I remember. Mac wasn't in +Dawson, but he got there next mo'nin' and heard the news. He lit out +for Bonanza _pronto_." + +The old miner stopped, took a chew of tobacco, and looked down into the +valley far below where Kamatlah could just be seen, a little huddle of +huts. + +"Well?" asked Elliot. It was occasionally necessary to prompt Holt when +he paused for his dramatic effects. He would pretend to forget that he +was telling a yarn which might interest his hearer. + +"Mac draps in and joins O'Neill at night. They knew each other, y' +understand, so o' course it was natural Mac would put up at his camp. +O'Neill had a partner and they had located together. Fellow named +Strong." + +"Not Hanford Strong, a little, heavy-set man somewhere around fifty?" +Gordon asked quickly. + +"You've tagged the right man. Know him?" + +"I've met him." + +"Well, I never heard anything against Han Strong. Anyway, he was off +that night packing grub up while Farrell held down the claim. Mac had +a jug of booze with him. He got Farrell tanked up. You know Mac--how he +can put it across when he's a mind to. He's a forceful devil, and he can +be a mighty likable one." + +Elliot nodded understanding. "He's always the head of the table no +matter where he sits. And there is something wonderfully attractive +about him." + +"Sure there is. But when he is friendliest you want to watch out he +don't slip an upper cut at you that'll put you out of biz. He done that +to Farrell--and done it a-plenty." + +"How?" + +"O'Neill got mellowed up till he thought Mac was his best friend. +He was ready to eat out of his hand. So Mac works him up to sign a +contract--before witnesses too; trust Mac for that--exchanging his +half-interest in the claim for five hundred dollars in cash and Mac's +no-'count lease on Frenchman Creek. Inside of a week Mac and Strong +struck a big pay streak. They took over two hundred thousand from the +spring clean-up." + +"It was nothing better than robbery." + +"Call it what you want to. Anyhow, it stuck. O'Neill kicked, and that's +all the good it did him. He consulted lawyers at Dawson. Finally he got +so discouraged that he plumb went to pieces--got on a long bat and +stayed there till his money ran out. Then one bitter night he starts up +to Bonanza to have it out with Mac. The mercury was so low it had run +into the ground a foot. Farrell slept in a deserted cabin without a fire +and not enough bedding. He caught pneumony. By the time he reached the +claim he was a mighty sick man. Next week he died. That's all Mac done +to O'Neill. Not a thing that wasn't legal either." + +Gordon thought of Sheba O'Neill as she sat listening to the tales of +Macdonald in Diane's parlor and his gorge rose at the man. + +"But Mac had fell on his feet all right," continued Holt. "He got his +start off that claim. Now he's a millionaire two or three times over, +I reckon." + +They reached the outskirts of Kamatlah about noon of the third day. +Gordon left Holt at his cabin after they had eaten and went in alone +to look the ground over. He met Selfridge at the post-office. That +gentleman was effusive in his greeting. + +"This _is_ a pleasant surprise, Mr. Elliot. When did you get in? +Had no idea you were coming or I'd have asked you for the pleasure +of your company. I'm down on business, of course. No need to tell you +that--nobody would come to this hole for any other reason. Howland and +his wife are the only possible people here. Hope you play bridge." + +Elliot played it, but he did not say so. It was his business not to be +drawn into entangling alliances. + +"Of course you'll put up with me as my guest," Selfridge flowed on. +"I've wanted to meet you again ever since we were on the Hannah +together." + +This was a little too cheeky. Gordon recalled with some amusement how +this tubby little man and his friends had ignored the existence of Sheba +O'Neill and himself for several days. + +He answered genially. "Pleasant time we had on the river, didn't we? +Thanks awfully for your invitation, but I've already made arrangements +for putting up." + +"Where? There's no decent place in camp except at Howland's. He keeps +open house for our friends." + +"I couldn't think of troubling him," countered Gordon. + +"No trouble at all. We'll send for your things. Where are they?" + +The land agent let him have it right between the eyes. "At Gideon +Holt's. I'm staying with him on his claim." + +Wally had struck a match to light a cigarette, but this simple statement +petrified him. His jaw dropped and his eyes bulged. Not till the flame +burned his fingers did he come to life. + +"Did you say you were staying--with Gid Holt?" he floundered weakly. + +Gordon noticed that his florid face had lost its color. The jaunty +cock-sureness of the man had flickered out like the flame of the charred +match. + +"Yes. He offered to board me," answered the young man blandly. + +"But--I didn't know he was here--seems to me I had +heard--somewhere--that he was away." + +"He was away. But he has come back." Gordon gave the information without +even a flash of mirth in his steady eyes. + +Selfridge could not quite let the subject alone. "Seems to me I heard he +went prospecting." + +"He did. Up Wild-Goose Creek, with Big Bill Macy and two other men. But +I asked him to come back with me--and he did." + +Feebly Wally groped for the clue without finding it. Had Big Bill sold +him out? And how had Elliot got into touch with him? + +"Just so, Mr. Elliot. But really, you know, Howland can make you a great +deal more comfortable than Holt. His wife is a famous cook. I'll have a +man go get your traps." + +"It's very good of you, but I think I won't move." + +"Oh, but you must. Holt's nutty--nobody at home, you know. Everybody +knows that." + +"Is he? The old man struck me as being remarkably clear-headed. By the +way, I want to thank you for sending a relief party out to find me, Mr. +Selfridge. Except for your help I would have died in the hills." + +This was another facer for Wally. What the devil did the fellow mean? +The deuce of it was that he knew all the facts and Wally did not. He +talked as if he meant it, but behind those cool eyes there might lie +either mockery or irony. One thing alone stood out to Selfridge like +a sore thumb. His plans had come tumbling down like a house of cards. +Either Big Bill had blundered amazingly, or he had played traitor. +In either case Wally could guess pretty shrewdly whose hide Macdonald +would tan for the failure. The chief wanted results. He did not ask of +his subordinates how they got them. And this was the second time in +succession that Selfridge had come to grief. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +GORDON INVITES HIMSELF TO DINNER--AND DOES NOT ENJOY IT + + +Big Bill and his companions reached Kamatlah early next day. They +reported at once to Selfridge. It had been the intention of Wally to +vent upon them the bad temper that had been gathering ever since his +talk with Elliot. But his first sarcastic question drew such a snarl of +anger that he reconsidered. The men were both sullen and furious. They +let him know roundly that if Holt made them any trouble through the +courts, they would tell all they knew. + +The little man became alarmed. Instead of reproaches he gave them soft +words and promises. The company would see them through. It would protect +them against criminal procedure. But above all they must stand pat in +denial. A conviction would be impossible even if the State's attorney +filed an indictment against them. Meanwhile they would remain on the +company pay-roll. + +Gordon Elliot was a trained investigator. Even without Holt at his side +he would probably have unearthed the truth about the Kamatlah situation. +But with the little miner by his side to tell him the facts, he found +his task an easy one. + +Selfridge followed orders and let him talk with the men freely. All of +them had been drilled till they knew their story like parrots. They were +suspicious of the approaches of Elliot, but they had been warned that +they must appear to talk candidly. The result was that some talked too +much and some not enough. They contradicted themselves and one another. +They let slip admissions under skillful examination that could be +explained on no other basis than that of company ownership. + +Both Selfridge and Howland outdid themselves in efforts to establish +close social relations. But Gordon was careful to put himself under no +obligations. He called on the Howlands, but he laughingly explained why +he could not accept the invitations of Mrs. Howland to dinner. + +"I have to tell things here as I see them, and may not have your point +of view. How can I accept your hospitality and then report that I think +your husband ought to be sent up for life?" + +She was a good, motherly woman and she laughed with him. But she did +wish this pleasant young fellow could be made to take the proper view of +things. + +Within two weeks Elliot had finished his work at Kamatlah. + +"Off for Kusiak to-morrow," he told Holt that night. + +The old miner went with him as a guide to the big bend. Gordon had no +desire to attempt again Fifty-Mile Swamp without the help of some one +who knew every foot of the trail. Holt had taken the trip a dozen times. +With him to show the way the swamp became merely a hard, grueling mush +through boggy lowlands. + +Weary with the trail, they reached the river at the end of a long day. +An Indian village lay sprawled along the bank, and through this the two +men tramped to the roadhouse where they were to put up for the night. + +Holt called to the younger man, who was at the time in the lead. + +"Wait a minute, Elliot." + +Gordon turned. The old Alaskan was offering a quarter to a little +half-naked Indian boy. Shyly the four-year-old came forward, a step at +a time, his finger in his mouth. He held out a brown hand for the coin. + +"What's your name, kid?" Holt flashed a look at Elliot that warned him +to pay attention. + +"Colmac," the boy answered bashfully. + +His fist closed on the quarter, he turned, and like a startled caribou +he fled to a comely young Indian woman standing near the trail. + +With gleaming eyes Holt turned to Elliot. "Take a good look at the +squaw," he said in a low voice. + +Elliot glanced at the woman behind whose skirts the youngster was +hiding. He smiled and nodded pleasantly to her. + +"She's not bad looking if that's what you mean," he said after they had +taken up the trail again. + +"You ain't the only white man that has thought that," retorted the old +miner significantly. + +"No?" Gordon had learned to let Holt tell things at his leisure. It +usually took less time than to try to hurry him. + +"Name of the kid mean anything to you?" + +"Can't say it did." + +"Hm! Named for his dad. First syllable of each of his names." + +The land inspector stopped in his stride and wheeled upon Holt. His eyes +asked eagerly a question. "You don't mean Colby Macdonald?" + +"Why don't I?" + +"But--Good Lord, he isn't a squawman, is he?" + +"Not in the usual meaning of the word. She never cooked and kept house +for him. Just the same, little Colmac is his kid. Couldn't you see it +sticking out all over him? He's the spit'n' image of his dad." + +"I see it now you've pointed it out. I was trying to think who he +reminded me of. Of course it was Macdonald." + +"Mac met up with Meteetse when he first scouted this country for coal +five years ago. So far's I know he was square enough with the girl. She +never claimed he made any promises or anything like that. He sends a +check down once a quarter to the trader here for her and the kid." + +But young Elliot was not thinking about Meteetse. His mind's eye saw +another picture--the girl at Kusiak, listening spellbound to the tales +of a man whose actions translated romance into life for her, a girl +swept from the quiet backwaters of an Irish village to this land of +the midnight sun with its amazing contrasts. + +And all the way up on the boat she continued to fill his mind. The +slowness of the steamer fretted him. He paced up and down the deck for +hours at a time worried and anxious. Sometimes the jealousy in his heart +flamed up like a prairie fire when it comes to a brush heap. The outrage +of it set him blazing with indignation. Diane ought to be whipped, he +told himself, for her part in the deception. It was no less than a +conspiracy. What could an innocent young girl like Sheba know of such +a man as Colby Macdonald? Her imagination conceived, no doubt, an +idealized vision of him. But the real man was clear outside her ken. + +Gordon set his jaw grimly. He would have it out with Diane. He would let +her see she was not going to have it all her own way. By God, he would +put a spoke in her wheel. + +Sometimes, when the cool, evening breezes blew on his bare, fevered +head, he laughed at himself for an idiot. How did he know that Macdonald +wanted Sheba O'Neill. All the evidence he had was that he had once seen +the man watch her while she sang a sentimental song. Whereas it was +common talk that he would probably marry Mrs. Mallory, that for months +he had been her almost daily companion. If the older woman had lost +the sweet, supple slimness of her first youth, she had won in exchange +a sophisticated grace, a seductive allure that made her the envy of +all the women with whom she associated. She held at command a warm, +languorous charm which had stirred banked fires in the hearts of many +men. Why should not Macdonald woo her? Gordon himself admitted her +attractiveness. + +And why should he take it for granted that Sheba was ready to drop into +the arms of the big Alaskan whenever he said the word? At the least he +was twenty years older than she. Surely she might admire him without +falling in love with the man. Was there not something almost insulting +in the supposition that Macdonald had only to speak to her in order to +win? + +But in spite of reason he was on fire to come to his journey's end. +No sooner had he reached his hotel than he called up Mrs. Paget. Quite +clearly she understood that he wanted an invitation to dinner. Yet she +hesitated. + +"My 'phone can't be working well," Gordon told her gayly. "You must have +asked me to dinner, but I didn't just hear it. Never mind. I'll be +there. Seven o'clock, did you say?" + +Diane laughed. "You're just as much a boy as you were ten years ago, +Gord. All right. Come along. But you're to leave at ten. Do you +understand?" + +"No, I can't hear that. My 'phone has gone bad again. And if I had +heard, I shouldn't think of doing anything so ridiculous as leaving at +that hour. It would be an insult to your hospitality. I know when I'm +well off." + +"Then I'll have to withdraw my invitation. Perhaps some other day--" + +"I'll leave at ten," promised Elliot meekly. + +He could almost hear the smile in her voice as she answered. "Very well. +Seven sharp. I'll explain about the curfew limit sometime." + +Macdonald was with Miss O'Neill in the living-room when Gordon arrived +at the Paget home. + +Sheba came forward to greet the new guest. The welcome in her eyes was +very genuine. + +"You and Mr. Macdonald know each other, of course," she said after her +handshake. + +The Scotchman nodded his lean, grizzled head, looking straight into the +eyes of the field agent. There was always a certain deliberation about +his manner, but it was the slowness of strength and not of weakness. + +"Yes, I know Mr. Elliot--now. I'm not so sure that he knows me--yet." + +"I'm beginning to know you rather well, Mr. Macdonald," answered Gordon +quietly, but with a very steady look. + +If the Alaskan wanted to declare war he was ready for it. The field +agent knew that Selfridge had sent reports detailing what had happened +at Kamatlah. Up to date Macdonald had offered him the velvet glove. He +wondered if the time had come when the fist of steel was to be doubled. + +Paget was frankly pleased to see Gordon again. He was a simple, honest +man who moved always in a straight line. He had liked Elliot as a boy +and he still liked him. So did Diane, for that matter, but she was a +little on her guard against him. She had certain plans under way that +she intended to put through. She was not going to let even Gordon Elliot +frustrate them. + +"Did you have a successful trip, Mr. Elliot?" asked Sheba innocently. + +Paget grinned behind his hand. The girl's question was like a match +to powder, and every one in the room knew it but she. The engineer's +interests and his convictions were on the side of Macdonald, but +he recognized that Elliot had been sent in to gather facts for the +Government and not to give advice to it. If he played fair, he could +only tell the truth as he saw it. + +The eyes of Diane held a spark of hostility as she leaned forward. The +word had already been passed among the faithful that this young man was +not taking the right point of view. + +"Did you, Gordon?" echoed his hostess. + +"I think so," he answered quietly. + +"I hear you put up with old Gideon Holt. Is he as cracked as he used to +be?" asked Macdonald. + +"Was he cracked when you used to know him on Frenchman Creek?" countered +the young man. + +Macdonald shot a quick, slant look at him. The old man had been talking, +had he? + +"He was cracked and broke too," laughed the mine-owner hardily. "Cracked +when he came, broke when he left." + +"Yes, that was one of the stories he told me." Gordon turned to Sheba. +"You should meet the old man, Miss O'Neill. He knew your father at +Dawson and on Bonanza." + +The girl was all eagerness. "I'd like to. Does he ever come to Kusiak?" + +"Nonsense!" cut in Diane sharply. She flashed at Gordon a look of +annoyance. "He's nothing but a daft old idiot, my dear." + +The dinner had started wrong, and though Paget steered the conversation +to safer ground, it did not go very well. At least three of those +present were a little on edge. Even Sheba, who had missed entirely the +point of the veiled thrusts, knew that Elliot was not in harmony with +either Diane or Macdonald. + +Gordon was ashamed of himself. He could not quite have told what were +the impulses that had moved him to carry the war into the camp of the +enemy. Perhaps, more than anything else, it had been a certain look of +quiet assurance in the eyes of his rival when he looked at Sheba. + +He rose promptly at ten. + +"Must you go so soon?" Diane asked. She was smiling at him with bland +mockery. + +"I really must," answered Elliot. + +His hostess followed him into the hall. She watched him get into his +coat before saying what was on her mind. + +"What did you mean by telling Sheba that old Holt knew her father? +What is he to tell her if they meet--that her father died of pneumonia +brought on by drink? Is that what you want?" + +Gordon was honestly contrite. "I didn't think of that." + +"No, you were too busy thinking of something mean to say to Mr. +Macdonald." + +He agreed, yet could not forbear one dig more. "I suppose I wanted Holt +to tell her that Macdonald robbed her father and indirectly was the +cause of his death." + +"Absurd!" exploded Diane. "You're so simple that you accept as true the +gossip of every crack-brained idiot--when it suits your purpose." + +He smiled, boyishly, engagingly, as he held out his hand. "Don't let's +quarrel, Di. I admit I forgot myself." + +"All right. We won't. But don't believe all the catty talk you hear, +Gordon." + +"I'll try to believe only the truth." He smiled, a little ruefully. "And +it isn't necessary for you to explain why the curfew law applies to me +and not to Macdonald." + +She was on her dignity at once. "You're quite right. It isn't necessary. +But I'm going to tell you anyhow. Mr. Macdonald is going away to-morrow +for two or three days and he has some business he wants to talk over +with Sheba. He had made an appointment with her, and I didn't think it +fair to let your coming interfere with it." + +Gordon took this facer with his smile still working. + +"I've got a little business I want to talk over with _you_, Di." + +She had always been a young woman of rather a hard finish. Now she met +him fairly, eye to eye. "Any time you like, Gordon." + +Elliot carried away with him one very definite impression. Diane +intended Sheba to marry Macdonald if she could bring it about. She had +as good as served notice on him that the girl was spoken for. + +The young man set his square jaw. Diane was used to having her own way. +So was Macdonald. Well, the Elliots had a will of their own too. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +SHEBA SAYS "PERHAPS" + + +Obeying the orders of the general in command, Peter took himself to +his den with the excuse that he had blue-prints to work over. Presently +Diane said she thought she heard one of the children crying and left +to investigate. + +The Scotchman strode to the fireplace and stood looking down into the +glowing coals. He seemed in no hurry to break the silence and Sheba +glanced at his strong, brooding face a little apprehensively. Her +excitement showed in the color that was beating into her cheeks. She +knew of only one subject that would call for so formal a private talk +between her and Macdonald, and any discussion of this she would very +much have liked to postpone. + +He turned from the fire to Sheba. It was characteristic of him that he +plunged straight at what he wanted to say. + +"I've asked to see you alone, Miss O'Neill, because I want to make a +confession and restitution--to begin with," he told her abruptly. + +She had a sense of suddenly stilled pulses. "That sounds very serious." +The young woman smiled faintly. + +His face of chiseled granite masked all emotion. It kept under lock and +key the insurgent impulses that moved him when he looked into the sloe +eyes charged with reserve. Back of them, he felt, was the mystery of +purity, of maidenhood. He longed to know her better, to find out and +to appropriate for himself the woman that lay behind the fine veil of +flesh. She seemed to him delicate as a flame and as vivid. There would +come a day when her innocent, passional nature would respond to the love +of a man as a waiting harp does to skillful fingers. + +"My story goes away back to the Klondike days. I told you that I knew +your father on Frenchman Creek, but I didn't say much about knowing him +on Bonanza." + +"Mr. Strong has told me something about the days on Bonanza, and I knew +you would tell me more some day--when you wanted to speak about it." She +was seated in a low chair and the white throat lifted toward him was +round as that of a bird. + +"Your father was among the first of those who stampeded to Bonanza. He +and Strong took up a claim together. I bought out the interest of your +father." + +"You told me that." + +His masterful eyes fastened to hers. "I didn't tell you that I took +advantage of him. He was--not well. I used that against him in the +bargaining. He wanted ready money, and I tempted him." + +"Do you mean that you--wronged him?" + +"Yes. I cheated him." He was resolved to gloss over nothing, to offer no +excuses. "I didn't know there was gold on his claim, but I had what we +call a hunch. I took his claim without giving value received." + +It was her turn now to look into the fire and think. From the letters +of her father, from talks with old-timers she knew how in the stampedes +every man's hand had been for himself, how keen-edged had been the +passion for gold, a veritable lust that corroded the souls of men. + +"But--I don't understand." Her brave, steady eyes looked directly into +those of Macdonald. "If he felt you had--done him a wrong--why did he +come to you when he was ill?" + +"He was coming to demand justice of me. On the way he suffered exposure +and caught pneumonia. The word reached us, and Strong and I brought him +to our cabin." + +"You faced a blizzard to bring him in. Mr. Strong told me how you risked +your life by carrying him through the storm--how you wouldn't give up +and leave him, though you were weak and staggering yourself. He says it +was a miracle you ever got through." + +The big mine-owner brushed this aside as of no importance. "We don't +leave sick men to die in a blizzard up North. But that's not the point." + +"I think it has a bearing on the matter--that you saved him from the +blizzard--and took him in--and nursed him like a brother till he died." + +"I'm not heartless," said Macdonald impatiently. "Of course I did that. +I had to do it. I couldn't do less." + +"Or more," she suggested. "You may have made a hard bargain with him, +but you wiped that out later." + +"That's just what I didn't do. Don't think my conscience is troubling +me. I'm not such a mush-brained fool. If it had not been for you I would +never have thought of it again. But you are his daughter. What I cheated +him out of belongs to you--and you are my friend." + +"Don't use that word about what you did, please. He wasn't a child. If +you got the best of him in a bargain, I don't think father would think +of it that way." + +The difficulty was that he could not tell her the truth about her +father's weakness for drink and how he had played upon it. He bridged +all explanations and passed to the thing he meant to do in reparation. + +"The money I cleaned up from that claim belongs to you, Miss O'Neill. +You will oblige me by taking it." + +From his pocket he took a folded paper and handed it to her. Sheba +opened it doubtfully. The paper contained a typewritten statement and +to it was attached a check by means of a clip. The check was made out +to her and signed by Colby Macdonald. The amount it called for was one +hundred and eighty-three thousand four hundred and thirty-one dollars. + +"Oh, I couldn't take this, Mr. Macdonald--I couldn't. It doesn't belong +to me," she cried. + +"It belongs to you--and you're going to take it." + +"I wouldn't know what to do with so much." + +"The bank will take care of it for you until you decide. So that's +settled." He passed definitely from the subject. "There's something else +I want to say to you, Miss O'Neill." + +Some change in his voice warned her. The girl slanted a quick, shy +glance at him. + +"I want to know if you'll marry me, Miss O'Neill," he shot at her +abruptly. Then, without giving her time to answer, he pushed on: +"I'm older than you--by twenty-five years. Always I've lived on the +frontiers. I've had to take the world by the throat and shake from it +what I wanted. So I've grown hard and willful. All the sweet, fine +things of life I've missed. But with you beside me I'm not too old to +find them yet--if you'll show me the way, Sheba." + +A wave of color swept into her face, but her eyes never faltered from +his. "I'm not quite sure," she said in a low voice. + +"You mean--whether you love me?" + +She nodded. "I--admire you more than any man I ever met. You are a great +man, strong and powerful,--and I am so insignificant beside you. I--am +drawn to you--so much. But--I am not sure." + +Afterward, when she thought of it, Sheba wondered at the direct ease of +his proposal. In the romances she had read, men were shy and embarrassed +and fearful of the issue. But Colby Macdonald had known what he wanted +to say and had said it as coolly and as readily as if it had been a +business detail. She was the one that had blushed and stammered and +found a difficulty in expressing herself. + +"I'm going away for two days. Perhaps when I come back you will know, +Sheba. Take your time. Marriage is serious business. I want you to +remember that my life has been very different from yours. You'll hear +all sorts of things about me. Some of them are true. There is this +difference between a man and a good woman. He fights and falls and +fights again and wins. But a good woman is finer. She has never known +the failure that drags one through slime and mud. Her goodness is born +in her; she doesn't have to fight for it." + +The girl smiled a little tremulously. "Doesn't she? We're not all angel, +you know." + +"I hope you're not. There will need to be a lot of the human in you to +make allowances for Colby Macdonald," he replied with an answering +smile. + +When he said good-bye it was with a warm, strong handshake. + +"I'll be back in two days. Perhaps you'll have good news for me then," +he suggested. + +The dark, silken lashes of her eyes lifted shyly to meet his. + +"Perhaps," she said. