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diff --git a/19747.txt b/19747.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d0b59d7 --- /dev/null +++ b/19747.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10090 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Where the Sun Swings North, by Barrett +Willoughby + + +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: Where the Sun Swings North + + +Author: Barrett Willoughby + + + +Release Date: November 10, 2006 [eBook #19747] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHERE THE SUN SWINGS NORTH*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +WHERE THE SUN SWINGS NORTH + +by + +BARRETT WILLOUGHBY + + + + + + + +A. L. Burt Company +Publishers ------ New York +Published by arrangement with G. P. Putnam's Sons + +Printed in U. S. A. +Copyright, 1922 +by +Florance Willoughby + +This edition is issued under arrangement with the publishers +G. P. Putnam's Sons, New York And London + + + + +TO + +MY MOTHER + +WHO CAN MAKE A TENT IN THE WILDERNESS + +SEEM LIKE HOME + + + + +In this book I write of my own country and its people as I know +them--not artfully, perhaps, but truthfully. + +BARRETT WILLOUGHBY. + +Katalla, Alaska. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +PART I + +CHAPTER + + I.--THE WHITE CHIEF OF KATLEEAN + II.--THE CHEECHACO + III.--THE LITTLE SQUAW WITH WHITE FEET + IV.--BAIT + V.--THE FUNERAL CANOES + VI.--THE WHITE CHIEF MAKES MEDICINE + VII.--THE POTLATCH DANCE + VIII.--THE OUTFIT + IX.--HARLAN WAKES UP + X.--THE PIGEON + + +PART II + + XI.--THE ISLAND OF THE RUBY SANDS + XII.--THE LANDING + XIII.--THE CABIN + XIV.--THE CASTAWAY + XV.--THE GIANT BALLS OF STONE + XVI.--THE STORM + XVII.--THE MYSTERIOUS PRESENCE + XVIII.--THE PERIL OF THE SURF + XIX.--HOME MAKING + XX.--GOLD + XXI.--KOBUK + XXII.--AT THE LONE TREE + XXIII.--ELLEN + XXIV.--MAROONED + + +PART III + + XXV.--ON RATIONS + XXVI.--WINTER DAYS + XXVII.--SPRING + XXVIII.--THE CLEFT + XXIX.--THE SECRET OF THE CLIFFS + XXX.--THE PIGEON'S FLIGHT + XXXI.--THE JUSTICE OF THE SEA + XXXII.--BENEATH THE BLOOD-RED SUN + XXXIII.--ANCHORS WEIGHED + + + + +WHERE THE SUN SWINGS NORTH + +PART I + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE WHITE CHIEF OF KATLEEAN + +It was quiet in the great store room of the Alaska Fur and Trading +Company's post at Kat-lee-an. The westering sun streaming in through a +side window lighted up shelves of brightly labeled canned goods and a +long, scarred counter piled high with gay blankets and men's rough +clothing. Back of the big, pot-bellied stove--cold now--that stood +near the center of the room, lidless boxes of hard-tack and crackers +yawned in open defiance of germs. An amber, mote-filled ray slanted +toward the moss-chinked log wall where a row of dusty fox and wolverine +skins hung--pelts discarded when the spring shipment of furs had been +made, because of flaws visible only to expert eyes. + +At the far end of the room the possessor of those expert eyes sat +before a rough home-made desk. There was a rustle of papers and he +closed the ledger in front of him with an air of relief. He clapped +his hands smartly. Almost on the instant the curtain hanging in the +doorway at the side of the desk was drawn aside and a small, brown +feminine hand materialized. + +"My cigarettes, Decitan." + +The man's voice was low, with that particular vibrant quality often +found in the voices of men accustomed to command inferior peoples on +the far outposts of civilization. + +The curtain wavered again and from behind the folds a brown arm, bare +and softly rounded, accompanied the hand that set down a tray of +smoking materials. + +With a careless nod toward his invisible servitor, the man picked up a +cigarette and lighted it. He took one long, deep pull. Tossing it +aside he swung his chair about and faced the open doorway that gave on +a courtyard and the bay beyond. + +He readjusted the scarlet band about his narrow hips. Flannel-shirted, +high-booted, he stretched his six-foot length in the tilting chair and +clasped his hands behind his head. The movement loosened a lock of +black hair which fell heavily across his forehead. His eyes, long, +narrow and the color of pale smoke, drowsed beneath brows that met +above his nose. Thin, sharply defined nostrils quivered under the +slightest emotion, and startling against the whiteness of his face, was +a short, pointed beard, black and silky as a woman's hair. When Paul +Kilbuck, the white trader of Katleean, smiled, his thin, red lips +parted over teeth white and perfect, but there was that in the long, +pointed incisors that brought to mind the clean fangs of a wolf-dog. + +He closed his pale eyes now and smiled to himself. His work on the +Company's books was finished for the present. He hated the petty +details of account keeping, but since the death of old Add-'em-up Sam, +his helper and accountant, who had departed this world six months +before during a spell of delirium tremens, the trader had been obliged +to do his own. + +Queer and clever things had Add-'em-up done to the books. Down in San +Francisco the directors of the Alaska Fur and Trading Company had long +suspected it no doubt, but it was not for nothing that Paul Kilbuck was +known up and down the coast of Alaska as the White Chief. No other man +in the North had such power and influence among the Thlinget tribes. +No other man sent in such quantities of prime pelts; hence the White +Chief of Katleean had never been obliged to give too strict an +accounting of his stewardship. Taking what belongs to a company is +not, in the elastic code of the North, considered stealing. "God is +high above and the Czar is far away," said the plundering, roistering +old Russians of Baranoff's day, and the spirit in the isolated posts +had not changed, though Russian adventurers come no more to rape Alaska +of her riches, and the Stars and Stripes now floats over the old-time +Russian stronghold at Sitka. + +For eighteen years Kilbuck had been the agent of the Company. In +trading-posts up and down the coast where the trappers and prospectors +gather to outfit, many tales of the White Chief were afloat: his trips +to the Outside[1]; his lavish spending of money; his hiring of private +cars to take him from Seattle to New York; his princely entertainment +of beautiful women. In every story told of Paul Kilbuck there were +women. Sometimes they were white, but more often they were dusky +beauties of the North. + +Among the several dark-eyed Thlinget women who occupied the mysterious +quarters back of the log store, there was always rejoicing when the +White Chief returned from his visits to the States. He was a generous +master, bringing back with him many presents from the land of the white +people--rings, beads, trinkets, and yards of bright colored silks. The +favorites of his household fondled these gifts for a time with soft, +guttural cries of delight and gentle strokings of their slim, brown +hands, and then laid them away in fantastically carved Indian chests of +yellow cedar. + +Perhaps the strangest of these gifts had been a pair of homing pigeons, +which had thrived and multiplied under the care of Add-'em-up Sam. A +fluttering of wings now outside the doorway bespoke the presence of +some of them, and Kilbuck stirred in his chair and opened his eyes. + +He had been many hours alone in the store, but he had been prepared for +that today. The entire post of Katleean was getting ready for the +Potlatch, an Indian festival scheduled for the near future. For this +occasion Kayak Bill, in his carefully secreted still across the lagoon, +had completed a particularly potent batch of moonshine, known locally +as hootch. The arrival, earlier in the afternoon, of the jocose old +hootch-maker with a canoe-load of his fiery beverage, had been a signal +for a gathering at his cabin across the courtyard. From the sounds +that now floated out on the late afternoon air, he must already have +distributed generous samples of his brew. + +The White Chief rose from his chair and reached for another cigarette. +As usual, he tossed it away after one long, deep inhalation. Before +the smoke cleared from his head, he was crossing the store room with +his easy panther tread--the result of former years of moccasin-wearing. + +In the open doorway he paused, leaned against the portal and hooked one +thumb beneath his scarlet belt. His narrow eyes swept the scene before +him. Across the bay, between purple hills, a valley lay dreaming in +rose-lavender mist. Blue above the August haze was a glimpse of a +glacier, and farther back, peaks rose tier upon tier in the vague, +amethystine distance. + +Suddenly the quiet beauty was shot through with the sound of loud +voices and snatches of song issuing from the cabin of Kayak Bill. The +trader listened with a smile that was half a sneer. He himself never +drank while at the post, deeming that it lessened his influence with +the Indians. But among the secrets of his own experience were memories +of wild days and nights aboard visiting schooners, at the end of which +prone in the captain's bunk, he had lain for hours in alcoholic +oblivion. + +The voices from the cabin ceased abruptly. Then like the bellow of a +fog horn on a lonely northern sea came Kayak Bill's deep bass: + + "Take me north of old Point Barrow + Where there ain't no East or West; + Where man has a thirst that lingers + And where moonshine tastes the best; + Where the Arctic ice-pack hovers + 'Twixt Alaska and the Pole, + And there ain't no bloomin' fashions + To perplex a good man's soul." + + +There was a momentary pause followed by a hubbub of masculine voices +apparently in a dispute as to how the song should run. High above the +others rose a squeaky Scandinavian protest: + +"By yingo, ven ay ban cook on _Soofie Suderlant_ ve sing it so _dis_ +vay----" + +"Close yore mouth, Silvertip." As a whale would swallow a minnow so +Kayak Bill's drawling tones engulfed the thin, high accents of the +one-time cook of the _Sophie Sutherland_. "I ain't no nature for +Swedes a-devilin' o' me. I been singin' that song for nigh on to ten +yars, and by the roarin' Jasus, I reckon I know how to sing it. Come +on boys--now all together!" + +Joining the again raised bass of Kayak Bill, several voices took up the +rollicking strain, among them the high, easily recognizable tenor of +Silvertip, and the voice of another, a baritone of startling mellowness +and purity, having in it a timbre of youth and recklessness: + + "Up into the Polar Seas, + Where the Innuit maidens be, + There's a fat, bright-eyed va-hee-ney + A-waitin' there for me. + She's sittin' in her igloo cold, + Chewing on a muckluck sole, + And the sun comes up at midnight + From an ice-pack round the Pole." + + +At the sound of the baritone, the White Chief hitched his shoulders +with a movement of satisfaction. Add-'em-up Sam's successor, the +bookkeeper, was bidding fair to follow in the sodden footsteps of his +predecessor. Given a little more time and this baritone-singing +_cheechako_[2] would be where the White Chief need have no anxiety as +to the accounts rendered the Company's new president, whom Kilbuck had +never seen. A little more time, a little more hootch, and he would +also have settled the case of Na-lee-nah. + +The thought of the Thlinget girl's soft brown eyes brought a momentary +pang. The white plague permitted few native women to become old. +Twice now Naleenah had lost her voice, and only last night he had +noticed behind her soft, her singularly beautiful little ears, the +peculiar drawn look that to his practiced eye spelled tuberculosis. +She would last two years more, perhaps, but in the meantime he must +protect himself--he stirred uneasily. The bookkeeper must be made to +take her off his hands. + +His musing was broken into by another burst of song: + + "Oh-o-o-o! I am a jolly rover + And I lead a jolly life! + I have my hootch and salmon + And a little squaw to wife." + + +Simultaneously the door of Kayak Bill's cabin opened and the owner, a +tatterdemalion figure, stood for a moment on the doorstep. Stretching +his arms above his head, he yawned prodigiously, and then, espying +Kilbuck, sauntered across the courtyard toward him. + +An old sombrero curved jauntily on red-grey hair that was overly long. +A wavy beard of auburn-grey spread over the front of his blue flannel +shirt. Hanging loosely from his shoulders a hair-seal waistcoat, +brightly trimmed with red flannel, served as a coat above faded blue +overalls, and from the knees down Kayak Bill was finished off with hip +rubber boots, the turned-down tops of which flapped with every step, +lending a swashbuckling air to his rolling gait. + +He seated himself leisurely on the steps below the platform in front of +the trading-post door. + +"By hell, Chief," he drawled, drawing a huge clasp-knife from his +pocket, "I been grazin' on this here Alasky range nigh on to twenty +yars, and so help me Hannah, I never did find a place so wild or a +bunch o' hombres so tough but what sooner or later all hands starts +a-singin' o' the female sect." With a movement of his thumb Kayak Bill +released the formidable blade of the knife, and nonchalantly, +dexterously, began using it as a toothpick. + +"Yas," he said slowly, in answer to the other's silence, "a-talkin' and +a-singin' o' women and love. . . . Now, I hearn tell a heap about love +and women in my time, but neither o' them things has affected my heart +ever, though one time a spell back, tobaccy did. Still, Chief, with +all respects to yore sentiments regardin' them Chocolate Drops what +inhabits yore harem, . . . still, it sort o' roils me up to hear a +white man a-talkin' and a-singin' o' takin' a squaw to wife." + +There was an involuntary contraction of the hand that was hooked under +Paul Kilbuck's belt. Not another man from Dixon's Entrance to Point +Barrow would have dared to hint at the White Chief's domestic +arrangements in that gentleman's hearing, but there was something in +the soft twinkle of Kayak Bill's hazel eye, something in the crude, +whimsical philosophy distilled in the old hootch-maker's heart, that +amused, while it piqued the trader at Katleean. He sat down now on the +steps beside his visitor. + +"Kayak," he said, almost gently, "when an old fellow like you begins to +talk about squaws I have to smile. A man past sixty--! But how about +twenty-five years ago? . . . What's a man going to do when he finds +himself on the edge of the wilderness and--he wants a woman?" +Kilbuck's voice rose slightly, his black brows drew together over the +pale, unseeing eyes that sought the distant peaks, his thin nostrils +quivered. "It's a wild country up here, Kayak. Makes a man hunger for +something soft and feminine--and where's the pale-faced woman who would +follow a man into this--" He finished his sentence with a wave of his +hand. "That is a woman one would marry," he amended. "The average +female of that country down south has no spirit of adventure in her +make-up." + +Kayak Bill closed his clasp-knife, restored it to his pocket and slowly +drew forth an ancient corn-cob pipe. + +"Wall, Chief," he drawled presently between puffs, "I ain't a-sayin' +yore not right, seein' as you've had consid'able more experience with +petticoats than me; but one time I hearn a couple o' scientific dudes +a-talkin' about females and they was of the notion that sons gets their +brains and their natures from their mammies." Disregarding the +contemptuous sound uttered by the White Chief, Kayak's slow tones +flowed on: "And I'm purty nigh pursuaded them fellows is right. . . . +Take it down in Texas now, where I was drug up. I'm noticin' a heap o' +times how the meechinest, quietest little old ladies has the rarin'est, +terrin'-est sons, hell-bent on fightin' and adventure. . . . Kinder +seems to me, Chief, that our women has been bottled up so long by us +men folks they just ain't had no chance to strike out that way, except +by givin' o' their natures to their sons. You take any little gal, +Chief, a-fore they get her taken with the notion that it ain't +lady-like to fight, and by hell, she can lick tar outen any boy her +size in the neighborhood. Same way with she-bears, or a huskie bitch. +Durned if they don't beat all get-out when it comes to fightin' +courage!" + +Kayak Bill drew once or twice on his pipe with apparently +unsatisfactory results, for he slowly removed his sombrero, drew a +broom-straw from inside the band, extracted the stem of the corn-cob +and ran the straw through it. The immediate vicinity became +impregnated with a violent odor of nicotine. The White Chief, however, +musing close by on the steps, seemed not to notice it. His eyes were +fixed on three Indian canoes being paddled in from the lagoon across +the bay which was now taking on the opalescent tints of the late Alaska +sunset. + +"What I been a-sayin' goes for the white women, Chief. As for them +Chocolate Drops--wall, I ain't made up my mind exactly. 'Pears to me +if I ever went a-courtin' though, it would be just like goin' +a-huntin': no fun in it if the end was certain and easy-like. Barrin' +the case of Silvertip and Senott, his squaw, it's like this: you say +'Come,' and they come. You say 'Go,' and they go. Now, a white woman +ain't that way. By the roarin' Jasus, you never can tell which way +she's goin' to jump!" Kayak Bill held the stem of his pipe up to the +light and squinted through it, fitted it again into the bowl and gave +an experimental draw. "But everybody to his own cemetery, says I." + +"Bill, you old reprobate, you have an uncanny way of picking the weak +spots in everything. There's some truth in that last. . . . Gad, I'd +like to get into a game of love with a woman of my own blood up here in +the wilderness! . . . There's never been a white woman in Katleean. +It would be great sport to see one up against it here, eh, Kayak?" The +White Chief turned, smiling, and the light in his pale, narrow eyes +matched the wolfish gleam of his sharp teeth. + +The face of the old hootch-maker was hidden in a smoke cloud, but his +voice drawled on as calmly as ever: "Wall, from what I hearn tell when +I'm over at the Chilcat Cannery, Chief, you may get a chance to see a +white woman at Katleean purty soon. There's a prospector named +Boreland a-cruisin' up the coast in his own schooner, the _Hoonah_, and +from what I can make out he's got his wife and little boy with him." + +The trader turned sharply. Like a hungry wolf scenting quarry he +raised his head. There was a keener look in his eye. His thin +nostrils twitched. + +"A _white_ woman, Kayak? Are you sure?" + +Before Kayak Bill could answer there came an extra loud burst of song +from the cabin across the courtyard. The door had been flung wide and +in the opening swayed the arresting figure of the leader of the wild +chorus. + + + +[1] Name by which the States is designated in the North. + +[2] Newcomer. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE CHEECHAKO + +He was young and tall and slight, with a touch of recklessness in his +bearing that was somehow at variance with the clean-cut lines of his +face. He stood unsteadily on the threshold, hands thrust deep in the +pockets of his grey tweed trousers, chin up-tilted from a strong, bare +throat that rose out of his open shirt. As the singing inside the +cabin ceased, he shook back the tumbled mass of his brown hair and +alone his mellow baritone continued the whaler's song: + + "Up into the Polar Seas, + Where the greasy whalers be, + There's a strip of open water + Reaching north to eighty-three----" + + +The White Chief, with his eyes on the singer, spoke to Kayak Bill. + +"Our gentleman-bookkeeper takes to your liquid dynamite like an Eskimo +to seal oil, Kayak. He's been at Katleean three months now, and I'll +be damned if he's been sober three times since he landed. Seems to be +hitting it up extra strong now that the Potlatch is due--" Kilbuck +lowered his voice--"I want nothing said to him of the prospector and +his white wife, _understand_?" + +At the dictatorial tone flung into the last sentence there came a +narrowing of the old hootch-maker's eyes. It was seldom that Paul +Kilbuck spoke thus to Kayak Bill. + +The singer was crossing the courtyard now with steps of exaggerated +carefulness. Suddenly he paused. His dark eyes, in vague, alcoholic +meditation, sought the distant peaks stained with the blush-rose of +sunset. The evening-purple of the hills fringed the bay with mystery. +Gulls floated high on lavender wings, their intermittent plaint +answering the Indian voices that drifted up from the beach where the +canoes were landing. + +Kayak Bill moved over on the step, indicating the space beside him. + +"Come along side o' me, son, and get yore bearin's!" he called. + +"Yes, Harlan, stop your mooning and come here. I want to talk to you." + +Gregg Harlan turned, and the smile that parted his lips, though born in +a liquor-fogged brain, was singularly winning. + +"Chief," his words came distinctly but with careful deliberation, "an +outsider would think--that I am--a--fellow of rare--judgment and +s-sound phil-os-ophy from the way--you're always--wanting to +talk--to--me." + +He advanced and seated himself on the steps near the base of the +flag-pole, leaning heavily against it. The gay recklessness that is +the immediate effect of the fiery native brew of the North was +evidently wearing away, and preceding the oblivion that was fast coming +upon him, stray glimpses of his past, bits of things he had read or +heard, and snatches of poetry flashed on the screen of his mind. + +"It doesn't go with me--Chief. Don't--bring on--your--little +forest--maiden--Naleenah--again. Tired--hearing about--her. +Know--what you say: Up here--my people--never know. _Me_--a squaw man! +Lord! What do I want--with--a squaw?" He laughed as at some blurred +vision of his brain. "It's not that--I'm so damned virtuous, Chief. +But I'm--fas-fas-tid-ious. That's it--fastidious----" + +Paul Kilbuck's eyes flashed a cold steel grey. "We'll see how +fastidious you'll be a year from now." His lip lifted on one side +exposing a long, pointed tooth. "That'll be enough, now, Harlan." + +"Sure, 's enough--for me, Chief," admitted the young man with drowsy +good nature, as his tousled head sought a more comfortable place +against the flagpole. "Pardon--casting aspersions--on your--taste in +women, Chief. Wouldn't do--it--if sober. Hate to be sober. Makes me +feel--re-responsible for so--many things. . . . Hence flowing bowl. +'Member old Omar--unborn Tomorrow and dead--Yesterday. . . . Why fret +'bout it--if--if--today--be--sweet." His voice trailed off in a murmur +and his boyish chin with its look of firmness despite his dejection, +sank slowly on his breast. + +The canoes had made a landing. A dozen or more Thlinget women came +straggling up the beach laden with the fruits of their afternoon +labors: gay-colored baskets of wild strawberries, red and fragrant from +the sand-dunes along the lagoon. From the Indian Village, a short +distance down the curve of the beach where the smokes of evening fires +were rising, a welcoming buck or two came to accompany the softly +laughing squaws. + +Slightly in advance of the shawled figures moving toward the group on +the steps walked one whose slenderness and grace marked her from the +rest. A scarlet shawl splashed the cream of her garments. Unlike the +other women, she wore no disfiguring handkerchief on her head. Her +face, oval and creamy-brown, was framed by two thick braids that fell +over her shoulders. In the crook of her arm rested a basket of +berries. At her side, rubbing against her now and then, came a +powerful huskie, beautiful with the lean grace of the wolf and +paw-playing as a kitten. + +"Mush on,[1] Kobuk! Mush--you!" She laughed, pushing him aside as she +advanced. + +When she smiled up at the white men her face was lighted by long-lashed +childish eyes, warm and brown as a sun-shot pool in the forest. + +The White Chief rose. With an imperious gesture he motioned the other +Indians back. + +"_Ah cgoo_, Naleenah! Come here!" In rapid, guttural Thlinget he +spoke to the girl, pointing from time to time to the now unconscious +Harlan. + +As she listened the smile faded from her face. Her smooth brow +puckered. . . . She turned troubled eyes to Kayak Bill, sitting +silent, imperturbable, in a cloud of tobacco smoke, his interest +apparently fixed where the slight breeze was ruffling the evening +radiance of the water. + +Still mutely questioning, Naleenah glanced at the figure of the young +white man, slumped in stupor against