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +DIANE AND GORDON DIFFER + + +During the absence of Macdonald the field agent saw less of Sheba than +he had expected, and when he did see her she had an abstracted manner he +did not quite understand. She kept to her own room a good deal, except +when she took long walks into the hills back of the town. Diane had a +shrewd idea that the Alaskan had put his fortune to the test, and she +not only let her cousin alone herself, but fended Gordon from her +adroitly. + +The third day after the dinner Elliot dropped around to the Pagets with +intent to get Sheba into a set of tennis. Diane sat on the porch darning +socks. + +"Sheba is out walking with Mr. Macdonald," she explained in answer to +a question as to the whereabouts of her guest. + +"Oh, he's back, is he?" remarked Gordon moodily. + +Mrs. Paget was quite cheerful on that subject. "He came back this +morning. Sheba has gone up with him to see the Lucky Strike." + +"You're going to marry her to that man if you can, aren't you?" he +charged. + +"If I can, Gordon." She slipped a darning-ball into one of little +Peter's stockings and placidly trimmed the edges of the hole. + +"It's what I call a conspiracy." + +"Is it?" Diane smiled. + +Gordon understood her smile to mean that he was jealous. + +"Maybe I am. That's not the point," he answered, just as if she had made +her accusation in words. + +"Suppose you tell me what the point is," she suggested, both amused and +annoyed. + +"He isn't good enough for her. You know that perfectly well." + +"Good enough!" She shrugged her shoulders. "What man _is_ good +enough for a nice girl if you come to that? There are other things +beside sugary goodness. Any man who is strong can make himself good +enough for the woman he loves." + +"Generally speaking, yes. But Colby Macdonald is different." + +"Thank Heaven he is," she retorted impatiently. Then added after a +moment: "He isn't a Sunday-School superintendent if that's what you +mean." + +"That isn't what I mean at all. But there's such a thing as a difference +between right and wrong, isn't there?" + +"Oh, yes. For instance, Mr. Macdonald is right about the need of +developing Alaska and the way to do it, and you are wrong." + +He could not help smiling a little at the adroit way she tried to +sidetrack him, even though he was angry at her. But he had no intention +of letting her go without freeing his mind. + +"I'm talking about essential right and wrong. Miss O'Neill is idealizing +Macdonald. I don't suppose you've told her, for instance, that he made +his first money in the North running a dance hall." + +"No, I haven't told her any such thing, because it isn't true," she +replied scornfully. "He owned an opera house and brought in a company of +players. I dare say they danced. That's very different, as you'd know if +you didn't have astigmatism of the mind." + +"Not the way the story was told me. But let that pass. Does she know +that Macdonald beat her father out of one of the best claims on Bonanza +and was indirectly responsible for his death?" + +"What's the use of talking nonsense, Gordon. You know you can't prove +that," his friend told him sharply. + +"I think I can--if it is necessary." + +Diane looked across at him with an impudent little tilt of the chin. +"I don't think I like you as well as I used to." + +"Sorry, because I'd like you just as well, Diane, if you would stop +trying to manage your cousin into a marriage that will spoil her life," +he answered gravely. + +"How dare you say that! How dare you, Gordon Elliot!" she flung back, +furious at him. "I won't have you here talking that way to me. It's an +insult." + +The fearless, level eyes of her friend looked straight at her. "I say it +because the happiness of Miss O'Neill is of very great importance to me." + +"Do you mean--?" Wide-eyed, she looked her question straight at him. + +"That's just what I mean, Diane." + +She darned for a minute in silence. It had occurred to Diane before that +perhaps Gordon might be in love with Sheba, but she had put the thought +from her because she did not want to believe it. + +"That's different, Gordon. It explains--and in a way excuses--your +coming here and trying to bully me." She stopped her work to flash a +question at him. "Don't you think that maybe it's only a fancy of yours? +I remember you used--" + +He shook his head. "No chance, Diane. I'm hard hit. She's the only girl +I ever met that suited me. Everything she does is right. Every move she +makes is wonderful." + +The eyes with which she looked at him were softer, as those of women are +wont to be for the true romance. + +"You poor boy," she murmured, and let her hand for a moment rest on his. + +"Meaning that I lose?" he asked quickly. + +"I think you do. I'm not sure." + +Elliot leaned forward impulsively. "Be a good sport, Diane. Let me have +my chance too. Why do you make it easy for Macdonald and hard for me? +Isn't it because the glamour of his millions blinds you?" + +"He's a big, splendid man, but I don't like him any the less because he +has the power to make life easy and comfortable for Sheba," she defended +sturdily. + +"Yet you turned down Arthur West, the best catch in your set, to marry +Peter, who was the worst," he reminded her. "Have you ever been sorry +for it?" + +"That's different. Peter and I fit. It was one case out of a million." +She gave him her old, friendly smile. "But I don't want to be hard on +you, Gord. I'll be neutral. Come and see Sheba as often as she'll let +you." + +Gordon beamed as he shook hands with her. "That sounds like the Di Paget +I used to know." + +She recurred to the previous question. "Sheba knows more about Mr. +Macdonald than you think. And about how he got her father's claim, for +instance,--she has heard all that." + +"You told her?" + +"No. Colby Macdonald told her. He said he practically robbed her father, +and he gave her a check for nearly two hundred thousand to cover the +clean-up from the claim and interest." + +"Bully for him." On the heel of this he flung a question at her. "Did +Macdonald ask her to marry him the night of the dinner?" + +A flash of whimsical amusement lit her dainty face. "You'd better ask +him that. Here he comes now." + +They were coming down the walk together, Macdonald and Sheba. The young +woman was absorbed in his talk, and she did not know that her cousin and +Elliot were on the porch until she was close upon them. But at sight of +the young man her eyes became warm and kind. + +"I'm sorry I was out yesterday when you called," she told him. + +"And you were out again to-day. My luck isn't very good, is it?" + +He laughed pleasantly, but his heart was bitter. He believed Macdonald +had won. Some hint of proprietorship in his manner, together with her +slight confusion when she saw them on the porch, had weighted his heart +with lead. + +"We've had such a good walk." Sheba went on quickly. "I wish you could +have heard Mr. Macdonald telling me how he once had a chance to save a +small Esquimaux tribe during a hard winter. He carried food five hundred +miles to them. It was a thrilling experience." + +"Mr. Macdonald has had a lot of very interesting experiences. You must +get him to tell you about all of them," answered Gordon quietly. + +The eyes of the two men met. The steel-gray ones of the older man +answered the challenge of his rival with a long, steady look. There was +in it something of triumph, something of scornful insolence. If this +young fellow wanted war, he did not need to wait long for it. + +"Time enough for that, man. Miss O'Neill and I have the whole Arctic +winter before us for stories." + +The muscles in the lean jaws of Gordon Elliot stood out like steel +ropes. He turned to Sheba. "Am I to congratulate Mr. Macdonald?" + +The color in her cheeks grew warmer, but her shy glance met his fairly. +"I think it is I that am to be congratulated, Mr. Elliot." + +Diane took her cousin in her arms. "My dear, I wish you all the +happiness in the world," she said softly. + +The Irish girl fled into the house as soon as she could, but not before +making an announcement. + +"We're to be married soon, very quietly. If you are still at Kusiak we +want you to be one of the few friends present, Mr. Elliot." + +Macdonald backed her invitation with a cool, cynical smile. "Miss +O'Neill speaks for us both, of course, Elliot." + +The defeated man bowed. "Thanks very much. The chances are that I'll be +through my business here before then." + +As soon as his fiancee had gone into the house, the Scotchman left. +Gordon sat down in a porch chair and stared straight in front of him. +The suddenness of the news had brought his world tumbling about his +ears. He felt that such a marriage would be an outrage against Sheba's +innocence. But he was not yet far enough away from the blow to ask +himself how much the personal hurt influenced his opinion. + +Though she was sorry for him, Diane did not think it best to say so yet. + +Presently he spoke thickly. "I suppose you have heard that he was a +squawman." + +His friend joined battle promptly with him. "That's ridiculous. Don't be +absurd, Gordon." + +"It's the truth. I've seen the woman. She was pointed out to me." + +"By old Gideon Holt, likely," she flashed. + +"One could get evidence and show it to Miss O'Neill," he said aloud, to +himself rather than to her. + +Diane put her point of view before him with heated candor. "_You_ +couldn't. Nobody but a cad would rake up old scandals about the man who +has beaten him fairly for a woman's love." + +"You beg the question. _Has_ he won fairly?" + +"Of course he has. Be a good sport, Gordon. Don't kick on the umpire's +decision. Play the game." + +"That's all very well. But what about her? Am I to sit quiet while she +is sacrificed to a code of honor that seems to me rooted in dishonor?" + +"She is not being sacrificed. I'm her cousin. I'm very fond of her. And +I'd trust her with Colby Macdonald." + +"Play fair, Diane. Tell her the truth about this Indian woman and let +your cousin decide for herself. You can't do less, can you?" + +Mrs. Paget was distinctly annoyed. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, +Gordon Elliot. You take all the gossip of a crack-brained old idiot +for gospel truth just because you want to believe the worst about Mr. +Macdonald. Don't you know that people will say anything about a man who +succeeds? Colby Macdonald is too big and too aggressive not to have made +hundreds of enemies. His life has been threatened dozens of times. But +he pays no attention to it--goes right on building-up this country. +Yet you'd think he had a cloven hoof to hear some people talk. I've no +patience with them." + +"The woman's name is Meteetse," Gordon said in an even voice, just as +if he were answering a question. "She is young and good-looking for an +Indian. Her boy is four or five years old. Colmac, they call him, and +he looks just like Macdonald." + +"People are always tracing resemblances. There's nothing to that. But +suppose his life _was_ irregular--years ago. This isn't Boston. It +used to be the fringe of civilization. Men did as they pleased in the +early days. We don't ask a man up here what he has been, but what he is. +You ought to know that by this time." + +"This wasn't in the early days. It was five years ago, when Macdonald +was examining the Kamatlah coal-field. I'm told he sends a check down +the river once a month for the woman." + +"All the more credit to him if he does." Diane rose and looked stormily +down at her friend. "You're about as broad as a clam, Gordon. Can't you +see that even if it's true, all that is done with? It is a part of his +past--and it's finished--trodden under foot. It hasn't a thing to do +with Sheba." + +"I don't agree with you. A man can't cut loose entirely from his past. +It is a part of him--and Macdonald's past isn't good enough for Sheba +O'Neill." + +Diane tapped her little foot impatiently on the floor. "Do you know many +men whose pasts are good enough for their wives? Are you a plaster-cast +saint yourself? You know perfectly well that men trample down their +pasts and begin again when they are married. Colby Macdonald is good +enough for any woman alive if he loves her enough." + +"You don't know him." + +"I know him far better than you do. He is the biggest man I know, and +now that he is in love with a good woman he'll rise to his chance." + +"She ought to be told the truth about Meteetse and her boy," he insisted +doggedly. + +"I'm not going to disturb her with a lot of old maids' gossip. That's +flat." + +"But if I prove to you that it isn't gossip." + +Mrs. Paget lost her temper completely. "Does the Government pay you to +mind other people's business, Gordon?" she snapped. + +"I wouldn't be working for the Government then, but for Sheba O'Neill." + +"And for Gordon Elliot. You'd be doing underhand work for him too. Don't +forget that. You can't do it. You're not that kind of a man. It isn't in +you to go muckraking in the past of the man Sheba is going to marry." + +Elliot rose and looked across at the blue-ribbed mountains. His square +jaw was set when he turned it back toward Diane. + +"She isn't going to marry him if I can help it," he said quietly. + +He walked out of the gate and down the walk toward his hotel. + +A message was waiting for him there from his chief in Seattle. It called +him down the river on business. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +GENEVIEVE MALLORY TAKES A HAND + + +Inside of an hour the news of the engagement of Macdonald was all over +Kusiak. It was through a telephone receiver that the gossip was buzzed +to Mrs. Mallory by a friend who owed her a little stab. The voice of +Genevieve Mallory registered faint amusement, but as soon as she had +hung up, her face fell into haggard lines. She had staked a year of her +waning youth on winning the big mining man of Kusiak, together with all +the money that she had been able to scrape up for a campaign outfit. +Moreover, she liked him. + +It was not in the picture that she should fall desperately in love with +any man. A woman of the world, she was sheathed in the plate armor of +selfishness. But she was as near to loving Macdonald as was possible for +her. She had a great deal of admiration for his iron strength, for the +grit of the man. No woman could twist him around her finger, yet it was +possible to lead him a long way in the direction one wanted. + +Mrs. Mallory sat down in the hall beside the telephone, her fingers +laced about one crossed knee. She knew that if Sheba O'Neill had not +come on the scene, Macdonald would have asked her to marry him. He had +been moving slowly toward her for months. They understood each other and +were at ease together. Between them was a strong physical affinity. Both +were good-tempered and were wise enough to expect human imperfection. + +Then Diane Paget had brought in this slim, young cousin of hers and +Colby Macdonald had been fascinated by the mystery of her innocent +youth. Mrs. Mallory was like steel beneath the soft and indolent +surface. Swiftly she mapped her plan of attack. The Alaskan could not be +moved, but it might be possible to startle the girl into breaking the +engagement. Genevieve Mallory would have used the weapon at hand without +scruple in any case, but she justified herself on the ground that such a +marriage could result only in unhappiness. + +But before she made any move Mrs. Mallory intended to be sure of her +facts. It was like her to go to headquarters for information. She got +Macdonald on the wire. + +"I've just heard something nice about you. Do tell me it's true," she +said, her voice warm with sympathy. + +Macdonald laughed with an almost boyish embarrassment. "It's true, I +reckon." + +"I'm so glad. She's a lovely girl. The sweetest thing that ever lived. +I'm sure you'll be happy. I always did think you would make a perfect +husband. Of course, I'm simply green with envy of her." + +Her little ripple of laughter was gay and care-free. The man at the +other end of the line never had liked her better. Since he was not a +fool he had guessed pretty closely how things stood with her. She was +a game little sport, he told himself approvingly. It appealed to him +immensely that she could take such a facer and come up smiling. + +There were no signs of worry wrinkles on her face when the maid admitted +a caller half an hour later. Oliver Dustin was the name on the card. He +was a remittance man, a tame little parlor pet whose vocation was to +fetch and carry for pretty women, and by some odd trick of fate he had +been sifted into the Northland. Mrs. Mallory had tolerated him rather +scornfully, but to-day she smiled upon him. + +Propped up by pillows, she reclined luxuriously on a lounge. A thin +spiral of smoke rose like incense to the ceiling from her lips. The +slow, regular rise and fall of her breathing beneath the filmy lace +of her gown accented the perfect fullness of bust and throat. + +Dustin helped himself to a cigarette and made himself comfortable. + +She set herself to win him. He was immensely flattered at her awakened +interest. When she called him by his first name, he wagged all over like +a pleased puppy. + +It came to him after a time that she was considering him for a +confidential mission. He assured her eagerly that there was no trouble +too great for him to take if he could be of any service to her. She +hesitated and doubted and at last as a special favor to him accepted his +offer. Their heads were close in whispered talk for a few minutes, at +the end of which Dustin left the room with his chin in the air. He was +a knight errant in the employ of the most attractive woman north of +fifty-three. + +When Elliot took the down-river boat he found Oliver Dustin was a fellow +passenger. The little man smoked an occasional cigar with the land agent +and aired his views on politics and affairs social. He left the boat at +the big bend. Without giving him much of his thought Gordon was a little +surprised that the voluble remittance man had not told him where he was +going. + +Not till a week later did Elliot return up the river. He was asleep at +the time the Sarah passed the big bend, but next morning he discovered +that Selfridge and Dustin had come aboard during the night. In the +afternoon he came upon a real surprise when he found Meteetse and her +little boy Colmac seated upon a box on the lower deck where freight for +local points was stored. + +His guess was that they were local passengers, but wharf after wharf +slipped behind them and the two still remained on board. They appeared +to know nobody else on the Sarah, though once Gordon met Dustin just as +he was hurrying away from the Indian woman. The little remittance man +took the pains to explain to Elliot later that he was trying to find out +whether the Indians knew any English. + +Meteetse transferred with the other Kusiak passengers at the river +junction. The field agent was not the only one on board who wondered +where she was going. Selfridge was consumed with curiosity, and when +she and the boy got off at Kusiak, he could restrain himself no longer. +Gordon saw Wally talking with her. Meteetse showed him an envelope which +evidently had an address written upon it, for the little man pointed out +to her the direction in which she must go. + +Since leaving Kusiak nearly two weeks before, no word had reached Gordon +of Sheba. As soon as he had finished dinner at the hotel, he walked out +to the Paget house and sent in his card. + +Sheba came into the hall to meet him from the living-room where she had +been sitting with the man she expected to marry next week. She gave a +little murmur of pleasure at sight of him and held out both hands. + +"I was afraid you weren't going to get back in time. I'm so glad," she +told him warmly. + +He managed to achieve a smile. "When is the great day?" + +"Next Thursday. Of course, we're as busy as can be, but Diane says--" + +A ring at the door interrupted her. Sheba stepped forward and let in an +Indian woman with a little boy clinging to her hand. + +"You Miss O'Neill?" she asked. + +"Yes." + +From the folds of her shawl she drew a letter. The girl glanced at the +address, then opened and read what was written. She looked up, puzzled, +first at the comely, flatfooted Indian woman and afterward at the +handsome little brown-faced papoose. She turned to Gordon. + +"This letter says I am to ask this woman who is the father of her boy. +What does it mean?" + +Gordon knew instantly what it meant, though he could not guess who had +dealt the blow. He hesitated for an answer, and in his embarrassment she +felt that which began to ring a bell of warning in her heart. + +The impulse to spare her pain was stronger in him than the desire that +she should know the truth. + +"Send her away," he urged. "Don't ask any questions. She has been sent +to hurt you." + +A fawnlike fear flashed into the startled eyes. "To hurt me?" + +"I am afraid so." + +"But--why? I have done nobody any harm." She seemed to hold even her +breathing in suspense. Only a pulse beat wildly in her white throat like +the heart of an imprisoned thrush. + +"Perhaps some of Macdonald's enemies," he suggested. + +And at that there came a star-flash into the soft eyes and a lifted tilt +to the chin cut fine as a cameo. She turned proudly to the Indian woman. + +"What is it that you have to tell me about this boy's father?" + +Meteetse began to speak. At the first mention of Macdonald's name +Sheba's eyes dilated. Her smile, her sweet, glad pleasure at Gordon's +arrival, were already gone like the flame of a blown candle. Clearly her +heart was a-flutter, in fear of she knew not what. When the Indian woman +told how she had first crossed the path of Macdonald, the color flamed +into the cheeks of the Irish girl, but as the story progressed, the +blood ebbed even from her lips. + +With a swift movement of her fingers she flashed on the hall light. Her +gaze searched the brown, shiny face of the little chap. She read there +an affidavit of the truth of his mother's tale. The boy had his father's +trick of squinting a slant look at anything he found interesting. It was +impossible to see him and not recognize Colby Macdonald reincarnated. + +"What is your name?" asked Sheba suddenly. + +The youngster hung back shyly among the folds of the Indian woman's +skirt. "Colmac," he said at last softly. + +"Come!" Sheba flung open the door of the living-room and ushered them +in. + +Macdonald, pacing restlessly up and down the room during her absence, +pulled up in his stride. He stood frowning at the native woman, then his +eyes passed to Elliot and fastened upon him. The face of the Scotchman +might have been chipped from granite. It was grim as that of a hanging +judge. + +Gordon started to explain, then stopped with a shrug. What was the use? +The man would never believe him in the world. + +"I'll remember this," the Alaskan promised his rival. There was a cold +glitter in his eyes, a sudden flare of the devil that was +blood-chilling. + +"It's true, then," broke in Sheba. "You're a--a squawman. You belong to +this woman." + +"Nothing of the kind," he cried roughly. "That's been ended for years." + +"Ended?" Sheba drew Colmac forward by the wrist. "Do you deny that this +is your boy?" + +The big Alaskan brushed this aside as of no moment. "I dare say he is. +Anyhow I'm paying for his keep. What of it? That's all finished and done +with." + +"How can it be done with when--when she's the mother of your child, your +wife before God?" The live eyes attacked him from the dusk that framed +the oval of her pale face. Standing there straight as an aspen, the +beautiful bosom rising and falling quickly while the storm waves beat +through her blood, Sheba O'Neill had never made more appeal to the +strong, lawless man who desired her for his wife. + +"You don't understand." Macdonald's big fists were clenched so savagely +that the knuckles stood out white from the brown tan of the flesh. +"This is a man's country. It's new--close to nature. What he wants he +takes--if he's strong enough. I'm elemental. I--" + +"You wanted her--and you took her. Now you want me--and I suppose you'll +take me too." Her scornful words had the sting of a whiplash. + +"I've lived as all men live who have red blood in them. This woman is an +incident. I've been aboveboard. She can't say I ever promised more than +I've given. I've kept her and the boy. It's been no secret. If you had +asked, I would have told you the whole story." + +"Does that excuse you?" + +"I don't need any excuse. I'm a man. That's excuse enough. You've been +brought up among a lot of conventions and social lies. The one big fact +you want to set your teeth into now is that I love you, that there isn't +another woman on God's earth for me, and that there never will be again." + +Her eyes flashed battle. "The one big fact I'm facing is that you have +insulted me--that you insult me again when you mention love with that +woman and boy in the room. You belong to them--go to them--and leave +me alone." She had been fighting for self-control, to curb her growing +resentment, but now it flamed passionately into words. "I hate the sight +of you. Why don't you go--all of you--and leave me in peace?" + +It was a cry of bruised pride and wounded love. Elliot touched the +Indian woman on the shoulder. Meteetse turned stolidly and walked out +of the room, still leading Colmac by the hand. The young man followed. + +Macdonald closed the door behind them, then strode frowning up and down +the room. The fear was growing on him that for all his great driving +power he could not shake this slim girl from the view to which she +clung. If the situation had not been so serious, it would have struck +him as ridiculous. His relation with Meteetse had been natural enough. +He believed that he had acted very honorably to her. Many a man would +have left her in the lurch to take care of the youngster by herself. But +he had acknowledged his obligation. He was paying his debt scrupulously, +and because of it the story had risen to confront him. He felt that it +was an unjust blow of fate. Punishment was falling upon him, not for +what he had done, but because he had scorned to make a secret of it. + +He knew that he must justify himself before Sheba or lose her. As she +stood in the dusk so tall and rigid, he knew her heart was steel to him. +Her finely chiseled face had the look of race. Never had the spell of +her been more upon him. He crushed back a keen-edged desire to take her +supple young body into his arms and kiss her till the scarlet ran into +her cheeks like splashes of wine. + +"You haven't the proper slant on this, Sheba. Alaska is the last +frontier. It's the dropping-off place. You're north of fifty-three." + +"Am I north of the Ten Commandments?" she demanded with the inexorable +judgment of youth. "Did you leave the moral code at home when you came +in over the ice?" + +He smiled a little. "Morality is the average conduct of the average +man at a given time and place. It is based on custom and expediency. +The rules made for Drogheda won't fit Dawson or Nome. The laws made to +protect young women in Ireland would be absurd if applied to half-breed +squaws in Alaska. Meteetse does not hold herself disgraced but honored. +She counts her boy far superior to the other youngsters of the village, +and he is so considered by the tribe. I am told she lords it over her +sisters." + +A faint flush of anger had crept into her cheeks. "Your view of morality +puts us on a level with the animals. I will not discuss the subject, if +you please." + +"We must discuss it. I must get you to see that Meteetse and what she +stood for in my life have nothing to do with us. They belong to my past. +She doesn't exist for either of us--isn't in any way a part of my +present or future." + +"She exists for me," answered Sheba listlessly. She felt suddenly old +and weary. "But I can't talk about it. Please go. I want to be alone." + +Again Macdonald paced restlessly down the room and back. He moved +with a long, easy, tireless stride. The man was one among ten thousand, +dominant, virile, every ounce of him strong as tested steel. But he felt +as if all his energy were caged. + +"Why don't you go?" the girl pleaded. "It's no use to stay." + +He stopped in front of her. "I'm going to marry you, Sheba. Don't think +I'll let that meddler interfere with our happiness. You're mine." + +"No. Never!" she cried. "I'll take the boat and go home first." + +"You've promised to marry me. You're going to keep your word and be glad +of it all your life." + +She shook her head. "No." + +"Yes." Macdonald had always shown remarkable restraint with her. He had +kissed her seldom, and always with a kind of awe at her young purity. +Now he caught her by the shoulders. His eyes, deep in their sockets, +mirrored the passionate desire of his heart. + +The color flamed into her face. She looked hot to the touch, an active +volcano ready to erupt. There was an odd feeling in her mind that this +big man was a stranger to her. + +"Take your hands from me," she ordered. + +"Do you think I'm going to give you up now--now, after I've won +you--because of a damfool scruple in your pretty head? You don't know +me. It's too late. I love you--and I'm going to protect both of us from +your prudishness." + +His arms closed on her and he crushed her to him, looking down hungrily +into the dark, little face. + +"Let me go," she cried fiercely, struggling to free herself. + +For answer he kissed the red lips, the flaming cheeks, the angry eyes. +Then, coming to his senses, he pushed her from him, turned, and strode +heavily from the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +GORDON BUYS A REVOLVER + + +Selfridge was not eager to meet his chief, but he knew he must report at +once. He stopped at his house only long enough to get into fresh clothes +and from there walked down to the office. Over the Paget telephone he +had got into touch with Macdonald who told him to wait at headquarters +until he came. + +It had been the intention of Macdonald to go direct from Sheba to his +office, but the explosion brought about by Meteetse had sent him out +into the hills for a long tramp. He was in a stress of furious emotion, +and until he had worked off the edge of it by hard mushing, the cramped +civilization of the town stifled him. + +Hours later he strode into the office of the company. He was +dust-stained and splashed with mud. Fifteen miles of stiff heel-and-toe +walking had been flung behind him. + +Wally lay asleep in a swivel chair, his fat body sagging and his head +fallen sideways in such a way as to emphasize the plump folds of his +double chin. His eyes opened. They took in his chief slowly. Then, in +a small panic, he jumped to his feet. + +"Must 'a' been taking thirty winks," he explained. "Been up nights a +good deal." + +"What doing?" demanded the Scotchman harshly. + +In a hurried attempt to divert the anger of Macdonald, his assistant +made a mistake. "Say, Mac! Who do you think came up on the boat with me? +I wondered if you knew. Meteetse and her kid--" + +He stopped. The big man was glaring savagely at him. But Macdonald said +nothing. He waited, and under the compulsion of his forceful silence +Wally stumbled on helplessly. + +"--They got off here. 'Course I didn't know whether you'd sent for her +or not, so I stopped and kinder gave her the glad hand just to size +things up." + +"Yes." + +"She had the address of Miss O'Neill, that Irish girl staying at the +Pagets, the one that came in--" + +"Go on," snapped his chief. + +"So I directed her how she could get there and--" + +Wally found himself lifted from the chair and hammered down into it +again. His soft flesh quaked like a jelly. As he stared pop-eyed at the +furious face above him, the fat chin of the little man drooped. + +"My God, Mac, don't do that!" he whined. + +Macdonald wheeled abruptly away, crossed the room in long strides, and +came back. He had a grip on himself again. + +"What's the use?" he said aloud. "You're nothing but a spineless +putterer. Haven't you enough sense even to give me a chance to decide +for myself? Why didn't you keep the woman with you till you could send +for me, you daft donkey?" + +"I swear I never thought of that." + +"What have you got up there in your head instead of brains? I send you +outside to look after things and you fall down on the job. I give you +plain instructions what to do at Kamatlah and you let Elliot make a +monkey of you. You see him on the boat with a woman coming to make +trouble for me, and the best you can do is to help her on the way. Man, +man, use your gumption." + +"If I had known--" + +"D'ye think you've got sense enough to take a plain, straight message as +far as the hotel? Because if you have, I've got one to send." + +Wally caressed tenderly his bruised flesh. He had a childlike desire to +weep, but he was afraid Macdonald would kick him out of the office. + +"'Course I'll do whatever you say, Mac," he answered humbly. + +The Scotch-Canadian brushed the swivel chair and its occupant to one +side, drew up another chair in front of the desk, and faced Selfridge +squarely. The eyes that blazed at the little man were the grimmest he +had ever looked into. + +"Go to the hotel and see this man Elliot alone. Tell him he's gone too +far--butted into my affairs once too often. There's not a man alive I'd +stand it from. My orders are for him to get out on the next boat. If +he's here after that, I'll kill him on sight." + +The color ebbed out of the florid face of Wally. He moistened his lips +to speak. "Good God, Mac, you can't do that. He'll go out and +report--" + +"To hell with his report. Let him say what he likes. Put this to him +straight: that he and I can't stay in this town--_and both of us +live_." + +Wally had lapped up too many highballs in the past ten years to relish +this kind of a mission. He had depressed his nerves with overmuch +tobacco and spurred them with liquors, had dissipated his force in many +small riotings. His nerve was gone. He had not the punch any more. +Yet Mac was always expecting him to help out with his rough stuff, he +reflected fretfully. This was the third time in a month that he had been +flung headlong into trouble. Take this message now. There was no sense +in it. Selfridge plucked up his courage to say so. + +"That won't buy us anything but trouble, Mac. In the old days you could +put over--" + +The little man never guessed how close he came to being flung through +the transom over the door, but his instinct warned him to stop. His +objection died away in a mumble. + +"O' course I'll do whatever you say," he added a second time. + +"See you do," advised his chief, an ugly look in his eyes. "Tell him he +gets till the next boat. If he's here after that, he'd better go heeled, +for I'll shoot on sight wherever we meet." + +Selfridge went on his errand with lagging feet. On the way he stopped +at the Pay-Streak Saloon to fortify himself with a cocktail. He found +Elliot sitting moodily alone on the porch of the hotel. + +In Gordon's pocket there was a note to Macdonald explaining that he had +nothing to do with the coming of Meteetse. He had expected to send it by +the hotel porter that evening, but the curt order to leave town filled +him with a chill anger. The dictator of affairs at Kusiak might think +what he pleased for all the explanation he would get from him. As for +taking the next boat, Elliot did not even give that consideration. + +"Tell your master I don't take orders from him," he told Wally quietly. +"I'll stay till my work here is done." + +They had moved a few yards down the street. Now Gordon turned, +lean-loined and active, and trod with crisp, confident step back to the +hotel. He had said all that was necessary to say. + +Two men standing on the porch nodded a good-evening to him. Gordon, +about to pass, glanced at them again. They were Northrup and Trelawney, +two of the miners who had had trouble with Macdonald on the boat. + +On impulse he stopped. "Found work yet?" he asked. + +"Found a job and lost it again," Northrup answered sullenly. + +"Too bad." + +"Macdonald passed the word along that we weren't to get work. So our +boss fired us. The whole district is closed to us. We been blacklisted," +explained Trelawney. + +"And we're busted," added his mate. + +Elliot was always free-handed. Perhaps he felt just now unusually +sympathetic towards these victims of the high-handed methods of +Macdonald. From his pocket he took a small leather purse and gave a +piece of gold to each of them. + +"Just as a loan to carry you for a couple of days till you get something +to do," he suggested. + +Northrup demurred, but after a little pressure accepted the +accommodation. + +"I pay you soon back," he promised. + +Trelawney laughed recklessly. He had been drinking. + +"You bet. Me too." + +His companion flashed a look of warning at him and explained that they +were going down the river to look for work outside of the district. + +Suddenly Trelawney broke loose and began to curse Macdonald with a +bitterness that surprised the Government agent. What struck him most, +though, was the obvious anxiety of Northrup to quiet his partner and to +gloss over what he had said. Thinking of it later, Gordon wondered why +the Dane, who had as much cause to hate Macdonald as the other, should +be at such pains to smooth down the man and explain away his threats. + +Elliot bought an automatic revolver next morning and a box of +cartridges. He was not looking for trouble, but he intended to be +prepared for it when trouble came looking for him. With a rifle he was a +fair shot, but he lacked experience with the revolver. In the afternoon +he walked out of town and practiced shooting at tin cans for a half an +hour. On his way back he met Peter Paget. + +The engineer came straight to the subject in his mind. + +"Selfridge came to see me last night. He told me about the trouble +between you and Macdonald, Gordon. You must leave town till he cools +down. Macdonald is a bad man with a gat." + +"Is he?" + +"You can drop down the river on business for a few weeks. After a +while--" + +His friend looked at him coolly. "I can, but I'm not going to. Where do +you get this stuff about me being a quitter, Pete?" + +Peter laid a hand on his shoulder. "Now, look here, Gordon. Don't be a +kid and foolhardy. Duck. I'm your friend--" + +"You're his, too, aren't you?" + +"Yes, of course, but--" + +"All right. Tell him to duck. There'll be no trouble of my making. But +if he starts any I'll be there. Macdonald doesn't own the earth, you +know. I've been sent up here by Uncle Sam on business, and you can bet +your last dollar I'll stay on the job till I'm through." + +"Of course you've got to finish your job. But it doesn't all have to be +done right here. Just for a week or two--" + +"Tell your friend something else while you're on the subject. If I drop +him, I go scot free because he is interfering with me in my duty. I'll +put Selfridge on the stand to prove it. But if he should kill me, his +last chance for getting the Macdonald claims patented would be gone. +The public would raise such a howl that the Administration would have to +throw your friend and the Guttenchilds overboard to save itself. I know +that--and Macdonald knows it. So he stands to lose either way." + +Paget knew this was true. He knew, too, there was no use in arguing with +this young athlete. That close-gripped jaw and salient chin did not +belong to a slacker. Gordon would stick and see the thing out. But Peter +could not drop the subject without one more appeal. + +"He's not sore at you about the claims. You know that. It's because you +brought the squaw up the river to see Sheba." + +"I didn't bring her--hadn't a thing to do with that. I don't know who +brought her, though I could give a good guess." + +A gleam of hope showed in the eye of the engineer. "You didn't bring +her? Diane said you threatened--" + +"Maybe I did say I would. Anyhow, I thought better of it. But I'm glad +some one had the sense to tell Miss O'Neill the truth." + +"Who do you think brought her?" + +"I'm not thinking on that subject out loud." + +"But if we could show Mac--" + +"That's up to you. I'll not lift a finger. Your king of Kusiak has to +learn some time that everybody isn't going to sidestep him and pussyfoot +when he's around. I didn't start this war and I'm not making any peace +overtures." + +"You're as obstinate as the devil," smiled Peter, but in his heart he +admired the dourness of his friend. + +The engineer went to Macdonald and gave a deleted version of his talk +with Elliot. The Scotchman listened, a bitter, incredulous smile on his +face. + +"Says he didn't bring her, does he? Tell him from me that he lies. Your +wife let out to me by accident that he threatened to bring her. Meteetse +and he came up on the boat together. He was with her at your house when +she told her story. He's trying to save his hide. No chance." + +"Elliot isn't a liar. When he says he didn't bring the woman, that +satisfies me. I know he didn't do it," insisted Paget stiffly. + +"Different here. Who else had any interest in bringing her except him? +Nobody. Use your brains, Peter. He takes the first boat down the river. +He comes back on the next one. She comes back, too. They couldn't figure +I'd be at your house when they showed up there to tell the story. That's +where Mr. Elliot slipped up." + +Peter was of different stuff from Selfridge. He had something to say. So +he said it. + +"Times have changed, Mac. You can't shoot down this young fellow without +making all kinds of trouble. First thing we'd lose the claims. The +Administration would drop you like a hot potato if you did a thing like +that. Sheba would never speak to you again. Your friends would know in +their hearts it was murder. You can't do it." + +Macdonald's jaw clamped. "Then let him get out. That's my last word to +him." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +AMBUSHED + + +Colby Macdonald, in miner's boots and corduroy working suit, stood +beside his horse with one arm thrown carelessly across its rump. He was +about to start for Seven-Mile Creek Camp with twenty-seven hundred +dollars in the saddlebags to pay the men there. + +Diane was talking with him. "She's young and fine and spirited. Of +course it was a great shock to her. She had been idealizing you. But I +think she is beginning to understand things better. At any rate, she +does not hate you any more. Give the girl time." + +"You think she will--be reasonable?" + +Mrs. Paget finished the pattern she was punching in the soft ground +beside the board walk with the ferrule of her umbrella. Her eyes met his +frankly. + +"I don't know. But I'm sure of one thing. She'll not be reasonable, as +you call it, unless you are reasonable." + +"You mean--Elliot?" + +"Yes. She likes him very much. Do you know that when the Indian woman +came he urged Sheba not to listen to her story?" + +"Sounds likely--after he had spent his good money bringing her here," +sneered the mine-owner. + +"He didn't. Gordon is a splendid fellow. He wouldn't lie," answered +Diane hotly. "And one thing is sure--if you lay a finger on him for +this, it will be fatal with Sheba. She will be through with you." + +Macdonald had thought of this before. It had been coming to him from +several different angles that he could not afford to gratify his desire +to wipe this meddlesome young official from his path. He made a slow, +sulky promise. + +"All right. I'll let him alone. Peter can tell him." + +Swinging to the saddle, he spurred his horse and cantered away. With a +little smile Diane watched his flat, muscular back and the arrogant set +of his strong shoulders. There was not his match in the territory, she +thought, but sometimes a clever woman could manage him. + +His mind was full of the problem that had come into his life. He rode +abstractedly, so that he was at the lower ford of the creek almost +before he knew it. A bilberry thicket straggled down to the opposite +bank of the stream on both sides of the road. + +The horse splashed through the ford and took the little rise beyond with +a rush. Just before reaching the brow of the hill, the animal stumbled +and fell. As its rider went headlong, he caught a glimpse of a cord +drawn taut across the path. + +Macdonald, shaken by the fall, began slowly to rise. From the shadows +of the bilberry bushes two stooping figures rushed at him. He threw up +an arm to ward off the club aimed at his head, but succeeded only in +breaking the force of the blow. As he staggered back, stunned, a bullet +glanced along his forehead and ridged a furrow through the thick hair. +A second stroke of the club jarred him to the heels. + +Though his mind was not clear, his body answered automatically the +instinct that told him to close with his assailants. He lurched forward +and gripped one, wrestling with him for the revolver. Vaguely he knew +by the sharp, jagged shoots of pain that the second man was beating his +head with a club. The warm blood dripped through his hair and blinded +his eyes. Dazed and shaken, he yet managed to get the revolver from the +man who had it. But it was his last effort. He was too far gone to use +it. A blow on the forehead brought him unconscious to the ground +bleeding from a dozen wounds. + +On his way back from Seven-Mile Creek Camp Gordon Elliot rode down to +the ford. In the dusk he was almost upon them before the robbers heard +him. For a moment the two men stood gazing at him and he at the tragedy +before him. One of the men moved toward his horse. + +"Stop there!" ordered Gordon sharply, and he reached for his revolver. + +The man--it was the miner Northrup--jumped for Elliot and the field +agent fired. Another moment, and he was being dragged from the saddle. +What happened next was never clear to him. He knew that both of the +bandits closed in on him and that he was fighting desperately against +odds. The revolver had been knocked from his hand and he fought with +bare fists just as they did. Twice he emptied his lungs in a cry for +help. + +They quartered over the ground, for Gordon would not let either of them +get behind him. They were larger than he, heavy, muscle-bound giants of +great strength, but he was far more active on his feet. He jabbed and +sidestepped and retreated. More than once their heavy blows crashed home +on his face. His eyes dared not wander from them for an instant, but he +was working toward a definite plan. As he moved, his feet were searching +for the automatic he had dropped. + +One of his feet, dragging over the ground, came into contact with the +steel. With a swift side kick Gordon flung the weapon a dozen feet to +the left. Presently, watching his chance, he made a dive for it. + +Trelawney, followed by Northrup, turned and ran. One of them caught +Macdonald's horse by the bridle. He swung to the saddle and the other +man clambered on behind. There was a clatter of hoofs and they were +gone. + +Elliot stooped over the battered body that lay huddled at the edge +of the water. The man was either dead or unconscious, he was not sure +which. So badly had the face been beaten and hammered that it was not +until he had washed the blood from the wounds that Gordon recognized +Macdonald. + +Opening the coat of the insensible man, Gordon put his hand against the +heart. He could not be sure whether he felt it beating or whether the +throbbing came from the pulses in his finger tips. As well as he could +he bound up the wounds with handkerchiefs and stanched the bleeding. +With ice-cold water from the stream he drenched the bruised face. A +faint sigh quivered through the slack, inert body. + +Gordon hoisted Macdonald across the saddle and led the horse through +the ford. He walked beside the animal to town, and never had two miles +seemed to him so far. With one hand he steadied the helpless body that +lay like a sack of flour balanced in the trough of the saddle. + +Kusiak at last lay below him, and when he descended the hill to the +suburbs almost the first house was the one where the Pagets lived. + +Elliot threw the body across his shoulder and walked up the walk to the +porch. He kicked upon the door with his foot. Sheba answered the knock, +and at sight of what he carried the color faded from her face. + +"Macdonald has been hurt--badly," he explained quickly. + +"This way," the girl cried, and led him to her own room, hurrying in +advance to throw back the bedclothes. + +"Get Diane--and a doctor," ordered Gordon after he had laid the +unconscious man on the white sheet. + +While he and Diane undressed the mine-owner Sheba got a doctor on the +telephone. The wounded man opened his eyes after a long time, but there +was in them the glaze of delirium. He recognized none of them. He did +not know that he was in the house of Peter Paget, that Diane and Sheba +and his rival were fighting with the help of the doctor to push back +the death that was crowding close upon him. All night he raved, and +his delirious talk went back to the wild scenes of his earlier life. +Sometimes he swore savagely; again he made quiet deadly threats; but +always his talk was crisp and clean and vigorous. Nothing foul or slimy +came to the surface in those hours of unconscious babbling. + +The doctor had shaken his head when he first saw the wounds. He would +make no promises. + +"He's a mighty sick man. The cuts are deep, and the hammering must have +jarred his brain terribly. If it was anybody but Macdonald, I wouldn't +give him a chance," he told Diane when he left in the morning to get +breakfast. "But Macdonald has tremendous vitality. Of course if he lives +it will be because Mr. Elliot brought him in so soon." + +Gordon walked with the doctor as far as the hotel. A brown, thin, +leathery man undraped himself from a chair in the lobby when Elliot +opened the door. He was officially known as the chief of police of +Kusiak. Incidentally he constituted the whole police force. Generally he +was referred to as Gopher Jones on account of his habit of spasmodic +prospecting. + +"I got to put you under arrest, Mr. Elliot," he explained. + +The loafers in the hotel drew closer. + +"What for?" demanded Gordon, surprised. + +"Doc thinks it will run to murder, I reckon." + +The field agent was startled. "You mean--Macdonald?" + +The brown man chewed his quid steadily. "You done guessed it." + +"That's absurd, you know. What evidence have you got?" + +"First off, you'd had trouble with him. It was common talk that when you +and Mac met, guns were going to pop. You bought an automatic revolver at +the Seattle & Kusiak Emporium two days ago. You was seen practising with +it." + +"He had threatened me." + +"You want to be careful what you say, Mr. Elliot. It will be used +against you." Gopher shot a squirt of tobacco unerringly at the open +door of the stove. "You was seen talking with Trelawney and Northrup. +Money passed from you to them." + +"I gave them a loan of ten dollars each because they were broke. Is that +criminal?" demanded Gordon angrily. + +"That's your story. You'll git a chance to tell it to the jury, I +shouldn't wonder. Mebbe they'll believe it. You never can tell." + +"Believe it! Why, you muttonhead, I found him where he was bleeding to +death and brought him in." + +"That's what I heard say. Kinder queer, ain't it, you happened to be the +man that found him?" + +"Nothing queer about it. I was riding in from Seven-Mile Creek Camp." +Gordon was exasperated, but not at all alarmed. + +"So you was. While you was out at the camp, you asked one of the boys +how big the pay-roll would be." + +"Does that prove I was planning a hold-up? Isn't that the last thing I +would have asked if I had intended robbery?" + +"Don't ask me. I ain't no psychologist. All I know is you took an +interest in the bank-roll on the way." + +"I'm here for the Government investigating Macdonald. I was getting +information--earning my pay. Can you understand that?" + +Gopher chewed his cud impassively. "Sure I can, and I been earning mine. +By the way, howcome you to be beat up so bad, Mr. Elliot?" + +"I had a fight with the robbers." + +"Sure it wasn't with the robbed. That split lip of yours looks to me +plumb like Mac's John Hancock." + +Elliot flushed angrily. "Of course if you intend to believe me +guilty--" + +"Now, there ain't no manner o' use in gettin' het up, young fellow. +Mebbe you did it; mebbe you didn't. Anyhow, you'll gimme that gat you +been toting these last few days." + +Gordon's hand moved toward his hip. Then he remembered. + +"I haven't it. I left it--" + +"You left it at the ford--with one shell empty. That's where you left +it," interrupted the officer. + +"Yes. I fired at Northrup as he rushed me." + +"Um-hu," assented Jones, impudent unbelief in his eye. "At Northrup or +at Macdonald." + +"What do you think I did with the money, then? Did I eat it?" + +"Not so you could notice it. Since you put it to me flat-foot, you gave +it to your pardners. You didn't want it. They did. They have got the +horse too--and they're hitting the high spots to make their get-away." + +Elliot was locked up in the flimsy jail without breakfast. He was +furious, but as he paced up and down the narrow beat beside the bed his +anger gave way to anxiety. Surely the Pagets could not believe he had +done such a thing. And Sheba--would she accept as true this weight of +circumstantial evidence that was piling up against him? + +It could all be explained so easily. And yet--the facts fitted like +links of a chain to condemn him. He went over them one by one. The +babbling tongue of Selfridge that had made common gossip of the +impending tragedy in which he and Macdonald were the principals--his +purchase of the automatic--his public meeting with two known enemies of +the Scotchman, during which he had been seen to give them money--his +target practice with the new revolver--the unhappy chance that had taken +him out to Seven-Mile Creek Camp the very day of the robbery--his casual +questions of the miners--even the finding of the body by him. All of +these dovetailed with the hypothesis that his partners in crime were to +escape and bear the blame, while he was to bring the body back to town +and assume innocence. + +Paget was admitted to his cell later in the morning by Gopher Jones. He +shook hands with the prisoner. Jones retired. + +"Tough luck, Gordon," the engineer said. + +"What does Sheba think?" asked the young man quickly. + +"We haven't told her you have been arrested. I heard it only a little +while ago." + +"And Diane?" + +"Yes, she knows." + +"Well?" demanded Gordon brusquely. + +Peter looked at him in questioning surprise. "Well, what?" He caught the +meaning of his friend. "Try not to be an ass, Gordon. Of course she +knows the charge is ridiculous." + +The chip dropped from the young man's shoulder. "Good old Diane. I might +have known," he said with a new cheerfulness. + +"I think you might have," agreed Peter dryly. "By the way, have you had +any breakfast?" + +"No. I'm hungry, come to think of it." + +"I'll have something sent in from the hotel." + +"How's Macdonald?" + +"He's alive--and while there's life there is hope." + +"Any news of the murderers?" asked Gordon. + +"Posses are combing the hills for them. They stole a packhorse from a +truck gardener up the valley. It seems they bought an outfit for a month +yesterday--said they were going prospecting." + +They talked for a few minutes longer, mainly on the question of a lawyer +and the chances of getting out on bond. Peter left the prisoner in very +much better spirits than he had found him. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +"GOD SAVE YOU KINDLY" + + +A nurse from the hospital had relieved Diane and Sheba at daybreak. +They slept until the middle of the afternoon, then under orders from the +doctor walked out to take the air. They were to divide the night watch +between them and he said that he wanted them fit for service. The fever +of the patient was subsiding. He slept a good deal, and in the intervals +between had been once or twice quite rational. + +The thoughts of the cousins drew their steps toward the jail. Sheba +looked at Diane. + +"Will they let us see him, do you think?" + +"Perhaps. We can try." + +Gopher Jones was not proof against the brisk confidence with which Mrs. +Paget demanded admittance. He stroked his unshaven chin while he chewed +his quid, then reluctantly got his keys. + +The prisoner was sitting on the bed. His heart jumped with gladness when +he looked up. + +Diane shook hands cheerfully. "How is the criminal?" + +"Better for hearing your kind voice," he answered. + +His eyes strayed to the ebon-haired girl in the background. They met a +troubled smile, grave and sweet. + +"Awfully good of you to come to see me," he told Sheba gratefully. "How +is Macdonald?" + +"Better, we hope. He knew Diane this afternoon." + +Mrs. Paget did most of the talking, but Gordon contributed his share. +Sheba did not say much, but it seemed to the young man that there was +a new tenderness in her manner, the expression of a gentle kindness +that went out to him because he needed it. The walk had whipped the +color into her cheeks and she bloomed in that squalid cell like a desert +rose. There was in the fluent grace of the slender, young body a naive, +virginal sweetness that took him by the throat. He knew that she +believed in him and the trouble rolled from his heart like a cold, +heavy wave. + +"We haven't talked to Mr. Macdonald yet about the attack on him," +Diane explained. "But he must have recognized the men. There are many +footprints at the ford, showing how they moved over the ground as they +fought. So he could not have been unconscious from the first blow." + +"Unless they were masked he must have known them. It was light enough," +agreed Elliot. + +"Peter is still trying to get the officers to accept bail, but I don't +think he will succeed. There is a good deal of feeling in town against +you." + +"Because I am supposed to be an enemy to an open Alaska, I judge." + +"Mainly that. Wally Selfridge has been talking a good deal. He takes it +for granted that you are guilty. We'll have to wait in patience till Mr. +Macdonald speaks and clears you. The doctor won't let us mention the +subject to him until he comes to it of his own free will." + +Gopher stuck his head in at the door. "You'll have to go, ladies. Time's +up." + +When Sheba bade the prisoner good-bye it was with a phrase of the old +Irish vernacular. "God save you kindly." + +He knew the peasant's answer to the wish and gave it. "And you too." + +The girl left the prison with a mist in her eyes. Her cousin looked at +her with a queer, ironic little smile of affection. To be in trouble was +a sure passport to the sympathy of Sheba. Now both her lovers were in +a sad way. Diane wondered which of them would gain most from this new +twist of fate. + +Sheba turned to Mrs. Paget with an impulsive little burst of feminine +ferocity. "Why do they put him in prison when they must know he didn't +do it--that he couldn't do such a thing?" + +"They don't all know as well as you do how noble he is, my dear," +answered Diane dryly. + +"But it's just absurd to think that he would plan the murder of a man he +has broken bread with for a few hundred dollars." + +Diane flashed another odd little glance in the direction of her cousin. +Probably Sheba was the one woman in Kusiak who did not know that +Macdonald had served an ultimatum on Elliot to get out or fight and that +their rivalry over her favor was at the bottom of the difficulty between +them. + +"It will work out all right," promised the older cousin. + +Returning from their walk, they met Wally Selfridge coming out of the +Paget house. + +"Did you see Mr. Macdonald?" asked Diane. + +"Yes. He's quite rational now." There was a jaunty little strut of +triumph in Wally's cock-sure manner. + +Mrs. Paget knew he had made himself very busy securing evidence against +Gordon. He was probably trying to curry favor with his chief. The little +man always had been jealous of Peter. Perhaps he was attempting to rap +him over the shoulder of Elliot because the Government official was a +friend of Paget. Just now his insolent voice suggested a special cause +for exultation. + +The reason Wally was so pleased with himself was that he had dropped a +hint into the ear of the wounded man not to clear Elliot of complicity +in the attack upon him. The news that the special investigator had been +arrested for robbery and attempted murder, flashed all over the United +States, would go far to neutralize any report he might make against +the validity of the Macdonald claims. If to this could be added later +reports of an indictment, a trial, and possibly a conviction, it would +not matter two straws what Elliot said in his official statement to the +Land Office. + +Since the attack upon his chief, Selfridge had moved on the presumption +that Elliot had been in a conspiracy to get rid of him. He accepted the +guilt of the field agent because this theory jumped with the interest +of Wally and his friends. As a politician he intended to play this new +development for all it was worth. + +He had been shocked at the sight of Macdonald. The terrible beating and +the loss of blood had sapped all the splendid, vital strength of the +Scotchman. His battered head was swathed in bandages, but the white face +was bruised and disfigured. The wounded man was weak as a kitten; only +the steady eyes told that he was still strong and unconquered. + +"I want to talk business for a minute, Miss Sedgwick. Will you please +step out?" said Macdonald to his nurse. + +She hesitated. "The doctor says--" + +"Do as I say, please." + +The nurse left them alone. Wally told the story of the evidence against +Elliot in four sentences. His chief caught the point at once. + +After Selfridge had gone, the wounded man lay silent thinking out his +programme. Not for a moment did he doubt that he was going to live, and +his brain was already busy planning for the future. By some freak of +luck the cards had been stacked by destiny in his favor. He knew now +that in the violence of his anger against Elliot he had made a mistake. +To have killed his rival would have been fatal to the Kamatlah coal +claims, would have alienated his best friends, and would have prejudiced +hopelessly his chances with Sheba. Fate had been kind to him. He had +been in the wrong and it had put him in the right. By the same cut of +the cards young Elliot had been thrust down from an impregnable position +to one in which he was a discredited suspect. With all this evidence +to show that he had conspired against Macdonald, his report to the +Department would be labor lost. + +Diane came into the sick-room stripping her gloves after the walk. +Macdonald smiled feebly at her and fired the first shot of his campaign +to defeat the enemy. + +"Has Elliot been captured yet?" he asked weakly. + +The keen eyes of his hostess fastened upon him. "Captured! What do you +mean? It was Gordon Elliot that brought you in and saved your life." + +"Brought me from where?" + +"From where he found you unconscious--at the ford." + +"That's his story, is it?" + +Macdonald shut his eyes wearily, but his incredulous voice had suggested +a world of innuendo. + +The young woman stood with her gloves crushed tight in both hands. It +was her nature to be always a partisan. Without any reserve she was for +Gordon in this new fight upon him. What had Wally Selfridge been saying +to Macdonald? She longed mightily to ask the sick man some questions, +but the orders of the doctor were explicit. Did the mine-owner mean to +suggest that he had identified Elliot as one of his assailants? The +thing was preposterous. + +And yet--that was plainly what he had meant to imply. If he told such a +story, things would go hard with Gordon. In court it would clinch the +case against him by supplying the one missing link in the chain of +circumstantial evidence. + +Diane, in deep thought, frowned down upon the wounded man, who seemed +already to have fallen into a light sleep. She told herself that this +was some of Wally Selfridge's deviltry. Anyhow, she would talk it over +with Peter. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +GORDON SPENDS A BUSY EVENING + + +Paget smoked placidly, but the heart within him was troubled. It looked +as if Selfridge had made up his mind to frame Gordon for a prison +sentence. The worst of it was that he need not invent any evidence +or take any chances. If Macdonald came through on the stand with an +identification of Elliot as one of his assailants, the young man would +go down the river to serve time. There was enough corroborative +testimony to convict St. Peter himself. + +It all rested with Macdonald--and the big Scotch-Canadian was a very +uncertain quantity. His whole interests were at one in favor of getting +Elliot out of the way. On the other hand--how far would he go to save +the Kamatlah claims and to remove this good-looking rival from his path? +Peter could not think he would stoop to perjury against an innocent man. + +"I'm just telling you what he said," Diane explained. "And it worried +me. His smile was cynical. I couldn't help thinking that if he wants to +get even with Gordon--" + +Mrs. Paget stopped. The maid had just brought into the room a visitor. +Diane moved forward and shook hands with him. "How do you do, Mr. +Strong? Take this big chair." + +Hanford Strong accepted the chair and a cigar. Though a well-to-do +mine-owner, he wore as always the rough clothes of a prospector. He came +promptly to the object of his call. + +"I don't know whether this is where I should have come or not. Are you +folks for young Elliot or are you for Selfridge?" he demanded. + +"If you put it that way, we're for Elliot," smiled Peter. + +"All right. Let me put it another way. You work for Mac. Are you on his +side or on Elliot's in this matter of the coal claims?" + +Diane looked at Peter. He took his time to answer. + +"We hope the coal claimants will win, but we've got sense enough to see +that Gordon is in here to report the facts. That's what he is paid for. +He'll tell the truth as he sees it. If his superior officers decide on +those facts against Macdonald, I don't see that Elliot is to blame." + +"That's how it looks to me," agreed Strong. "I'm for a wide-open Alaska, +but that don't make it right to put this young fellow through for a +crime he didn't do. Lots of folks think he did it. That's all right. +I know he didn't. Fact is, I like him. He's square. So I've come to tell +you something." + +He smoked for a minute silently before he continued. + +"I've got no evidence in his favor, but I bumped into something a little +while ago that didn't look good to me. You know I room next him at the +hotel. I heard a noise in his room, and I thought that was funny, seeing +as he was locked up in jail. So I kinder listened and heard whispers and +the sound of some one moving about. There's a door between his room and +mine that is kept locked. I looked through the keyhole, and in Elliot's +room there was Wally Selfridge and another man. They were looking +through papers at the desk. Wally put a stack of them in his pocket and +they went out locking the door behind them." + +"They had no business doing that," burst out Diane. "Wally Selfridge +isn't an officer of the law." + +Strong nodded dryly to her. "Just what I thought. So I followed them. +They went to Macdonald's offices. After awhile Wally came out and left +the other man there. Then presently the lights went out. The man is +camped there for the night. Will you tell me why?" + +"Why?" repeated Diane with her sharp eyes on the miner. + +"Because Wally has some papers there he don't want to get away from +him." + +"Some of Gordon's papers, of course." + +"You've said it." + +"All his notes and evidence in the case of the coal claims probably," +contributed Peter. + +"Maybe. Wally has stole them, but he hasn't nerve enough to burn them +till he gets orders from Mac. So he's holding them safe at the office," +guessed Strong. + +"It's an outrage," Diane decided promptly. + +"Surest thing you know. Wally has fixed it to frame him for prison and +to play safe about his evidence on the coal claims." + +"What are you going to do about it?" Diane asked her husband sharply. + +Peter rose. "First I'm going to see Gordon and hear what he has to say. +Come on, Strong. We may be gone quite a while, Diane. Don't wait up for +me if you get through your stint of nursing." + +Roused from sleep, Gopher Jones grumbled a good deal about letting the +men see his prisoner. "You got all day, ain't you, without traipsing +around here nights. Don't you figure I'm entitled to any rest?" + +But he let them into the ramshackle building that served as a jail, and +after three dollars had jingled in the palm of his hand he stepped +outside and left the men alone with his prisoner. The three put their +heads together and whispered. + +"I'll meet you outside the house of Selfridge in half an hour, Strong," +was the last thing that Gordon said before Jones came back to order out +the visitors. + +As soon as the place was dark again, Gordon set to work on the flimsy +framework of his cell window. He knew already it was so decrepit that he +could escape any time he desired, but until now there had been no reason +why he should. Within a quarter of an hour he lifted the iron-grilled +sash bodily from the frame and crawled through the window. + +He found Paget and Strong waiting for him in the shadows of a pine +outside the yard of Selfridge. + +"To begin with, you walk straight home and go to bed, Peter," the young +man announced. "You're not in this. You're not invited to our party. I +don't have to tell you why, do I?" + +The engineer understood the reason. He was an employee of Macdonald, a +man thoroughly trusted by him. Even though Gordon intended only to right +a wrong, it was better that Paget should not be a party to it. +Reluctantly Peter went home. + +Gordon turned to Strong. "I owe you a lot already. There's no need for +you to run a risk of getting into trouble for me. If things break right, +I can do what I have to do without help." + +"And if they don't?" Strong waved an impatient hand. "Cut it out, +Elliot. I've taken a fancy to go through with this. I never did like +Selfridge anyhow, and I ain't got a wife and I don't work for Mac. Why +the hell shouldn't I have some fun?" + +Gordon shrugged his shoulders. "All right. Might as well play ball and +get things moving, then." + +The little miner knocked at the door. Wally himself opened. Elliot, from +the shelter of the pine, saw the two men in talk. Selfridge shut the +door and came to the edge of the porch. He gave a gasp and his hands +went trembling into the air. The six-gun of the miner had been pressed +hard against his fat paunch. Under curt orders he moved down the steps +and out of the yard to the tree. + +At sight of Gordon the eyes of Wally stood out in amazement. Little +sweat beads burst out on his forehead, for he remembered how busy he had +been collecting evidence against this man. + +"W-w-what do you want?" he asked. + +"Got your keys with you?" + +"Y-yes." + +"Come with us." + +Wally breathed more freely. For a moment he had thought this man had +come to take summary vengeance on him. + +They led him by alleys and back streets to the office of the Macdonald +Yukon Trading Company. Under orders he knocked on the door and called +out who he was. Gordon crouched close to the log wall, Strong behind +him. + +"Let me in, Olson," ordered Selfridge again. + +The door opened, and a man stood on the threshold. Elliot was on top of +him like a panther. The man went down as though his knees were oiled +hinges. Before he could gather his slow wits, the barrel of a revolver +was shoved against his teeth. + +"Take it easy, Olson," advised Gordon. "Get up--slowly. Now, step back +into the office. Keep your hands up." + +Strong closed and locked the door behind them. + +"I want my papers, Selfridge. Dig up your keys and get them for me," +Elliot commanded. + +Wally did not need any keys. He knew the combination of the safe and +opened it. From an inner drawer he drew a bunch of papers. Gordon looked +them over carefully. Strong sat on a table and toyed with a revolver +which he jammed playfully into the stomach of his fat prisoner. + +"All here," announced the field agent. + +The safe-robbers locked their prisoners in the office and disappeared +into the night. They stopped at the house of the collector of customs, a +genial young fellow with whom Elliot had played tennis a good deal, and +left the papers in his hands for safe-keeping. After which they returned +to the hotel and reached the second floor by way of the back stairs used +by the servants. + +Here they parted, each going to his own room. Gordon slept like a +schoolboy and woke only when the sun poured through the window upon his +bed in a broad ribbon of warm gold. + +He got up, bathed, dressed, and went down into the hotel dining-room. +The waiters looked at him in amazement. Presently the cook peered in +at him from the kitchen and the clerk made an excuse to drop into the +room. Gordon ate as if nothing were the matter, apparently unaware of +the excitement he was causing. He paid not the least attention to the +nudging and the whispering. After he had finished breakfast, he lit a +cigar, leaned back in his chair, and smoked placidly. + +Presently an eruption of men poured into the room. At the head of them +was Gopher Jones. Near the rear Wally Selfridge lingered modestly. He +was not looking for hazardous adventure. + +"Whad you doing here?" demanded Gopher, bristling up to Elliot. + +The young man watched a smoke wreath float ceilingward before he turned +his mild gaze on the chief of police. + +"I'm smoking." + +"Don't you know we just got in from hunting you--two posses of us been +out all night?" Gopher glared savagely at the smoker. + +Gordon looked distressed. "That's too bad. There's a telephone in my +room, too. Why didn't you call up? I've been there all night." + +"The deuce you have," exploded Jones. "And us combing the hills for you. +Young man, you're mighty smart. But I want to tell you that you'll pay +for this." + +"Did you want me for anything in particular--or just to get up a poker +game?" asked Elliot suavely. + +The leader of the posse gave himself to a job of scientific profanity. +He was spurred on to outdo himself because he had heard a titter or +two behind him. When he had finished, he formed a procession. He, with +Elliot hand-cuffed beside him, was at the head of it. It marched to the +jail. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +SHEBA DOES NOT THINK SO + + +The fingers of Sheba were busy with the embroidery upon which she +worked, but her thoughts were full of the man who lay asleep on the +lounge. His strong body lay at ease, relaxed. + +Already health was flowing back into his veins. Beneath the tan of the +lean, muscular cheeks a warmer color was beginning to creep. Soon he +would be about again, vigorous and forceful, striding over obstacles to +the goal he had set himself. + +Just now she was the chief goal of his desire. Sheba did not deceive +herself into thinking that he had for a moment accepted her dismissal +of him. + +He still meant to marry her, and he had told her so in characteristic +way the day after their break. + +Sheba had sent him a check for the amount he had paid her and had +refused to see him or anybody else. + +Shamed and humiliated, she had kept to her room. The check had come back +to her by mail. + +Across the face of it he had written in his strong handwriting:-- + + I don't welsh on my bets. You can't give to me what is not mine. + + Do not think for an instant that I shall not marry you. + +Watching him now, she wondered what manner of man he was. There had +been a day or two when she had thought she understood him. Then she had +learned, from the story of Meteetse, how far his world of thought was +from hers. That which to her had put a gulf between them was to him only +an incident. + +She moved to adjust a window blind and when she returned found that his +steady eyes were fixed upon her. + +"You're getting better fast," she said. + +"Yes." + +The girl had a favor to ask of him and lest her courage fail she plunged +into it. + +"Mr. Macdonald, if you say the word Mr. Elliot will be released on bail. +I am thinking you will be so good as to say it." + +His narrowed eyes held a cold glitter. "Why?" + +"You must know he is innocent. You must--" + +"I know only what the evidence shows," he cut in, warily on his guard. +"He may or may not have been one of my attackers. From the first blow +I was dazed. But everything points to it that he hired--" + +"Oh, no!" interrupted the Irish girl, her dark eyes shining softly. "The +way of it is that he saved your life, that he fought for you, and that +he is in prison because of it." + +"If that is true, why doesn't he bring some proof of it?" + +"Proof!" she cried scornfully. "Between friends--" + +"He's no friend of mine. The man is a meddler. I despise him." + +The scarlet flooded her cheeks. "And I am liking him very, very much," +she flung back stanchly. + +Macdonald looked up at the vivid, flushed face and found it wholly +charming. He liked her none the less because her fine eyes were hot and +defiant in behalf of his rival. + +"Very well," he smiled. "I'll get him out if you'll do me a good turn +too." + +"Thank you. It's a bargain." + +"Then sing to me." + +She moved to the piano. "What shall I sing?" + +"Sing 'Divided.'" + +The long lashes veiled her soft eyes while she considered. In a way he +had tricked her into singing for him a love-song she did not want to +sing. But she made no protest. Swiftly she turned and slid along the +bench. Her fingers touched the keys and she began. + +He watched the beauty and warmth of her dainty youth with eyes that +mirrored the hunger of his heart. How buoyantly she carried her dusky +little head! With what a gallant spirit she did all things! He was +usually a frank pagan, but when he was with her it seemed to him that +God spoke through her personality all sorts of brave, fine promises. + +Sheba paid her pledge in full. After the first two stanzas were finished +she sang the last ones as well:-- + + "An' what about the wather when I'd have ould Paddy's boat, + Is it me that would be feared to grip the oars an' go afloat? + Oh, I could find him by the light of sun or moon or star: + But there's caulder things than salt waves between us, so they are. + Och anee! + + "Sure well I know he'll never have the heart to come to me, + An' love is wild as any wave that wanders on the sea, + 'Tis the same if he is near me, 'tis the same if he is far: + His thoughts are hard an' ever hard between us, so they are. + Och anee!" + +Her hands dropped from the keys and she turned slowly on the end of the +seat. The dark lashes fell to her hot cheeks. He did not speak, but she +felt the steady insistence of his gaze. In self-defense she looked at +him. + +The pallor of his face lent accent to the fire that smouldered in his +eyes. + +"I'm going to marry you, Sheba. Make up your mind to that, girl," he +said harshly. + +There was infinite pity in the look she gave him. "'There's caulder +things than salt waves between us, so they are,'" she quoted. + +"Not if I love you and you love me. By God, I trample down everything +that comes between us." + +He swung to a sitting position on the lounge. Through the steel-gray +eyes in the brooding face his masterful spirit wrestled with hers. A +lean-loined Samson, with broad, powerful shoulders and deep chest, he +dominated his world ruthlessly. But this slim Irish girl with the young, +lissom body held her own. + +"Must we go through that again?" she asked gently. + +"Again and again until you see reason." + +She knew the tremendous driving power of the man and she was afraid in +her heart that he would sweep her from the moorings to which she clung. + +"There is something else I haven't told you." The embarrassed lashes +lifted bravely from the flushed cheeks to meet steadily his look. +"I don't think--that I--care for you. 'Tis I that am shamed at +my--fickleness. But I don't--not with the full of my heart." + +His bold, possessive eyes yielded no fraction of all they claimed. +"Time enough for that, Sheba. Truth is that you're afraid to let +yourself love me. You're worried because you can't measure me by the +little two-by-four foot-rule you brought from Ireland with you." + +Sheba nodded her dusky little head in naive candor. "I think there will +be some truth in that, Mr. Macdonald. You're lawless, you know." + +"I'm a law to myself, if that's what you mean. It is my business to help +hammer out an empire in this Northland. If I let my work be cluttered up +by all the little rules made by little men for other little ones, my +plans would come to a standstill. I am a practical man, but I keep sight +of the vision. No need for me to brag. What I have done speaks for me as +a guidepost to what I mean to do." + +"I know," the girl admitted with the impetuous generosity of her race. +"I hear it from everybody. You have built towns and railroads and +developed mines and carried the twentieth century into new outposts. You +have given work to thousands. But you go so fast I can't keep step with +you. I am one of the little folks for whom laws were made." + +"Then I'll make a new code for you," he said, smiling. "Just do as I say +and everything will come out right." + +Faintly her smile met his. "My grandmother might have agreed to that. +But we live in a new world for women. They have to make their own +decisions. I suppose that is a part of the penalty we pay for freedom." + +Diane came into the room and Macdonald turned to her. + +"I have just been telling Sheba that I am going to marry her--that there +is no escape for her. She had better get used to the idea that I intend +to make her happy." + +The older cousin glanced at Sheba and laughed with a touch of +embarrassment. "Whether she wants to be happy or not, O Cave Man?" + +"I'm going to make her want to." + +Sheba fled, but from the door she flung back her challenge. "I don't +think so." + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +GORDON FINDS HIMSELF UNPOPULAR + + +Macdonald kept his word to Sheba. He used his influence to get Elliot +released, and with a touch of cynicism quite characteristic went on the +bond of his rival. An information was filed against the field agent of +the Land Department for highway robbery and attempted murder, but Gordon +went about his business just as if he were not under a cloud. + +None the less, he walked the streets a marked man. Women and children +looked at him curiously and whispered as he passed. The sullen, hostile +eyes of miners measured him silently. He was aware that feeling had +focused against him with surprising intensity of resentment, and he +suspected that the whispers of Wally Selfridge were largely responsible +for this. + +For Wally saw to it that in the minds of the miners Elliot in his own +person stood for the enemies of the open-Alaska policy. He scattered +broadcast garbled extracts from the first preliminary report of the +field agent, and in the coal camps he spread the impression that the +whole mining activities of the Territory would be curtailed if Elliot +had his way. + +In the States the fight between the coal claimants and their foes was +growing more bitter. The muckrakers were busy, and the sentiment outside +had settled so definitely against granting the patents that the National +Administration might at any time jettison Macdonald and his backers as a +sop to public opinion. + +It was not hard for Gordon to guess how unpopular he was, but he did not +let this interfere with his activities. He moved to and fro among the +mining camps with absolute disregard of the growing hatred against him. + +Paget came to him at last with a warning. + +"What's this I hear about you being almost killed up on Bonanza?" Peter +wanted to know. + +"Down in the None Such Mine, you mean? It did seem to be raining hammers +as I went down the shaft," admitted his friend. + +"Were the hammers dropped on purpose?" + +Gordon looked at him with a grim smile. "Your guess is just as good as +mine, Peter. What do you think?" + +Peter answered seriously. "I think it isn't safe for you to take the +chances you do, Gordon. I find a wrong impression about you prevalent +among the men. They are blaming you for stirring up all this trouble on +the outside, and they are worried for fear the mines may close and they +will lose their jobs. I tell you that they are in a dangerous mood." + +"Sorry, but I can't help that." + +"You can stay around town and not go out alone nights, can't you?" + +"I dare say I can, but I'm not going to." + +"Some of these men are violent. They don't think straight about you--" + +"Kindness of Mr. Selfridge," contributed Gordon. + +"Perhaps. Anyhow, there's a lot of sullen hate brewing against you. +Don't invite an explosion. That would be just kid foolhardiness." + +"You think I'd better buy another automatic gat," said Elliot with a +grin. + +"I think you had better use a little sense, Gordon. I dare say I am +exaggerating the danger. But when you go around with that jaunty, +devil-may-care way of yours, the men think you are looking for +trouble--and you're likely to get it." + +"Am I?" + +"I know what I'm talking about. Nine out of ten of the men think you +tried to murder Macdonald after you had robbed him and that your nerve +weakened on the job. This seems to some of the most lawless to give +them a moral right to put you out of the way. Anyhow, it is a kind of +justification, according to their point of view. I'm not defending it, +of course. I'm telling you so that you can appreciate your danger." + +"You have done your duty, then, Peter." + +"But you don't intend to take my advice?" + +"I'll tell you what I told you last time when you warned me. I'm going +through with the job I've been hired to do, just as you would stick it +out in my place. I don't think I'm in much danger. Men in general are +law-abiding. They growl, but they don't go as far as murder." + +Peter gave him up. After all, the chances were that Gordon was right. +Alaska was not a lawless country. And it might be that the best way to +escape peril was to walk through it with a grin as if it did not exist. + +The next issue of the Kusiak "Sun" contained a bitter editorial attack +upon Elliot. The occasion for it was a press dispatch from Washington to +the effect that the pressure of public opinion had become so strong that +Winton, Commissioner of the General Land Office, might be forced to +resign his place. This was a blow to the coal claimants, and the "Sun" +charged in vitriolic language that the reports of Elliot were to blame. +He was, the newspaper claimed, an enemy to all those who had come to +Alaska to earn an honest living there. Under indictment for attempted +murder and for highway robbery, this man was not satisfied with having +tried to kill from ambush the best friend Alaska had ever known. In +every report that he sent to Washington he was dealing underhanded blows +at the prosperity of Alaska. He was a snake in the grass, and as such +every decent man ought to hold him in scorn. + +Elliot read this just as he was leaving for the Willow Creek Camp. +He thrust the paper impatiently into his coat pocket and swung to the +saddle. Why did they persecute him? He had told nothing but the truth, +nothing not required of him by the simplest, elemental honesty. Yet he +was treated as an outcast and a criminal. The injustice of it was +beginning to rankle. + +He was temperamentally an optimist, but depression rode with him to the +gold camp and did not lift from his spirits till he started back next +day for Kusiak. The news had been flashed by wire all over the United +States that he was a crook. His friends and relatives could give no +adequate answer to the fact that an indictment hung over his head. +In Alaska he was already convicted by public opinion. Even the Pagets +were lined up as to their interests with Macdonald. Sheba liked him and +believed in him. Her loyal heart acquitted him of all blame. But it was +to the wooing of his enemy that she had listened rather than to his. +The big Scotchman had run against a barrier, but his rival expected +him to trample it down. He would wear away the scruples of Sheba by +the pressure of his masterful will. + +In the late afternoon, while Gordon was still fifteen miles from Kusiak, +his horse fell lame. He led it limping to the cabin of some miners. + +There were three of them, and they had been drinking heavily from a jug +of whiskey left earlier in the day by the stage-driver. Gordon was in +two minds whether to accept their surly permission to stay for the +night, but the lameness of his horse decided him. + +Not caring to invite their hostility, he gave his name as Gordon instead +of Elliot. He was to learn within the hour that this was mistake number +two. + +From a pocket of the coat he had thrown on a bed protruded the newspaper +Gordon had brought from Kusiak. One of the men, a big red-headed fellow, +pulled it out and began sulkily to read. + +While he read the other two bickered and drank and snarled at each +other. All three of the men were in that stage of drunkenness when a +quarrel is likely to flare up at a moment's notice. + +"Listen here," demanded the man with the newspaper. "Tell you what, +boys, I'm going to wring the neck of that pussyfooting spy Elliot if +I ever get a chanct." + +He read aloud the editorial in the "Sun." After he had finished, the +others joined him in a chorus of curses. + +"I always did hate a spy--and this one's a murderer too. Why don't some +one fill his hide with lead?" one of the men wanted to know. + +Redhead was sitting at the table. He thumped a heavy fist down so hard +that the tin cups jumped. "Gimme a crack at him and I'll show you, by +God." + +A shadow fell across the room. In the doorway stood a newcomer. Gordon +had a sensation as if a lump of ice had been drawn down his spine. For +the man who had just come in was Big Bill Macy, and he was looking at +the field agent with eyes