the flag-pole. . . . A look of +unutterable scorn distorted her face. Then she looked up at the White +Chief shaking her head in quick negation. + +At her rebellion Kilbuck's voice shot out stingingly like the lash of a +whip. With a hurt, stunned expression the girl shrank back. Her shawl +shivered into a vivid heap about her feet. The basket of berries +slipped unheeded to the sand, their wild fragrance scenting the air +about her. + +While he was still speaking she started forward, her wide, idolatrous +eyes raised to his, her little berry-stained hands held out +beseechingly. + +"No--no, Paul!" Anguish and pleading were in her broken English. "No, +no! I can not do! Too mooch, too mooch I loof you, Paul!" Brimming +tears overflowed and rolled slowly down her cheeks. + +Kayak Bill rose hastily and stalked across the platform into the store. +The White Chief turned away with tightening lips, but there was no +softening in his smoke-colored eyes. It would be to his interest to +have his bookkeeper a squaw-man. The old Hudson Bay Company factors +had proved the advantage of having their employees take Indian women. +For his own health's sake he must get rid of Naleenah. The tubercular +girl would live longer in the house of a white man than with her own +people, where he would soon be forced to send her. He was, therefore, +doing her a kindness in turning her over to Harlan. + +He lighted a cigarette, inhaled a deep draught, and tossing the +scarcely burned weed away, crossed deliberately to the huddled figure +of Gregg Harlan. He shook him by the shoulder. + +"Wake up!" he ordered, "and go to your bunk." + +From Kayak Bill's cabin doorway several men drifted curiously toward +the store steps. The natives gathered closer. + +The bookkeeper raised his head and passed a slow hand over bewildered +eyes. + +"Beg--pardon, Chief," he said quickly, as he rose on unsteady legs, +"making sleeping porch--of your--steps. . . . Awf-lly tired. . ." +Wavering, he clung for support to the flag-pole. + +With a peremptory gesture Kilbuck motioned to Naleenah. + +"Take this man to his cabin," he snapped, "and--" he paused +significantly, "remember what I have told you." + +The girl came forward with drooping head and listless arms. She paused +dully beside the flag-pole. The trader placed the arm of the stupefied +young man across her slim shoulders. Obediently she led her charge +away in the direction of the small cabins across the courtyard. + +Though the eyes of the spectators had been intent on the drama of the +steps, only Kayak Bill, perhaps, knew its real significance. The old +man now stood in the doorway of the store, his sombrero pushed to the +back of his head, a pair of binoculars held against his eyes. + +From around the point beyond the Indian Village and into the bay, a +white-sailed schooner had drifted. As it advanced there was wafted +across the water a faint and silvery fragment of melody which endured +but a moment and was gone. + +The White Chief turned his back on the courtyard and for the first time +noted Kayak Bill's attitude. He followed the direction of the old +man's gaze and beheld the incoming vessel just as the white men and +Indians behind him broke out in a babble of interest and curiosity. + +There floated inshore the rattle of the windlass letting go the anchor +chain. On the deck of the schooner men ran about as the sails were +lowered. The vessel swung gently until the bow headed into the current +of the incoming tide. + +"Get out the canoe, Silvertip," ordered the trader, turning to his +henchman, "and take Swimming Wolf with you. Find out who's----" + +He broke off, wondering, incredulous, for at that moment across the +water came the golden singing of a violin. Wonderfully low and tender +it began. Swelling, it rose and soared and trembled, then with +lingering, chorded sweetness died away like the exquisite music of a +dream. + +The listeners on the shore stood spellbound. Gregg Harlan, swaying in +the doorway of his cabin, steadied himself while the silvery harmony +stole into his clouded senses. + +"Strange--strange," he muttered, "a violin--playing like that--in +Katleean. Dreams--more--dreams--" He stumbled into the room and the +weeping Indian girl guided his footsteps to the narrow bunk in the +corner. + +In the after-sunset light that precedes the long Alaskan twilight there +is some rare quality that seems to bring nearer objects on the water. +Kayak Bill in the doorway, took another long look through the glasses, +then stepped down to the White Chief's side. His voice was the first +to break the enchanted silence that followed the strains of the violin. + +"That wind-jammer's the _Hoonah_ I been a-tellin' you of, Chief," he +drawled, holding out the binoculars. "There's two women aboard o' her, +instead o' one. 'Pears to me like one o' them's purty young, and it's +her that's standin' in the stern a-playin' o' the fiddle." + + + +[1] Corruption of the French _marchez_, _marche_, which the Canadian +_coureurs du bois_ used to shout to their dogs, meaning to go forward, +advance. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE LITTLE SQUAW WITH WHITE FEET + +The morning after the arrival of the schooner, Gregg Harlan woke with +an aching head and trembling limbs. As he sat on the edge of his bunk +holding his fingers against his throbbing temples, he made a mental vow +that he would drink no more of Kayak Bill's liquor; that _today_ he +would settle down to the business that had brought him to Katleean. He +had made the same vow every morning since his landing--made it +earnestly, intending to keep it, but there was something in the air of +the trading-post that made irresistible the reckless camaraderie +engendered by the hootch-cup; something that emphasized that very +quality of gay irresponsibility he had come North to lose. + +The stale, close air of his little cabin sent waves of nausea through +him. Hatless and coatless he sought the open air. He turned his steps +instinctively toward the point beyond the Indian Village. On the other +side, screened from sight of the post, he was accustomed to take the +daily plunge in the bay that enabled him to throw off the immediate +effects of his hard drinking. + +As he stumbled along, his lack-lustre eyes rested but a moment on the +schooner in the bay. He had not been long enough away from the world +to be other than faintly interested in the arrival, and his +recollections of the night before were nil. + +The tide was low. The fresh, keen scent of seaweed came up from the +Point refreshing his sickened senses. Noisy gulls wheeled and tilted +over the brown, kelp-covered rocks and on the ridge back of the Indian +graveyard, ravens answered the gull cries with raucous soliloquies. + +He was nearing the Point when his eye was attracted by a splash of +white among the boulders. Something peculiar in its outline drew his +inquiring steps. At the sound of crunching gravel under his feet a +great huskie dog rose almost from under him. The young man sprang +aside with a startled exclamation. Against the wet sand the dog's dark +coat had been practically invisible. + +"Heavens, Kobuk, old boy! I thought I was seeing things!" + +He passed a damp hand over his brow. The dog, strangely +undemonstrative, advanced and placed a sleek head against Gregg's knee, +its pointed muzzle down, its tail hanging dispiritedly. Vaguely +wondering what the trader's favorite lead-dog was doing among the +boulders on the Point, Harlan patted the animal's broad back and turned +to the object that had attracted his attention. + +What he had at first taken to be seaweed was a mass of long dark hair. +Beneath it a damp, clinging cream-colored garment outlined the dead +body of an Indian girl. + +"God!" came Gregg's awed whisper, as he bent above the pitiful little +heap. "The White Chief's Naleenah! . . . Poor little devil!" + +Steadied by the tragedy he did not understand, he stooped and gathered +up the still form. He started back to the trader's quarters, little +dreaming that the last earthly act performed by those small hands now +so still, had been for himself. But if Kobuk, following close at his +heels, could have spoken, he would have told of the manner of her +going, the night before. + +The trading-post of Katleean had lain wrapped in moonlight and slumber +when Naleenah, after obeying her master's instructions to the extent of +making the drunken young white man comfortable, crept from the doorway +of Harlan's cabin. Kobuk, waiting outside for the mistress who had fed +him since puppy days, pressed closely to her side as she crossed the +courtyard. + +At the beachline, where silvered rice-grass grew tall among the piles +of whitened driftwood, she paused, looking with wistful eyes toward the +Indian Village cuddled in the crescent curve of the beach. The weird, +ghostly totems of her people rose above the roofs, catching the +moonbeams fearfully on their mystic carvings. Stern and forbidding +they seemed, as if guarding the quiet shelters at their feet against +one who had forsaken them for the more luxurious cabins of the white +man. . . . Slowly she turned from the tribal emblems of her clan to +look back at the log trading-post, dim and softly grey and splashed +with shadows. . . . So still she stood and so long, that the dog grew +restless and rubbed his cold nose against her hand. She sighed, a +tired, quivering sigh like that of a child who has been hurt, and with +bowed head, stumbled along the trail that led down to the water. + +Over a dark line of hills glowed the glorious red-gold orb of +_Sha-hee-yi_, The-Moon-When-All-Things-Make-Their-Winter-Homes. +Unbelievably large and round and clear it stood out against the +night-blue, throwing a path of shimmering gold across the bay to her +little feet. With eyes raised to its splendor, she waded out slowly, +steadily, into the moonlit, whispering waves. . . . + +At the edge of the beach Kobuk settled on his haunches, watching her +with questioning, side-turned head. He whined uneasily. + +The scarlet shawl slipped from her shoulders and floated off behind +her. . . . The water crept above her waist . . . her shoulders. Her +wide-eyed, frightened face caught the light. . . . Then the ripples +closed above her head. A moment later her long hair, loosed from its +braids, swayed on the amber-lighted surface like seaweed, then the +moonpath lay quiet as before. + +On the shore Kobuk waited, his slant eyes blinking at the moon. +Occasionally he raised his pointed nose and uttered a muffled whine +that ended in a short, querulous yelp. . . . Hours passed. . . . The +tide began to ebb, leaving a dark line of sand at the edge of the +water. . . . After a long while Kobuk went in search of his mistress, +and having found her, watched beside her until Harlan came and bore her +away. + +As the young man ascended the steps to the store platform he was dimly +aware of encountering a tall, dark stranger, who afterward proved to be +the owner of the schooner that had come in the evening before. Shane +Boreland, whose figure was blocking the doorway, stepped aside to let +Gregg pass into the building with his burden. + +From about the stove, where several men were already gathered, came low +exclamations, and the White Chief, who had been following Boreland to +the door, stopped suddenly at the sight of Harlan. His face went as +cold and emotionless as that of the dead girl. + +"Take her in to Decitan," he said shortly, with a gesture toward his +quarters back of the store. Turning on his heel, he walked out to the +platform where Boreland stood waiting. + +"A damned sad ending to their little domestic difficulty," he murmured +softly, as befitted one with a large heart and a kindly understanding +of the follies of youth. "But young Harlan, my bookkeeper, hasn't been +long enough in the North to appreciate the intensity of these little +hot-blooded savages. I told him, when he took Naleenah, . . ." The +Chief, as if he had said too much, let his sentence trail off into +silence. He shook his head in apparent sorrow, but his eyes were fixed +on the schooner that rode at anchor in the bay. + +"But don't let this incident mar your arrival, Boreland," Paul Kilbuck +went on, and then, with the frontier heartiness he knew so well how to +assume, he set about tendering Boreland the hospitality of the post, +urging the prospector to bring his family ashore for a visit during the +time of the coming Potlatch. This was a festival, he assured the +master of the _Hoonah_, which could not fail to interest Mrs. Boreland +and her younger sister. + +Even as the trader planned for the reception of the white women, the +squaws who had borne him children were preparing the body of little +Naleenah for its resting place below the ridge where the grave-houses +and totems of the Thlinget dead huddled among the wild celery bushes. + +Quietly that night, just before moon-set she was laid away so that her +funeral might cast no sadness on the coming visitors. On the grave, +the silent women of the household placed the treasures that had been +dear to the heart of the White Chief's favorite: a string of cheap +beads, a scarlet shawl, gaudy painted cup and two dead pigeons, +progenitors of the flock that now cooed and fluttered in and out of the +high wire enclosure back of the store. + +A week later on the ridge above the new-made grave of Naleenah, a white +girl stood talking to a small boy by her side. Above the +amber-freckled nose of the youngster wide grey eyes were raised in +eager coaxing to her face. From the crown of his bare head, a lock of +dark red hair trembling with absurd earnestness stood up from the mass +of its fellows. + +"Oh, Je-an! _Don't_ put on your shoes and stockings just yet! Let's +have one more story before we go back to the post. P-l-e-a-s-e, Auntie +Jean!" + +Jean Wiley dropped to the ground a bundle made of her discarded +footwear. Earlier in the afternoon her nephew's barefoot enjoyment of +the beach sand had enticed her to remove her own shoes and stockings, +and delighting in the feel of the cool earth against her pink soles, +she had not replaced them when they decided to follow the trail to the +ridge. She tossed her head, and even in the sunless afternoon, the +dark mass of hair that tumbled down her back seemed shot through with +glints of copper. + +"_I_ wouldn't mind going without them always, Loll," she said, holding +out a slim foot and contemplating the freedom of her five, wriggling, +perfect toes. "But--" the foot took its place beside its stationary +twin, "you see, little man, it isn't done at my age, even in Katleean." +Her long-lashed hazel eyes, full of the dreams of eighteen happy years, +laughed down at the boy, and her slender fingers, that could coax such +tender harmonies from the strings of a violin, busied themselves with +the ribbon that bound the hair at the back of her neck. + +It was one of the lavender dream-days peculiar to the late summer of +the North. Faint wisps of colorful mist clung to the pickets of the +small fences in the Indian burial-place below them. The totems and the +windows of the tiny grave-houses were filmed with it, and through the +dim glass appeared vague glimpses of the kettles, blankets and +provision inside the houses of the dead--material comforts which the +Thlinget Indians provide for the departed soul's journey over the +Spirit Trail to the Ghost's Home. On the quiet bay below, the +_Hoonah_, blurred in mist, tugged gently at her anchor. Some hundred +yards to the left smoke from the trading-post rose above the alder +trees. + +"This is a dandy place for story-telling, Jean. See!" Little Laurence +Boreland pointed to the dim-limned schooner. "The _Hoonah_ looks like +a ghost-ship out there. Listen! I'll tell you the story Kayak Bill +scared me most to death with last night. Ugh! It's spooky, Jean!" +The boy's eyes were round and his voice had lowered at the remembered +thrills of terror. He tugged at the girl's short skirt, until she sat +down beside him, tucking her slim bare feet beneath her as she prepared +to listen. + +A raven, weird epitome of Thlinget myth and legend, croaked +spasmodically from the white branch of a dead spruce behind them. The +damp air had in it the freshness of new-cut hemlock boughs, a wild, +vigorous fragrance that stirs the imagination with strange, illusive +promises of the wilderness. + +"And the door of the dead-house slowly opened," Loll ended his tale, +pointing to the graveyard below for local color, "and the door +s-l-o-w-l-y opened and a long, white finger--a _bony_ finger, +beckoned----" + +He broke off with a gasp of astonishment and terror, for above the rank +growth of Indian celery in front of the lonely grave-house door, there +was a sudden, unmistakable flutter of white. So thoroughly had the +little fellow lost himself in the weird mysteries of his own creating +that panic took possession of him, and communicated itself to the girl +beside him. They sprang to their feet, and with one accord raced +toward the trading-post. + +Near the courtyard their footsteps slackened, and Jean began to recover +herself, reminded of her shoes and stockings left behind on the knoll. +She became suddenly ashamed of her headlong flight, precipitated, as +she now saw, by the first breath of afternoon breeze as it came in from +the sea and fluttered a piece of weather-bleached canvas nailed over +the grave-house door. + +"Goodness, Loll, you frightened me nearly to death with your wild +imaginings!" She laughed. "Let's run back now and get our shoes and +stockings." + +The youngster laid a detaining hand on her arm. "But, Jean," his +shrill voice trembled, "didn't you see it--the long, white skeleton +finger?" + +"Nonsense!" She stood a moment pointing out the reason for the flutter +of white, and as she did so a group of Indians landing from canoes on +the beach, came up the trail toward the post. Curiously and quickly +they gathered about the strangers. Many of them had never before seen +a white girl or boy, specimens of the strange Letquoan, the Snow People +from that far-away land of the White Chief. Solemn, black-eyed little +toddlers peered cautiously out from under their mother's shawls. +Pretty young squaws with dark handkerchiefs over their heavy hair, +jostled one another to get a better view, and at the sight of the white +girl, the young buck gallants of the tribe straightened their shoulders +and shifted their rifles to a jauntier angle. + +In low, throaty tones, punctuated with long-drawn "Ah-a-a's" and +occasional explosions of laughter, they talked among themselves, +pressing closer each moment. From time to time a brown finger pointing +at Jean's bare feet evoked a general shaking of dark heads and more +"Ah-a-a's" of wonderment. + +Perhaps because of the apprehension in her heart, Jean held her head +high and looked fearlessly into the brown, apparently menacing faces +about her. She glanced out over the dark heads hoping to see some +member of her own race; but the post, for the moment, seemed deserted +by the whites. She reached for her nephew's small hand and held it +tightly. + +Among the Indians the talking ceased suddenly. A sense of expectation +emanated from the group. There was a shifting of positions as a tall +Thlinget, whom Jean had heard the White Chief call Swimming Wolf, +stepped toward her, his red-bordered snowy blanket trailing +majestically from his shoulders. He stopped, bent his stately form, +and looked long and earnestly at her bare feet. Before the girl knew +what he was about he had wetted his finger in his mouth, rubbed it +along her foot, and scrutinized it gravely. He glanced up, his teeth +flashing at her in a pleased smile. + +"Ugh! Ugh!" he marveled in his best English. "Little squaw with white +feet!" + +The smile ended in an involuntary grunt, for Loll with the fire of +wrath in his eye had leaped at the investigator and with all the +strength of his eight years had planted both fists in the stomach of +the unprepared Indian. + +"_She's_ not a squaw!" shouted the outraged little fellow, making ready +for another attack. + +At the same moment Jean, her face burning and her hazel eyes two points +of fire, landed a stinging blow on the surprised Swimming Wolf's ear. + +Straightening himself, he side-stepped, flinging his white blanket over +his shoulder with a sheepish grin. + +"Fierce little squaw with white feet!" he chuckled, admiringly. + +With loud laughs of amusement the others backed away. The circle +broken, the indignant Jean caught at the hand of her small protector +and fled away in the direction of the store. + +Angry with herself and thoroughly mortified by what she considered the +insulting familiarity of the Indian, she ran heedlessly. She rounded +the corner of one of the little courtyard cabins with reckless haste +and before she could check herself, had collided smartly with the +dejected figure of a young man. The impact sent her staggering +backward, but at the stammered words of apology which accompanied the +steadying hands he reached toward her, she looked at him with angry +scorn. + +"It's a pity you white men are never around when you're needed!" she +stormed at his surprised face. "But squaw-men, I suppose, are always +busy--driving their wives to suicide!" She flung the last words at him +and fled across the courtyard. At the moment she was out of patience +with the entire population of Katleean. As she disappeared into the +store with Loll, she left Gregg Harlan gazing after her perplexedly, +wondering at her last sentence. It was his first actual meeting with +either of the white women from the _Hoonah_. Because of their advent +in Katleean he had remained sober for several days, but for some reason +he did not understand he had not yet been given an opportunity to meet +these women from his own world. He turned from his contemplation of +the empty doorway and walked back to his own cabin, his head bowed in +thought. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +BAIT + +While Jean and Loll were pursuing their adventures about the post the +White Chief was entertaining his other two guests in his low-ceilinged +living-room, dusky and pleasantly scented from logs of yellow cedar +burning in the fireplace. He was posed in his favorite attitude, +half-sitting, half-reclining among the cushions on a low couch of red +fox skins. But while he told tales of the country to the interested +Boreland, his narrow eyes watched the play of the firelight on the +softly-massed golden-brown hair of Ellen, Boreland's wife, who sat +knitting in the glow. + +Life, for the trader, had taken on a new zest this past week. Long +years of acting a part--the part of a great white chief, mysterious, +all knowing, all powerful in the eyes of the simple natives of the +North, had made him fully alive to the dramatic possibilities of +playing host at Katleean, and he was not unaware of his own +semi-barbaric attractiveness in these surroundings. + +It had been easy to induce Shane Boreland, for the sake of his wife and +young sister-in-law, to spend a few weeks in the quarters back of the +store, where they were ministered to by the silent, dark-eyed women +whose status they did not understand. + +The trader's heart was stirred with interest and expectancy. Here at +last was an auditor worthy of his best efforts--a white woman, not too +young, fair-faced and gentle, yet with the courage to follow her man +into the wilds of a new country. A woman, who, he had learned, could +unfailingly put a shot in a bull's eye at twenty paces and handle an +oar in a small boat, yet a woman who could look sweetly domestic as she +knitted on a garment for her small son. To Paul Kilbuck, as to all +domineering men who scoff at matrimony, there was something +irresistibly appealing in the "sweetly domestic" woman, something +suggestive of that oldest occupation of woman--the business of +ministering to man's physical and temperamental needs, the duty of +making his body and his egotism comfortable. He watched her in covert +approval. + +How soft and white her throat appeared above the open neck of her +blouse--soft and white with a tiny hollow at the base where a man might +leave kisses--or the print of his teeth. What little hands she had, +white with nails of rosy pink. Little white hands! The words kept +singing through his consciousness. So long had brown hands done his +bidding up here in the North that he had nearly forgotten that a +woman's skin could be so white! To have those little white hands just +once, softly feeling, caressing, losing themselves in the blackness of +his beard---- + +The White Chief sat bolt upright to shake off the mad-sweet pang that +had thrilled him. The voice of Boreland brought him back from the land +of forbidden thought. + +"You say this Lost Island is nothing but a myth, Kilbuck?" The +prospector had evidently been thinking of the White Chief's last story +as he sat rubbing the head of Kobuk, the huskie, who had placed his +muzzle on Boreland's knee. + +The trader lighted and tossed away a cigarette before he answered. + +"Just how much truth there is in the tale of the Lost Island I can't +say, Boreland," he said slowly, with a care to his English. He shifted +his position until his eyes could no longer rest on the white woman in +the fireglow. "It has come down from the days of the Russian +occupation of the Aleutian Islands far to the west'ard. Our Thlingets, +you know, got it from the natives of that section and the story runs +that an Aleut and his wife were banished from their village for some +crime, set adrift in a bidarka, a skin boat. Instead of perishing, as +their kinsmen intended, the pair turned up a year later with a tale of +a marvelous island many days' paddling to the eastward. On this +island, they said, the sun shone warmer and the flowers grew larger and +the snowfall was lighter than anywhere else in their world; and there +was some queer story, I don't remember the details exactly, about an +underground passage and sands flecked with shining metal, the stuff +that trimmed up the holy pictures the Russian priests brought over from +Russia." + +"Gold!" interrupted Boreland. "It must have been gold!" His brown +eyes glowed and the White Chief noted that an eager alertness lighted +his lean tanned face. + +"The exiles decided to let a few of their friends in on the island +proposition and set out at the head of several bidarkas. According to +the story they knocked about up and down the North Pacific from Kodiak +to Sitka for several months--but they never found their island. +Neither did the natives of later years who went in search of it from +time to time." + +"But the Russians, Kilbuck, didn't they ever try to find the place?" + +The trader, pleased at the interest his story had aroused, lay back +once more against his cushions. "Possibly they did," he went on +easily. "But it's likely they were satisfied with the wealth of furs +their Aleut hunters brought them. Those were great old days for +traffic in furs. The early Russians were, for the most part a lazy, +rum-drinking lot, you know. To them riches meant sea-otter skins, and +they managed by various devilish methods--I can't say more about them +in your presence, Mrs. Boreland--to enslave the entire Aleut nation to +do their hunting. They gave them a little--and a mighty little--trade +goods in return." By the inflections of his voice the agent of the +Alaska Fur and Trading Company sought to convey to his listeners the +impression that the policy of those early companies was against _his_ +principles, though the books, so carefully kept by Add-'em-up Sam might +have told a different story. + +"And it's possible the Russians thought the yarn to be merely another +native fairy tale," continued Kilbuck, waving a careless hand. "As I +said there may be no other foundation for it. It has come down now for +over two hundred years, and you may be sure when an Indian tells a +story it loses nothing in the telling." + +The drowsy crackle of the flaming logs filled a short interval. + +Shane Boreland sat lost in meditation, his hand resting quietly on the +dog's head, his eyes adream as with visions of the golden sands of the +Lost Island. + +His wife glanced up at him, uneasily, almost apprehensively it seemed +to Kilbuck who was again watching her. Never in all his varied amorous +experiences had a woman's eyes held such a look for the White Chief--a +look in which there was a protecting tenderness, comradeship and +something more. + +He settled farther back in his cushions, his eyes narrowing. Love had +yet some new delight to offer him. . . . His virile years were +slipping by--he was surprised and disturbed how often this thought had +been with him of late. Should he grasp the opportunity offered? There +might be a way--up here in Katleean where his word was law. . . . +Perhaps---- + +Kilbuck brought himself up with a start. Ellen Boreland had dropped +her knitting and had crossed to her husband's chair. Her hand rested +on his broad shoulder and there was a wistful little twist to her smile +as she shook him gently to rouse him. + +"He's forever dreaming of the gold that lies beyond the skyline--this +man of mine--and always going to find it," she said fondly. "So +please, Mr. Kilbuck, don't get him interested in any mythical island. +We've been gone from the States six months now, and I want him to go +back for the winter." There was a half-playful, half-earnest note of +pleading in her voice, but the White Chief noticed that her eyes did +not fully meet his. + +During all her thirty years, doubtless, Ellen Boreland had looked a +friendly world in the eye. She was that sort. He saw that she was +troubled now at not being able to do this in the case of the trader of +Katleean. Probably he himself was not attractive to her--perhaps he +was even fascinatingly repellant with that electric and disturbing and +promising quality that drew almost irresistibly. There were women who, +under that impulsion, had been moved to come close and gaze into his +pale, black-lashed eyes. It was an impulse akin to that which urges +people to fling themselves from great heights; to peer into abandoned, +stagnant wells. . . . He had an idea that she knew he saw this, for he +had watched her face flush under his glance as though at the thought of +having dishonored herself by sharing with him some guilty secret. He +saw that she was uncomfortable in accepting his hospitality. Twice +during their stay she had entreated her husband to leave Katleean, or +at least go back aboard the schooner for the remainder of their visit. +But Shane Boreland, clean-hearted adventurer, to whom the vagaries of a +woman's mind were a closed book, had only laughed at her request, +retorting that life aboard the _Hoonah_ had made her into a little +sea-dog and a few weeks ashore with such a host as the White Chief +would do her a world of good. + +The host now lighted one of his short-lived cigarettes. In his mind +was forming a plan suggested by Ellen Foreland's words. He might +develop it later, and again he might not, but it would not be amiss to +prepare the way. + +He tossed his cigarette into the fireplace, slipping without effort +into the part he had assigned himself. + +"Dreams are the things that make life worth living, Mrs. Boreland." +His low, vibrant tones sounded pleasantly in the dusky room. "Boreland +here has his dreams of a mine of gold, but I--" he hesitated, his voice +taking on a whimsical softness, "but I, in my Northern solitude, have +my dreams of a heart of gold." His look was designed to leave no doubt +in Ellen Boreland's mind that it was a feminine heart of gold that he +sought. + +There was a pause during which the charred logs in the fireplace +dropped down sending up a brighter flame. + +"But you mustn't be too sure that the Lost Island is a myth." He spoke +briskly now as it putting aside deliberately his own longings. "In +this part of the country some say that the Lost Island is that of Kon +Klayu." + +As Boreland looked up questioningly the White Chief went on: + +"Of course, it does in some ways answer the description. It is ninety +miles off the coast here. Cape Katleean is the nearest land. The +Japan current gives it a milder climate and we know that the beach sand +carries gold--a little gold." + +"Anyone living there?" interrupted Boreland eagerly. + +"Not a soul. The Alaska Fur and Trading Company did send a party out +there some years ago, to start a fox-farm. That's how I got my +information. They were a hootch-drinking, lazy lot and the farm wasn't +a success. But Add-'em-up Sam, a bookkeeper I used to have, spent a +winter there. He told me many things about the place." The White +Chief paused a moment. A new idea had just come to him. "Silvertip, +who used to be on the whaler _Sophie Sutherland_, has stopped there for +water, too." + +Boreland, rising from his chair thrust both hands into his pockets and +began to pace up and down the room. + +"By thunder, Kilbuck, I'm interested in that island, whether it's the +Lost Island or not! Kon Klayu . . . Kon Klayu . . ." He repeated the +name thoughtfully. "Seems to me that's the Thlinget for ruby sand, +which in itself suggests possibilities. Ruby sand is a gold carrier!" +There was a note of enthusiasm in Boreland's voice, but as he noticed +the look on his wife's face he crossed to her side and put an arm over +her slender shoulders. "But we'll talk that over some other time, +Chief. I don't want to bore Ellen with too much mining----" + +A flinging open of the door that led to the store cut short his speech +as an indignant little boy burst in on them. + +"Mother! Mother!" he shouted. "That big old Indian, Swimming Wolf, +called my Auntie Jean a squaw!" + +"And the wretch put his hand on my foot, Ellen!" Jean following close +on the heels of her nephew, stopped before her sister, her slim hands +clenched at her sides, each outraged shake of her head loosening the +ribbon that bound her hair. "I hate this place, Shane!" she cried, +turning swiftly to her brother-in-law. "I wish we were all back aboard +the _Hoonah_!" Her voice trembled with unshed tears of mortification, +and both her sister and Shane started toward her with exclamations of +sympathy and alarm. + +The White Chief regarded the attractively disheveled little figure with +appreciation, but he realized that something had happened which +endangered the stay of his visitors. He rose to place a chair for her. +When he spoke his voice, the voice that had charmed many women, soothed +while it promised. + +"There now, Miss Wiley, things may not be so bad as you think. Sit +down and tell me all about it and I'll see what can be done." + +Disregarding the proffered chair, the girl launched forth with the +story of her encounter with Swimming Wolf. Her slim hands gestured. +Above her flushed cheeks her eyes flashed and the unruly cloud of hair, +freed at last from its ribbon, fell about her shoulders. + +As she told of the slap on Swimming Wolf's ear, the pale eyes of the +White Chief glowed. Truly, as Kayak Bill had said, one could never +tell about a white woman. Here was a situation he would have to handle +with care. Here was a time when his knowledge of Indian nature, gained +during years of association with them, stood him in good stead. + +"Miss Jean," he said. "Just a moment. I think I can explain Swimming +Wolf's extraordinary action." The White Chief measured her with an air +of understanding that, he could see, made an impression on the girl in +spite of herself. "An Indian, you know, never really grows up. Even +though he has the body of a man, he still keeps the heart of a child. +Now when you were little, Miss Jean, don't you remember the time you +saw your first negro--a black, strange creature? Didn't you wonder, +while you looked at his face and his hands if he could possibly be +black all over? Be honest now, didn't you?" + +Loll who had settled himself on the floor with an arm about Kobuk's +neck, sprang up and stood beside his aunt. + +"Yes, _I_ did, Chief," he interrupted, with eager, nodding head, "and I +asked him about it, too. I did!" + +Jean's face was clearing. She inclined her head in faint affirmation. + +"Just so," the trader went on. "When Swimming Wolf saw his first white +woman no doubt in his simple heart he wondered, too, and so did the +other natives who gathered about you,--children, all of them. Swimming +Wolf, the clumsy siwash, had no English words to ask you about it, so +he took the simplest way to find out whether or not the white came off!" + +A shadowy smile began to twitch at the corners of Jean's mouth. Seeing +it, the White Chief was encouraged to go on: + +"The inquisitive rascal is really one of our bravest hunters, and a man +of tall totems and many blankets. He would feel astonished and +_kusk-i-a-tu_--very sad--if he knew he had offended you. As a matter +of fact,"--the trader laughed--"the Wolf admires you and in his +primitive way has paid you a great compliment. I wasn't going to +mention it, but since this has come up perhaps it will help explain." + +Jean looked up inquiringly. + +"Up here in the North, Miss Jean, it is the custom of the young bucks +to buy any little girl who takes his fancy. He pays for her while he +is strong and a good hunter, you see. When the girl grows up he takes +her for his wife." + +There was a gasp of astonishment from Ellen and her sister, but Kilbuck +went on: + +"One hundred dollars is a mighty good price to pay for a wife, +but Swimming Wolf, my little lady, came to me yesterday with +four black fox skins, which are worth perhaps three thousand +dollars. He wanted to know if I would arrange with the Big White +Man--your brother-in-law--to take them in payment for the _shawut +clate_, the White-Girl-Who-Makes-Singing-Birds-in-the-Little-Brown-Box." + +Jean lifted her chin with a laugh in which amusement and embarrassment +were equally mingled. "How quaintly ridiculous, Ellen, to describe my +violin playing in such a way! But mercy," she added, after they had +all laughed over the incident, "I must run away upstairs and put on +some footwear. If I had kept on my shoes and stockings, as I should +have done, Swimming Wolf might not have called me 'little squaw with +white feet'!" + +Kilbuck, satisfied with himself, had settled back once more against his +cushions and as she turned to say a parting word to him, was regarding +her with half-closed eyes. The firelight played on her slim, white +ankles and soft little feet. He surveyed her with a look that slowly, +appraisingly, stripped her body of its garments and swept her from her +bare feet to her face and back again. The girl caught it. Conscious, +for the first time of him--his savage reality as other than a +middle-aged man--of her own womanhood, she flushed violently. +Shrinking back she reached for Loll's hand, and stammering an +incoherent excuse, ran from the room. + +Ellen, unconscious of what had happened, measured off a row of stitches +in the knitting she had again taken up. "Jean certainly seems to be +tumbling in and out of adventures," she remarked. "Sometimes, Shane, I +wonder if we did right in bringing her with us." + +"Nonsense, Ellen. A year up here will make a different girl of +her--help her break away from the cut and dried sameness of school +life. Darned if it doesn't make me tired to see all the young women +turned out of the same mould." + +As Boreland spoke the door leading into the store opened slowly, and +into the room sauntered Kayak Bill. He seated himself in silence, +tilting his sombrero to the back of his head--the only concession to +convention he ever made, since Kayak had never been known to remove +that article of apparel until he sought his bunk at night. + +"I just been mouchin' round down in the Village, Chief," he drawled, +"seein' if there was anything a-doin' in the way o' local sin, and they +tells me that the funeral canoes is a-comin' in tonight." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE FUNERAL CANOES + +Ellen glanced up at the old hootch-maker sitting serenely on the other +side of the fireplace. Some time during the day he had put on high +leather boots but having neglected to lace them, the bellows-tongued +tops stood away from his sturdy legs and the raw-hide laces squirmed +about his feet like live things. + +"The funeral canoes?" she echoed, wonderingly. + +Kayak Bill turned to her with a sort of slow eagerness, as if he had +been awaiting an excuse to look at her. + +"Yas, Lady. They're a-bringin' in the ashes o' their dead kin from up +in the Valley of the Kag-wan-tan." + +Ellen's mind reverted to the many strange things she had heard during +her short stay in Katleean, concerning the coming Potlatch of the +Indians. This land and its people were new and mysterious to her. +These primitive Thlingets, descendants of the fiercest and most +intelligent of all the northern tribes were, withal, a fearful people +living in a world of powerful and malignant spirits who frowned from +the rocks, glittered from the cold, white mountains and glaciers, +whispered in the trees and cackled derisively from the campfires; a +world of hostile eyes spying upon them in the hope that some of their +weird and mystic tabus might be broken, and of sly ears listening to +avenge some careless remark. A childlike people they were, who spoke +kindly to the winds and offered bits of fish for its favor; who begged +the capricious sea to give them food, and who spent most of their lives +working for the comfort of the dead--the Restless Ones--who sweep the +winter skies when the day is done, beckoning, whispering. The Northern +Lights the white man calls them, as they leap and play above the frozen +peaks, but the Thlinget knows them to be the spirits of the dead, +homeless in space but hovering confidently overhead until their +relatives on earth can give a Potlatch for their repose. + +Running like a black thread through the woof of the spirit tales was +the mention of witch-craft--witchcraft with which Kilbuck was now +preparing to deal; not because he hoped to benefit the natives and free +them from the curse of superstition, but because owing to a belief in +the black art, the Indians of Katleean were not bringing in the amount +of furs expected, and this meant a loss of money to the Alaska Fur and +Trading Company. + +Ellen recalled the superior air of amusement with which the White Chief +had told of the dominating belief in demons. + +"When one of the beggars wants to cast a spell," he had said, his lip +curling in a sardonic smile, "he takes a bit of cloth from some garment +his enemy has worn and at the hour of midnight slinks into a graveyard +and digs down until he finds a body. If he wants to cripple his +enemy's hand, he puts the cloth in the fingers of the corpse. If he +wishes his enemy to lose his mind he puts it over the skull, and if he +wants him dead, he places the cloth over the heart in the coffin. Oh, +they are a sweet outfit, I tell you!" The Chief had laughed as if +these things were merely amusing. Then he had gone on to explain that +across the Bay of Katleean in the shadow of the great blue glacier +which was discernible on sunny days, there had been a lonely Thlinget +graveyard. Because of its isolation this burial place had been so +riddled with re-opened graves and so much killing, torturing and +fighting had ensued among the Indians in their efforts to detect and +punish so-called witches that he, their White Chief, had been obliged +to interfere. He had put an end to the reign of sorcery in that +particular graveyard rather cleverly, Ellen was forced to admit, by +having all the bodies exhumed and cremated on the spot. + +"They'll bring the ashes over here where I can keep an eye on them and +prevent further 'witching,'" the trader had finished. "And after the +Potlatch we'll have a little peace in the country, I hope. I never +interfere with the Potlatches. They make good business for the +Company, for the brown heathens believe the spirits are really feasting +and rejoicing with them." Kilbuck laughed as at some recollection. +"The Company sends in hundreds of blankets every year for dead Indians. +Whenever a Potlatch blanket is given away the name of a dead man is +called and he receives it in the spirit world. Whenever a little food +is put on the Potlatch fire, a dead man's name is mentioned and he gets +a square meal up there in Ghost's Home. Altogether the Alaska Fur and +Trading Company does a lively business with the dead!" + +As Ellen thought on these things there crept into her mother-heart a +feeling of pity for these simple, trusting people seeking the +protection and guidance of this white man only to have their beliefs +and superstitions laughed at and exploited for the benefit of his +company. She was beginning to feel, dimly, what every reader of the +history of exploration knows, that drunkenness, fraud and trickery are +among the first teachings the white man's civilization brings to the +tribes of a new country. + +A tinge of sadness and foreboding darkened her thoughts. + +Kayak Bill, who had been drawing contentedly on his corn-cob pipe, rose +suddenly through a low-hung cloud of tobacco smoke, and taking up an +old almanac from the table, began fanning the air clumsily. His slow +drawl with a suspicion of haste in it, broke in on her meditations: + +"By hell, Lady," he apologized earnestly, "excuse me for creatin' of +such a blamed smudge!" + +Ellen looked up from her knitting. + +"Oh, I don't mind a little smoke, Kayak Bill." She smiled at the +concern in the old man's voice. "You see Shane smokes a good deal, +too." She nodded toward the couch where her husband puffed on his pipe +as he plied Kilbuck with questions about the Island of Kon Klayu. "I +was just thinking about the funeral canoes and the Potlatch." + +"The beginnin's of the Potlatch will be pulled off tomorrow, Lady, but +tonight--" Kayak stopped fanning and leaned closer to her. Then with +a glance in the direction of the White Chief he lowered his voice. +"Tonight, when the funeral canoes comes in, I'd aim to gather in the +young sprout, Loll, and that little gal sister o' yourn. . . . We're +purty civilized here in Katleean, but--wall, there ain't no tellin' +what an Injine will do after he's taken on a couple o' snorts o' white +mule,--or a squaw-man, either, for that matter. O' course, I make the +stuff myself, and a mighty hard time I have, too, to keep shut o' these +pesky dudes o' revenue officers that's all the time a-devilin' o' me. +But I don't recommend it none a-tall." + +Kayak Bill, with his boot-laces snaking along behind him, shuffled over +to his chair once more and settled himself for conversation, which +Ellen had learned meant a monologue. The edge of his sombrero backed +his busy head and kindly face like a soiled grey halo. His low voice, +never rising, never falling, droned on: + +"Yas, I don't drink none myself, bein' weaned, as you might say, when +I'm but a yearlin'. But I make it for those as likes it, and I makes +it good, for it's everybody to his own cemetery, I say. . . . No, I +don't join no Y. W. C. T. U. or nothin,' but one time, when I'm a real +young feller, I'm off on the range for a spell down in Texas, and I +ain't no nature for shavin' or none o' them doo-dads and besides I'd +don't have no razor or no lookin' glass. Wall, six months or so goes +millin' by and finally I comes down into San Antonio one Sataday night. +And right away, havin' at that time what you might call an eddycated +taste for whisky, I makes a charge for the nearest bar and takes on a +dozen or so good snifters, likewise some beverages they calls mint +julips. And durn me, Lady, if in no time everything in that place +ain't a-whizzin' past me like the mill-tails o' hell! + +"But I gets my bearin's after while and lays my course for a door to +get some fresh air. Just as I reaches this here door, Lady, a big, +swaggerin' rough-lookin' hombre with a red beard starts to come in. +Wall, I looks him over careful. He likewise gives me a nasty look. +Then polite-like, I steps aside waitin' for him to come through. But +he don't come none, havin' stepped aside too. . . . Wall, by this time +I'm feelin' purty groggy and I makes a bolt for the door again, aimin' +to get through quick; but blamed if that durned son-of-a-gun don't do +identical! Then back I sashays once more and my dander sort o' riz up +in me. 