in which amazement, anger, and triumph blazed. + +"I'm glad to death to meet up with you again, Mr. Elliot," he jeered. +"Seems like old times on Wild-Goose." + +"Whad you say his name is?" cut in the man with the newspaper. + +"Hasn't he introduced himself, boys?" Macy answered with a cruel +grin. "Now, ain't that modest of him? You lads are entertaining that +well-known deteckative and spy Gordon Elliot, that renowned king of +hold-ups--" + +The red-headed man interrupted with a howl of rage. "If you're telling +it straight, Bill Macy, I'll learn him to spy on me." + +Elliot was sitting on one of the beds. He had not moved an inch since +Macy had appeared, but the brain behind his live eyes was taking stock +of the situation. Big Bill blocked the doorway. The table was in front +of the window. Unless he could fight his way out, there was no escape +for him. He was trapped. + +Quietly Gordon looked from one to another. He read no hope in the eyes +of any. + +"I'm not spying on you. My horse is lame. You can see that for yourself. +All I asked was a night's lodging." + +"Under another name than your own, you damned sneak." + +The field agent did not understand the fury of the man, because he +did not know that these miners were working the claim under a defective +title and that they had jumped to the conclusion that he had come to get +evidence against them. But he knew that never in his life had he been +in a tighter hole. In another minute they would attack him. Whether it +would run to murder he could not tell. At the best he would be hammered +helpless. + +But no evidence of this knowledge appeared in his manner. + +"I didn't give my last name because there is a prejudice against me in +this country," he explained in an even voice. + +He wondered as he spoke if he had better try to fling himself through +the window sash. There might be a remote chance that he could make it. + +The miner at the table killed this possibility by rising and standing +squarely in the road. + +"Look out! He's got a gat," warned Macy. + +Gordon fervently wished he had. But he was unarmed. While his eyes +quested for a weapon he played for time. + +"You can't get away with this, you know. The United States Government +is back of me. It's known I left the Willow Creek Camp. I'll be traced +here." + +Through Gordon's mind there flashed a word of advice once given him by +a professional prize-fighter: "If you get in a rough house, don't wait +for the other fellow to hit first." + +They were crouching for the attack. In another moment they would be upon +him. Almost with one motion he stooped, snatched up by the leg a heavy +stool, and sprang to the bed upon which he had been sitting. + +The four men closed with him in a rush. They came at him low, their +heads protected by uplifted arms. His memory brought to him a picture of +the whitewashed gridiron of a football field, and in it he saw a vision +of safety. + +The stool crashed down upon Big Bill Macy's head. Gordon hurdled the +crumpling figure, plunged between hands outstretched to seize him, and +over the table went through the window, taking the flimsy sash with him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +A NEW WAY OF LEAVING A HOUSE + + +The surge of disgust with which Sheba had broken her engagement to marry +Macdonald ebbed away as the weeks passed. It was impossible for her to +wait upon him in his illness and hold any repugnance toward this big, +elemental man. The thing he had done might be wrong, but the very +openness and frankness of his relation to Meteetse redeemed it from +shame. He was neither a profligate nor a squawman. + +This was Diane's point of view, and in time it became to a certain +extent that of Sheba. One takes on the color of one's environment, and +the girl from Drogheda knew in her heart that Meteetse and Colmac were +no longer the real barriers that stood between her and the Alaskan. +She had been disillusioned, saw him more clearly; and though she still +recognized the quality of bigness that set him apart, her spirit did not +now do such complete homage to it. More and more her thoughts contrasted +him with another man. + +Macdonald did not need to be told that he had lost ground, but with +the dogged determination that had carried him to success he refused to +accept the verdict. She was a woman, therefore to be won. The habit of +victory was so strong in him that he could see no alternative. + +He embarrassed her with his downright attentions, hemmed her in with +courtesies she could not evade. If she appealed to her cousin, Diane +only laughed. + +"My dear, you might as well make up your mind to him. He is going to +marry you, willy-nilly." + +Sheba herself began to be afraid he would. There was something dominant +and masterful about the man that swept opposition aside. He had a way of +getting what he wanted. + +The motor-car picnic to the Willow Creek Camp was a case in point. Sheba +did not want to go, but she went. She would much rather have sat in the +rear seat with Diane,--at least, she persuaded herself that she +would,--yet she occupied the place beside Macdonald in front. The girl +was a rebel. Still, in her heart, she was not wholly reluctant. He made +a strong appeal to her imagination. She felt that it would have been +impossible for any girl to be indifferent to the wooing of such a man. + +The picnic was a success. Macdonald was an outdoor man rather than a +parlor one. He took charge of the luncheon, lit the fire, and cooked the +coffee without the least waste of effort. In his shirt-sleeves, the neck +open at the throat, he looked the embodiment of masculine vigor. Diane +could not help mentioning it to her cousin. + +"Isn't he a splendid human animal?" + +Sheba nodded. "He's wonderful." + +"If I were a little Irish colleen and he had done me the honor to care +for me, I'd have fallen fathoms deep in love with him." + +The Irish colleen's eyes grew reflective. "Not if you had seen Peter +first, Di. There's nothing reasonable about a girl, I do believe. She +loves--or else she just doesn't." + +Diane fired a question at her point-blank. "Have you met _your_ +Peter? Is that why you hang back?" + +The color flamed into Sheba's face. "Of course not. You do say the most +outrageous things, Di." + +They had driven to Willow Creek over the river road. They returned by +way of the hills. Macdonald drew up in front of a cabin to fill the +radiator. + +He stood listening beside the car, the water bucket in his hand. +Something unusual was going on inside the house. There came the sound +of a thud, of a groan, and then the crash of breaking glass. The whole +window frame seemed to leap from the side of the house. The head and +shoulders of a man projected through the broken glass. + +The man swept himself free of the debris and started to run. Instantly +he pulled up in his stride, as amazed to see those in the car as they +were to see him. + +"Gordon!" cried Diane. + +Out of the house poured a rush of men. They too pulled up abruptly at +sight of Macdonald and his guests. + +A sardonic mirth gleamed in the eyes of the Scotchman. "Do you always +come out of a house through the wall, Mr. Elliot?" he asked. + +"Only when I'm in a hurry." Gordon pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed +at some glass-cuts on his face. + +"Don't let us detain you," said the Alaskan satirically. "We'll excuse +you, since you must go." + +"I'm not in such a hurry now. In fact, if you're going to Kusiak, +I think I'll ask you for a lift," returned the field agent coolly. + +"And your friends-in-a-hurry--do they want a lift too?" + +Big Bill Macy came swaying forward, both hands to his bleeding head. +"He's a spy, curse him. And he tried to kill me." + +"Did he?" commented Macdonald evenly. "What were you doing to him?" + +"He can't sneak around our claim under a false name," growled one of the +miners. "We'll beat his damn head off." + +"I've had notions like that myself sometimes," assented the big +Scotchman. "But I think we had all better leave Mr. Elliot to the law. +He has Uncle Sam back of him in his spying, and none of us are big +enough to buck the Government." Crisply Macdonald spoke to Gordon, +turning upon him cold, hostile eyes. "Get in if you're going to." + +Elliot met him eye to eye. "I've changed my mind. I'm going to walk." + +"That's up to you." + +Gordon shook hands with Diane and Sheba, went into the house for his +coat, and walked to the stable. He brought out his horse and turned it +loose, then took the road himself for Kusiak. + +A couple of miles out the car passed him trudging townward. As they +flashed down the road he waved a cheerful and nonchalant greeting. + +Sheba had been full of gayety and life, but her mood was changed. All +the way home she was strangely silent. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +GID HOLT COMES TO KUSIAK + + +The days grew short. In sporting circles the talk was no longer of the +midnight Fourth of July baseball game, but of preparation for the Alaska +Sweepstakes, since the shadow of the cold Arctic winter had crept down +to the Yukon and touched its waters to stillness. Men, gathered around +warm stoves, spoke of the merits of huskies and Siberian wolf-hounds, of +the heavy fall of snow in the hills, of the overhauling of outfits and +the transportation of supplies to distant camps. + +The last river boat before the freeze-up had long since gone. A month +earlier the same steamer had taken down in a mail sack the preliminary +report of Elliot to his department chief. One of the passengers on that +trip had been Selfridge, sent out to counteract the influence of the +evidence against the claimants submitted by the field agent. An +information had been filed against Gordon for highway robbery and +attempted murder. Wally was to see that the damning facts against him +were brought to the attention of officials in high places where the +charges would do most good. The details of the story were to be held in +reserve for publicity in case the muckrake magazines should try to make +capital of the report of Elliot. + +Kusiak found much time for gossip during the long nights. It knew +that Macdonald had gone on the bond of Elliot in spite of the scornful +protest of the younger man. The two gave each other chilly nods of +greeting when they met, but friends were careful not to invite them to +the same social affairs. The case against the field agent was pending. +Pursuit of the miners who had robbed the big mine-owner had long ago +been dropped. Somewhere in the North the outlaws lay hidden, swallowed +up by the great white waste of snow. + +The general opinion was that Mac was playing politics about the trial +of his rival. He would not let the case come to a jury until the time +when a conviction would have most effect in the States, the gossips +predicted. They did not know that he was waiting for the return of +Wally Selfridge. + +The whispers touched closely the personal affairs of Macdonald. The +report of his engagement to Sheba O'Neill had been denied, but it was +noticed that he was a constant guest at the home of the Pagets. Young +Elliot called there too. Almost any day one or other of the two men +could be seen with Sheba on the street. Those who wanted to take a +sporting chance on the issue knew that odds were offered _sub rosa_ +at the Pay Streak saloon of three to one on Mac. + +As for Sheba, she rebelled impotently at the situation. The mine-owner +would not take "No" for an answer. He wooed her with a steady, dominant +persistence that shook even her strong, young will. There was something +resistless in the way he took her for granted. Gordon Elliot had not +mentioned love to her, though there were times when her heart fluttered +for fear he would. She did not want any more complications. She wanted +to be let alone. So when an invitation came from her little friends the +Husteds, signed by all three of the children, asking her to come and +visit them at the camp back of Katma, the Irish girl jumped at the +chance to escape for a time from the decision being forced upon her. + +Sheba pledged her cousin to secrecy until after she had gone, so that +Miss O'Neill was able to slip away on the stage unnoticed either by +Macdonald or Elliot. The only other passenger was an elderly woman going +up to the Katma camp to take a place as cook. + +Later on the same day Wally Selfridge, coming in over the ice, reached +Kusiak with important news for his chief. He brought with him an order +from Winton, Commissioner of the General Land Office, suspending Elliot +pending an investigation of the charges against him. The field agent was +to forward by mail all documents in his possession and for the time, at +least, drop the matter of the coal claims. + +Oddly enough, it was to Genevieve Mallory that Macdonald went for +consolation when he learned that Sheba had left town. He had always +found it very pleasant to drop in for a chat with her, and she saw to +it that he met the same friendly welcome now that a rival had annexed +his scalp to her slender waist. For Mrs. Mallory did not concede defeat. +If the Irish girl could be eliminated, she believed she would yet win. + +His hostess laced her fingers behind her beautiful, tawny head, quite +well aware that the attitude set off the perfect modeling of the soft, +supple body. She looked up at him with a mocking little smile. + +"Rumor says that she has run away, my lord. Is it true?" + +"Yes. Slipped away on the stage this morning." + +"That's a good sign. She was afraid to stay." + +It was a part of the fiction between them that Mrs. Mallory was to give +him the benefit of her advice in his wooing of her rival. She seemed to +take it for granted that he would at last marry Sheba after wearing away +the rigid Puritanism of her resentment. + +Macdonald had never liked her so well as now. Her point of view was so +sane, so reasonable. It asked for no impossible virtues in a man. There +was something restful in her genial, derisive understanding of him. She +had a silent divination of his moods and ministered indolently to them. + +"Do you think so? Ought I to follow her?" he asked. + +She showed a row of perfect teeth in a low ripple of amusement. The +situation at least was piquant, even though it was at her expense. + +"No. Give the girl time. Catch her impulse on the rebound. She'll be +bored to death at Katma and she will come back docile." + +Her scarlet lips, the long, unbroken lines of the sinuous, opulent body, +the challenge of the smouldering eyes, the warmth of her laughter, all +invited him to forget the charms of other women. The faint feminine +perfume of her was wafted to his brain. He felt a besieging of the +blood. + +Stepping behind the chair in which she sat, he tilted back the head of +lustrous bronze, and very deliberately kissed her on the lips. + +For a moment she gave herself to his embrace, then pushed him back, +rose, and walked across the room to a little table. With fingers that +trembled slightly she lit a cigarette. Sheathed in her close-fitting +gown, she made a strong carnal appeal to him, but there was between +them, too, a close bond of the spirit. He made no apologies, no +explanation. + +Presently she turned and looked at him. Only the deeper color beneath +her eyes betrayed any excitement. + +"Unless I'm a bad prophet you'll get the answer you want when she comes +back, Colby." + +He thought her reply to his indiscretion superb. It admitted complicity, +reproached, warned, and at the same time ignored. Never before had she +called him by his given name. He took it as a token of forgiveness and +renunciation. + +Why was it not Genevieve Mallory that he wanted to marry? It would be +the wise thing to do. She would ask nothing of him that he could not +give, and she would bring to him many things that he wanted. But he was +under the spell of Sheba's innocence, of the mystery of her youth, of +the charm she had brought with her from the land of fairies and +banshees. The reasonable course made just now not enough appeal to him. +He craved the rapture of an impossible adventure into a world wonderful. + +The mine-owner carried with him back to his office a sense of the futile +irony of life. A score of men would have liked to marry Mrs. Mallory. +She had all the sophisticated graces of life and much of the natural +charm of an unusually attractive personality. He had only to speak the +word to win her, and his fancy had flown in pursuit of a little Puritan +with no knowledge of the world. + +In front of the Seattle & Kusiak Emporium the Scotchman stopped. A +little man who had his back to him was bargaining for a team of huskies. +The man turned, and Macdonald recognized him. + +"Hello, Gid. Aren't you off your usual beat a bit?" he asked. + +The little miner looked him over impudently. "Well--well! If it ain't +the Big Mogul himself--and wantin' to know if I've got permission to +travel off the reservation." + +Macdonald laughed tolerantly. He had that large poise which is not +disturbed by the sand stings of life. + +"I reckon you travel where you want to, Gid,--same as I do." + +"Maybeso. I shouldn't wonder if you'd find out quite soon enough what +I'm doing here. You never can tell," the old man retorted with a manner +that concealed volumes. + +Those who were present remembered the words and in the light of what +took place later thought them significant. + +"Anyhow, it is quite a social event for Kusiak," Macdonald suggested +with a smile of irony. + +[Illustration: THE SITUATION AT LEAST WAS PIQUANT, EVEN THOUGH IT WAS +AT HER EXPENSE] + +Without more words Holt turned back to his bargaining. The big Scotchman +went on his way, remembered that he wanted to see the cashier of the +bank which he controlled, and promptly forgot that old Gid existed. + +The old man concluded his purchase and drove up to the hotel behind one +of the best dog teams in Alaska. He had paid one hundred dollars down +and was to settle the balance next day. + +Gideon asked a question of the porter. + +"Second floor. That's his room up there," the man answered, pointing to +a window. + +"Oh, you, seven--eighteen--ninety-nine," the little miner shouted up. + +Elliot appeared at the window. "Well, I'll be hanged! What are you doing +here, Old-Timer?" + +"Onct I knew a man lived to be a grandpa minding his own business," +grinned the little man. "Come down and I'll tell you all about it, boy." + +In half a minute Gordon was beside him. After the first greetings the +young man nodded toward the dog team. + +"How did you persuade Tim Ryan to lend you his huskies?" + +"Why don't you take a paper and keep up with the news, son? These +huskies don't belong to Tim." + +"Meaning that Mr. Gideon Holt is the owner?" + +"You've done guessed it," admitted the miner complacently. + +He had a right to be proud of the team. It was a famous one even in the +North. It had run second for two years in the Alaska Sweepstakes to +Macdonald's great Siberian wolf-hounds. The leader Butch was the hero of +a dozen races and a hundred savage fights. + +"What in Halifax do you want with the team?" asked Elliot, surprised. +"The whole outfit must have cost a small fortune." + +"Some dust," admitted Gideon proudly. He winked mysteriously at Gordon. +"I got a use for this team, if any one was to ask you." + +"Haven't taken the Government mail contract, have you?" + +"Not so you could notice it. I'll tell you what I want with this team, +as the old sayin' is." Holt lowered his voice and narrowed slyly his +little beadlike eyes. "I'm going to put a crimp in Colby Macdonald. +That's what I aim to do with it." + +"How?" + +The miner beckoned Elliot closer and whispered in his ear. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT + + +While Kusiak slept that night the wind shifted. It came roaring across +the range and drove before it great scudding clouds heavily laden with +sleety snow. The howling storm snuffed out the moonlight as if it had +been a tallow dip and fought and screamed around the peaks, whirling +down the gulches with the fury of a blizzard. + +From dark till dawn the roar of the wind filled the night. Before +morning heavy drifts had wiped out the roads and sheeted the town in +virgin white unbroken by trails or furrows. + +With the coming of daylight the tempest abated. Kusiak got into its +working clothes and dug itself out from the heavy blanket of white that +had tucked it in. By noon the business of the town was under way again. +That which would have demoralized the activities of a Southern city made +little difference to these Arctic Circle dwellers. Roads were cleared, +paths shoveled, stores opened. Children in parkas and fur coats trooped +to school and studied through the short afternoon by the aid of electric +light. + +Dusk fell early and with it came a scatter of more snow. Mrs. Selfridge +gave a dinner-dance at the club that night and her guests came in furs +of great variety and much value. The hostess outdid herself to make +the affair the most elaborate of the season. Wally had brought the +favors in from Seattle and also the wines. Nobody in Kusiak of any +social importance was omitted from the list of invited except Gordon +Elliot. Even the grumpy old cashier of Macdonald's bank--an old bachelor +who lived by himself in rooms behind those in which the banking was +done--was persuaded to break his custom and appear in a rusty old dress +suit of the vintage of '95. + +The grizzled cashier--his name was Robert Milton--left the clubhouse +early for his rooms. It was snowing, but the wind had died down. +Contrary to his custom, he had taken two or three glasses of wine. His +brain was excited so that he knew he could not sleep. He decided to read +"Don Quixote" by the stove for an hour or two. The heat and the reading +together would make him drowsy. + +Arrived at the bank, he let himself into his rooms and locked the +door. He stooped to open the draft of the stove when a sound stopped +him halfway. The cashier stood rigid, still crouched, waiting for a +repetition of the noise. It came once more--the low, dull rasping of +a file. + +Shivers ran down the spine of Milton and up the back of his head to +the roots of his hair. Somebody was in the bank--at two o'clock in the +morning--with tools for burglary. He was a scholarly old fellow, brought +up in New England and cast out to the uttermost frontier by the malign +tragedy of poverty. Adventure offered no appeal to him. His soul quaked +as he waited with slack, feeble muscles upon the discovery that only a +locked door stood between him and violent ruffians. + +But though his knees trembled beneath him and the sickness of fear was +gripping his heart, Robert Milton had in him the dynamic spark that +makes a man. He tiptoed to his desk and with shaking fingers gripped the +revolver that lay in a drawer. + +The cashier stood there for a moment, moistening his dry lips with +his tongue and trying to swallow the lump that rose to his throat and +threatened to stop his breathing. He braced himself for the plunge, +then slowly trod across the room to the inner, locked door. The palsied +fingers of his left hand could scarce turn the key. + +It seemed to him that the night was alive with the noise he made in +turning the lock and opening the door. The hinges grated and the floor +squeaked beneath the fall of his foot as he stood at the threshold. + +Two men were in front of the wire grating which protected the big safe +that filled the alcove to the right. One held a file and the other a +candle. Their blank, masked faces were turned toward Milton, and each +of them covered him with a weapon. + +"W-what are you doing here?" quavered the cashier. + +"Drop that gun," came the low, sharp command from one of them. + +Under the menace of their revolvers the heart of Milton pumped water +instead of blood. The strength oozed out of him. His body swayed and he +shut his eyes. A hand groped for the casement of the door to steady him. + +"Drop it--quick." + +Some old ancestral instinct in the bank cashier rose out of his panic +to destroy him. He wanted to lie down quietly in a faint. But his mind +asserted its mastery over the weakling body. In spite of his terror, of +his flaccid will, he had to keep the faith. He was guardian of the bank +funds. At all costs he must protect them. + +His forearm came up with a jerk. Two shots rang out almost together. The +cashier sagged back against the wall and slowly slid to the floor. + + * * * * * + +The guests of Mrs. Selfridge danced well into the small hours. The +California champagne that Wally had brought in stimulated a gayety that +was balm to his wife's soul. She wanted her dinner-dance to be smart, to +have the atmosphere she had found in the New York cabarets. If everybody +talked at once, she felt they were having a good time. If nobody +listened to anybody else, it proved that the affair was a screaming +success. + +Mrs. Wally was satisfied as she bade her guests good-bye and saw them +pass into the heavy snow that was again falling. They all assured her +that there had not been so hilarious a party in Kusiak. One old-timer, a +trifle lit up by reason of too much hospitality, phrased his enjoyment a +little awkwardly. + +"It's been great, Mrs. Selfridge. Nothing like it since the days of the +open dance hall." + +Mrs. Mallory hastily suppressed an internal smile and stepped into the +breach. "_How_ do you do it?" she asked her hostess enviously. + +"My dear, if _you_ say it was a success--" + +"What else could one say?" + +Genevieve Mallory always preferred to tell the truth when it would do +just as well. Now it did better, since it contributed to her own ironic +sense of amusement. Macdonald had once told her that Mrs. Selfridge made +him think of the saying, "Monkey sees, monkey does." The effervescent +little woman had never had an original idea in her life. + +Most of those who had been at the dance slept late. They were oblivious +of the fact that the storm had quickened again into a howling gale. +Nor did they know the two bits of news that were passing up and down +the main street and being telephoned from house to house. One of the +items was that the stage for Katma had failed to reach the roadhouse at +Smith's Crossing. The message had come over the long-distance telephone +early in the morning. The keeper of the roadhouse added his private +fears that the stage, crawling up the divide as the blizzard swept down, +must have gone astray and its occupants perished. The second bit of news +was local. For the first time since Robert Milton had been cashier the +bank had failed to open on the dot. The snow had not been cleared from +the walk in front and no smoke was pouring from the chimney of the +building. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +MACDONALD FOLLOWS A CLUE + + +Macdonald was no sluggard. It was his habit not to let the pleasure of +the night before interfere with the business of the morning after. But +in the darkness he overslept and let the town waken before him. He was +roused by the sound of knocking on his door. + +"Who is it?" he asked. + +"It's me--Jones--Gopher Jones. Say, Mac, the bank ain't open and we +can't rouse Milton. Thought I'd come to you, seeing as you're president +of the shebang." + +The mine-owner got up and began to dress. "Probably overslept, same as +I did." + +"That's the point. We looked through the window of his bedroom and his +bed ain't been slept in." + +In three minutes Macdonald joined the marshal and walked down with him +to the bank. He unlocked the front door and turned to the little crowd +that had gathered. + +"Better wait here, boys. Gopher and I will go in. I expect everything is +all right, but we'll let you know about that as soon as we find out." + +The bank president opened the door, let the officer enter, and followed +himself. + +The sun had not yet risen and the blinds were down. Macdonald struck a +match and held it up. The wood burned and the flame flickered out. + +"Bank's been robbed," he announced quietly. + +"Looks like," agreed Jones. His voice was uneven with excitement. + +The Scotch-Canadian lit another match. In the flare of it they saw that +the steel grill cutting off the alcove was open and that the door had +been blown from the safe. It lay on the floor among a litter of papers, +silver, fragments of steel, and bits of candle. + +The marshal clutched at the arm of the banker. "Did you see--that?" he +whispered. + +His finger pointed through the darkness to the other end of the room. In +the faint gray light of coming day Macdonald could see a huddled mass on +the floor. + +"There has been murder done. I'll get a light. Don't move from here, +Jones. I want to look at things before we disturb them. There's no +danger. The robbers have been gone for hours." + +Gopher had as much nerve as the next man--when the sun was shining and +he could see what danger he was facing. But there was something sinister +and nerve-racking here. He wanted to throw open the door and shout the +news to those outside. + +By the light of another match the mine-owner crossed the room into +the sitting-room of the cashier. Presently he returned with a lamp +and let its light fall upon the figure lying slumped against the wall. +A revolver lay close to the inert fingers. The head hung forward +grotesquely upon the breast. + +The dead man was Milton. His employer saw nothing ridiculous in the +twisted neck and sprawling limbs. The cashier had died to save the money +entrusted to his care. + +Macdonald handed the lamp to the marshal and picked up the revolver. +Every chamber was loaded. + +"They beat him to it. They were probably here when he reached home. +My guess is he heard them right away, got his gun, and came in. He's +still wearing his dress suit. That gives us the time, for he left the +club about midnight. Soon as they saw him they dropped him. Likely they +heard him and were ready. I wouldn't have had this happen for all the +money in the safe." + +"How much was there in it?" + +"I don't know exactly. The books will show. I'll send Wally down to look +them over." + +"Shot right spang through the heart, looks like," commented Jones, +following with his eye the course of the wound. + +"Wish I'd been here instead of him," Macdonald said grimly. His eyes +softened as he continued to look down at the employee who had paid +with his life for his faithfulness. "It wasn't an even break. Poor old +fellow! You weren't built for a job like this, Robert Milton, but you +played your hand out to a finish. That's all any man can do." + +He turned abruptly away and began examining the safe. The silver still +stood sacked in one large compartment. The bank-notes had escaped the +hurried search of the robbers, but the gold was practically all gone. +One sack had been torn by the explosion and single pieces of gold could +be found all over the safe. + +Macdonald glanced over the papers rapidly. The officer picked up one +of dozens scattered over the floor. It was a mortgage note made out to +the bank by a miner. He collected the others. Evidently the bandits had +torn off the rubber, glanced over one or two to see if they had any cash +value, and tossed the package into the air as a disgusted gambler does +a pack of cards. + +The bank president stepped to the door and threw it open. He explained +the situation in three sentences. + +"I can't let you in now, boys, until the coroner has been here," he went +on to tell the crowd. "But there is one way you can all help. Keep your +eyes open. If you have seen any suspicious characters around, let me +know. Or if any one has left town in a hurry--or been seen doing +anything during the night that you did not understand at the time. Men +can't do a thing like this without leaving some clue behind them even +though the snow has wiped away their trail." + +A man named Fred Tague pushed to the front. He kept a feed corral near +the edge of town. "I can tell you one man who mushed out before five +o'clock this morning--and that's Gid Holt." + +The eyes of Macdonald, cold and hard as jade, fastened to the man. "How +do you know?" + +"That dog team he bought from Tim Ryan--Well, he's been keeping it in my +corral. When I got there this morning it was gone. The snow hadn't wiped +out the tracks of the runners yet, so he couldn't have left more than +fifteen minutes before." + +"What time was it when you reached the corral?" + +"Might have been six--maybe a little later." + +"You don't know that Holt took the team himself?" + +"Come to that, I don't. But he had a key to the barn where the sled was. +Holt has been putting up at the hotel. I reckon it is easy to find out +if he's still there." + +Macdonald's keen brain followed the facts as the nose of a bloodhound +does a trail. Holt, an open enemy of his, had reached town only two days +before. He had bought one of the best and swiftest dog teams in the +North and had let slip before witnesses the remark that Macdonald would +soon find out what he wanted with the outfit. The bank had been robbed +after midnight. To file open the grill and to blow up the safe must +have taken several hours. Before morning the dogs of Holt had taken the +trail. If their owner were with them, it was a safe bet that the sled +carried forty thousand dollars in Alaska gold dust. + +So far the mind of the Scotchman followed the probabilities logically, +but at this point it made a jump. There were at least two robbers. He +was morally sure of that, for this was not a one-man job. Now, if Holt +had with him a companion, who of all those in Kusiak was the most likely +man? He was a friendless, crabbed old fellow. Since coming to Kusiak old +Gideon had been seen constantly with one man. Together they had driven +out the day before and tried his new team. They had been with each other +at dinner and had later left the hotel together. The name of the man who +had been so friendly with old Holt was Gordon Elliot--and Elliot not +only was another enemy of Macdonald, but had very good reasons for +getting out of the country just now. + +The strong jaw of the mine-owner stood out saliently as he gave short, +sharp orders to men in the crowd. One was to get the coroner, a second +Wally Selfridge, another the United States District Attorney. He divided +the rest into squads to guard the roads leading out of town and to see +that nobody passed for the present. + +As soon as the men he had sent for arrived, Macdonald went over the +scene of the crime with them. It was plain that the dynamiting had been +done by an old-time miner who knew his business, but there had been +brains in the planning of the robbery. + +"There is no ivory above the ears of the man who bossed this job," +Macdonald told the others. "He picks a night when we're all at the club, +more than half a mile from here, a stormy night when folks are not +wandering the streets. He knows that the wind will deaden the sound of +the dynamite and that the snow will wipe out any tracks that might help +to identify him and his pal or show which way they have gone." + +The coroner took charge of the body and Wally of the bank. The +mine-owner and the district attorney walked up to the hotel together. As +soon as they had explained what they wanted, the landlord got a passkey +and took them to the room Holt had used. + +Apparently the bed had been slept in. In the waste-paper basket the +district attorney found something which he held up in a significant +silence. Macdonald stepped forward and took from him a small cloth sack. + +"One of those we keep our gold in at the bank," said the Scotchman after +a close examination. "This definitely ties up Holt with the robbery. Now +for Elliot." + +"He left the hotel with Holt about five this morning the porter says." +This was the contribution of the landlord. + +The room of Gordon Elliot was in great disorder. Garments had been +tossed on the bed and on every chair and had been left to lie wherever +they had chanced to fall. Plainly their owner had been in great haste. + +Macdonald looked through the closet where clothes hung. "His new fur +coat is not here--nor his trail boots. Looks to me as though Mr. Gordon +had hit the trail with his friend Holt." + +This opinion was strengthened when it was learned from a store-owner in +town that Holt and Elliot had routed him out of bed in the early morning +to sell them two weeks' supplies. These they had packed upon the sled +outside the store. + +"It's a cinch bet that Elliot took the trail with him," the lawyer +conceded. + +All doubt of this was removed when a prospector reached town with the +news that he had met Holt and Elliot traveling toward the divide as fast +as they could drive the dogs. + +The big Scotchman ordered his team of Siberian wolf-hounds made ready +for the trail. As he donned his heavy furs, Colby Macdonald smiled with +deep satisfaction. He had Elliot on the run at last. + +Just as he closed the door of his room, Macdonald heard the telephone +bell ring. He hesitated, then shrugged his shoulders and strode out into +the storm. If he had answered the call he would have learned from Diane, +who was at the other end of the line, that the stage upon which Sheba +had started for Katma had not reached the roadhouse at Smith's Crossing. + +Five minutes later the winners of the great Alaska Sweepstakes were +flying down the street in the teeth of the storm. Armed with a rifle +and a revolver, their owner was mushing into the hills to bring back +the men who had robbed his bank and killed the cashier. He traveled +alone because he could go faster without a companion. It never occurred +to him that he was not a match for any two men he might face. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +IN THE BLIZZARD + + +"Swiftwater" Pete, the driver of the stage between Kusiak and Katma, +did not like the look of the sky as his ponies breasted the long uphill +climb that ended at the pass. It was his habit to grumble. He had been +complaining ever since they had started. But as he studied the heavy +billows of cloud banked above the peaks and in the saddle between, there +was real anxiety in his red, apoplectic face. + +"Gittin' her back up for a blizzard, looks like. Doggone it, if that +wouldn't jest be my luck," he murmured fretfully. + +Sheba hoped there would be one, not, of course, a really, truly blizzard +such as Macdonald had told her about, but the tail of a make-believe +one, enough to send her glowing with exhilaration into the roadhouse +with the happy sense of an adventure achieved. The girl had got out to +relieve the horses, and as her young, lissom body took the hill +scattering flakes of snow were already flying. + +To-day she was buoyed up by a sense of freedom. For a time, at least, +she was escaping Macdonald's driving energy, the appeal of Gordon +Elliot's warm friendliness, and the unvoiced urging of Diane. Good old +Peter and the kiddies were the only ones that let her alone. + +She looked back at the horses laboring up the hill. Swiftwater had got +down and was urging them forward, his long whip crackling about the ears +of the leaders. He waddled as he walked. His fat legs were too short for +the round barrel body. A big roll of fat bulged out over the collar of +his shirt. Whenever he was excited--and he always was on the least +excuse--he puffed and snorted and grew alarmingly purple. + +"Fat chance," he exploded as soon as he got within hearing. "Snow in +those clouds--tons of it. H'm! And wind. Wow! We're in for an +honest-to-God blizzard, sure as you're a foot high." + +Swiftwater was worried. He would have liked to turn and run for it. But +the last roadhouse was twenty-seven miles back. If the blizzard came +howling down the slope they would have a sweet time of it reaching +safety. Smith's Crossing was on the other side of the divide, only nine +miles away. They would have to worry through somehow. Probably those +angry clouds were half a bluff. + +The temperature was dropping rapidly. Already snow fell fast in big +thick flakes. To make it worse, the wind was beginning to rise. It came +in shrill gusts momentarily increasing in force. + +The stage-driver knew the signs of old and cursed the luck that had led +him to bring the stage. It was to have been the last trip with horses +until spring. His dogs were waiting for him at Katma for the return +journey. He did not blame himself, for there was no reason to expect +such a storm so early in the season. None the less, it was too bad that +his lead dog had been ailing when he left the gold camp eight days +before. + +Miss O'Neill knew that Swiftwater Pete was anxious, and though she was +not yet afraid, the girl understood the reason for it. The road ran +through the heart of a vast snow-field, the surface of which was being +swept by a screaming wind. The air was full of sifted white dust, and +the road furrow was rapidly filling. Soon it would be obliterated. +Already the horses were panting and struggling as they ploughed forward. +Sheba tramped behind the stage-driver and in her tracks walked Mrs. +Olson, the other passenger. + +Through the muffled scream of the storm Swiftwater shouted back to +Sheba. "You wanta keep close to me." + +She nodded her head. His order needed no explanation. The world was +narrowing to a lane whose walls she could almost touch with her fingers. +A pall of white wrapped them. Upon them beat a wind of stinging sleet. +Nothing could be seen but the blurred outlines of the stage and the +driver's figure. + +The bitter cold searched through Sheba's furs to her soft flesh and the +blast of powdered ice beat upon her face. The snow was getting deeper +as the road filled. Once or twice she stumbled and fell. Her strength +ebbed, and the hinges of her knees gave unexpectedly beneath her. How +long was it, she asked herself, that Macdonald had said men could live +in a blizzard? + +Staggering blindly forward, Sheba bumped into the driver. He had drawn +up to give the horses a moment's rest before sending them plunging at +the snow again. + +"No chance," he called into the young woman's ear. "Never make Smith's +in the world. Goin' try for miner's cabin up gulch little way." + +The team stuck in the drifts, fought through, and was blocked again ten +yards beyond. A dozen times the horses gave up, answered the sting of +the whip by diving head first at the white banks, and were stopped by +fresh snow-combs. + +Pete gave up the fight. He began unhitching the horses, while Sheba and +Mrs. Olson, clinging to each other's hands, stumbled forward to join +him. The words he shouted across the back of a horse were almost lost in +the roar of the shrieking wind. + +"... heluvatime ... ride ... gulch," Sheba made out. + +He flung Mrs. Olson astride one of the wheelers and helped Sheba to the +back of the right leader. Swiftwater clambered upon its mate himself. + +The girl paid no attention to where they were going. The urge of life +was so faint within her that she did not greatly care whether she lived +or died. Her face was blue from the cold; her vitality was sapped. She +seemed to herself to have turned to ice below the hips. Outside the +misery of the moment her whole attention was concentrated on sticking +to the back of the horse. Numb though her fingers were, she must keep +them fastened tightly in the frozen mane of the animal. She recited her +lesson to herself like a child. She must stick on--she must--she must. + +Whether she lost consciousness or not Sheba never knew. The next she +realized was that Swiftwater Pete was pulling her from the horse. He +dragged her into a cabin where Mrs. Olson lay crouched on the floor. + +"Got to stable the horses," he explained, and left them. + +After a time he came back and lit a fire in the sheet-iron stove. As the +circulation that meant life flooded back into her chilled veins Sheba +endured a half-hour of excruciating pain. She had to clench her teeth to +keep back the groans that came from her throat, to walk the floor and +nurse her tortured hands with fingers in like plight. + +The cabin was empty of furniture except for a home-made table, rough +stools, and the frame of a bed. The last occupant had left a little +firewood beside the stove, enough to last perhaps for twenty-four hours. +Sheba did not need to be told that if the blizzard lasted long enough, +they would starve to death. In the handbag left in the stage were a box +of candy and an Irish plum pudding. She had brought the latter from the +old country with her and was taking it and the chocolates to the Husted +children. But just now the stage was as far from them as Drogheda. + +Like many rough frontiersmen, Swiftwater Pete was a diamond in the +raw. He had the kindly, gentle instincts that go to the making of a +good man. So far as could be he made a hopeless and impossible situation +comfortable. His judgment told him that they were caught in a trap from +which there was no escape, but for the sake of the women he put a +cheerful face on things. + +"Lucky we found this cabin," he growled amiably. "By this time we'd 'a' +been up Salt Creek if we hadn't. Seeing as our luck has stood up so far, +I reckon we'll be all right. Mighty kind of Mr. Last Tenant to leave us +this firewood. Comes to a showdown we've got one table, four stools, and +a bed that will make first-class fuel. We ain't so worse off." + +"If we only had some food," Mrs. Olson suggested. + +"Food!" Pete looked at her in assumed surprise. "Huh! What about all +that live stock I got in the stable? I've heard tell, ma'am, that +broncho tenderloin is a favorite dish with them there French chiefs +that do the cooking. They kinder trim it up so's it's 'most as good as +frawgs' legs." + +Sheba had never before slept on bare boards with a sealskin coat for a +sleeping-bag. But she was very tired and dropped off almost instantly. +Twice she woke during the night, disturbed by the stiffness and the +pain of her body. It seemed to her that the hard, whipsawed planks were +pushing through the soft flesh to the bones. She was cold, too, and +crept closer to the stout Swedish woman lying beside her. Presently she +fell asleep again to the sound of the blizzard howling outside. When she +wakened for the third time it was morning. + +In the afternoon the blizzard died away. As far as she could see, Sheba +looked out upon a waste of snow. Her eyes turned from the desolation +without to the bare and cheerless room in which they had found shelter. +In spite of herself a little shiver ran down the spine of the girl. Had +she come into this Arctic solitude to find her tomb? + +Resolutely she brushed the gloomy thought from her mind and began to +chat with Mrs. Olson. In a corner of the cabin Sheba had found a torn +and disreputable copy of "Vanity Fair." The covers and the first forty +pages were gone. A splash of what appeared to be tobacco juice defiled +the last sheet. But the fortunes of Becky and Amelia had served to make +her forget during the morning that she was hungry and likely to be much +hungrier before another day had passed. + +As soon as the storm had moderated enough to let him go out with +safety, Swiftwater Pete had taken one of the horses for an attempt at +trail-breaking. + +"Me, I'm after that plum pudding. I gotta get a feed of oats from the +stage for my bronchs too. The scenery here is sure fine, but it ain't +what you would call nourishing. Huh! Watch our smoke when me and old +Baldface git to bucking them drifts." + +He had been gone two hours and the early dusk was already descending +over the white waste when Sheba ventured out to see what had become of +the stage-driver. But the cold was so bitter that she soon gave up the +attempt to fight her way through the drifts and turned back to the +cabin. + +Sometime later Swiftwater Pete came stumbling into their temporary home. +He was fagged to exhaustion but triumphant. Upon the table he dropped +from the crook of his numbed arm two packages. + +"The makings for a Christmas dinner," he said with a grin. + +After he had taken off his mukluks and his frozen socks they wrapped +him in their furs while he toasted before the stove. Mrs. Olson thawed +out the pudding and the chocolates in the oven and made a kind of mush +out of some oats Pete had saved from the horse feed. They ate their +one-sided meal in high spirits. The freeze had saved their lives. If it +held clear till to-morrow they could reach Smith's Crossing on the crust +of the snow. + +Swiftwater broke up the chairs for fuel and demolished the legs of the +table, after which he lay down before the stove and fell at once into a +sodden sleep. + +Presently Mrs. Olson lay down on the bed and began to snore regularly. +Sheba could not sleep. The boards tired her bones and she was cold. +Sometimes she slipped into cat naps that were full of bad dreams. She +thought she was walking on the snow-comb of a precipice and that Colby +Macdonald pushed her from her precarious footing and laughed at her as +she slid swiftly toward the gulf below. When she wakened with a start it +was to find that the fire had died down. She was shivering from lack of +cover. Quietly the girl replenished the fire and lay down again. + +When she wakened with a start it was morning. A faint light sifted +through the single window of the shack. Sheba whispered to the older +woman that she was going out for a little walk. + +"Be careful, dearie," advised Mrs. Olson. "I wouldn't try to go too +far." + +Sheba smiled to herself at the warning. It was not likely that she would +go far enough to get lost with all these millions of tons of snow piled +up around her in every direction. + +She had come out because she was restless and was tired of the dingy +and uncomfortable room. Without any definite intentions, she naturally +followed the trail that Swiftwater had broken the day before. No wind +stirred and the sky was clear. But it was very cold. The sun would not +be up for half an hour. + +As she worked her way down the gulch Sheba wondered whether the news of +their loss had reached Kusiak. Were search parties out already to rescue +them? Colby Macdonald had gone out into the blizzard years ago to save +her father. Perhaps he might have been out all night trying to save her +father's daughter. Peter would go, of course,--and Gordon Elliot. The +work in the mines would stop and men would volunteer by scores. That was +one fine thing about the North. It responded to the unwritten law that a +man must risk his own life to save others. + +But if the wires had come down in the storm Kusiak would not know +they had not got through to Smith's Crossing. Swiftwater Pete spoke +cheerfully about mushing to the roadhouse. But Sheba knew the snow +would not bear the horses. They would have to walk, and it was not at +all certain that Mrs. Olson could do so long a walk with the thermometer +at forty or fifty below zero. + +From a little knoll Sheba looked down upon the top of the stage three +hundred yards below her, and while she stood there the promise of the +new day was blazoned on the sky. It came with amazing beauty of green +and primrose and amethyst, while the stars flickered out and the heavens +took on the blue of sunrise. In a crotch between two peaks a faint +golden glow heralded the sun. A circle of lovely rose-pink flushed the +horizon. + +Sheba had this much of the poet in her, that every sunrise was still a +miracle. She drew a deep, slow breath of adoration and turned away. As +she did so her eyes dilated and her body grew rigid. + +Across the snow waste a man was coming. He was moving toward the cabin +and must cross the trench close to her. The heart of the girl stopped, +then beat wildly to make up the lost stroke. He had come through the +blizzard to save her. + +At that very instant, as if the stage had been set for it, the wonderful +Alaska sun pushed up into the crotch of the peaks and poured its radiance +over the Arctic waste. The pink glow swept in a tide of delicate color +over the snow and transmuted it to millions of sparkling diamonds. The +Great Magician's wand had recreated the world instantaneously. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +HARD MUSHING + + +Elliot and Holt left Kusiak in a spume of whirling, blinding snow. They +traveled light, not more than forty pounds to the dog, for they wanted +to make speed. It was not cold for Alaska. They packed their fur coats +on the sled and wore waterproof parkas. On their hands were mittens +of moosehide with duffel lining, on their feet mukluks above "German" +socks. Holt had been a sour-dough miner too long to let his partner +perspire from overmuch clothing. He knew the danger of pneumonia from +a sudden cooling of the heat of the body. + +Old Gideon took seven of his dogs, driving them two abreast. Six were +huskies, rangy, muscular animals with thick, dense coats. They were in +the best of spirits and carried their tails erect like their Malemute +leader. Butch, though a Malemute, had a strong strain of collie in him. +It gave him a sense of responsibility. His business was to see that the +team kept strung out on the trail, and Butch was a past-master in the +matter of discipline. His weight was ninety-three fighting pounds, and +he could thrash in short order any dog in the team. + +The snow was wet and soft. It clung to everything it touched. The dogs +carried pounds of it in the tufts of hair that rose from their backs. +An icy pyramid had to be knocked from the sled every half-hour. The +snowshoes were heavy with white slush. Densely laden spruce boughs +brushed the faces of the men and showered them with unexpected little +avalanches. + +They took turns in going ahead of the team and breaking trail. It +was heavy, muscle-grinding work. Before noon they were both utterly +fatigued. They dragged forward through the slush, lifting their laden +feet sluggishly. They must keep going, and they did, but it seemed to +them that every step must be the last. + +Shortly after noon the storm wore itself out. The temperature had been +steadily falling and now it took a rapid drop. They were passing through +timber, and on a little slope they built with a good deal of difficulty +a fire. By careful nursing they soon had a great bonfire going, in front +of which they put their wet socks, mukluks, scarfs, and parkas to dry. +The toes of the dogs had become packed with little ice balls. Gordon and +Holt had to go carefully over the feet of each animal to dig these out. + +The old-timer thawed out a slab of dried salmon till the fat began to +frizzle and fed each husky a pound of the fish and a lump of tallow. +He and Gordon made a pot of tea and ate some meat sandwiches they had +brought with them to save cooking until night. + +When they took the trail again it was in moccasins instead of mukluks. +The weather was growing steadily colder and with each degree of fall in +the thermometer the trail became easier. + +"Mushing at fifty below zero is all right when it is all right," +explained Holt in the words of the old prospector. "But when it isn't +right it's hell." + +"It is not fifty below yet, is it?" + +"Nope. But she's on the way. When your breath makes a kinder crackling +noise she's fifty." + +Travel was much easier now. There was a crust on the snow that held up +the dogs and the sled so that trail-breaking was not necessary. The +little party pounded steadily over the barren hills. There was no sign +of life except what they brought with them out of the Arctic silence and +carried with them into the greater silence beyond. A little cloud of +steam enveloped them as they moved, the moisture from the breath of nine +moving creatures in a waste of emptiness. + +Each of the men wrapped a long scarf around his mouth and nose for +protection, and as the part in front of his face became a sheet of ice +shifted the muffler to another place. + +Night fell in the middle of the afternoon, but they kept traveling. Not +till they were well up toward the summit of the divide did they decide +to camp. They drove into a little draw and unharnessed the weary dogs. +It was bitterly cold, but they were forced to set up the tent and stove +to keep from freezing. Their numbed fingers made a slow job of the camp +preparations. At last the stove was going, the dogs fed, and they +themselves thawed out. They fell asleep shortly to the sound of the +mournful howling of the dogs outside. + +Long before daybreak they were afoot again. Holt went out to chop some +wood for the stove while Gordon made breakfast preparations. The little +miner brought in an armful of wood and went out to get a second supply. +A few moments later Elliot heard a cry. + +He stepped out of the tent and ran to the spot where Holt was lying +under a mass of ice and snow. The young man threw aside the broken +blocks that had plunged down from a ledge above. + +"Badly hurt, Gid?" he asked. + +"I done bust my laig, son," the old man answered with a twisted grin. + +"You mean that it is broken?" + +"Tell you that in a minute." + +He felt his leg carefully and with Elliot's help tried to get up. +Groaning, he slid back to the snow. + +"Yep. She's busted," he announced. + +Gordon carried him to the tent and laid him down carefully. The old +miner swore softly. + +"Ain't this a hell of a note, boy? You'll have to get me to Smith's +Crossing and leave me there." + +It was the only thing to be done. Elliot broke camp and packed the sled. +Upon the load he put his companion, well wrapped up in furs. He +harnessed the dogs and drove back to the road. + +Two miles farther up the road Gordon stopped his team sharply. He had +turned a bend in the trail and had come upon an empty stage buried in +the snow. + +The fear that had been uppermost in Elliot's mind for twenty-four hours +clutched at his throat. Was it tragedy upon which he had come after his +long journey? + +Holt guessed the truth. "They got stalled and cut loose the horses. Must +have tried to ride the cayuses to shelter." + +"To Smith's Crossing?" asked Gordon. + +"Expect so." Then, with a whoop, the man on the sled contradicted +himself. "No, by Moses, to Dick Fiddler's old cabin up the draw. That's +where Swiftwater would aim for till the blizzard was over." + +"Where is it?" demanded his friend. + +"Swing over to the right and follow the little gulch. I'll wait till you +come back." + +Gordon dropped the gee-pole and started on the instant. Eagerness, +anxiety, dread fought in his heart. He knew that any moment now he might +stumble upon the evidence of the sad story which is repeated in Alaska +many times every winter. It rang in him like a bell that where tough, +hardy miners succumbed a frail girl would have small chance. + +He cut across over the hill toward the draw, and at what he saw his +pulse quickened. Smoke was pouring out of the chimney of a cabin and +falling groundward, as it does in the Arctic during very cold weather. +Had Sheba found safety there? Or was it the winter home of a prospector? + +As he pushed forward the rising sun flooded the earth with pink and +struck a million sparkles of color from the snow. The wonder of it drew +the eyes of the young man for a moment toward the hills. + +A tumult of joy flooded his veins. The girl who held in her soft hands +the happiness of his life stood looking at him. It seemed to him that +she was the core of all that lovely tide of radiance. He moved toward +her and looked down into the trench where she waited. Swiftly he kicked +off his snowshoes and leaped down beside her. + +The gleam of tears was in her eyes as she held out both hands to him. +During the long look they gave each other something wonderful to both +of them was born into the world. + +When he tried to speak his hoarse voice broke. "Sheba--little Sheba! +Safe, after all. Thank God, you--you--" He swallowed the lump in his +throat and tried again. "If you knew--God, how I have suffered! I was +afraid--I dared not let myself think." + +A live pulse beat in her white throat. The tears brimmed over. Then, +somehow, she was in his arms weeping. Her eyes slowly turned to his, +and he met the touch of her surrendered lips. + +Nature had brought them together by one of her resistless and +unpremeditated impulses. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +TWO ON THE TRAIL + + +A stress of emotion had swept her into his arms. Now she drew away from +him shyly. The conventions in which she had been brought up asserted +themselves. Sheba remembered that they had been carried by the high wave +of their emotion past all the usual preliminaries. He had not even told +her that he loved her. An absurd little fear obtruded itself into her +happiness. Had she rushed into his arms like a lovesick girl, taking it +for granted that he cared for her? + +"You--came to look for us?" she asked, with the little shy stiffness of +embarrassment. + +"For you--yes." + +He could not take his eyes from her. It seemed to him that a bird was +singing in his heart the gladness he could not express. He had for many +hours pushed from his mind pictures of her lying white and rigid on the +snow. Instead she stood beside him, her delicate beauty vivid as the +flush of a flame. + +"Did they telephone that we were lost?" + +"Yes. I was troubled when the storm grew. I could not sleep. So I called +up the roadhouse by long distance. They had not heard from the stage. +Later I called again. When I could stand it no longer, I started." + +"Not on foot?" + +"No. With Holt's dog team. He is back there. His leg is broken. A +snow-slide crushed him this morning where we camped." + +"Bring him to the cabin. I will tell the others you are coming." + +"Have you had any food?" he asked. + +A tired smile lit up the shadows of weariness under her soft, dark eyes. +"Boiled oats, plum pudding, and chocolates," she told him. + +"We have plenty of food on the sled. I'll bring it at once." + +She nodded, and turned to go to the cabin. He watched for a moment the +lilt in her walk. An expression from his reading jumped to his mind. +Melodious feet! Some poet had said that, hadn't he? Surely it must have +been Sheba of whom he was thinking, this girl so virginal of body and of +mind, free and light-footed as a caribou on the hills. + +Gordon returned to the sled and drove the team up the draw to the cabin. +The three who had been marooned came to meet their rescuer. + +"You must 'a' come right through the storm lickitty split," Swiftwater +said. + +"You're right we did. This side pardner of mine was hell-bent on +wrestling with a blizzard," Holt answered dryly. + +"Sorry you broke your laig, Gid." + +"Then there's two of us sorry, Swiftwater. It's one of the best laigs +I've got." + +Sheba turned to the old miner impulsively. "If you could be knowing what +I am thinking of you, Mr. Holt,--how full our hearts are of the +gratitude--" She stopped, tears in her voice. + +"Sho! No need of that, Miss. He dragged me along." His thumb jerked +toward the man who was driving. "I've seen better dog punchers than +Elliot, but he's got the world beat at routin' old-timers out of bed and +persuadin' them to kick in with him and buck a blizzard. Me, o' course, +I'm an old fool for comin'--" + +The dark eyes of the girl were like stars in a frosty night. "Then +you're the kind of a fool I love, Mr. Holt. I think it was just fine of +you, and I'll never forget it as long as I live." + +Mrs. Olson had cooked too long in lumber and mining camps not to know +something about bone-setting. Under her direction Gordon made splints +and helped her bandage the broken leg. Meanwhile Swiftwater Pete fed +his horses from the grain on the sled and Sheba cooked an appetizing +breakfast. The aroma of coffee and the smell of frying bacon stimulated +appetites that needed no tempting. + +Holt, propped up by blankets, ate with the others. For a good many years +he had taken his luck as it came with philosophic endurance. Now he +wasted no time in mourning what could not be helped. He was lucky the +ice slide had not hit him in the head. A broken leg would mend. + +While they ate, the party went into committee of the whole to decide +what was best to be done. Gordon noticed that in all the tentative +suggestions made by Holt and Swiftwater the comfort of Sheba was the +first thing in mind. + +The girl, too, noticed it and smilingly protested, her soft hand lying +for the moment on the gnarled one of the old miner. + +"It doesn't matter about me. We have to think of what will be best for +Mr. Holt, of how to get him to the proper care. My comfort can wait." + +The plan at last decided upon was that Gordon should make a dash for +Smith's Crossing on snowshoes, where he was to arrange for a relief +party to come out for the injured man and Mrs. Olson. He was to return +at once without waiting for the rescuers. Next morning he and Sheba +would start with Holt's dog team for Kusiak. + +Macdonald had taught Sheba how to use snowshoes and she had been an +apt pupil. From her suitcase she got out her moccasins and put them on. +She borrowed the snowshoes of Holt, wrapped herself in her parka, and +announced that she was going with Elliot part of the way. + +Gordon thought her movements a miracle of supple lightness. Her lines +had the swelling roundness of vital youth, her eyes were alive with +the eagerness that time dulls in most faces. They spoke little as they +swept forward over the white snow-wastes. The spell of the great North +was over her. Its mystery was stirring in her heart, just as it had +been when her lips had turned to his at the sunrise. As for him, love +ran through his veins like old wine. But he allowed his feelings no +expression. For though she had come to him of her own accord for that +one blessed minute at dawn, he could not be sure what had moved her so +deeply. She was treading a world primeval, the wonder of it still in +her soft eyes. Would she waken to love or to disillusion? + +He took care to see that she did not tire. Presently he stopped and held +out his hand to say good-bye. + +"Will you come back this way?" she asked. + +"Yes. I ought to get here soon after dark. Will you meet me?" + +She gave him a quick, shy little nod, turned without shaking hands, and +struck out for the cabin. All through the day happiness flooded her +heart. While she waited on Holt or helped Mrs. Olson cook or watched +Swiftwater while he put up the tent in the lee of the cabin, little +snatches of song bubbled from her lips. Sometimes they were bits of old +Irish ballads that popped into her mind. Once, while she was preparing +some coffee for her patient, it was a stanza from Burns:-- + + "Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, + And the rocks melt wi' the sun: + I will luve thee still, my dear, + While the sands o' life shall run." + +She caught old Gideon looking at her with a queer little smile on his +weather-tanned face and she felt the color beat into her cheeks. + +"I haven't bought a wedding present for twenty years," he told her +presently, apropos of nothing that had been said. "I won't know what's +the proper thing to get, Miss Sheba." + +"If you talk nonsense like that I'll go out and talk to Mr. Swiftwater +Pete," she threatened, blushing. + +Old Gid folded his hands meekly. "I'll be good--honest I will. Let's +see. I got to make safe and sane conversation, have I? Hm! Wonder when +that lazy, long-legged, good-for-nothing horsethief and holdup that +calls himself Gordon Elliot will get back to camp." + +Sheba looked into his twinkling eyes suspiciously as she handed him his +coffee. For a moment she bit her lip to keep back a smile, then said +with mock severity,-- + +"Now, I _am_ going to leave you to Mrs. Olson." + +When sunset came it found Sheba on the trail. Swiftwater Pete had +offered to go with her, but she had been relieved of his well-meant +kindness by the demand of Holt. + +"No, you don't, Pete. You ain't a-goin' off gallivantin' with no young +lady. You're a-goin' to stay here and fix my game laig for me. What do +you reckon Miss Sheba wants with a fat, lop-sided lummox like you along +with her?" + +Pete grew purple with embarrassment. He had not intended anything more +than civility and he wanted this understood. + +"Hmp! Ain't you got no sense a-tall, Gid? If Miss Sheba's hell-bent on +goin' to meet Elliot, I allowed some one ought to go along and keep the +dark offen her. 'Course there ain't nothin' going to harm her, unless +she goes and gets lost--" + +Sheba's smile cooled the heat of the stage-driver. "Which she isn't +going to do. Good of you to offer to go with me. Don't mind Mr. Holt. +Everybody knows he doesn't mean half of what he says. I'd be glad to +have you come with me, but it isn't necessary at all. So I'll not +trouble you." + +Darkness fell quickly, but Sheba still held to the trail. There was no +sign of Elliot, but she felt sure he would come soon. Meanwhile she +followed steadily the tracks he had made earlier in the day. + +She stopped at last. It was getting much colder. She was miles from the +camp. Reluctantly she decided to return. Then, out of the darkness, he +came abruptly upon her, the man whom she had come out to meet. + +Under the magic of the Northern stars they found themselves again in +each other's arms for that brief moment of joyful surprise. Then, as it +had been in the morning, Sheba drew herself shyly away. + +"They are waiting supper for us," she told him irrelevantly. + +He did not shout out his happiness and tell her to let them wait. +For Gordon, too, felt awed at this wonderful adventure of love that had +befallen them. It was enough for him that they were moving side by side, +alone in the deep snows and the biting cold, that waves of emotion +crashed through his pulses when his swinging hand touched hers. + +They were acutely conscious of each other. Excitement burned in the eyes +that turned to swift, reluctant meetings. She was a woman, and he was +her lover. Neither of them dared quite accept the fact yet, but it +filled the background of all their thoughts with delight. + +Sheba did not want to talk of this new, amazing thing that had come into +her life. It was too sacred a subject to discuss just yet even with him. +So she began to tell him odd fancies from childhood that lingered in her +Celtic heart, tales of the "little folk" that were half memories and +half imaginings, stirred to life by some odd association of sky and +stars. She laughed softly at herself as she told them, but Gordon did +not laugh at her. + +Everything she did was for him divinely done. Even when his eyes were on +the dark trail ahead he saw only the dusky loveliness of curved cheek, +the face luminous with a radiance some women are never privileged to +know, the rhythm of head and body and slender legs that was part of her +individual, heaven-sent charm. + +The rest had finished supper before Gordon and Sheba reached camp, but +Mrs. Olson had a hot meal waiting for them. + +"I fixed up the tent for the women folks--stove, sleeping-bags, plenty +of wood. Touch a match to the fire and it'll be snug as a bug in a rug," +explained Swiftwater to Gordon. + +Elliot and Sheba were to start early for Kusiak and later the rescue +party would arrive to take care of Holt and Mrs. Olson. + +"Time to turn in," Holt advised. "You better light that stove, Elliot." + +The young man was still in the tent arranging the sleeping-bags when +Sheba entered. He tried to walk out without touching her, intending to +call back his good-night. But he could not do it. There was something +flamey about her to-night that went to his head. Her tender, tremulous +little smile and the turn of the buoyant little head stirred in him a +lover's rhapsody. + +"It's to be a long trail we cover to-morrow, Sheba. You must sleep. +Good-night." + +"Good-night--Gordon." + +There was a little flash of audacity in the whimsical twist of her +mouth. It was the first time she had ever called him by his given name. + +Elliot threw away prudence and caught her by the hands. + +"My dear--my dear!" he cried. + +She trembled to his kiss, gave herself to his embrace with innocent +passion. Tendrils of hair, fine as silk, brushed his cheeks and sent +strange thrills through him. + +They talked the incoherent language of lovers that is compounded of +murmurs and silences and the touch of lips and the meetings of eyes. +There were to be other nights in their lives as rich in memories as +this, but never another with quite the same delight. + +Presently Sheba reminded him with a smile of the long trail he had +mentioned. Mrs. Olson bustled into the tent, and her presence stressed +the point. + +"Good-night, neighbors," Gordon called back from outside the tent. + +Sheba's "Good-night" echoed softly back to him. + +The girl fell asleep to the sound of the light breeze slapping the tent +and to the doleful howling of the huskies. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +A MESSAGE FROM THE DEAD + + +Macdonald drove his team into the teeth of the storm. The wind came +in gusts. Sometimes the gale was so stiff that the dogs could scarcely +crawl forward against it; again there were moments of comparative +stillness, followed by squalls that slapped the driver in the face like +the whipping of a loose sail on a catboat. + +High drifts made the trail difficult. Not once but fifty times Macdonald +left the gee-pole to break a way through snow-waves for the sled. The +best he could get out of his dogs was three miles an hour, and he knew +that there was not another team or driver in the North could have done +so well. + +It was close to noon when he reached a division of the road known as the +Fork. One trail ran down to the river and up it to the distant creeks. +The other led across the divide, struck the Yukon, and pointed a way to +the coast. White drifts had long since blotted out the track of the sled +that had preceded him. Had the fugitives gone up the river to the creeks +with intent to hole themselves up for the winter? Or was it their +purpose to cross the divide and go out over the ice to the coast? + +The pursuer knew that Gid Holt was wise as a weasel. He could follow +blindfolded the paths that led to every creek in the gold-fields. +It might be taken as a certainty that he had not plunged into such a +desperate venture without having a plan well worked out beforehand. +Elliot had a high grade of intelligence. Would they try to reach the +coast and make their get-away to Seattle? Or would they dig themselves +in till the heavy snows were past and come back to civilization with the +story of a lucky strike to account for the gold they brought with them? +Neither gold-dust nor nuggets could be identified. There would be no way +of proving the story false. The only evidence against them would be that +they had left at Kusiak and this was merely of a corroborative kind. +There would be no chance of convicting them upon it. + +But to strike for Seattle was to throw away all pretense of innocence. +Fugitives from justice, they would have to disappear from sight in order +to escape. The hunt for them would continue until at last they were +unearthed. + +One fork of the road led to comparative safety; the other went by +devious windings to the penitentiary and perhaps the gallows. The +Scotchman put himself in the place of the men he was trailing. Given +the same conditions, he knew which path he would follow. + +Macdonald took the trail that led down to the river, to the distant +gold-creeks which offered a refuge from man-hunters in many a deserted +cabin marooned by the deep snows. + +Even the iron frame and steel muscles of the Scotch-Canadian protested +against the task he had set them that day. It was a time to sit snugly +inside by a stove and listen to the howling of the wind as it hurled +itself down from the divide. But from daylight till dark Colby Macdonald +fought with drifts and breasted the storm. He got into the harness with +the dogs. He broke trail for them, cheered them, soothed, comforted, +punished. Long after night had fallen he staggered into the hut of two +prospectors, his parka so stiff with frozen snow that it had to be +beaten with a hammer before the coat could be removed. + +"How long since a dog team passed--seven huskies and two men?" was his +first question. + +"No dog team has passed for four days," one of the men answered. + +"You mean you haven't seen one," Macdonald corrected. + +"I mean none has passed--unless it went by in the night while we slept. +And even then our dogs would have warned us." + +Macdonald flung his ice-coated gloves to a table and stooped to take off +his mukluks. His face was blue with the cold, but the bleak look in the +eyes came from within. He said nothing more until he was free of his wet +clothes. Then he sat down heavily and passed a hand over his frozen +eyebrows. + +"Get me something to eat and take care of my dogs. There is food for +them on the sled," he said. + +While he ate he told them of the bank robbery and the murder. Their +resentment against the men who had done it was quite genuine. There +could be no doubt they told the truth when they said no sled had +preceded his. They were honest, reliable prospectors. He knew them +both well. + +The weary man slept like a log. He opened his eyes next morning to find +one of his hosts shaking him. + +"Six o'clock, Mr. Macdonald. Your breakfast is ready. Jim is looking out +for the huskies." + +Half an hour later the Scotchman gave the order, "Mush!" He was off +again, this time on the back trail as far as the Narrows, from which +point he meant to strike across to intersect the fork of the road +leading to the divide. + +The storm had passed and when the late sun rose it was in a blue sky. +Fine enough the day was overhead, but the slushy snow, where it was worn +thin on the river by the sweep of the wind, made heavy travel for the +dogs. Macdonald was glad enough to reach the Narrows, where he could +turn from the river and cut across to hit the trail of the men he was +following. He had about five miles to go before he would reach the Smith +Crossing road and every foot of it he would have to break trail for the +dogs. This was slow business, since he had no partner at the gee-pole. +Back and forth, back and forth he trudged, beating down the loose snow +for the runners. It was a hill trail, and the drifts were in most places +not very deep. But the Scotchman was doing the work of two, and at a +killing pace. + +Over a ridge the team plunged down into a little park where the snow was +deeper. Macdonald, breaking trail across the mountain valley, found his +feet weighted with packed ice slush so that he could hardly move them. +When at last he had beaten down a path for his dogs he stood breathing +deep at the summit of the slope. Before him lay the main road to Smith's +Crossing, scarce fifty yards away. He gave a deep whoop of triumph, for +along it ran the wavering tracks left by a sled. He was on the heels of +his enemy at last. + +As he turned back to his Siberian hounds, the eyes of Macdonald came to +abrupt attention. On the hillside, not ten yards from him, something +stuck out of the snow like a signpost. It was the foot of a man. + +Slowly Macdonald moved toward it. He knew well enough what he had +stumbled across--one of the tragedies that in the North are likely +to be found in the wake of every widespread blizzard. Some unfortunate +traveler, blinded by the white swirl, had wandered from the trail and +had staggered up a draw to his death. + +With a little digging the Alaskan uncovered a leg. The man had died +where he had fallen, face down. Macdonald scooped away the snow and +found a pack strapped to the back of the buried man. He cut the thongs +and tried to ease it away. But the gunnysack had frozen to the parka. +When he pulled, the rotten sacking gave way under the strain. The +contents of the pack spilled out. + +The eyes in the grim face of Macdonald grew hard and steely. He had +found, by some strange freak of chance, much more than he had expected, +to find. Using his snowshoe as a shovel, he dug the body free and turned +it over. At sight of the face he gave a cry of astonishment. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +"DON'T TOUCH HIM! DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH HIM!" + + +Gordon overslept. His plan had been to reach Kusiak at the end of a +long day's travel, but that had meant getting on the trail with the +first gleam of light. When he opened his eyes Mrs. Olson was calling +him to rise. + +He dressed and stepped out into the cold, crisp morning. From the hill +crotch the sun was already pouring down a great, fanlike shaft of light +across the snow vista. Swiftwater Pete passed behind him on his way to +the stable and called a cheerful good-morning in his direction. + +Mrs. Olson had put the stove outside the tent and Gordon lifted it to +the spot where they did the cooking. + +"Good-morning, neighbor," he called to Sheba. "Sleep well?" + +The little rustling sounds within the tent ceased. A face appeared in +the doorway, the flaps drawn discreetly close beneath the chin. + +"Never better. Is my breakfast ready yet?" + +"Come and help me make it. Mrs. Olson is waiting on Holt." + +"When I'm dressed." The smiling face disappeared. "Dublin Bay" sounded +in her fresh young voice from the tent. Gordon joined in the song as he +lit the fire and sliced bacon from a frozen slab of it. + +The howling of the huskies interrupted the song. They had evidently +heard something that excited them. Gordon listened. Was it in his fancy +only that the breeze carried to him the faint jingle of sleigh-bells? +The sound, if it was one, died away. The cook turned to his job. + +He stopped sawing at the meat, knife and bacon both suspended in the +air. On the hard snow there had come to him the crunch of a foot behind +him. Whose? Sheba was in the tent, Swiftwater at the stable, Mrs. Olson +in the house. Slowly he turned his head. + +What Elliot saw sent the starch through his body. He did not move an +inch, still sat crouched by the fire, but every nerve was at tension, +every muscle taut. For he was looking at a rifle lying negligently in +brown, steady hands. They were very sure hands, very competent ones. He +knew that because he had seen them in action. The owner of the hands was +Colby Macdonald. + +The Scotch-Canadian stood at the edge of a willow grove. His face was +grim as the day of judgment. + +"Don't move," he ordered. + +Elliot laughed irritably. He was both annoyed and disgusted. + +"What do you want?" he snapped. + +"You." + +"What's worrying you now? Do you think I'm jumping my bond?" + +"You're going back to Kusiak with me--to give a life for the one you +took." + +"What's that?" cried Gordon, surprised. + +"Just as I'm telling you. I've been on your heels ever since you left +town. You and Holt are going back with me as my prisoners." + +"But what for?" + +"For robbing the bank and murdering Robert Milton, as you know well +enough." + +"Is this another plant arranged for me by you and Selfridge?" demanded +Elliot. + +Macdonald ignored the question and lifted his voice. "Come out of that +tent, Holt,--and come with your hands up unless you want your head blown +off." + +"Holt isn't in that tent, you damned idiot. If you want to know--" + +"Come _now_, if you expect to come alive," cut in the Scotchman +ominously. He raised the rifle to his shoulder and covered the shadow +thrown by the sun on the figure within. + +Gordon flung out a wild protest and threw the frozen slab of bacon at +the head of Macdonald. With the same motion he launched his own body +across the stove. A fifth of a second earlier the tent flap had opened +and Sheba had come out. + +The sight of her paralyzed Macdonald and saved her lover's life. +It distracted the mine-owner long enough for him to miss his chance. +A bullet struck the stove and went off at a tangent through the tent +canvas not two feet from where Sheba stood. A second went speeding +toward the sun. For Gordon had followed the football player's instinct +and dived for the knees of his enemy. + +They went down together. Each squirming for the upper place, they +rolled over and over. The rifle was forgotten. Like cave men they +fought, crushing and twisting each other's muscles with the blind lust +of primordials to kill. As they clinched with one arm, they struck +savagely with the other. The impact of smashing blows on naked flesh +sounded horribly cruel to Sheba. + +She ran forward, calling on each by name to stop. Probably neither knew +she was there. Their whole attention was focused on each other. Not for +an instant did their eyes wander, for life and death hung on the issue. +Chance had lit the spark of their resentment, but long-banked passions +were blazing fiercely now. + +They got to their feet and fought toe to toe. Sledge-hammer blows beat +upon bleeding and disfigured faces. No thought of defense as yet was +in the mind of either. The purpose of each was to bruise, maim, make +helpless the other. But for the impotent little cries of Sheba no sound +broke the stillness save the crunch of their feet on the hard snow, +the thud of heavy fists on flesh, and the throaty snarl of their deep, +irregular breathing. + +Gid Holt, from the window of the cabin, watched the battle with shining +eyes. He exulted in every blow of Gordon; he suffered with him when the +smashing rights and lefts of Macdonald got home. He shouted jeers, +advice, threats, encouragement. If he had had ten thousand dollars +wagered on the outcome he could not have been more excited. + +Swiftwater Pete, drawn by the cries of Sheba, came running from the +stable. As he passed the window, Holt caught him by the arm. + +"What are you aimin' to do, Pete? Let 'em alone. Let 'em go to it. +They got to have it out. Stop 'em now and they'll get at it with guns." + +Sheba ran up, wringing her hands. "Stop them, please. They're killing +each other." + +"Nothing of the kind, girl. You let 'em alone, Pete. The kid's +there every minute, ain't he? Gee, that's a good one, boy. +Seven--eleven--ninety-two. 'Attaboy!" + +Macdonald had slipped on the snow and gone down to his hands and knees. +Swift as a wildcat the younger man was on top of him. Hampered though he +was by his parka, the Scotchman struggled slowly to his feet again. He +was much the heavier man, and in spite of his years the stronger. The +muscles stood out in knots on his shoulders and across his back, whereas +on the body of his more slender opponent they flowed and rippled in +rounded symmetry. Active as a heather cat, Elliot was far the quicker +of the two. + +Half-blinded by the hammering he had received, Gordon changed his method +of fighting. He broke away from the clinch and sidestepped the bull-like +rush of his foe, covering up as well as he could from the onset. +Macdonald pressed the attack and was beaten back by hard, straight lefts +and rights to the unprotected face. + +The mine-owner shook the matted hair from his swollen eyes and rushed +again. He caught an uppercut flush on the end of the chin. It did not +even stop him. The weight of his body was in the blow he lashed up from +his side. + +The knees of Elliot doubled up under him like the blade of a jackknife. +He sank down slowly, turned, got to his hands and knees, and tried to +shake off the tons of weight that seemed to be holding him down. + +Macdonald seized him about the waist and flung him to the ground. Upon +the inert body the victor dropped, his knees clinching the torso of the +unconscious man. + +"Now, Pete. Go to him," urged Holt wildly. + +But before Swiftwater could move, before the great fist of Macdonald +could smash down upon the bleeding face upturned to his, a sharp blow +struck the flesh of the raised forearm and for the moment stunned the +muscles. The Scotch-Canadian lifted a countenance drunk with rage, +passion-tossed. + +Slowly the light of reason came back into his eyes. Sheba was standing +before him, his rifle in her hand. She had struck him with the butt of +it. + +"Don't touch him! Don't you dare touch him!" she challenged. + +He looked at her long, then let his eyes fall to the battered face of +his enemy. Drunkenly he got to his feet and leaned against a willow. +His forces were spent, his muscles weighted as with lead. But it was not +this alone that made his breath come short and raggedly. + +Sheba had flung herself down beside her lover. She had caught him +tightly in her arms so that his disfigured face lay against her warm +bosom. In the eyes lifted to those of the mine-owner was an +unconquerable defiance. + +"He's mine--mine, you murderer," she panted fiercely. "If you kill him, +you must kill me first." + +The man she had once promised to marry was looking at a different woman +from the girl he had known. The soft, shy youth of her was gone. She was +a forest mother of the wilds ready to fight for her young, a wife ready +to go to the stake for the husband of her choice. An emotion primitive +and poignant had transformed her. + +His eyes burned at her the question his parched lips and throat could +scarcely utter. "So you ... love him?" + +But though it was in form a question he knew already the answer. For the +first time in his life he began to taste the bitterness of defeat. +Always he had won what he coveted by brutal force or his stark will. But +it was beyond him to compel the love of a girl who had given her heart +to another. + +"Yes," she answered. + +Her hair in two thick braids was flung across her shoulders, her dark +head thrown back proudly from the rounded throat. + +Macdonald smiled, but there was no mirth in his savage eyes. "Do you +know what I want with him--why I have come to get him?" + +"No." + +"I've come to take him back to Kusiak to be hanged because he murdered +Milton, the bank cashier." + +The eyes of the woman blazed at him. "Are you mad?" + +"It's the truth." Macdonald's voice was curt and harsh. "He and Holt +were robbing the bank when Milton came back from the dance at the club. +The cowards shot down the old man like a dog. They'll hang for it if it +costs me my last penny, so help me God." + +"You say it's the truth," she retorted scornfully. "Do you think I don't +know you now--how you twist and distort facts to suit your ends? How +long is it since your jackal had him arrested for assaulting you--when +Wally Selfridge knew--and you knew--that he had risked his life for you +and had saved yours by bringing you to Diane's after he had bandaged +your wounds?" + +"That was different. It was part of the game of politics we were +playing." + +"You admit that you and your friends lied then. Is it like you could +persuade me that you're telling the truth now?" + +The big Alaskan shrugged. "Believe it or not as you like. Anyhow, he's +going back with me to Kusiak--and Holt, too, if he's here." + +An excited cackle cut into the conversation, followed by a drawling +announcement from the window. "Your old tillicum is right here, Mac. +What's the use of waiting? Why don't you have your hanging-bee now?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +HOLT FREES HIS MIND + + +Macdonald whirled in his tracks. + +Old Gid Holt was leaning on his elbow with his head out of the window. +"You better come and beat me up first, Mac," he jeered. "I'm all stove +up with a busted laig, so you can wollop me good. I'd come out there, +but I'm too crippled to move." + +"You're not too crippled to go back to Kusiak with me. If you can't +walk, you'll ride. But back you go." + +"Fine. I been worrying about how to get there. It's right good of you to +bring one of these here taxis for me, as the old sayin' is." + +"Where is the rest of the gold you stole?" + +"I ain't seen the latest papers, Mac. What is this stuff about robbin' a +bank and shootin' Milton?" + +"You're under arrest for robbery and murder." + +"Am I? Unload the particulars. When did I do it all?" + +"You know when. Just before you left town." + +Holt shook his head slowly. "No, sir. I can't seem to remember it. Sure +it ain't some one else you're thinking about? Howcome you to fix on me +as one of the bold, bad bandits?" + +"Because you had not sense enough to cover your tracks. You might just +as well have left a note saying you did it. First, you come to town and +buy one of the fastest dog teams in Alaska. Why?" + +"That's an easy one. I bought that team to win the Alaska Sweepstakes +from you. And I'm goin' to do it. The team wasn't handled right or it +would have won last time. I got to millin' it over and figured that old +Gid Holt was the dog puncher that could land those huskies in front. +See?" + +"You bought it to make your getaway after the robbery," retorted +Macdonald. + +"It's a difference of opinion makes horse-races. What else have you got +against us?" + +"We found in your room one of the sacks that had held the gold you took +from the bank." + +"That's right. I took it from the bank in the afternoon, where I had had +it on deposit, to pay for the team I bought. Milton's books will show +that. But you didn't find any sack I took when your bank was robbed--if +it was robbed," added the old man significantly. + +"Of course, I knew you would have an alibi. Have you got one to explain +why you left town so suddenly the night the bank was robbed? Milton was +killed after midnight. Before morning you and your friend Elliot routed +out Ackroyd and bought a lot of supplies from him for a hurry-up trip. +You slipped around to the corral and hit the trail right into the +blizzard. Will you tell me why you were in such a hurry to get away, if +it wasn't to escape from the town where you had murdered a decent old +fellow who never had harmed a soul?" + +"Sure I'll tell you." The black eyes of the little man snapped eagerly. +"I came so p. d. q. because that side pardner of mine Gordon Elliot +wouldn't let me wait till mornin'. He had a reason for leavin' town that +wouldn't wait a minute, one big enough to drive him right into the heart +of the blizzard. Me, I tagged along." + +"I can guess his reason," jeered the Scotchman. "But I'd like to hear +you put a name to it." + +Holt grinned maliciously and waved a hand toward the girl who was +pillowing the head of her lover. "The name of his reason is Sheba +O'Neill, but it's goin' to be Sheba Elliot soon, looks like." + +"You mean--" + +The little miner took the words triumphantly out of his mouth. He leaned +forward and threw them into the face of the man he hated. "I mean that +while you was dancin' and philanderin' with other women, Gordon Elliot +was buckin' a blizzard to save the life of the girl you both claimed +to love. He was mushin' into fifty miles of frozen hell while you was +fillin' up with potted grouse and champagne. Simultaneous with the lame +goose and the monkey singlestep you was doin,' this lad was windjammin' +through white drifts. He beat you at your own game, man. You're a bear +for the outdoor stuff, they tell me. You chew up a blizzard for +breakfast and throttle a pack of wolves to work up an appetite for +dinner. It's your specialty. All right. Take your hat off to that +chechacko who has just whaled you blind. He has outgamed you, Colby +Macdonald. You don't run in his class. I see he is holding his haid up +again. Give him another half-hour and he'd be ready to go to the mat +with you again." + +The big Alaskan pushed away a fear that had been lingering in his mind +ever since he had stumbled on that body buried in the snow yesterday +afternoon. Was his enemy going to escape him, after all? Could Holt be +telling the true reason why they had left town so hurriedly? He would +not let himself believe it. + +"You ought to work up a better story than that," he said contemptuously. +"You can throw a husky through the holes in it. How could Elliot know, +for instance, that Miss O'Neill was not safe?" + +"The same way you could' a' known it," snapped old Gideon. "He 'phoned +to Smith's Crossin' and found the stage hadn't got in and that there was +a hell of a storm up in the hills." + +Macdonald set his face. "You're lying to me. You stumbled over the stage +while you were making your getaway. Now you're playing it for an alibi." + +Elliot had risen. Sheba stood beside him, her hand in his. She spoke +quietly. + +"It's the truth. Believe it or not as you please. We care nothing about +that." + +The stab of her eyes, the carriage of the slim, pliant figure with its +suggestion of fine gallantry, challenged her former lover to do his +worst. + +On the battered face of Gordon was a smile. So long as his Irish +sweetheart stood by him he did not care if he were charged with high +treason. It was worth all it cost to feel the warmth of her brave, +impulsive trust. + +The deep-set eyes of Macdonald clinched with those of his rival. "You +cached the rest of the gold, I suppose," he said doggedly. + +With a lift of his shoulders the younger man answered lightly. "There +are none so blind as those who will not see, Mr. Macdonald." He turned +to Sheba. "Come. We must make breakfast." + +"You're going to Kusiak with me," his enemy said bluntly. + +"After we have eaten, Mr. Macdonald," returned Elliot with an ironic +bow. "Perhaps, if you have not had breakfast yet, you will join us." + +"We start in half an hour," announced the mine-owner curtly, and he +turned on his heel. + +The rifle lay where Sheba had dropped it when she ran to gather her +stricken lover into her arms. Macdonald picked it up and strode over the +brow of the hill without a backward look. He was too proud to stay and +watch them. It was impossible to escape him in the deep snow that filled +the hill trails, and he was convinced they would attempt nothing of the +kind. + +The Scotchman felt for the first time in his life old and spent. Under +tremendous difficulty he had mushed for two days and had at last run his +men down. The lust of vengeance had sat on his shoulders every mile of +the way and had driven him feverishly forward. But the salt that had +lent a savor to his passion was gone. Even though he won, he lost. For +Sheba had gone over to the enemy. + +With the fierce willfulness of his temperament he tried to tread under +foot his doubts about the guilt of Holt and Elliot. Success had made him +arrogant and he was not a good loser. He hated the man who had robbed +him of Sheba, but he could not escape respecting him. Elliot had fought +until he had been hammered down into unconsciousness and he had crawled +to his feet and stood erect with the smile of the unconquered on his +lips. Was this the sort of man to murder in cold blood a kindly old +gentleman who had never harmed him? + +The only answer Macdonald found was that Milton had taken him and his +partners by surprise. They had been driven to shoot the cashier to cover +up their crime. Perhaps Holt or another had fired the actual shots, but +Elliot was none the less guilty. The heart of the Scotchman was bitter +within him. He intended to see that his enemies paid to the last ounce. +He would harry them to the gallows if money and influence could do it. + +None the less, his doubts persisted. If they had planned the bank +robbery, why did they wait so long to buy supplies for their escape? Why +had they not taken the river instead of the hill trail? The story that +his enemies told hung together. It had the ring of truth. The facts +supported it. + +One piece of evidence in their favor Macdonald alone knew. It lay buried +in the deep snows of the hills. He shut his strong teeth in the firm +resolve that it should stay there. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +SHEBA DIGS + + +The weather had moderated a good deal, but the trail was a protected +forest one. The two teams now going down had come up, so that the path +was packed fairly hard and smooth. Holt lay propped on his own sled +against the sleeping-bags. Sheba mushed behind Gordon. She chatted with +them both, but ignored entirely the existence of Macdonald, who followed +with his prize-winning Siberian dogs. + +Though she tried not to let her lover know it, Sheba was troubled at +heart. Gordon was practically the prisoner of a man who hated him +bitterly, who believed him guilty of murder, and who would go through +fire to bring punishment home to him. She knew the power of Macdonald. +With the money back of him, he had for two years fought against and +almost prevailed over a strong public opinion in the United States. He +was as masterful in his hatred as in his love. The dominant, fighting +figure in the Northwest, he trod his sturdy way through opposition like +a Colossus. + +Nor did she any longer have any illusions about him. He could be both +ruthless and unscrupulous when it suited his purpose. As the day wore +toward noon, her spirits drooped. She was tired physically, and this +reacted upon her courage. + +The warmer weather was spoiling the trail. It became so soft and mushy +that though snowshoes were needed, they could not be worn on account of +the heavy snow which clung to them every time a foot was lifted. They +wore mukluks, but Sheba was wet to the knees. The spring had gone from +her step. Her shoulders began to sag. + +For some time Gordon's eye had been seeking a good place for a day camp. +He found it in a bit of open timber above the trail, and without a word +he swung his team from the path. + +"Where are you going?" demanded Macdonald. + +"Going to rest for an hour," was Elliot's curt answer. + +Macdonald's jaw clamped. He strode forward through the snow beside the +trail. "We'll see about that." + +The younger man faced him angrily. "Can't you see she is done, man? +There is not another mile of travel in her until she has rested." + +The hard, gray eyes of the Alaskan took in the slender, weary figure +leaning against the sled. On a soft and mushy trail like this, where +every footstep punched a hole in the loose snow, the dogs could not +travel with any extra weight. A few miles farther down they would come +to a main-traveled road and the going would be better. But till then she +must walk. Macdonald gave way with a gesture of his hand and turned on +his heel. + +At the camp-fire Sheba dried her mukluks, stockings, caribou mitts, and +short skirts. Too tired to eat, she forced herself to swallow a few +bites and drank eagerly some tea. Gordon had brought blankets from the +sled and he persuaded her to lie down for a few minutes. + +"You'll call me soon if I should sleep," she said drowsily, and her eyes +were closed almost before the words were off her lips. + +When Macdonald came to order the start half an hour later, she was still +asleep. "Give her another thirty minutes," he said gruffly. + +Youth is resilient. Sheba awoke rested and ready for work. + +While Gordon was untangling the dogs she was left alone for a minute +with the mine-owner. + +The hungry look in his eyes touched her. Impulsively she held out her +hand. + +"You're going to be fair, aren't you, Mr. Macdonald? Because you--don't +like him--you won't--?" + +He looked straight into the dark, appealing eyes. "I'm going to be fair +to Robert Milton," he told her harshly. "I'm going to see his murderers +hanged if it costs me every dollar I have in the world." + +"None of us object to justice," she told him proudly. "Gordon has +nothing to fear if only the truth is told." + +"Then why come to me?" he demanded. + +She hesitated; then with a wistful little smile, spoke what was in her +heart. "I'm afraid you won't do justice to yourself. You're good--and +brave--and strong. But you're very willful and set. I don't want to lose +my friend. I want to know that he is all I have believed him--a great +man who stands for the things that are fine and clean and just." + +"Then it is for my sake and not for his that you want me to drop the +case against Elliot?" he asked ironically. + +"For yours and for his, too. You can't hurt him. Nobody can really be +hurt from outside--not unless he is a traitor to himself. And Gordon +Elliot isn't that. He couldn't do such a thing as this with which you +charge him. It is not in his nature. He can explain everything." + +"I don't doubt that. He and his friend Holt are great little +explainers." + +In spite of his bitterness Sheba felt a change in him. She seemed to +have a glimpse of his turbid soul engaged in battle. He turned away +without shaking hands, but it struck her that he was not implacable. + +While they were at luncheon half a dozen pack-mules laden with supplies +for a telephone construction line outfit had passed. Their small, +sharp-shod hoofs had punched sink-holes in the trail at every step. +Instead of a smooth bottom the dogs found a slushy bog cut to pieces. + +At the end of an hour of wallowing Macdonald called a halt. + +"There is a cutoff just below here. It will save us nearly two miles, +but we'll have to break trail. Swing to the right just below the big +willow," he told Elliot. "I'll join you presently and relieve you on the +job. But first Miss O'Neill and I are going for a little side trip." + +All three of them looked at him in sharp surprise. Gordon opened his +lips to answer and closed them again without speaking. Sheba had flashed +a warning to him. + +"I hope this trip isn't very far off the trail," she said quietly. "I'm +just a wee bit tired." + +"It's not far," the mine-owner said curtly. + +He was busy unpacking his sled. Presently he found the dog moccasins for +which he had been looking, repacked his sled, and fitted the shoes to +the bleeding feet of the team leader. Elliot, suspicious and uncertain +what to do, watched him at work, but at a signal from Sheba turned +reluctantly away and drove down to the cutoff. + +Macdonald turned his dogs out of the trail and followed a little ridge +for perhaps a quarter of a mile. Sheba trudged behind him. She was full +of wonder at what he meant to do, but she asked no questions. Some wise +instinct was telling her to do exactly as he said. + +From the sled he took a shovel and gave it to the young woman. "Dig just +this side of the big rock--close to the root of the tree," he told her. + +Sheba dug, and at the second stroke of the spade struck something hard. +He stooped and pulled out a sack. + +"Open it," he said. "Rip it with this knife." + +She ran the knife along the coarse weave of the cloth. Fifteen or twenty +smaller sacks lay exposed. Sheba looked up at Macdonald, a startled +question in her eyes. + +He nodded. "You've guessed it. This is part of the gold for which Robert +Milton was murdered." + +"But--how did it get here?" + +"I buried it there yesterday. Come." + +He led her around the rock. Back of it lay something over which was +spread a long bit of canvas. The heart of Sheba was beating wildly. + +The Scotchman looked at her from a rock-bound face. "Underneath this +canvas is the body of one of the men who murdered Milton. He died more +miserably than the man he shot. Half the gold stolen from the bank is in +that gunnysack you have just dug up. If you'll tell me who has the other +half, I'll tell you who helped him rob the bank." + +"This man--who is he?" asked Sheba, almost in a whisper. She was +trembling with excitement and nervousness. + +Macdonald drew back the cloth and showed the rough, hard face of a +workingman. + +"His name was Trelawney. I kicked him out of our camps because he was a +trouble-maker." + +"He was one of the men that robbed you later!" she exclaimed. + +"Yes. And now he has tried to rob me again and has paid for it with his +life." + +Her mind flashed back over the past. "Then his partner in this last +crime must have been the same man--what's his name?--that was with him +last time." + +"Northrup." He nodded slowly. "I hate to believe it, but it is probably +true. And he, too, is lying somewhere in this park covered with snow--if +our guess is right." + +"And Gordon--you admit he didn't do it?" + +Again he nodded, sulkily. "No. He didn't do it." + +Joy lilted in her voice. "So you've brought me here to tell me. Oh, I am +glad, my friend, that you were so good. And it is like you to do it. You +have always been the good friend to me." + +The Scotchman smiled, a little wistfully. "You take a mean advantage +of a man. You nurse him when he is ill--and are kind to him when he +is well--and try to love him, though he is twice your age and more. +Then, when his enemy is in his power, he finds he can't strike him down +without striking you too. Take your young man, Sheba O'Neill, and marry +him, and for God's sake, get him out of Alaska before I come to grips +with him again. I'm not a patient man, and he's tried me sair. They say +I'm a good hater, and I always thought it true. But what's the use of +hating a man when your soft arms are round him for an armor?" + +The fine eyes of the girl were wells of warm light. Her gladness was +not for herself and her lover only, but for the friend that had been so +nearly lost and was now found. He believed he had done it for her, but +Sheba was sure his reasons lay deeper. He was too much of a man to hide +evidence and let his rival be falsely accused of murder. It was not in +him to do a cheap thing like that. When it came to the pinch, he was too +decent to stab in the back. But she was willing to take him on his own +ground. + +"I'll always be thanking you for your goodness to me," she told him +simply. + +He brushed that aside at once. "There's one thing more, lass. I'll +likely not be seeing you again alone, so I'll say it now. Don't waste +any tears on Colby Macdonald. Don't fancy any story-book foolishness +about spoiling his life. That may be true of halfling boys, maybe, but +a man goes his ain gait even when he gets a bit facer." + +"Yes," she agreed. And in a flash she saw what would happen, that in the +reaction from his depression he would turn to Genevieve Mallory and +marry her. + +"You're too young for me, anyhow,--too soft and innocent. Once you told +me that you couldn't keep step with me. It's true. You can't. It was a +daft dream." + +He took a deep breath, seemed to shake himself out of it, and smiled +cheerfully upon her. + +"We'll put our treasure-trove on the sled and go back to your friends," +he continued briskly. "To-morrow I'll send men up to scour the hills for +Northrup's body." + +Sheba drew the canvas back over the face of the dead man. As she +followed Macdonald back to the trail, tears filled her eyes. She was +remembering that the white, stinging death that had crept upon these men +so swiftly had missed her by a hair's breadth. The strong, lusty life +had been stricken out of the big Cornishman and probably of his partner +in crime. Perhaps they had left mothers or wives or sweethearts to mourn +them. + +Macdonald relieved Elliot at breaking trail and the young man went back +to the gee-pole. They had discarded mukluks and wore moccasins and +snowshoes. It was hard, slow work, for the trail-breaker had to fight +his way through snow along the best route he could find. The moon was +high when at last they reached the roadhouse. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +DIANE CHANGES HER MIND + + +The news of Sheba's safety had been telephoned to Diane from the +roadhouse, so that all the family from Peter down were on the porch to +welcome her with mingled tears and kisses. Since Gordon had to push on +to the hospital to have Holt taken care of, it was Macdonald who brought +the girl home. The mine-owner declined rather brusquely an invitation to +stay to dinner on the plea that he had business at the office which +would not wait. + +Impulsively Sheba held out both her hands to him. "Believe me, I am +thanking you with the whole of my heart, my friend. And I'm praying for +you the old Irish blessing, 'God save you kindly.'" + +The deep-set, rapacious eyes of the Scotchman burned into hers for an +instant. Without a word he released her hands and turned away. + +Her eyes followed him, a vital, dynamic American who would do big, +lawless things to the day of his death. She sighed. He had been a great +figure in her life, and now he had passed out of it. + +[Illustration: FOR HIM THE BEAUTY OF THE NIGHT LAY LARGELY IN HER +PRESENCE] + +As soon as she was alone with Diane, her Irish cousin dropped the little +bomb she had up her sleeve. + +"I'm going to be married Thursday, Di." + +Mrs. Paget embraced her for the tenth time within the hour. She was very +fond of Sheba, and she had been on a great strain concerning her safety. +That out of her danger had resulted the engagement Diane had hoped for +was surplusage of good luck. + +"You lucky, sensible girl." + +Sheba assented demurely. "I do think I'm sensible as well as lucky. It +isn't every girl that knows the right man for her even when he wants +her. But I know at last. He's the man for me out of ten million." + +"I'm sure of it, dear. Oh, I am _so_ glad." Diane hugged her again. +She couldn't help it. + +"One gets to know a man pretty well on a trip like that. I wouldn't +change mine for any one that was ever made. I like everything about him, +Di. I am the happiest girl." + +"I'm so glad you see it that way at last." Diane passed to the practical +aspect of the situation. "But Thursday. Will that give us time, my dear? +And who are you going to have here?" + +"Just the family. I've invited two guests, but neither of them can come. +One has a broken leg and the other says he doesn't want to see me +married to another man," Sheba explained with a smile. + +"So Gordon won't come." + +"Yes. He'll have to be here. We can't get along without the bridegroom. +It wouldn't be a legal marriage, would it?" + +Diane looked at her, for the moment dumb. "You little wretch!" she got +out at last. "So it's Gordon, is it? Are you quite sure this time? Not +likely to change your mind before Thursday?" + +"I suppose, to an outsider, I do seem fickle," Miss O'Neill admitted +smilingly. "But Gordon and I both understand that." + +"And Colby Macdonald--does he understand it too?" + +"Oh, yes." Her smile grew broader. "He told me that he didn't think I +would quite suit him, after all. Not enough experience for the place." + +Diane flashed a suspicious look of inquiry. "Of course that's nonsense. +What did he tell you?" + +"Something like that. He will marry Mrs. Mallory, I think, though he +doesn't know it yet." + +"You mean she will get him on the rebound," said Diane bluntly. + +"That isn't a nice way to put it. He has always liked her very much. He +is fond of her for what she is. What attracted him in me were the things +his imagination gave to me." + +"And Gordon likes you, I suppose, for what you are?" + +Sheba did not resent the little note of friendly sarcasm. "I suppose he +has his fancies about me, too, but by the time he finds out what I am +he'll have to put up with me." + +The arrival of Elliot interrupted confidences. He had come, he said, to +receive congratulations. + +"What in the world have you been doing with your face?" demanded Diane. +As an afterthought she added: "Mr. Macdonald is all cut up too." + +"We've been taking massage treatment." Gordon passed to a subject of +more immediate interest. "Do I get my congratulations, Di?" + +She kissed him, too, for old sake's sake. "I do believe you'll suit +Sheba better than Colby Macdonald would. He's a great man and you are +not. But it isn't everybody that is fit to be the wife of a great man." + +"That's a double, left-handed compliment," laughed Gordon. "But you +can't say anything that will hurt my feelings to-day, Di. Isn't that +your baby I heap crying? What a heartless mother you are!" + +Diane gave him the few minutes alone with Sheba that his gay smile had +asked for. "Get out with you," she said, laughing. "Go to the top of the +hill and look at the lovers' moon I've ordered there expressly for you; +and while you are there forget that there are going to be crying babies +and nursemaids with evenings out in that golden future of yours." + +"Come along, Sheba. We'll start now on the golden trail," said Elliot. + +She walked as if she loved it. Her long, slender legs moved rhythmically +and her arms swung true as pendulums. + +The moon was all that Diane had promised. Sheba drank it in happily. + +"I believe I must be a pagan. I love the sun and the moon and I know +it's all true about the little folk and the pied piper and--" + +"If it's paganism to be in love with the world, you are a thirty-third +degree pagan." + +"Well, and was there ever a more beautiful night before?" + +He thought not, but he had not the words to tell her that for him its +beauty lay largely in her presence. Her passionate love of things fine +and brave transformed the universe for him. It was enough for him to +be near her, to hear the laughter bubbling in her throat, to touch her +crisp, blue-black hair as he adjusted the scarf about her head. + +"God made the night," he replied. "So that's a Christian thought as well +as a pagan one." + +They were no exception to the rule that lovers are egoists. The world +for them to-night divided itself into two classes. One included Sheba +O'Neill and Gordon Elliot; the other took in the uninteresting remnant +of humanity. No matter how far afield their talk began, it always came +back to themselves. They wanted to know all about each other, to compare +experiences and points of view. But time fled too fast for words. They +talked--as lovers will to the end of time--in exclamations and the +meeting of eyes and little endearments. + +When Diane and Peter found them on the hilltop, Sheba protested, with +her half-shy, half-audacious smile, that it could not be two hours since +she and Gordon had left the living-room. Peter grinned. He remembered a +hilltop consecrated to his own courtship of Diane. + +The only wedding present that Macdonald sent Sheba was a long envelope +with two documents attached by a clip. One was from the Kusiak "Sun." +It announced that the search party had found the body of Northrup with +the rest of the stolen gold beside him. The other was a copy of a legal +document. Its effect was that the district attorney had dismissed all +charges pending against Gordon Elliot. + +Although Macdonald lost the coal claims at Kamatlah by reason of the +report of Elliot, all Alaska still believes that he was right. In that +country of strong men he stands head and shoulders above his fellows. +He has the fortunate gift of commanding the admiration of friend and +foe alike. The lady who is his wife is secretly the greatest of his +slaves, but she tries not to let him know how much he has captured her +imagination. For Genevieve Macdonald cannot quite understand, herself, +how so elemental an emotion as love can have pierced the armor of her +sophistication. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YUKON TRAIL*** + + +******* This file should be named 19527.txt or 19527.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/9/5/2/19527 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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