'By the roarin' Jasus,' I yells, 'you lay offen that monkey +business, you consarned whiskery cuss, or I'll fill you so full o' +holes yore own mammy won't know you from a hunk o' cheese. Just one +more crack like that out o' you,' I says, 'and down comes yore +meat-house,' I says. . . . Wall, I got started through the door again, +and by hell, Lady, in spite o' my warnin' o' him, he comes at me again. +So, . . ." Kayak Bill paused the fraction of a second; then his voice +went on with its accustomed languor: "So I just whipped out my little +old .45 and shot him." + +Ellen gasped, her big blue eyes opening in horror as she looked into +the serene face of the self-confessed murderer. Kayak Bill, apparently +unconscious of her regard, droned on: + +"Yas, I charged full tilt into him shootin' as I went, but instead o' +him a-fallin dead, I finds myself in a shower o' glass, and all the +boys is a-dancin' round me and likin' to die o' laughin' at me. . . . +You see, Lady, that door happens to be one o' them long mirro's saloons +has, and not havin' no acquaintance with myself in a beard a-tall, I +pots my image! Ha! Ha! Ha!" Kayak Bill's laugh gurgled out slowly +like mellow liquor from a wide-mouthed bottle. "Wall, after I got done +a-payin' for the mirro' and a-settin' 'em up for the boys, and a-payin' +for a saw bones to fix me up--me bein' conside-ble carved by glass, I +don't have no more money than a jack-rabbit. So I says to myself: +'Bill, you ol' jackass, you got to reform, that's all there are to it. +We can't have the whole durned world laughin' at you when yore in yore +liquor!', I says. . . . And I did reform, Lady! So help me Hannah, I +did!" Kayak Bill, with an air of conscious virtue, was filling his +pipe again. + +While Ellen gathered up her knitting, the corners of her mouth were +twitching with amusement. + +"Kayak Bill," she said as she shook her finger at him playfully, "you +surely have an effective way of making a confession. I don't really +know whether to praise you for your sobriety or scold you for +horrifying me a moment ago." + +Ellen heard the old man's chuckle as she arose. Her face went sober, +however, the moment her eyes sought the couch where her husband sat +still engrossed with the White Chief. Though she lingered Shane did +not turn her way, and she finally moved toward the door through which +her sister had gone an hour earlier. + +"Thank you for telling me about tonight, Kayak," she said as she passed +him. "I'm going up now to warn Jean and Loll, but--" she hesitated, "I +wish more of the men in Katleean had been 'weaned' as you were." + +She saw approval in the slow softening of his hazel eyes, and as the +door closed behind her she caught a remark the old hootch-maker +addressed to the dog at his feet. + +"By hell, Kobuk," he pronounced earnestly, "that little lady's husband +has sure fell into a bed of four leaf clovers!" + +She stored this quaint tribute away in her mind and told it to Jean +that evening after she had repeated for the second time Kayak's warning +regarding the arrival of the funeral canoes. But Jean, determined not +to miss any detail of the strange Thlinget festival, watched till an +opportunity presented itself, and then, disregarding Ellen's advice, +slipped away to the beach to a pile of silvery drift-logs that lay at +the edge of the rice-grass, where she knew she could not be seen except +from the sea. The girl settled herself comfortably among the logs just +as the long day was waning. + +She noted that here, as everywhere else in this northern land of +exquisite, fleeting summers, the sunset colors came on gradually, +increasing in richness of tone and fading through several hours. The +mist of the afternoon had scattered before a faint sea-wind, and +settled wraithlike in the hollows of the hills across the bay. Violet +now in the gloaming it melted into the lilac shadows at the base of the +range that needled the sunset sky. + +There was something like promise in the wild beauty of the +evening-time; something in the clean night-scent of the sea and the +grass and the trampled beach-weed that awakened in Jean a sense of +expectancy. She breathed deeply, conscious of a keen delight in doing +so. As she waited, the rose and amber tints died on the white peaks at +the head of the valley, . . . the flaming orange behind them turned +from clear gold to vermilion, . . . from rose madder to an unearthly +red that glowed behind a veil of amethyst while the twilight deepened. +. . . + +Suddenly she caught her breath. Out of the powdery, purple gloom +across the bay floated a long line--the funeral canoes. In the blurred +distance they took shape one by one, the paddles dipping in solemn +rhythm. . . . Nearer they came, . . . and nearer. Then over the +darkening water drifted the plaintive rise and fall of the funeral +lament, faint and eerie as voices from the spirit land. + +Jean, thinking to linger but a moment before returning to the store, +was spellbound by the mystery and loneliness of the scene. All at +once, as she watched, a line of silent, blanketed figures from +somewhere behind, began to slip down past her hiding place. Looming +weird and tall in the dusk they halted at the water's edge. Softly, +almost imperceptibly these waiting ones took up the mournful plaint, +sending it floating out thin and high in answer to the approaching +bearers of the dead. + +While she listened awe and wonder began to give way to something that +tantalized her with a fleeting familiarity--a near understanding. +Long-lost memories of primeval things that eluded her when she strove +to vision them mocked her with an indefinable yearning to pierce the +ages of oblivion that separated her from other nights, other scenes, +other chants like these. . . . She longed for her violin. If she +could but feel the loved instrument beneath her chin, her fingers +drawing from its vibrant lower strings the mystery-music to supplement +the weird dirge, these primitive things hidden in the dust of the past +might be revealed to her! Suddenly she became aware that one of the +tall figures had stopped in the trail beside her pile of driftwood. In +a tone singularly pleasing he was humming the air of the funeral +lament, fitfully, experimentally at first, then as the haunting +monotony of the strain became familiar, with a certain easy confidence. +Jean forgot to be afraid. Almost unconsciously she found herself +humming in unison with the motionless figure. Even when the man faced +her and she saw in the dim light, not an Indian, but the young white +man, Gregg Harlan, she did not cease. She was conscious of a feeling +of companionship. Night had gilded the wilderness with a primordial +beauty and made her kin to all earth's creatures. She moved slowly +from her pile of driftwood and stood beside him for a moment in the +trail watching the incoming canoes. It was a moment of simplicity and +unconsciousness of self such as might have been in the dawn of +civilization when conventions were unknown. She hummed, cradling in +her heart impressions of the night so that later she might awaken them +through the music of her violin. The man in the trail continued his +wordless song. . . . + +The crunching of leather soles on the gravel behind them startled Jean. +She and her companion turned simultaneously to find themselves face to +face with the trader of Katleean. + +"Well, well!" The sarcastic voice of the White Chief shattered the +sweet, wild moment like an invidious thing. "You two seem to be +getting uncommonly friendly!" His red lip lifted on one side into a +cynical smile that suddenly infuriated Jean, implying, as it did, that +he had caught the two young people in a compromising situation. She +took a hasty step toward him, looking with fearless eyes into his face. + +"How dare you slip up behind us this way!" she flashed, stamping her +foot and flinging out her hands in a short, angry gesture. A moment +longer she looked at him as if he were an object of scorn, then turning +to the young man, said quietly: "Good night, Mr. Harlan." + +The next instant she was walking up the dusky trail to the post. + +Kilbuck watched her go. Accustomed to commanding all situations at +Katleean, he was for the moment nonplused by the quickness and +vehemence of the girl's retort, rather than by what she had said. He +had expected to place the two at a disadvantage. Finding the tables +turned, a momentary and unreasoning desire to cover his own +discomfiture by hurting some one took possession of him. + +"I say, Gregg, I'm rather surprised to find you at this time of night, +alone with Miss Wiley. I don't think her sister would approve, +exactly. Since your affair with Naleenah, you know--" he finished the +sentence with a depreciatory shrug. + +"_My_ affair with Naleenah! What do you mean?" The young man took a +quick step toward him. + +"Oh, now, don't get excited, Gregg. You were drunk, of course, but you +must remember she took you home and spent the last night of her life +with you. The whole post saw you two go off together the night the +_Hoonah_ came in. Boreland has heard the talk, of course. Too bad, my +boy," the Chief put his hand on the astonished young fellow's shoulder, +"too bad, I say, that after all your fastidious virtue you have the +reputation of being a squaw-man." Kilbuck laughed his short, sardonic +laugh. + +"_She_ thinks I'm a squaw-man?" Gregg indicated the disappearing +figure of Jean. His voice was sharp with hurt amazement, indignation, +and the grasp of his hand on the Chief's arm made that gentleman wince. + +"All of them do, my boy. _All_ of them. But----" + +"Now I begin to understand," Harlan broke in bitterly. With a muttered +imprecation he flung himself into the trail and walked toward the +courtyard where a light shone palely from Kayak Bill's window. The +White Chief looked after him until he vanished. Gregg had been sober +for a week now, but if Kilbuck was any judge of indications, the +bookkeeper's sobriety was at an end. As the trader turned toward the +beach and walked to the canoes now landing in the dusk, he smiled to +think how neatly he had nipped in the bud any possible romance between +Gregg and Jean. + +Two hours later in the loft above Kilbuck's living quarters Jean was +kneeling at a tiny window looking up at the ridge where dark spruce +trees peaked a line against the night sky. It was a strange guest +chamber pungent with a faint, unforgetable odor from fox pelts dangling +from the rafters, bear hides tacked to the slanting roof, and rows of +smoked salmon and dried cod hanging from lines along the sides. Loll +lay fast asleep on his small floor-pallet, his face half-buried in his +pillow, his mouth reverted to the pout of babyhood. The door leading +to Ellen's room--the only real room in the loft, was partly open. Jean +rose and closed it, took up her violin from her own floor bed, and went +back to the window. + +Softly fingering the strings she picked out the notes of the Indian +lament that kept repeating itself in her mind. She was possessed by a +desire to express in music the mystery of the wilderness afterglow, the +wild, illusive feeling that had touched her. She longed to use her bow +freely on the strings of her violin until, at one with the instrument, +she could lose herself in the ecstasy of creation. . . . She reached +for the bow that lay on the floor beside her. Perhaps, if she played +very softly she might disturb no one---- + +Up from the courtyard, as if a door had been suddenly opened, came +startling sounds--short yells, Indian war-whoops and the maudlin +singing of white men. The mournful, prolonged howl of a dog drifted in +from somewhere. Down in the direction of the Indian village half a +dozen shots were fired in rapid succession. Jean's heart beat oddly. +Katleean was beginning to celebrate the Potlatch in the singular way of +the male, who, since time immemorial has made a holiday an occasion for +a carousal. The girl sighed, and placed her violin gently on the +floor. With her chin in her hands she took her former position at the +window and listened. + +Somewhere near the store a trio began. The blended harmony of men's +voices as they sang in the dusk had in it a peculiar stir. Jean found +herself, head up and shoulders swaying, responding to the lilt and +swing of the air: + + "Hear the rattle of our windlass + As the anchor comes away; + For we're bound for Old Point Barrow + And we make our start today." + + +Rollicking, devil-may-care, the whaling song went on through long +verses. Many of the words she could not distinguish, but throughout +the singing she was aware of a feeling that these singers were men who +had cast aside the restraint of conventions, even in a way, +responsibility for conduct, and were exulting in their freedom. + +Thinking the song finished she turned away at last, but the movement +was arrested by the sound of a lone baritone taking up the chorus +again. She leaned over the sill to catch the words, for in the voice +she recognized her companion of the drift logs. + + "Up into the Polar Seas + Where the greasy whalers be, + There's a strip of open water + Leading north to eighty-three, + Where the frisky seal and walrus + On the ice floes bask and roll. + And the sun comes up at midnight + From an ice-pack round the Pole." + + +Apprehension in the girl's heart vanished. She drew a deep breath of +the night air and turned reluctantly from the window. "There's a strip +of open water leading north to eighty-three--" she hummed. The words +stirred in her dim, venturesome imaginings. She felt suddenly on the +threshold of adventure beyond which might lie the fierce, wild things +of romance that only men have known. It alarmed, even while it +exhilarated her. She felt afraid, yet daring. She was beginning to +feel the lure of Alaska--the vast, the untamed, the inscrutable, the +promising. + +As she slipped between her blankets she thought of the young white man. +Squaw-man he might be, and a drunkard, but he had the heart of an +adventurer . . . he was young . . . and he could sing . . . + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE WHITE CHIEF MAKES MEDICINE + +Sunless and softly grey morning came to Katleean. The water, smooth as +satin, stretched away to the mist-shrouded hills. Owing to some odd, +mirage-like condition of the atmosphere trees bordering the lagoon +across the bay stood high and clear above a bank of fog. The liquid +music of the surf was hushed as if to give place to a new sound that +pulsed unceasingly on the quiet air: the strange and thrilling boom of +Thlinget drums. Up from the great Potlatch-house in the Village +floated the savage resonance adding a barbaric note of announcement to +the placid beauty of the scene. Above the roofs of the native houses +and straight between the totems of the Thunder-bird and the Bear, rose +the black smoke of the Potlatch fire. + +Though it was early, the double doors of the trading-post stood open +for the White Chief had been abroad several hours. After a night of +revelry in Katleean there were always knife-wounds to dress, battered +heads to bind up, bullets to extract, and even broken bones to set. +The nearest doctor was five hundred miles away and Kilbuck, often the +only sober man at the post, with the exception of Kayak Bill, performed +these services. + +Some said that he had learned all he knew of medical science from the +row of gold-lettered volumes tucked away in one corner of his dusky +living-room; others claimed that a great eastern medical college had +known him as a student in the far-off days before Alaska took him for +her own. Whatever was the source of his knowledge he did his work with +a degree of rough skill, and humanely, using as an antidote for the +pain he inflicted during these operations, stupendous quantities of the +very liquor which had brought about his patients' troubles. + +Among the Kagwantans of the Thlinget people he had been given the rank +of Shaman, or medicine man. To further his own ends and to keep his +hold on the natives, he had always donned the robes that went with this +conferred honor and had taken an active part in the Potlatch +ceremonies. As the years went by, with but four steamers a +twelve-month to disturb his voluntary exile and but a waning interest +in anything south of Dixon's Entrance, he had grown to have a real +enjoyment in these affairs. They served to banish any lingering +inhibitions imposed by civilization. + +As he walked across the courtyard toward the little cabin of Silvertip +and his squaw, Senott, there were thoughtful lines in the White Chief's +brow. Today he would have an opportunity to impress the white women +with his importance among the wild people of the North. Today Ellen +Boreland should see him as the great chief and Shaman, banisher of +Thlinget sorcery. But--how far might he go in this character without +running the risk of becoming ridiculous? Never before had such an +audience taxed his powers of discrimination. True, by subtle speeches, +he had prepared his visitors for anything that might happen, and he +knew they would excuse much that was bizarre on his own part because of +his explanation that such ways were necessary in handling a primitive +people. But he also knew that there is but a thin dividing line +between savage pomp and ludicrous ostentation. + +As he neared Silvertip's door he raised his head decisively and +mounting the steps entered without knocking. + +His glance swept the small room with its snowy sand-scoured floor, its +rectangular box-stove of sheet-iron, and two corner bunks, one above +the other. + +"Well, Silvertip, you and Harlan are the last ones on my list. I can't +find _him_ any place, but I see you've come to anchor all right. +What's the matter with you?" He addressed the wan-looking Silvertip in +the lower bunk. + +A long-drawn sigh quivered up from the blankets, and with a shaking +hand the Swede indicated his head. + +"My ol' ooman (groan) . . . lick hal outen me . . . (groan)!" + +Kilbuck bent down and parted the fair, blood-matted hair on the side of +his patient's head. + +"Oh, you're not much hurt, man. You and Senott ought to learn to take +a little drink together without beating each other up this way." He +laughed as he made ready to cleanse the cut. "May I inquire where the +lady is this morning?" + +Between groans the injured husband profanely unburdened himself: + +"She go down de tarn Injune house vit dat tarn Injune hunter, +Hoots-noo!" + +"Trouble with you, Silver, you're too good to women. Now, instead of +using the iron hand on them you show the yellow streak----" + +"Me--jallow streak?" The indignant Swede raised his battered head to +glare into the eyes of his satiric physician. "Vy, tammit, Chief, ven +ay ban cook on _Soofie Suderlant_ ay----" + +"That reminds me, Silvertip," interrupted the White Chief. "You +remember telling me about stopping for water on the Island of Kon Klayu +when you were whaling? Yes? . . . Well, while you are lying here +sobering up, I want you to think about that island, Silver. I want you +to remember every little thing about it that you can, and after the +Potlatch I'll be in to talk to you--perhaps. I'll go and hunt up +Harlan now. Damned fool! He raised hell last night--something started +him off. No doubt he's down around the Point swimming it off now. +Queer how that fellow loves water--on the outside of his skin." + +The trader left the cabin and started across the courtyard. It had +gradually filled up with multi-colored, grotesque figures that might +have stepped from the pages of some weird, fantastic fairy-tale. The +never-ceasing beat of the Potlatch drums made a throbbing, low +accompaniment to their guttural tones and laughter. They stalked about +wrapped in heavy broadcloth blankets adorned with designs and borders +made of white pearl buttons--thousands of buttons--a style which had +come in when the white traders came to Alaska. Many wore the native +Chilcat blanket of ceremony made of the hair of the mountain goat. +These were marvels of savage embroidery done in conventionalized +designs that might have startled a Cubist painter had they not been +woven with the softest-toned native dyes--yellow, pale-blue and green +and rust. Huge, fierce detached eyes, the Thlinget symbol of +intelligence glared from some. Mouths with queer, squared lips and +large teeth grinned from others. A school of killer-whales with dorsal +fins aloft, disported themselves in rectangles of black on the back of +another. From the bottom a two-foot fog-colored fringe dangled about +the wearer's legs. + +Above the fantastic robes black eyes looked out from painted faces +rendered fearsome by red and blue and green designs representing +mythical gods of the clouds, waves, and beasts, fish and birds. Heads +were crowned with the skulls of grizzly bears and small whales. A few +figures were disguised by pelts of animals, but instead of paws, huge +wooden hands with fingers more than a foot long, dangled from the +forearms. + +Swimming Wolf, brave in a dance-blanket which bore the wolf emblem of +the Kagwantans, held his head proudly under the sacred hat of Kahanuk, +the Wolf, and on his face in red and blue was the Kia-sa-i-da, the red +mouth of the wolf when the lips are retracted. + +As the White Chief made his way through the throng he noted with +satisfaction that Ellen Boreland and her sister were standing +spellbound in the doorway of the trading-post watching the primitive +masquerade. Even as he looked a creature broke suddenly from the crowd +and rushed toward them, half-running, half-flopping like a wounded +bird. To one side of its face half a moustache was attached. The +other cheek was adorned with red and blue paint. The hair was twisted +into a high peak and further decorated with the wings of a seagull. A +man's hair-seal waistcoat trimmed with red flannel hung from the +shoulders and from this streamed yards of brilliant colored calico +strips an inch wide. + +As the figure reached the platform, the two white women shrank back in +the doorway. The half-portion of the moustache was raised in a +delighted grin. + +"Heavens, Ellen!" gasped Jean, clutching her sister's arm. "It's that +jolly little Senott, Silvertip's squaw. The one that brought us the +strawberries the other day!" + +Senott, proud in her Potlatch finery, came close and gazed with +friendly eyes at the white visitors. + +"Ha! Ha!" she laughed. "You not know Senott? Senott all same +_kate-le-te_--all same seagull!" She threw out her arms raising them +up and down and lifting high her feet to represent a seagull alighting +at the edge of breaking surf. + +"Bime-by you white 'oomans come along Senott--" she pointed in the +direction of Kilbuck's living-room windows under which he had caused a +great grave to be dug. "You come. Senott show you t'ings." + +With a wide smile and a wave of her hand the gay Senott, apparently +forgetful of the white spouse at home nursing the broken head +she had given him, flapped away to join her Indian lover, +Hoots-noo, Heart-of-a-Grizzly, the handsome young husband of +Old-Woman-Who-Would-Not-Die. + +At noon every soul in Katleean had assembled in front of the +trading-post. The boom of drums was louder. There was a feeling of +expectancy in the air. The few whites, with the exception of Kilbuck, +sat on the platform in front of the store. The natives formed a +shifting, motley crowd in the courtyard. Kayak Bill, sitting next to +Ellen, smoked his pipe as he contemplated the scene. + +"Wall, Lady," he drawled, leaning toward her, "I seen a heap o' this +sort o' jaberwocky doin's in my time up here, and it used to make me +feel like as if them Injines had a tank full o' doodle-bugs under their +hair--but I don't know-- Take us white folks down in the States now, +when we're a-celebratin' o' Decoration day without our speeches and our +peerades and our offerin's o' posies and such. It's the same principle +exact----" + +The old man ceased speaking abruptly. Out of the door behind them and +down the platform steps walked the White Chief of Katleean and the +little Thlinget woman, Decitan. About her shoulders was draped a +fringed black and yellow blanket of wondrous design. On her dark, +thick hair she wore the crest of the Eagle clan--a privilege accorded +only to a chiefess. + +The waiting Indians stood back from about these two principal figures +in the courtyard, and Paul Kilbuck, with the Indian woman beside him, +turned to face the white woman on the platform whose favors he hoped to +win. + +He felt himself splendidly barbaric in the costume of a Shaman. The +greens and blues and yellows of his royal Chilcat blanket and dancing +shirt set off his dark beard and dead-white skin. Carved wooden +eagle-wings on each side of a tall hat crowned his hair. Below this +emblem of the Shaman spirit, the Unseeable, his eyes, narrow, pale and +dangerous sent straight into those of Ellen a look that might have come +down through the red pages of history. + +She turned her face away with a frightened quickening of the pulses. + +The White Chief and Decitan took their places at the head of the Indian +procession which had been forming, and the long, fantastic line wound +about the courtyard and down the trail that led to the Village. Before +the graveyard, with its totems and curious architecture of the dead, +they stopped and began a mournful ululation. + +The wailing gradually gave way to the Potlatch songs in honor of the +deceased--songs of curious rhythm and halting cadences; songs with a +haunting plaintiveness that floated high above the throbbing of the +drums. + +On the platform the white inhabitants of Katleean waited in silence +until the procession came back once more to the courtyard. Then one by +one they attached themselves to the line. + +About the excavation under the windows of the White Chief the funeral +party halted. Kilbuck, his handsome, barbaric head towering above all, +spoke to the natives in Thlinget a few moments. Then one by one the +small boxes containing ashes of the dead were handed to him. He +lowered them into the grave. As the last one settled on the bottom he +stepped back, flinging one corner of his fringed blanket from his +shoulder. He exulted in the sense of power such an occasion gave him. +He liked to feel that in the hollow of his hand he held every soul in +Katleean. + +Perhaps in his heart there still lurked some faint respect for the +dead. Perhaps he merely intended to impress the white women in his +audience, as from under the bizarre robe of his heathen office he +produced a prayer-book, and in the voice he knew so well how to +modulate, read the service for the dead. At the close he swept the +gathering with an inclusive glance. First in Thlinget, then in English +he addressed his listeners: + +"People of the Kagwantans, of the Wuckitans, of the Yakutats, and the +Ganahadi,"--His voice made music of the Indians names.--"Listen to the +talk I make and remember. Always, while I am the White Chief and +Medicine Man of the Kagwantans, I will watch over the ashes of my brown +brothers and sisters. Always, when the nights of the Big Snows come to +Katleean and the spirit-lights whisper in the North in the moon of +Kokwa-ha, I, the Unseeable, will watch. . . . Always, in the moons of +the Big Salmon run, the Hat-dee-se, when there is no darkness in the +nights of the North, I, the Unseeable, will watch. . . . I, who have +brought you the great white medicine of the Letquan, the Snow People, I +make the Big Medicine now--I make it with the sacred book of the White +Shamans." He held one corner of his Chilcat blanket tightly against +his breast with the prayer-book, and with the other out at arm's +length, swept the fringes slowly back and forth over the grave. "I +make the Big Medicine. . . . My brothers and sisters may rest in peace +at Katleean, for no witch can dig down into the grave below to work +evil spells. . . . I, the White Chief, the Unseeable, I am always +watching." + +The solemn old Indians of the tribe nodded their masked heads +approvingly and gave grunts of satisfaction. Kilbuck turned away as if +a bit weary of his role and walked toward the trading-post. The white +members of his audience followed him. + +After the departure of their foreign visitors the natives assumed an +alertness strangely at variance with their usual stolid demeanor. +Kilbuck, with his white guests, watched them from his living-room +windows. + +Blanket after blanket was spread over the boxes of ashes in the grave. +Bolt after bolt of bright calico was torn into streamers and flung into +the open space. Cooking utensils and food came next; then trinkets of +every kind that might cheer the souls of the departed on their journey +over the Spirit Trail. At the very last, Swimming Wolf, who had +heretofore taken little part in the ceremonies, stepped forward with a +tiny phonograph, a rare possession since it was the only one in the +Village. The Indian carefully wound it up and lowered it into the +hole. There was a craning of masked heads, . . . a period of grunting +approval, . . . and then faintly from below came a whirring, a +sputtering and a high, cracked voice of announcement. The White +Chief's face wore its sardonic smile as the gravel was being shoveled +into the grave for the little tin phonograph was bravely playing: +_There'll be a Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight_. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE POTLATCH DANCE + +Evening found the Boreland family, attended by Kayak Bill, taking the +beach trail to the Village. It was well past nine o'clock and the +twilight had merged into the soft, luminous duskiness that would +continue until the sun came up at two-thirty in the morning. + +In the gloom a hundred blanket-covered canoes lined the crescent beach +that sloped gently upward to a strip of gravel before the row of Indian +houses. The totems of the Thunder-bird and the Bear stood out high +against the sky. Before the Potlatch-house an Indian dog, small, +coyote-like, yelped shrilly as he tugged at the rope which fastened him +to a stake. The air throbbed to the incessant beat of drums and the +muffled chant that rose and fell inside the meeting-place. + +The Potlatch-house, older than the oldest Indian at Katleean, had been +built before ever a white man had set foot on the beach of the Village. +The low building, over sixty feet square, was made of huge, hand-hewed +yellow cedar planks standing vertically. The gable ends faced the bay +and all across the triangular space above the eves was painted the +startling conventionalized head of a wolf. The ears rose weirdly from +the gable edge of the roof. Two monster eyes glared through the +twilight above a grinning, squared mouth twenty feet across. On either +side of the oval door stood a totem, hollow at the base and containing +the ashes of long-dead chiefs. The corner-posts were carved into +life-size grotesque figures of men. + +Between Ellen and Jean sauntered Kayak Bill. Their half-fearful looks +at the Potlach-house were inspired by the stories he had told, with a +certain grim amusement, to these two fair women of the South. They +were stories told to him over the hootch-cup by the wicked +Old-Woman-Who-Would-Not-Die; tales of the long-ago heathen times when +the Potlatch-house was erected and dedicated with human sacrifices; +when for each of those carved corner-posts a slave had been murdered +and placed at the bottom of the hole that was to receive it; tales of +scores of slaves who had been slaughtered upon its completion; tales of +animal-like orgies those walls had seen--cannibal feasts, torture of +witches, fiendish carousals about the burning dead. + +Tame, indeed, in comparison were the Potlatches of this day, even when +the savage spirit was stimulated by the white man's fire-water. And +tonight there could be none of that. In honor of the white women, +Kayak Bill was keeping drink from the Indians this one evening. + +Ellen looked at Jean apprehensively as they pressed closely on the +heels of Shane Boreland and followed him through the low, oval door of +the Potlatch-house. + +Inside the air was thick with the smoke of many pipes. Through the +haze the wall lights burned dimly. All about the sides of the great +room squatted natives in their Potlatch finery. At the farther end sat +the drummers beating in booming rhythm on war-drums made of hair-seal +stretched over rings from hollowed logs. Never during the three days +of the Potlatch did those drumbeats cease. + +Near the doorway was a small slightly-raised platform. On this, in his +Shaman robes, sat the White Chief of Katleean. As they ascended the +step he rose ceremoniously to greet them and indicated some chairs near +him which had been placed in anticipation of their coming. + +When the white visitors had seated themselves the drum-beats took on a +quicker staccato rhythm. There was a craning of necks toward the +doorway. Another moment and the chief dancer of the Potlatch entered +the oval. + +Dancing in backwards so that the decorations on his blanket were +displayed to the best advantage he sang a halting Thlinget song and +scattered the down of eagles about him. In the middle of the room he +whirled and Ellen recognized Swimming Wolf. + +"If the feathers fall on you," said the White Chief leaning toward her, +"you'll have good luck all the year." + +Other dancers backed in and took their places about the drummers. As +Swimming Wolf stepped forward the drum-beats died to a muffled +softness. The dancing sticks beat the floor in a low, sensuous +syncopation that stirred the blood. The long-fringed blanket lent a +wild grace to the Indian's swaying, stamping figure. His crouched +steps seemed part of his faint, humming chant. + +Curious at first, and a little apprehensive, Ellen looked on, her hand +clasping that of her husband. After a while, the steady pulsing of the +drums banished that something faintly like foreboding with which the +civilized woman looks for the first time on primitive ceremonies; it +even stirred in her something that she seemed once to have known and +forgotten. + +By the time Swimming Wolf had finished his steps she had withdrawn her +hand from that of Shane and was anticipating with eager interest what +was coming next. + +She had not long to wait for the oval door swung on its peg and into +the room lumbered a huge brown bear so true to life in form and gait +that both she and Jean gave a startled gasp. The White Chief smiled as +he leaned toward them. + +"It's only Hoots-noo, Heart-of-a-Grizzly, dressed in a bear hide!" + +The Indian must have spent many hours studying the actions and habits +of his ferocious namesake, for in the pantomime that followed he gave a +perfect imitation of the great bear of the North. Shambling down +toward the center of the floor he paused. Striking a pose he made a +motion as if jumping into a river to catch a salmon. With a +floundering of his ungainly body he brought the fish up on the bank of +the stream. He turned his uplifted muzzle from side to side as if +scenting danger and presently proceeded to tear the fish into pieces, +his head continually moving as though looking and listening for the +hunter's rifle. + +Hoots-noo's performance was followed by other clever impersonations and +by more solo dances of blanketed Indians. All the dances, the White +Chief told Ellen, were taken from the movements of the wild things of +the North--the slinking of the fox across the tundra, the leaping of +the King salmon in the river, the flight of the eagle over the fishing +grounds. + +When the general dance was announced every Thlinget buck sprang to his +feet and sought a partner of the opposite sex. About the room in a +circle the fantastic figures leaped with savage abandon. When the +tired couples sought the resting places against the walls again and +each buck gallantly presented his partner with a small bag of +raisins--a custom introduced by the enterprising white traders. + +Faster and more softly came the boom and thud of drums and dancing +sticks, until the urge of them caused even Ellen's feet to beat time to +the primitive music. She glanced at her sister. Jean's eyes were +sparkling. Her lithe body was swaying and her hands moving in rhythm +with the Thlinget's dance. + +"For two cents, Ellen, I'd dance with my admirer, Swimming Wolf!" She +laughed in her sister's ear. "I feel the stir of the blood of our +remote ancestors, who must have stepped it off in some such manner as +this. . . . Look at your son, El!" + +Loll, by now regarding every Indian as his friend, was standing before +Senott. That dusky belle was resting after a mad, joyous whirl with +Hoots-noo, Heart-of-a-Grizzly. The boy's head was nodding with +earnestness as he talked to her, and he was playing with the dozen gold +and silver bracelets which adorned the gay one's shapely arms. +Suddenly, with a laugh, Senott rose from the floor and grasping the +boy's hands began to circle about the room with him. The drummers and +holders of the dancing sticks showed their white teeth in delighted +grins and quickened the rhythm of their music. + +"By ginger," said Shane, his lean face alight with interest, "I'd like +to shake a leg myself. Ellen--" he turned to his wife--"what you say?" + +Ellen shook her head, smiling. "Take Jean, dear. She's wild to dance." + +Shane turned to his sister-in-law. Laughing, she gave him her hand and +the two stepped down and joined the bizarre throng. The smiling +natives paused a moment to watch as the white couple improvised steps +to suit the music, then the dance went on as before. + +The drum-beats grew wilder, more stirring. The room grew warmer and +the lights burned dimmer. Kayak Bill sitting between Ellen and Paul +Kilbuck, attempted a monologue, but finding no listeners, gave it up to +puff contentedly. + +The fumes of Kayak's pipe seemed overly strong to Ellen. She began to +feel the need of fresh air. She glanced at her sister and her husband +as they passed her, laughing over an intricate step they told her was +the "Bear Paw." Kayak Bill and the White Chief seemed buried in their +own thoughts. Ellen rose, looked about her a moment and then slipped +quietly out of the oval door into the cool, star-spangled night. + +After the close air of the Potlatch-house, it was good to draw in the +freshness of the out-of-doors. The two tall totems framed a golden +naked moon that hung above the hills across the bay. The shimmering +path from its glow threw into silhouette the prows of the big canoes +drawn up on the beach. Ellen walked down the sandy path toward them. +Pausing she leaned against one and gazed idly out across the water. + +For the moment the chanting of the natives had ceased, and the +drum-beats sounded muffled and soothing. Weird and lonely from a +distant ridge came the faint call of a wolf, presaging, though she did +not know it, an early winter. She became aware of the aromatic savors +of the wild--sea smells, the forest breath, the tang of camp-smokes. +She was beginning to like these things. + +There was a sense of dream-like unreality about the night--about her +whole life at Katleean. Sometimes she caught herself marveling that +she was not more startled, more surprised at the new ways of life that +had come to her, for it is only the seasoned traveler in the little +known places of the world who ceases to marvel at the adaptability of +man to new and strange environment. Alaska, especially, Ellen thought, +seemed to work strange spells on those who came to dwell within her +borders. What would be considered melodramatic and foolish south of +53, became somehow, natural and fitting above the line. + +Her drifting thoughts were suddenly checked by the sound of soft +footsteps in the sand behind her. She turned swiftly. Her dreamy, +contemplative mood changed to one closely akin to panic, as out of the +shadows tall and dominant in his Potlatch robes, the White Chief +stalked toward her. + +She had no tangible reason for fearing to be alone with the trader of +Katleean, and she despised herself now for the impulse that urged her +to run as fast as she could from the man. Mentally upbraiding herself +for her foolishness she forced a smile of greeting and in her haste to +say something that would put the meeting on a commonplace basis, burst +out with the inane and obvious: + +"Isn't it a beautiful night, Mr. Kilbuck?" + +The White Chief stopped beside her and flung back the blanket from his +shoulder. There was a lawless gleam in the narrow eyes he turned on +her and she was not unaware of a certain savage, picturesque appeal in +him. She felt again a strange, undesired impulse that had troubled her +ever since her first meeting with the man--the urge to go close and +look deep into his pale, hypnotic eyes. + +"On nights like this, Mrs. Boreland," he said, his tones low, almost +caressing, "I always think of those lines--perhaps you know them: + + "'Press close, magnetic, nourishing Night! + Night of the South Winds! Night of the few large stars! + Still, nodding Night. Mad, naked summer night!'" . . . + + +Despite herself, Ellen thrilled under the magic of his voice. He went +on: "It's the memory of such nights that bring me back to this country +year after year, and then . . . when I return . . . there is only the +mocking beauty of their loneliness." + +Ellen knew but little of the "good, grey poet," but at the incongruity +of his quoting she gazed with a new curiosity at this tall figure in +the heathen splendor of a Thlinget witch-doctor. + +"To be satisfying," he said softly, "beauty like this must be shared +with a loved woman. . . ." his sweeping gesture indicating the moonlit +bay of Katleean. "You are the first white woman to share it with me." + +He stepped closer to her. Though there were three feet between them +she felt his presence as a tangible thing. She stirred uneasily. The +dull throb of the drums filled a moment's space. + +"I have loved many women," his low voice went on, "women--of a +sort--but never anyone like. . . ." There was something tenderly +personal in the omitted word. "Sometimes . . . I wonder . . . if I +might not be a better man if I had someone like you to stand beside me +when winter nights come, and watch the Northern Lights. . . ." + +Kilbuck looked dreamily away toward the peaks raising their subtle +loveliness to the stars. Doubtless he must have said the same things +slightly varied to many women in the States, but never before had +Nature provided such a setting for his posing. Doubtless it had always +made a favorable appeal, for Ellen knew that man, though doing exactly +as he pleases, is ever holding out his hand to woman to be uplifted, +and the mother instinct in the feminine heart seldom fails to respond. + +Ellen felt suddenly that the situation was getting beyond her. As she +leaned against the canoe she tried in vain to think of some ordinary +thing which would change the current of the White Chief's thoughts and +enable her to get away to the Potlatch-house without his becoming aware +of her perturbation. Fumbling uneasily with the handkerchief in her +hand she dropped it. As she stooped to pick it up an exclamation +escaped her. She had been resting her head against the up-curving prow +of the canoe, and now, as she moved, she became aware, by a sharp +painful tug, that her hair had become entangled in some torn rivets +embedded in the tarpaulin. + +Instantly Kilbuck was behind her reaching across her shoulders to +release the strands. They refused to come away. + +After a moment of ineffectual tugging, Ellen removed a pin from the +soft, thick coil. Loosed by their efforts with the tangle, her hair +shook down and tumbled in a lustrous mass below her waist. She felt +Kilbuck's fingers working at the strands about the broken rivet. + +Suddenly he was still, his hand grasping a long strand of the mass. + +"Mrs. Boreland, there is a superstition among the Thlingets to the +effect that whenever a man carries a lock of a white woman's hair he is +protected from any kind of violence--no matter what he may have done to +deserve punishment. Your hair is of such a rare shade and texture, +there would be no mistaking a lock of it, would there?" + +With a swift movement his hand slipped beneath the Chilcat blanket. +There was a glint of steel, and the next moment he had severed the lock +from the shining mass. Ellen started back, snatching up her hair to +wind it into its accustomed knot, but before she could utter the words +that sprang to her lips there was a sound of running footsteps. + +"Ellen! Ellen!" came the voice of Jean, as the girl sped toward them +down the pathway. "I've been looking everywhere for you!" + +She glanced at the White Chief with surprise, suspicion and disapproval +succeeding each other in her eyes. She made no effort to conceal her +dislike of the trader of Katleean. + +"Come, Ellen. Let's go back to Shane." + +Jean took her sister's hand and the White Chief watched their +retreating figures for several moments. . . . From beneath his blanket +he drew the long lock of hair he had stolen. One hand passed gently, +caressingly along the length of it. It clung softly to his finger like +a live thing. . . . The hair of native women was long and thick, but +coarse, and even after long residence in the trader's quarters seemed +to hold the faint salmon tang of the smoke-house. But this. . . . His +lip lifted in his wolfish smile. It would be difficult, very difficult +indeed for a wife to explain his possession of such a trifle. . . . He +held it against his mouth. The faint perfume of the white woman +thrilled him. His nostrils twitched. He felt his eyes grow narrow as +when he sighted game on the trail. . . . Suddenly, as if in decision, +he turned and walked rapidly up the beach toward his quarters at the +trading-post. + +In his living-room, dark now except for a few dull embers in the +fireplace, he lighted a candle and crossed to the corner beneath the +high shelf of books. He drew aside a large hair-seal wall-pocket of +Indian make, and fumbled a moment. A small door swung open revealing a +hollow in the log wall. + +Very carefully the White Chief wrapped the lock of hair in a +handkerchief and laid it away in the hiding place. As carefully he +drew out a small moose-hide poke and putting the candle on a nearby +table, sat down before it. He removed the tag attached to the top and +read the inscription: "Eldorado Creek gold," then he loosened the +string. + +On the wall behind the man, weird, gigantic shadows, born of the +flickering candle flame, leaped and danced. In the crude light and +shade his barbaric gorgeousness became doubly sinister, as he pushed +the strange shaman headdress farther back on his dark head. + +He wiped an ash-tray carefully and poured the contents of the poke into +it. Beautifully yellow and gleaming it fell in a golden +stream--perhaps two ounces of gold dust. With a satisfied nod he put +the poke of dust into his pocket and a few minutes later stepped out +into the night. + +The sound of drums and dancing came up from the Village as he crossed +the dim courtyard toward the light that shone palely from Silvertip's +window. As he entered the cabin the Swede, still nursing the broken +head that kept him from participating in the Potlatch festivities, +groaned dismally in greeting. + +There were a few perfunctory words, then for half an hour Kilbuck +talked earnestly. Silvertip protested; he whined; but he listened. +There was mention of Boreland and beach sand; of gold dust and Kon +Klayu. After much persuasion Silvertip consented to do what the White +Chief outlined. + +Kilbuck held out the small bag of gold and the pale-eyed Swede reached +for it and put it away under his pillow. + +The trader rose to go. As he draped his robe about him, his eye caught +a movement among the blankets in the top bunk. He started. + +"God, you fool!" he whispered hoarsely, leaning down and grasping +Silvertip's arm. "Why didn't you tell me you had some one here. Who +is it?" + +The Swede groaned. "By yingo, Ay plumb forget about te tarn jung +yack-ass Harlan. He coom in har dis noon time drunk like hal, wit +t'ree bottle of hootch. He tal me he iss lonesome. He iss drunk now, +Chief. He can't har not'ing." + +Kilbuck drew down the blankets from the head of the man in the upper +bunk. The boyish sleeping face was flushed. Dark matted hair clung to +the damp forehead and there was a sickening odor of vile liquor in the +air. A long moment the trader looked to see if Harlan would open his +eyes. Then with a contemptuous laugh he flung the blanket over the +lean young face. + +"Nothing to fear from him if he drank three bottles of Kayak Bill's +brew." + +He stepped out of the door into the courtyard, adjusted his headdress +and humming a dance-hall ballad, swung down the beach path toward the +Indian Village. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE OUTFIT + +A week later, in the snug little cabin of the _Hoonah_, Ellen Boreland +sat opposite a folding table, where her husband, humming contentedly, +was adjusting a gold-scale. Ellen's hands were busy with mending but +her brow puckered anxiously and her eyes had purple shadows beneath +them. + +From the moment she had realized the loss of her lock of hair, her +conflicting impressions of the White Chief of Katleean had crystallized +into a certainty that he meant no good to herself or to her husband. +That he desired her she had now no doubt, and while she knew in her +heart that she was in no way responsible for this, she felt more keenly +than ever that baffling sense of guilt that had attached itself to her +since her first meeting with the man. It seemed some loathed feeling +shared with the man and more gripping because of words never spoken. + +Another thing troubled her: Because of him she had told her husband a +lie--the first during her ten years of married life. Her mind went +back again and again to the scene. They had come back to their room at +the post the night of the Potlatch dance. Jean, full of enthusiasm +over the events of the evening came in from her loft-room to talk it +all over with her sister. Little Loll in a corner, was solemnly +practicing the bear-antics of Heart-of-a-Grizzly. Shane Boreland, as +was his custom, sat watching his wife comb out the long beautiful +tresses that were his pride. + +Suddenly he rose from his chair. "By ginger, El!" he exclaimed. "What +have you done to your hair? Looks as if you had cut a chunk out of +it!" There was concern in his face as he picked up a handful and +pointed out the severed portion to his sister-in-law. + +Ellen's blood seemed to turn to water. Her heart fluttered in her +throat. What explanation could she give this chivalrous, hot-heated +Irishman who loved her, and who, she knew from past experience, would +shoot a man for less than the Chief had done? She valued above all +things the trust and loving companionship that had blessed her married +life. She hesitated, desperately seeking some plausible explanation +that would approach the truth. . . . Shane, she imagined, was looking +at her keenly now and there was a curious light in Jean's frank eyes. + +"I--I--cut it, dear," she stammered, hiding her face under the veil of +her hair. "I--I cut it to send to mother in the next mail." + +The instant the lie was out she would have given a year of her life to +recall it. She realized, too late, that it but opened the way for +other lies. It placed her in the position of one obliged to carry +indefinitely an unexploded bomb, which the least jar might set off +causing--who could tell what destruction. + +The next day she had insisted with more than her usual vigor on +returning to the schooner. Shane had consented reluctantly, but he +would not for the present accede to her wish to leave Katleean. He was +stubborn in his determination to learn all that was to be known about +the Island of Kon Klayu. + +Ellen recalled the events of the week. Her husband's enthusiastic +reports of the Island gold. His talks with the carefully non-committal +trader and the thin-nosed, shifty-eye Silvertip; and finally his +decision to spend the winter on the Island in search of the precious +metal. Shane was sitting now at the table pouring some shining dust +into a saucer and studying the "colors" as they fell. + +"The lure of raw gold, Ellen!" he mused looking up at her with glowing +dark eyes. "There's no greater magnet for a man in the world, little +fellow--except the love of a woman," he added softly with the smile +that had won his wife's heart ten years ago and made her happy in +sharing his shifting fortunes. + +"But if I make a go of it this trip, Ellen, I give you my word that +I'll go back to the States and settle down somewhere,--any place you +wish. Look at it--just look at it, El!" He held the saucer so that it +caught the sunlight streaming in through the round cabin window. "By +Jove, it ought to go eighteen dollars to the ounce! It's clean as a +dog's tooth! Silvertip says he and some of his mates panned it one day +at Kon Klayu while the _Sophie Sutherland_ took on water. . . . Of +course the party sent over by Kilbuck's Company didn't find much, but +from what I hear they were a hootch-drinking lot who knew nothing of +mining, and thought only of drawing their pay and keeping drunk. You +can see for yourself, Ellen, what this northern hootch does to a +man--young Harlan is a good example. Gone to the dogs in three months, +though I can't help liking the fellow." + +He shifted the gold dust again and bent his head to peer at it through +a small microscope. During the moment's silence came the lap of the +incoming tide against the hull of the schooner. + +"That reminds me, Ellen," Boreland went on. "The Chief received word +yesterday from a trading-post down the coast that a revenue cutter is +bound this way on a tour of inspection. Kayak Bill's going to hide his +still and go into retirement until the cutter has finished +investigating. Seems they're always suspecting him of making hootch!" +Shane chuckled with amusement. "Funny old devil--Kayak Bill! I like +the old cuss. I've asked him to come over to the Island with me for a +couple of months until the Chief brings the _Hoonah_ with our winter +outfit." + +At the mention of the _Hoonah_ Ellen glanced about the snug, cheerful +cabin that had been her home for many adventurous months. This staunch +little schooner had brought her and her loved ones safely over hundreds +of miles that separated her from her home port. Thoughts came to her +now of wild, stormy nights when she had awakened in her reeling bunk to +the scream of wind in the rigging, the roar of waves, the tramp of +hurried feet overhead and the shouting of voices. At those times she +knew Shane stood at the wheel in the drenching rain giving his orders +for the reefing of sails. During the first days of the voyage the +awakening in a gale had always filled her with a great fear--a fear not +for herself but for her family, her little son. She would clasp the +sleeping boy more closely in her arms and lie with straining muscles, +waiting listening, every sense painfully alert and her eyes +hypnotically watching the garments on the opposite wall swing out and +back with the roll of the ship. Gradually as the schooner righted +itself after every roll Ellen's nerves would relax. Unclasping her +arms, she would snuggle close to the back of the bunk,--the few inches +of the _Hoonah's_ hull that separated her and her loved ones from the +black, bull-throated billows that sought to swallow them. The feel of +the cool wood brought a sense of safety, a certainty that with Shane's +strong, thin hands on the wheel the _Hoonah_ would bring them all +safely through any danger of the sea. Then bit by bit approaching +sleep would dim the fury of the gale until at last it was but a lullaby +zephyr wafting her, like her little son, once more into the harbor of +dreams. . . . + +She had not realized how dear the schooner had grown to her until she +had signed, against her better judgment, the bill-of-sale that +transferred the vessel to Paul Kilbuck. On the reef-sown coast of Kon +Klayu it appeared there was no harbor where a ship might find shelter, +and Shane needed money for his winter outfit. Half the purchase price +the trader had paid down--the other half was to be given Boreland when +Kilbuck took the remainder of the outfit to Kon Klayu later in the fall. + +Ellen aroused herself from her reverie. Shane had been speaking some +minutes and his first words had been lost to her. He was quoting: + + "One more trip for the golden treasure + That will last us all our lives!" + + +Life to Shane was a sweet and wonderful thing. Though there had been +years of hardship and struggle and often failure in the mining game, he +still retained an eager joy in existence, a faith in men and women and +something of the wonder of a boy. Perhaps it was because the place of +his questing had ever been the forests, the mountains, the clean, +unpeopled places. + +His present life of a prospector, sailing his little schooner boldly +across dangerous reaches of ocean, through the intricate lovely +waterways of Alaska's Inland Sea, poking her prow into hidden crescent +coves, trying his luck with a gold-pan on unknown streams, always sure +that the next shift of the gravel in the pan would reveal a +fortune--all this made life fascinating for Shane Boreland. No matter +how far short realization fell, he was always ready with another dream, +always eager when a new adventure beckoned. + +And now it was the mysterious Island of Kon Klayu. + +Stripped of the golden glamour with which Shane had invested it, Ellen +knew it to be an island but five miles long and a mile and a half wide, +which lay out in the North Pacific ninety miles from the nearest land; +an island uninhabited and completely surrounded by dangerous reefs and +shoals; shunned by ships and spoken of as a death trap by sailors. But +one tree, other than alder and willow, grew upon it. Three hundred +feet above sea-level on the high, flat top, a lone and stunted spruce +rose from the tundra and breasted the heavy gales that swept the ocean. +For firewood there were but the drift logs of the beach. There were no +animals of any kind. The foxes and a pet cub bear taken there by the +Alaska Fur and Trading Company at the time of the fox-farm experiment +had been killed off by passing whalers who were sometimes forced ashore +for water. + +Shane had entertained no idea of allowing his wife and family to +accompany him to the Island. All his powers of persuasion had been +used to induce Ellen to stay at Katleean with her sister and Loll as +guests of the White Chief until the tall steamer going south should +take them back to the States. The trader, Ellen knew, had taken this +arrangement for granted and she was certain she detected something of +baffled rage in him when she informed him on her last visit to the +shore, that since she could not dissuade her husband from going to the +Island of Kon Klayu she and her family would accompany him. + +It was in vain the White Chief pointed out to her that there were not +provisions enough at the post to supply Shane with a complete winter +outfit. He must sail at once for Kon Klayu in order to prepare for the +winter's work, and the autumn steamer bringing more supplies was not +due for six weeks. It was in vain Kilbuck assured her that he, +himself, would take her to the Island later on when he went over with +the remainder of Shane's outfit after the arrival of the steamer. +Ellen was obdurate in her decision and once having committed herself +she became a different woman. Whatever misgivings she held in regard +to the enterprise she kept to herself. She plunged whole-heartedly +into the preparations for the journey, becoming at once the practical +director of the commissary. She looked carefully over the stock of +goods at the trading-post and obtained far more in the way of supplies +than the easy-going Shane, inclined to trust to the trader's judgment, +would have done. And Kilbuck, for some reason, seemed disinclined to +furnish even as much as his stock would allow. + +For the past week Ellen eluded every effort made by the White Chief to +see her alone. Since the night of the Potlatch dance she had talked +with him only in the presence of a third person. Strange to say she +found now that she could look him squarely in the eyes, but when she +did so it was as if steel met steel. The feeling that she was playing +a game of wits against the autocrat of Katleean was not without its +interest for her. It was impossible entirely to conceal her growing +hostility toward the man, and she knew that her wordless antagonism was +felt by Kilbuck. To her anxiety she knew also that instead of +diminishing his appetite for her, it increased it. She was growing +eager to be away. + +The outfitting went forward daily. Jean and Loll spent many hours +ashore exploring the vicinity with Senott or Kayak Bill. Sometimes the +visitors caught a glimpse of the tweed-clad young man who seemed so +quiet and aloof, and who, even when not drinking, avoided them all. +Ellen observed a certain interest in him growing in Jean. A tentative +question or two put to Kayak Bill revealed this, though it availed her +nothing. The old hootch-maker, muttering something about "everybody to +his own cemetery" had branched off to relate something he had "hearn +tell" when he was "a-punchin' o' cows down in Texas." + +Ellen, as well as Jean, wondered at the presence in Katleean of such a +man as Harlan, and the reason for his connection with the dead +Naleenah. Understanding of another's lapses comes with years and Jean, +Ellen knew, was too young fully to realize what this young man's +dissipation portended. + +Ellen kept a sharp eye on Harlan. Though she herself shared Jean's +mild curiosity and faint pity, she managed to keep her sister at a safe +distance from him. She intended very carefully to guard Jean. + +Sometimes, in the evening, when the girl stood on the after-deck of the +_Hoonah_, her violin tucked beneath her chin, her eyes on the dreaming +radiance of the sunset, Ellen studied her as she played. She wondered, +if in her heart, the young girl played to him, and if he heard. And +once, to her anxiety, as she sat listening to the silvery music +floating out over the water, she had caught a shadow moving on the +shore--had seen a figure move stealthily down a hidden trail to the +Point beyond the Indian Village and lie behind a great boulder, +listening. . . . + +The outfitting for the Island was nearly complete now. Each of the new +acquaintances at Katleean contributed, with friendly intent, to the +preparations of the departing travelers. In the cabin of young Harlan, +which had been the home of the deceased Add-'em-up Sam were shelves +laden with dusty books, old magazines and piles of ancient newspapers. +At Kayak Bill's suggestion the bookkeeper had packed the best of these +into a box and the old hootch-maker had borne the package to Jean, +remarking that "readin' matter might come in mighty handy on the +Island." The box was placed with Shane's outfit stacked in a corner of +the store. + +Ellen and Jean were looking through the collection one afternoon, +judging the departed Sam by his taste in literature, which they found +to be surprisingly good. As Jean turned the pages of _Treasure +Island_, a paper fluttered to the floor. The girl picked it up, +reading aloud the caption over a crude, penciled map: "The Island of +Kon Klayu." She unfolded it and was smoothing out the creases that she +might better study the drawing when Loll came running in from the +platform in front of the store. His freckled face was puckered with +suppressed grief, his grey eyes abrim with the tears he was too proud +to shed. + +"Mother--Jean--look at poor Kobuk," he faltered, with a gulp that +threatened to send the drops tumbling over his brown cheeks. + +Kobuk, the big huskie, had wagged himself into the hearts of every +member of the Boreland family. Ellen knew that Shane had offered the +White Chief a good price for the animal, but the trader had refused to +part with his lead dog. Even when it was discovered that the huskie +had developed mange Kilbuck would not give him up, though he did +nothing to relieve him. Shane, busy with his outfitting, found time to +take care of Kobuk, rubbing him every day with a mixture of sulphur, +lard and carbolic acid until he was practically cured. Jean and Loll +had attended these treatments taking turns holding the bowl of sulphur +salve and encouraging the restive Kobuk to be a good dog and take his +medicine. Now it was with the utmost pity and concern that they beheld +him slinking to his corner in the store, for he had been out on a +porcupine hunt and his nose, his entire head was literally bristling +with needle-like quills. + +Ellen had seen irate dog-owners spend hours with a pair of pinchers +removing quills from their animals, and she knew that even one of those +tiny needles, if overlooked, could work its way straight through +Kobuk's body. If it struck a vital organ, he would die. + +The dog eased himself into his corner and tried to rest his head on his +paws. The quills under his muzzle stabbed him and he raised it with a +sharp yelp of pain. Jean and Buddie sprang toward him with expressions +of sympathy and endearment. The dog whimpered, raising his soft, dark +eyes to their faces as if begging for help in his trouble. Jean, on +the verge of tears, sank down beside him, but Ellen, thinking to +relieve him, ran to the living-quarters back of the store to get a pair +of pinchers from Decitan. + +When she returned she stood a moment half-concealed by the curtain in +the doorway. Jean was soothingly stroking one of Kobuk's big paws. +Near her stood the White Chief who evidently had just come in. Both +thumbs were hooked beneath his scarlet belt, and he was looking down at +the dog. Kobuk at that moment lowered his head and tried to work +himself farther back in his corner, but the effort brought out another +yelp of pain. + +The man's eyes became mere slits. + +"Ah, damn you, so you've done it again, have you?" he said with a +softness that in some indefinable way chilled the blood. "Well, this +time we'll let the quills work through your brainless skull--or-- +Here, Hoots-noo--" he turned to the Indian who was entering the store. +"Take this cur out and shoot him. I'm tired of having quills yanked +out of him." + +With a cry of protest Jean came to her feet. + +"Oh, no, no! Please!" Apparently forgetful of all but the safety of +the dog, the girl clasped both her little hands about the man's arm. +Her hazel eyes pleaded. Loll, too, was clinging to the trader's other +hand, stroking it and looking up beseechingly into his bearded face. + +"Oh, Chief, please, _please_ don't shoot Kobuk! We want him! We'll +take care of him!" + +The White Chief paid no attention to the boy, but he looked down into +the face of the girl and laughed unpleasantly. + +"The little squaw with white feet can be very nice to me when she wants +something," he said. "What are you willing to give me for Kobuk, my +little lady?" + +At his tone the girl shrank back, but Loll, sturdily refusing to be +ignored, interrupted hastily: + +"_She_ ain't got nothing you want, Chief!" He began tugging +desperately at a string about his waist which bound to him his most +cherished possession--an old broken revolver bestowed on him by Kayak +Bill. "Here, I'll give you my pistol for Kobuk!" The earnest little +fellow held out the weapon with an air of certainty which indicated +that there could be no refusal of such a treasure. + +The White Chief sat down leisurely on a box of pilot bread as if to +better enjoy the situation. + +"No, my boy," he said with another laugh. "Your disdainful aunt is +going to pay me for Kobuk in coin which you will learn more of bye and +bye." He turned to the girl. "I'm not such a bad fellow, Jean," he +continued with an attempt at an ingenuous smile. "Come, kiss me once +and the dogs is yours." + +Over Jean's face swept conflicting emotions, disgust, contempt for the +man, pity for the moaning dog whose life depended on her decision. The +Indian, stolid and unseeing, had already laid a hand on Kobuk's collar. + +Ellen, unable to remain silent longer, started forward unnoticed by the +others in the tenseness of the moment, but before she had taken two +steps Loll had taken charge of the situation. + +Going close he rested a hand on either knee of the trader and looked up +earnestly into the man's pale eyes. + +"Chief," he spoke half-apologetically as man to man, "you see Jean--" +he indicated his aunt with a tilt of his head--"Jean doesn't like to +kiss strange men--but I don't mind." And before anyone realized what +was happening, the boy had taken Kilbuck's face between two small hands +and pressed cool, childish lips to the man's forehead. + +Jean caught her nephew in her arms impulsively. "You darling!" Half +laughing, half crying she buried her face in his neck. "You darling!" + +"Well, that's settled!" said Loll in his matter of fact tones as he +wriggled to free himself. "Kobuk's ours now. Thank you, Chief. I'll +have--" He broke off with a shout to welcome Ellen, whom he had just +seen. "Hey, mothey! He's ours now. Gimme the pinchers!" He took +them from Ellen's hand and started toward the quill-filled Kobuk, who, +sensing perhaps a change in his fortunes, had risen expectantly to his +feet. + +Shane, entering the doorway at that moment, was apprized of the +addition to the family. The next two hours were spent by the Borelands +in extracting quills from the repentant Kobuk. For the first time in +his life, perhaps, the pain-racked animal was soothed and cheered +during the hated operation by quaint old Irish terms of endearment, +punctuated with advice. + +"But there'll be no more porky hunting for you, me lad," Shane assured +the dog as he pulled the last quill. "For the very first fine day we +have we're off for the Island of Kon Klayu and divil a thing you'll +find there to chase but sand fleas!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +HARLAN WAKES UP + +Gregg Harlan had watched with interest the Boreland's preparation for +departure to the island of Kon Klayu. For the first time in his life +he was doing some serious thinking; and ever since the Potlatch he had +been seeing himself in no complimentary light. + +His chief source of self-disgust was his way of taking the information +that the Borelands, including Jean Wiley, thought him a squaw-man. In +his dejection his thoughts went back time and again to those few +moments of silent companionship when he had stood beside the girl in +the dusk and watched the funeral canoes come in. . . . Why hadn't he, +after the White Chief told him of his reputed connection with Naleenah, +why hadn't he followed Jean and explained? True, the shock and +surprise of the thing had momentarily swept him off his feet, but why +had he, in foolish reckless resentment against unjust circumstances, +rushed off instead to the cabin of Kayak Bill and taken glass after +glass of the stuff that had put him in such a state of oblivion that he +was unable to take any part in the Potlatch festivities? Since then he +had been too ashamed to approach either of the white women. He felt +that he must first do something to win their respect. + +During his twenty-five years Harlan had been a drifter along the +pleasant ways of least resistance. This was, perhaps, because he had +never been called upon to shoulder responsibility. Six months before, +because of this tendency more than because he had been in love, he had +found himself involved in a foolish but unpleasant financial tangle +brought about by a plump, perfumed, pleasure-loving little blonde. +This small person from an eastern state had made his former knowledge +of the hectic night-life of San Francisco seem but a tuning up of the +orchestra before the overture. . . . After the inevitable parting of +the ways, he had found himself obliged to call upon his irate and +disgusted father for financial assistance. He had done this often +before--so often that this last episode, more scarlet than any of the +others, brought about a crisis. Later, penniless, but debtor to his +father only, he had departed under a cloud of paternal disapproval to +take the position of bookkeeper at faraway Katleean. It was then that +he decided he was through with women. + +At the time he believed it, as all men do who make a similar decision, +but up here in the North he found that a white woman meant more to men +than in the States. After three months in Katleean a white woman had +come to stand for the cleanness and the decencies of life. He found +himself longing to be near and speak to these two visiting women of his +own kind. He had heard of the "woman hunger" of Alaska and recognized +in himself the symptoms of that state which causes even the most +hardened misogynist to travel a hundred perilous miles merely to look +on a white woman's face and hear her voice. + +And music--the music of Jean's violin drew him like a magnet. Every +evening when she played on the afterdeck of the _Hoonah_ he slipped +down to the Point beyond the Indian Village and listened--listened +hungrily, with a longing to join her and explain his stupid innocence +in connection with the dead Naleenah. His youth called to hers, and he +wanted this clean-hearted girl to think well of him. + +His drunkenness--but of course there was no excuse for that. He +despised weakness in a man, and he had thought a good deal about his +own of late. The episode of Naleenah had brought him face to face with +the grim realities attending his drifting. + +Sometimes when he looked at Silvertip, lolling brutish and drunken on +the blankets of his bunk, Harlan had wondered what alcohol did for the +squaw-man. Once he had tried to outline to the one-time cook of the +_Sophie Sutherland_, the beauties, as _he_ saw them, of getting drunk. +He recalled now his sensations from the moment the alcohol began +creeping through his veins, softly, warmly, creating a glow about his +heart. Vistas then opened up before him. Romance and adventure +beckoned him. . . . Later, when the stimulant reached the centers of +his brain, like the sentient fingers of a musician touching the +keyboard of his soul, it produced golden harmonies from those keys +whose tones are love, rhythm, color, appreciation of the beautiful: +Inhibitions melted away in the amber light that enfolded him. Lovely +things he had read or seen or thought and kept to himself for lack of +expression formed themselves into words of exquisite simplicity that +were to his ear as pastel shades to the eye. He could sing then, as he +never sang at other times. Music that was felt, rather than heard, +swayed him, and his feet, his hands, his whole body longed to dance and +interpret this rhythm of the universe. + +Afterward came oblivion, a sweet forgetting of all unpleasantness, a +divine sense of mingling without responsibility with the elements. + +But lately, he admitted reluctantly to himself, even in his moments of +keenest alcoholic pleasure, he had been aware of an underthought that +his exalted mood must pass leaving him more colorless, more listless, +more inclined to drift than before. It took more of Kayak's whisky to +produce an effect now than it had in the beginning. Perhaps, in time, +he might even grow to be like Silvertip. . . . He shuddered. It +sickened and dismayed him to realize how the pale liquor had already +enslaved him--to what it might lead him. + +Another thing troubled him also. Ever since the night of the Potlatch +dance which he had been too intoxicated to attend, something vague but +insistent at the back of his consciousness strove to make itself +remembered. Something he had heard in a half-drugged sleep. Something +about gold and Kon Klayu. An idea persisted that on him depended some +grave issue, but strive as he would he could not remember what it was. + +Once, as he swam in the dawn below the Point in an effort to clear his +cloudy brain, he prolonged his course until he found himself close to +the hull of the _Hoonah_. It gave him satisfaction to find that +despite three months of heavy drinking at Katleean, his daily plunge in +the sea had kept him physically fit. He looked at the trim little +schooner cradling her sleeping crew. Green wavelets lapped against the +clean white side, and below the water-line the red of the bottom +glimmered. Her upcurving prow seemed to urge to sea adventures. He +wished he might go with Boreland to spend the winter on the Island of +Kon Klayu. But this, he knew, was not possible. He had work to do at +Katleean and it was time he was beginning it. And Ellen Boreland--he +was not unaware that she disapproved of him and did her best to keep +her sister from friendship with him. . . . But--he might make the trip +to the island and back to help Silvertip, whom Kilbuck had detailed to +pilot the _Hoonah_ to Kon Klayu. Silver was not fond of work. He +would welcome the extra help in bringing the vessel home again from Kon +Klayu. . . . Kon Klayu! The words tantalized him afresh with his +failure to remember the thing he should. Perhaps the sight of that +mysterious island, though he had never seen it, might bring back to him +the memory he sought. . . . He decided suddenly. When the _Hoonah_ +sailed for the Island of Kon Klayu he would be aboard, even though he +had to go as a deck hand! + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE PIGEON + +A morning came favorable for the departure of the _Hoonah_. Sunshine +flooded the peaks, the hills, the post of Katleean. A stiff easterly +breeze ruffled the bay into pale golden-green, and overhead long, +white, scarf-like clouds streaked the blue. "Mares' tails" Kayak Bill +called them, as he stood on the beach shifting his sombrero forward +over his eyes so that he might better engage himself in what is known +in Alaska as "taking a look at the weather," a proceeding which becomes +second nature to those who live in the North where travel depends on +wind, tide and atmospheric conditions. + +The time of saying good-bye was at hand. Silvertip, with one of his +countrymen and Gregg Harlan were already aboard the schooner. The +White Chief stood on a driftlog watching Boreland load the last trifles +into a whale-boat some hundred yards below him. One hand was hooked +beneath the trader's scarlet belt; the other held an unlighted +cigarette. The wind ruffling the long dark hair on his bare head gave +him a lean and savage look. + +Kayak Bill, who had been unusually silent all morning, left off +searching for weather signs, and sauntered over to him. His eyes +narrowed slightly as he looked keenly into Kilbuck's face. + +"Chief," he said nonchalantly, as he drew his pipe from the pocket of +his mackinaw, "you and me's grazed conside'able on the same range. We +ain't never got in each other's way. . . . There's some things about +you I ain't no nature for a-tall--but you been purty square with +me. . . . Likewise I'm not goin' round tellin' all I know about you. +Everybody to his own cemetery, I say." The old man took his pipe from +his mouth and faced the trader again. "But before I go a-rampin' off +on this vacation o' mine, I want to say this, Chief: I'm not knowin' +nothin' but hearsay about this Island o' Kon Klayu--but--yars ago I +lost out in the matter o' family and I'm thinkin' a heap o' this +Boreland outfit now. I'm trustin' to you, Chief, not to ring in no +cold deck on 'em--or me. I'm figgerin' on seein' you at the Island o' +Kon Klayu in about six weeks with the balance o' the grub." + +"You needn't be so all-fired serious about it, Kayak. I'll take care +of the grub all right. You say yourself that I've always played fair +with you." + +"Yas, Chief," drawled the old man, "but they ain't never been no women +in the game before. Women and dogs is hell for startin' trouble. I +ain't blind, Chief. I can still see offen the end o' my nose." + +The trader laughed abruptly. + +"Well, old timer, you seem to be seeing off the wrong side this time. +Don't you worry, Kayak. I'll be along and get you about the middle of +October. Your revenue cutter friends will be gone by that time." + +Kayak Bill was silent for a moment. Then with seeming irrelevance he +said slowly: + +"One time . . . a long spell back . . . I knew a woman . . . and a +man. He cheated her, and--wall, I shot him dead . . ." + +"Hey, there, Kayak!" came Boreland's shout from the whale-boat. "Come +lend a hand here a minute, will you?" + +Kayak Bill waited a moment. Then shaking the ashes from his pipe he +restored it to his pocket and plodded down to the boat. + +Farther along the beach a little group of Thlinget women had gathered +about Ellen and Jean to bid them good-bye. Senott, self-appointed +spokeswoman for her shyer sisters, was shoving forward a plump, +good-natured looking squaw, who handed Jean a pair of hair-seal +moccasins and a small Indian basket. + +"She potlatch you," explained Senott, supplementing her +words with eloquent eyes and hands. "She like you, +Girl-Who-Make-Singing-Birds-In-Little-Brown-Box. She Add-'m-up Sam +'ooman. She go Kon Klayu long time ago. She sorry you go. No river +on dat island. No salmon, no tree, no mans. Only b-i-g wind! B-I-G +sea! She sorry you go." The plump widow stood by shaking her head and +making soft clucking sounds in her throat. + +Leaving Jean to thank their Indian friends Ellen slipped through the +circle. Her conventional training evidently asserted itself, for she +turned now and went to say a few words of good-bye to their host. + +She looked singularly small and attractive as she stood before him, her +blue eyes raised to his face, the sea-wind blowing her hair across the +pink of her cheeks. The trader stepped down from his log to greet her. + +"I wondered if you would say good-bye to me without the presence of +your whole family," he said softly, bending his head. Many a squaw in +Katleean, after incurring his displeasure, had seen the same expression +in his eyes just before he struck her in the face with the flat of his +hand. "One might almost think you are afraid of me. But . . . though +you will not stay at Katleean, I'll always have something to remind me +of you." He slipped a hand into the pocket of his flannel shirt and +the sheen of Ellen's stolen lock of hair caught the light for a moment +before he buttoned the flap over it again. + +Ellen, with a few stammered words, was backing away from him, her wide, +fearful gaze fixed on his face, when he reached out, and as if merely +to shake her hand in farewell, laid his iron fingers over hers in a +grasp that made her wince. + +"Just a moment, my frigid little Lucretia." He spoke hurriedly: "I'm +letting you go now because the time is coming when you'll want me. +When you get aboard the schooner you'll find I have presented your son +with a pigeon. Take good care of it. It was hatched here--and it's +your only means of communicating with the mainland. And listen--" he +leaned down almost whispering the words--"When I want a squaw, I get +her. When I want a white woman, I get her. Remember the pigeon. +You'll want me. The pigeon, loose, comes back. I shall understand!" +He laughed, as if sharing with her the humor of some vile joke. + +Ellen shrank back, her face flushing with outraged helplessness and +shame. She wrenched her hand free. + +"All aboard! All aboard for Kon Klayu!" The cheery voice of her +husband rang out. She turned from the White Chief and ran. + +The natives came forward in a crowd. Jean free-stepping, wind-ruffled, +met her halfway, and seizing her hand, the two hurried down to the +whale-boat. Friendly native hands shoved the boat off amid shouts of +good will and good-bye. + +The rattle of the anchor-chain sounded as they boarded the _Hoonah_ and +made the tow-line of the whale-boat fast to the stern. The sails were +hoisted and a moment later the little craft listed slightly as she +caught the breeze. The entire population of Katleean waving farewell +followed along the beach past the Indian Village and down to the Point. + +"Good-bye! Good luck!" shouted the few white men on the shore. + +"_Tay-a-wah-cu-sha_! _Tay-a-wah-cu-sha_!" echoed the plaintive Indian +voices. + +From the top of the cabin the Borelands waved back as the _Hoonah_ +rounded the wooded point that shut out even the smoke from the +trading-post. + +Sea-gulls white as the bellying sails, tilted against the wind in the +sunshine. A wedge of wild geese honked high on their way to southern +lands. Countless sea-parrots squattered away from the schooner's path, +dragging their fat, black bodies in splashing clumsiness across the +water. The wind freshened and the rigging strained and creaked as the +_Hoonah_ swung to the long, wrinkled swells of the open sea. Driven +ahead by the breeze she dipped and splashed sending showers of whitened +water away from her prow and leaving a wake of foam-laces behind her +like a veil. + +Already the adventurers had left behind the creatures of their kind, +for Silvertip at the wheel was headed out into the lonely North +Pacific, laying his course for the Island of Kon Klayu. + + + + +PART II + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE ISLAND OF THE RUBY SANDS + +Next morning the schooner was rolling easily on a long swell. Through +the open hatchway the sun streamed down into the hold where Harlan lay, +and as he awoke, the appetizing fragrance of boiling coffee drifted in +to him from the cabin in the stern. Above the calls and the sound of +feet on deck came a thin wild chorus which he had learned to associate +with the island nesting grounds of thousands of sea-birds. + +Hastily slipping into his clothes he climbed to the deck and looked +about him. The _Hoonah_ was riding at anchor--ninety miles out at sea! + +The morning air of sea-swept spaces filled his lungs with freshness. +On three sides the sun-silvered green of the ocean fairly sang to the +eye as it rolled away to meet the far blue of the horizon. Half a mile +off the starboard bow, edged by lines of breaking surf, sand-dunes +topped with green merged gradually southward, into strange jade-green +hills, low and soft as brushed velvet in the distance. To the North +the dunes tapered to a long, narrow shoal over which, as far as the eye +could reach, swells of clearest emerald broke into a splendor of flying +spray. + +Above this sand-spit thousands of gulls flashed, skirling and +screeching in the sunlight, their weird, thin calls mingling with the +diapason of the surf that boomed against the beach and the hundred +reefs of Kon Klayu. Overhead a constant stream of gulls and +sea-parrots plied between their fishing grounds and the south end of +the island where they had their young. + +"By Jove, it's a regular little island paradise?" Harlan called to +Kayak Bill. "How comes it that everyone is afraid of such an inviting +looking spot?" + +Kayak, who was picking his way forward to where Boreland was already +busy with the outfit, paused and leaned a moment against the main-mast. +His eyes with one slow glance took in land and sea. + +"Wall, son, I reckon she's somethin' like a pussy-cat. She's a-smilin' +and a-purrin' in the sun today, but I'm thinkin' when it blows up a +sou'easter, with nothin' in God's world a-tween here and Honolulu to +stop the sweep o' it, she shows every one o' her reefs like a cat +barrin' her claws." + +Kayak Bill looked about him once more before striking a match to light +his pipe. Then drawling something about the "ox-wee-nee-chal" gales, +he passed on to the bow of the schooner, leaving Harlan smiling. + +Silvertip and his mate were kneeling in the stern, both busy with the +pully-blocks that held the steering cable of the _Hoonah_. Their low +tones did not carry beyond a few feet. Silvertip slanted uneasy +glances in the direction of the foaming shoals that ran far out into +the sea. His helper, evidently disagreeing with him on some point +shook his head. Harlan caught something about fog and getting off the +course in the night. + +At last the man burst out: + +"By yingo, I tank we are on wrong side of----" + +"Shut up, you tarn squarehead," snapped Silvertip, with a glance in +Harlan's direction. + +The man made a gesture as if he washed his hands of the whole affair, +then raised his head to look about him. A dark streak far toward the +southern horizon indicated a breeze from that direction. + +"I guess we haf a beam wind home," he announced. + +"Yas, tank God," assented Silvertip, with a last look at the rudder +cable. "Ant as kwicker ve leaf dis de'th trap, as better for me. She +blow up gale har in turty minutes. Ven Ay vas cook on _Soofie +Suderlant_----" + +"Breakfast is ready, men!" interrupted Ellen's clear voice from the +cabin hatchway. + +The Swedes came to their feet and after a moment of whispered +conversation, joined the others in the cabin. Half an hour later, when +Boreland and Silvertip came on deck again, the breeze had freshened +slightly and the sailor looked about him in a restless and worried +manner, his glance finally lingering on the sand-spit. + +"Borelant, Ay tank ve lant you har right avay kwick. Ay tank she blow +by an' by like hal." + +Shane, glancing at the clear sky and the sun-kissed waves, laughed. + +"Nonsense, Silver! The island's got you buffaloed, just as it has all +the sailors in this section. . . . But it's up to you. I'm ready to +go ashore any time you say. The sooner you land me and show me our +cabin, the better I'll like it." + +The whale-boat at the stern of the schooner was drawn alongside, and +another which had been carried on the forward deck was lowered. + +The first one loaded, Kayak Bill and the two Swedes climbed down into +it and shoved off from the side. Boreland and Harlan, loading the +second one, stopped in their work to watch them. + +Tossing up and down on the long, green swells, the moving boat drew +nearer and nearer to the foaming lines of surf. Presently they were in +the welter of white. Once when the little craft went completely out of +sight behind a monster swell, Loll, watching from the cabin top, +shouted in alarm, but yelled again in delight as it rose high on the +same billow. + +Silvertip and his mate bent to the long oars. In the stern Kayak Bill, +hatless and wind-blown, steered wisely over the rollers which +threatened to break on them any moment. + +In profane admiration Boreland watched. "It's the ninth wave," he +shouted presently. "Kayak'll take her in on that one. . . . By +thunder!" he broke out as the boat rushed toward the shore in a smother +of foam, and landed well up on the beach, "if that old cuss could rope +a steer as well as he can land a boat in a surf, I wonder that they +ever let him out of Texas!" + +The work of landing the outfit went steadily on and with each trip to +the beach Silvertip urged more haste. Tides, currents, quick-rising +fogs and gales, and the extreme danger of the anchorage--these were the +burden of his conversation. Since he was the only one in the party who +had been on Kon Klayu before they were obliged to accept his reasons +without argument. + +Despite haste, however, it was late afternoon when the last boat-load +went ashore. Turning from his contemplation of it, Gregg Harlan looked +down ruefully at the water-blisters that decorated the palms of his +slim hands. He was spending the most arduous day of his life. He was +tired. Every muscle in his body ached from the heavy work of handling +the outfit and in his mind was a weariness slightly tinged with +bitterness. + +It was not until he saw Ellen and Jean in the departing whale-boat that +he realized how much he had counted on the few hours of their +companionship aboard the _Hoonah_. With Loll he was on friendly, +almost brotherly terms, because of his sincere appreciation of Kobuk +and the boy's new pigeon. But as for anything else--he smiled now a +little bitterly as he recalled Ellen's polite but wary treatment of +him, and the seemingly casual way in which she managed to prevent any +interchange of thought between himself and her young sister. He +fancied Jean felt this also and resented it, for several times during +the day, across the confusion of the deck, her eyes had sought his and +in the meeting there was a warming sense of intimacy. + +But she was gone now. He would never see her again. He had handed +down her violin as she reached up from the tossing whale-boat to +receive it. He remembered her firm, boyish hand-clasp as she said +good-bye to him. Was there regret in her eyes at the separation, or +had he imagined it? + +Gregg leaned wearily against the cabin looking toward the shore. +Everything seemed to have gone wrong for him today. He had intended +going in with the last load for an hour's stay on the Island, but +Silvertip, fearing that the wind might grow stronger, had insisted on +his remaining behind to watch the schooner. + +Through the glasses he could see Loll and Kobuk racing up and down the +beach now. Jean and her sister sat, somewhat forlornly, he thought, on +part of the outfit piled up on the sand. The men had gathered about +the whale-boat which was to be left on the Island, and were drawing it +up higher on the shingle. + +It would be an hour or more before the Swedes returned to the _Hoonah_. +Gregg looked out across the rolling, endless ocean. Although the sun +was yet shining brightly there was a feeling of evening coming on. The +cries of the gulls seemed to have taken on a tone of infinite sadness. +All at once, for some inexplicable reason, he was overwhelmed by a +sense of the futility of life--of living. No quest seemed worth +pursuing. No dream worth dreaming. He had often felt this way during +the past three months, and when he did--he drank. He longed, with +sudden intensity, for a bottle of Kayak's clear, white brew. Alcohol +was the magic brush that transformed the monotone of life into shades +of wondrous hue. + +His dejection was deepened by the fact that ever since leaving Katleean +he had been trying vainly to recall that thing he should remember. +While he strained and sweated over the loading of the outfit, his mind +had been busy seeking, searching, trying to pierce the curtain of +oblivion that separated him from that subliminal self who knew the +thing he wanted. He felt as though he were being tantalized. It was +almost the same feeling he remembered having in boyish dreams that came +during examination time, when the answers to dream questions flashed in +his mind for a moment then diabolically faded before he got them down +on paper. + +After a while his unseeing eyes left the water. He gingerly felt the +blisters on his hands and shook his head with a half-contemptuous, +half-humorous smile at himself. Then restlessly he began to pace the +deck. If only he had something stinging--something stimulating to +drink! But the White Chief had seen to it that there was nothing +intoxicating aboard the _Hoonah_. It would be eighteen hours at least +before he could hope to be in Katleean where Kayak Bill had left a +generous supply of hootch stowed away in the top bunk of his cabin. In +the top bunk---- + +He stopped short. From some remote corner of his brain there had come +to him one of those inexplicable flashes of memory that revealed, +unbidden, the thing he had struggled so hard to remember! In a moment +he was back in Silvertip's top bunk the night of the Potlatch dance. +The voice of the White Chief came back arguing, commanding, +threatening. The whine of Silvertip protested, and finally assented. +As a realization of what this conversation portended dawned on Gregg, +his blistered hands clenched. Curs! Cowards! to lend themselves to +such a work of deception! . . . The aroused young man tossed back his +wind-ruffled hair and squared his shoulders. He must reach Boreland +immediately; must tell him what he knew before the Swedes left the +beach of Kon Klayu. + +He sprang to the starboard side of the schooner and trained the glasses +on the shore. The men were gathered about the whale-boat talking. He +could see Silvertip's hand emphasizing some statement as he pointed to +the hills. Gregg knew that once the Swede left the beach, he would +never return to it. He had landed his party and his work was done. + +Desperately Harlan longed for some kind of craft in which he might +reach the shore before the sailors left it. There was none. For a +moment he considered waiting until they came aboard. But could he, +single handed, force them to return for the Borelands? . . . No, the +outcome of such a course was too uncertain. Something must be done at +once. + +There was only one other way in which he could get word to the +adventurers. His eye measured the heaving, foam-streaked distance +between him and the beach. Could he make it? A year ago in the +States, before drink had gotten such a hold on him, that half mile +would have meant nothing to him--but now . . . Temperature, unknown +currents, undertows must be reckoned with here. Again, shaking him +with its intensity, returned the intolerable craving for a drink. + +His eyes once more swept the long line of breakers. If he would warn +the Borelands he must do it at once! He must make that half mile +before Silvertip left the beach. . . . He would do it! + +Even as he decided he had torn open the front of his shirt. Swiftly he +stripped to his underwear and the next instant had dived over the side +of the schooner. + +He came sputtering to the surface. Contrary to expectations the water +was much warmer than that at Katleean. With a feeling of relief he +struck out for the beach. + +He had not gone thirty yards when he became aware that a strong current +was carrying him toward the south end of the Island. Desperately he +put every ounce of his strength into his shoreward strokes. The +buffeting of the running chop sea began to tire him. He was becoming +winded. He was losing his sense of direction. After ten minutes he +realized, with alarm, that he could never make a landing, near +Boreland's outfit. . . . Five minutes more and he knew he would be +lucky if he made any landing at all. . . . The current was sweeping +him on toward the cliffs at the south end of Kon Klayu where black +reefs bared their fangs in a welter of foam. Even in the smother of +the chop he was aware of the increased roaring of the breakers. + +He made one mighty, but ineffectual effort to reach the shore, then +with a feeling of baffled despair he turned his back on the breaking +surf and began to fight his way, inch by inch, back to the safety of +the _Hoonah_. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE LANDING + +On the beach the last sack and box had been carried up to a place +selected by Silvertip as being above the high-tide line. + +"Well, old man, I think we'll take a stroll around and see where that +cabin is located," said Boreland cheerfully. "It can't be far from the +anchorage here." + +"No, no. Youst a little vay. Youst a little vay," hurriedly answered +Silvertip as he waved an indefinite hand across the dunes. "You'll +find it so easy you don't need me. Ay tank she makes a big vind in the +sout'vest, so Ay go before a heavy sea coomes." + +They talked about the island anchorage for a few minutes. Boreland +insisted that the breeze would die down at sunset as is often the case +during good weather, but Silvertip persisted in his determination to +get away from the Island at once. + +Finally Shane turned to Kayak Bill with a somewhat contemptuous laugh. + +"What do you say, Kayak? This fellow seems scared to death to stay +here any longer. I reckon we can get along without him now, don't you?" + +Kayak Bill spat meditatively at a knot of brown kelp. + +"Wall, we _mout_ be a-makin' a false play, but--durn the critter +anyway, Shane! He ain't got no more backbone than a wet string! He's +been in a hell of a stew ever since we got here about this storm +a-brewing and it's beginnin' to roil me just havin' him pesticate +around. Let him go." + +During the conversation Silvertip's pale eyes had been shifting back +and forth between Boreland and Kayak. If he resented Kayak's +disparaging remarks he made no sign. When the old man finished he +began moving swiftly toward the whale-boat where his mate was adjusting +the oar-locks. + +Five minutes after a last hurried direction relating to the location of +the house, he and his partner were making their way out over the +breakers to the _Hoonah_. Shane and Kayak started out at once to look +for the cabin in which they intended to sleep that night. As they left +they called cheerily to the women standing on the beach, but Ellen +hardly heard them. + +As the distance between the shore and the moving whale-boat lengthened +she felt a growing depression, a sinking of the heart. She was filled +with a vast loneliness. All about her and above her was illimitable +distance--ocean spaces green and rolling; sky spaces far and wide and +blue; spaces through which the winds of the world swept unhindered; +spaces filled eternally with the sound of the sea. She was awed and +silenced by the immensity, the impersonality of it all. + +Jean, too, was silent and meditative. Ellen wondered if she were +thinking of young Harlan. That problem at least was solved, she +thought with relief. The girl came close and placed an arm about +Ellen's waist as if for the comfort her physical presence might bring. + +Together they looked on while the _Hoonah_ got under weigh. Flying +before the wind it grew smaller and smaller in the distance. The awe +in Ellen's heart gradually gave place to an acute homesickness for the +comfort of the little craft that would be her home no more. Time +passed, and as she watched the topmast sail going down on the horizon +she realized, as never before, that the fate of herself and her family +was dependent solely on the White Chief of Katleean. His word was law, +his power absolute. She was aghast at her blindness in permitting the +shaping of such a situation. Blaming herself, she went over the events +of the last two weeks step by step, perceiving too late what she would +have done, what she should have said to dissuade her husband from this +last mad venture. + +She turned her eyes from the sea at last, resolving to shake off her +depression. She must prepare to meet the future. Jean had left her +some time before and was busy tucking her violin away more securely in +its wrapping of silk. Lollie kneeling before the cage in which his +pigeon fluttered experimentally was trying to force bunches of wild +peas through the bars. Ellen went close to the cage and looked down at +the bird. + +There was something sinister in the gleam of the bright, beady eye it +turned up at her. The words of the White Chief came back to her. +"You'll want me. . . . The pigeon loose, comes back. _I will +understand_." . . . "You'll want me." What had he meant by that? The +pigeon--She looked down at it again thoughtfully. That afternoon, in +lowering the cage from the deck of the _Hoonah_ into the whale-boat, +the fastening had slipped and it had fallen into the sea, but +Silvertip, by a quick movement, had grasped it before it sank. +Suddenly Ellen found herself beset by two conflicting emotions--one +moment she wished it had gone down into the depths--the next she felt +that she must let nothing happen to this last, this only connecting +link with the mainland. + +She was brought back to her surroundings by Jean's call, as the young +girl hailed Shane and Kayak Bill, who were coming toward them through +the tall rice-grass. The faces of both men wore looks of unusual +seriousness and there was no answer to Jean's greeting until they +stopped beside the piled-up outfit. + +"Oh, Shane, you didn't find the cabin?" Even as she asked the question +Ellen knew the answer. + +"No, dear. It doesn't seem to be at this end of the Island at all. +But--" noting the dismayed faces of those about him--"we needn't worry +about it. We'll put up the tents here for the night and make an early +start in the morning." + +Loll had left his pigeon, and was listening, wide-eyed and serious. + +"But what if there is no cabin, dad?" With child-like directness he +voiced the question that was uppermost in the minds of every other +member of the party on the tree-less Island of Kon Klayu. In the +momentary silence that followed a gust of wind stirred the rice-grass +into questioning sound as the coarse blades swayed together. + +"Oh, I know!" the boy answered himself enthusiastically, "we'll find a +cave, of course, and live in it like Robinson Crusoe." + +"Right-o, boy!" Boreland assented with a cheerfulness that did not +escape being forced. "But just now we'll get busy making camp for the +night." + +Two tents were pitched in the rice-grass at the edge of the beach. On +a foundation of stones was set the small rectangular sheet-iron stove +that every gold-trail in Alaska knows. Within the hour the shiny new +pipe was carrying a gay plume of smoke, and with the cheery crackling +of the flames, the spirits of everyone rose; for the adventurer may +wander where he will, but when he builds a fire--whether it be of +coconut husks on the rim of a South Sea atoll, or of drift-wood on the +beach of a northern sea, there comes a sense of home and comfort. + +Boreland, unpacking what he called the "grub-box," volunteered to get +supper for the hungry band while they went in search of more driftwood +for the fire. Leaving him busy with the frying-pan they headed +northward toward the long sand-spit that pointed like an accusing +finger in the direction of the mainland ninety miles away. Above the +high-tide line the sand dunes were as powdery blue with lupine as the +April fields of California, and Loll's whooping investigation revealed +patches of wild strawberries larger than those found at Katleean, where +acres of them grow on the low sand hills along the sea. + +Jean and Lollie lay flat on their stomachs filling their mouths and +grass-lined hats. The bouquet of sun-warmed strawberries and the +perfume of flowering lupine were wafted across the dunes in +intermittent gusts of fragrance. Ellen almost forgot her anxiety as +she picked the red-toned fruit and listened to the drawling voice of +Kayak Bill describing a cordial he had once made from the berries--a +liqueur so subtle in its effects, so delicious and so warming that it +had melted even the heart of a revenue officer sent up from Sitka +especially to investigate him. + +Later when they returned to the tents with lupine-laden arms and hats +full of berries, there was in the air the good camp smell of +frying-bacon, warmed-over brown beans and bubbling coffee. Boreland, +apparently in the best of spirits, was setting out the dishes on a +clean piece of canvas spread on the sand. + +"Get a move on, gang!" he called. "Come and get it! My stomach's +fairly cleaving to my backbone!" + +As the adventurers ate, the sun, going down on the other side of the +island, tinted the sky with shades of wild rose and forget-me-not. A +cluster of tiny golden clouds floated high in the blue. As the +trembling pearl of twilight came on, an occasional belated gull flew +overhead with a single, gently-sad question. The wind died away and +the song of the surf mellowed to a croon. + +After the dishes were done Ellen and Jean put Lollie to bed in the +blankets spread in the larger tent while Boreland and Kayak Bill, +smoking and discussing the possibilities of the sands of Kon Klayu, +squatted about the drift-wood fire. Presently Jean left her sister and +stepped out into the gloaming. She turned toward the south and walked +along the edge of the sea-drift. The smooth hard beach was a lure to +her feet. + +She lifted her chin, breathing deeply and swinging her arms free as she +walked. The air was faintly cool with the smell of the sea and with it +mingled the multi-scented breath of northern Indian summer: lupine, +sundried sand, beach grass and celery bloom. Soft and dim and +strangely lovely dreamed this Island of the ruby sands. From a shadowy +grove of alders inland came the three plaintive notes of a sleepy +golden-crown sparrow voicing the beauty, the mystery, the gentleness of +the North. Enchantment broods in the twilight of Alaskan nights. Jean +had felt it many times during the summer, and loved it--the vague, wild +sense of romance in its dusks. Tonight the thrill and promise of life +seemed more poignantly sweet than ever before. She longed suddenly for +some one to share this hour with her. . . . + +Reluctantly, at last she turned from the dim beckoning distance, and +retraced her steps. + +As she neared camp, Kobuk, yawning, rose from his post by Ellen's tent, +to greet her. Boreland and Kayak Bill had gone to bed in the smaller +tent, and about the greying embers of their bonfire, rubber boots +stood, like grotesque plants, each one drying upside down over a stake +driven into the sand. + +Jean undressed and slipped between the blankets beside her +sister. . . . The clean, fresh smell of trampled rice-grass drifted +about her pillow. . . . As the tide came in the murmur of surf on the +distant shoals was soothing as a cradle song, and the girl, with a +tired sigh, adjusted her body to the unyielding, sandy bed, and drowsed +off into slumber, unaware of the peril that was even then creeping +nearer and nearer to the sleepers on the beach of Kon Klayu. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE CABIN + +It was long past midnight when Jean was startled into wakefulness. +Kobuk was barking with the queer, short woofs of the huskie, and +outside the tent Ellen's voice fraught with fear and anxiety, was +calling: + +"Shane! O, Shane! Wake up! Quick!" + +There was a stealthy sound as of lapping water close at hand; then +Boreland's shout: + +"For God's sake, Kayak, get up!" + +Jean, now fully awake, ran out into the grey that precedes the dawn. +There was not a breath of wind, and the sea, glassy and as grey as the +sky above, was smoother than she ever saw it afterward on Kon Klayu. +There was something sinister in the gently heaving stillness of the +vast body of water, for not ten feet from the flap of the tent tiny +ripples of the incoming tide were swallowing at the dry sand with +sibilant softness. One end of the pile of provisions just below the +tent was already a foot deep in the advancing flood. + +There was no thought of dressing. The race with the sea began at once. +No one knew when the tide would be full, but each realized that should +the provisions be ruined or swept away by the water, slow starvation +would terminate the quest for the gold of Kon Klayu. Every moment +counted. Every hand must help. + +Grim-faced and silent, Boreland and Kayak Bill drew on their tremendous +reserve power, and during the next few hours performed almost +super-human feats of strength and endurance in transferring the +provisions to safety. Ellen and Jean, regardless of unbound hair and +thin night-robes, dashed out time after time into the ever rising tide +to snatch up sacks of flour or boxes of canned goods, running with them +far above the beachline. In the face of the threatened catastrophe +they were hardly aware of wet or cold or the weight of objects. They +were small women, but in the peril of the moment they carried +back-breaking loads that would ordinarily have taxed the muscles of a +strong man. Even Lollie, after the first look of sleepy wonder, became +alive to the situation when he saw his new pet, the pigeon, clutching +the top of its cage above six inches of water. He rescued the bird and +while the others were busy with the outfit, rolled up the blankets one +by one, and carried them beyond danger. Before he had finished, the +relentless tide had crept up about the stove, the box where all the +cooking utensils had been placed, and the four rubber boots drying on +their stakes. The little fellow, looking absurdly babylike in his +nightgown, for all his eight years, splashed out to rescue the +threatened articles. Later, at a word from his father, he gathered +some high-thrown drift-wood to make the fire, by that time sorely +needed by all. + +The sun was coming up radiantly over the edge of the ocean when they +finished their labors. Though nothing had been carried away, the tide +had risen two feet after discovery, and a third of the provisions was +wet. Silvertip, in his haste to get away from the Island had landed +them on the tide lands. As they afterward learned but one or two tides +a month reached that particular level, but the Borelands had +encountered one of them. Had there been any sea on whatever that night +everything would have been swept away, leaving them destitute, even if +they had escaped with their lives. + +The sun and a good, hot breakfast warmed and cheered everybody. +Besides there was little time to discuss their escape, since every wet +dunnage bag and box had to be unpacked and the contents spread out in +the sun to dry. + +In making her round of the salvage, Jean came upon the box containing +the old magazines and books from the collection of Add-'em-up Sam. It +had been wetted on one end. Taking out the top layer of books she +paused over the tattered volume of _Treasure Island_ to put into place +a crumpled paper which protruded from beneath the cover. To her +interest she found it to be the crude drawing of Kon Klayu which she +had hastily thrust back that afternoon at Katleean when the +quill-filled Kobuk had come cowering to her feet in the store. + +"Shane," she called, waving it in front of her, "here's a little map of +Kon Klayu. Maybe you might find out about the cabin from this." + +Boreland strode over to her and glanced at the paper. Then he took it +in his own hands and scanned it more closely, looking up at the +landscape, the sea, and the shoals off which they were camped. + +Suddenly his hand fell to his side, and with a great oath he began to +pace up and down the sand. + +The others, dismayed, gathered about him. + +"Why, Shane! What is the matter?" cried Ellen. + +"Matter!" Anger flared in his brown eyes and his hand closed on the +map as if it had been the throat of an enemy. "Ellen, Silvertip lied! +That pale-eyed son of a sea-cook has landed us on the wrong side of the +Island. He was too much of a coward to take the _Hoonah_ around the +shoals. Look at this, Kayak--" He smoothed out the paper so that his +partner could see the lines. "According to this, the cabin is all of +three miles from here on the other side." + +Kayak Bill took the map in his hands and held it for a long moment +before his near-sighted eyes. + +"By . . . hell!" The words came slowly in a sort of whispered shout. + +Then as if unable to declare himself in the presence of the women, +Kayak, with a suspicion of haste in his going, sauntered off to the far +side of a sand-dune, where he sat down and in the manner of the true +Alaskan, drew heavily on his stock of profanity to express his opinion +of all Swedes, Silvertip in particular, the country, and the blind +Providence that could create an island without a harbor. + +The situation forced upon the party was a serious one. It involved +transferring the entire outfit three miles to the cabin--if there was +one--over the soft beach sand that made their only means of +transportation, a wheelbarrow, utterly useless. There were but a few +days during the year when a small boat, such as the whale-boat, could +safely circumnavigate the shoals at the north end and the reef-sown +waters about the Island. Since this means could not be relied upon, +the two men were confronted with the necessity of packing on their +backs to the cabin every pound of provisions; and with the equinoctial +storms close at hand, every day counted. + +Boreland bit his lip in the effort to control the anger that burned +within him as he realized that a month or six weeks must be spent in +transferring the provisions. But there was no time to lose in cursing +the absent Silvertip; immediate action counted and he was never one to +let misfortune weigh long upon him. + +Noting the worried look on Ellen's face he crossed over to where she +sat upon the opened box of books, and put his arms about her. + +"Never mind, little fellow. We'll come out all right. The darkest +hour always comes before the dawn," he said, laying his rough cheek +against her hair. + +Despite her anxiety, a smile stirred the corner of Ellen's mouth as she +heard this familiar bit of sentimental philosophy. During the ten +years of her married life Shane had always been ready with these words, +no matter what crushing calamity came upon them. She patted his hand +as she would have patted that of a child. + +Loll, with his fingers under Kobuk's collar, had been looking on, his +little face unconsciously assuming the seriousness of those about him. +He turned now to greet Kayak Bill, who, apparently calmed and +refreshed, was wading out of the rice-grass. The old man's sombrero +was cocked at a militant angle; his long raw-hide laces snaked along +behind his boots, and clouds of tobacco smoke enveloped him. + +"Well," he said gently, "I reckon there ain't no useless good +vocabulatin' about that varmint, Silvertip. I should a-known better'n +to trust a man o' his moth-eaten morals, anyhow." + +Ellen stooped down to pick up the map which had fallen unheeded to the +sand. For a moment she traced the beachline with her forefinger, +reading the penciled names from the paper. "Sunset Point. Skeleton +Rib. . . . Well, at least we know where to look for the cabin, Shane." +She looked up decisively. "Let's find it before anything else happens +to us." + +Ten minutes later the two men had disappeared behind the western +sand-dunes, and as if to assure them of his confidence in the future, +Boreland's voice, raised: a quavering Irish melody floated back to the +camp where Ellen and Jean were spreading the blankets upon the sand. +They were weary from their night's work. With Kobuk on guard they +curled up beside Lollie, and lulled by the far-away calls of the gulls +and the ceaseless chant of the sea, were soon fast asleep. . . . + +The hoo-hooing of Boreland and Kayak Bill two hours later awakened the +sleepers before the men reached camp. + +"Everything is lovely and the goose hangs high!" Boreland cheerily +answered their questions. "We found the cabin all right and tonight we +all sleep in our own little wickie!" + +The pale-green combers that were breaking for miles out on the shoals, +made it impossible to think of using the whale-boat. Therefore, +immediately after lunch, the party started on the three-mile walk, each +one carrying a pack. Jean, with her violin and a scarlet blanket +strapped across her strong young shoulders, stopped in the trail again +and again to laugh at her smaller sister, nearly obliterated under two +feather pillows. Loll, important as the head packer of a Government +party, carried a pot of cold beans in his hand, and encouraged Kobuk, +whose pack-saddle was filled with necessary odds and ends for the +night's camp. The sheet-iron stove, with food and cooking utensils +inside, made a noisy, rattling pack on Boreland's back, leaving his +hands free for his shot-gun which he carried for the ducks that were +flying south. Kayak Bill shouldered a roll of blankets with an ease +which many a younger man might have envied. He was balancing the broom +across his palm when his eye fell on the pigeon. He picked up the cage +with his free hand. + +"Beats all get-out what women will get a man into." + +A quizzical smile crinkled the corners of his eyes as he "hefted" his +burdens. "Here's an old sourdough like me hittin' the trail with a +broom in one fist and--by he--hen, a dicky-bird in the other!" +Occasionally it appeared to dawn on Kayak that his expletives were not +exactly suited to the ears of women and children and he seemed to be +doing his best to modify them. + +Boreland, whistling, led the way. Despite the discouraging events of +the night and morning it was a cheerful little party that started out +for the cabin. It is only in civilization that trouble and calamity +eat into the heart. The wonder of the wilderness lies in that sense of +adventure just ahead, which brings forgetfulness of the hardships left +behind. + +Shane and Kayak tramped down a trail across the sand-dunes, through +patches of purple wild peas, and tall rice-grass whose silver-green +heads nodded heavily against the travelers as they passed. Wind, +spiced with sea-weed and flowers blew across their faces. They came +out on the west side of Kon Klayu in a field of blossoming lupine that +sloped gently downward to the sands, and beyond, the sea dashed in +foam-shot emerald against a ragged reef. + +Loll's flower-loving soul looked out of his eyes an instant; then with +a shout he abandoned Kobuk and the bean-pot for the moment, and +scattering the red-vested bumble-bees that were avidly working for +honey in the lupine flowers he began gathering a bouquet for his mother. + +The warm August sun coaxed tiny whiffs of vapor from the long grey +beach that curved southward toward a distant bluff. Sky and water met +far out on the rim of the world. + +Scampering ahead along the wave-washed margin, Loll excited Kobuk to +laughter-provoking antics, as the dog, trying to play with him, swung +along with his ungainly pack. The boy made frequent dashes up to the +high-tide line, where Indian celery lifted creamy, umbrella-like +blooms. From the beach-line the vivid green of the tundra, patterned +with daisies, stretched away to meet the alder trees growing thickly +where the land gradually rose toward the center of the island. A small +lake here and there reflected the sky. + +It was in one of these lakes close to the beach that a flock of +mallards alighted, passing so near that the travelers could see the +iridescent green of the drakes' heads catching the sun. Boreland +slipped off his pack and creeping toward the lake, disappeared in the +Indian celery. + +There was a moment of breathless waiting; a loud report: and a +squattering and whirring as the flock flew away toward the hill. Then +Boreland, wet to the knees but grinning, appeared holding aloft three +birds. . . . + +The tide had been coming in for some time, assaulting the shore with +ever nearing combers. As the party neared the bluff round which they +must pass, the wash of extra large breakers licked the base and in the +wake of each receding wave the wet sand mirrored the steep, rocky wall +above it. At such times it was necessary to wait until a wave had run +out before they could hurry to a place of safety farther on. + +"I ain't no nature for this place a-tall," said Kayak Bill, when they +had safely dashed over the two hundred feet of this sort of going. +"There'd be hell a-poppin' if a fella'd get caught there in a high +tide." + +"The cabin lies just beyond," Boreland announced. + +The bluff sloped down to a tall bank topped with green, having a beach +below it. + +Following the sands for a short distance, they turned into what had +once been a trail. The party halted looking upward to the place that +was to be their home. + +A mere thread of a footpath, almost blotted out by tall grasses, led +gently up the slope for sixty yards to where, above a natural hedge of +celery blooms, a little cabin of weather-beaten drift-logs cuddled at +the foot of a steep, green hill. A porch jutted out in front, +spindling uprights supporting the slanting roof. To the right, farther +down and half hidden in the grass, lay the remains of a board shack +which had fallen in. There was a sound of trickling water in some +hidden place. The sun fell warmly in this sheltered nook, bringing out +the scent of green things; and over all was that melancholy stillness +which envelopes human dwellings long deserted. + +The boom of breakers far out on the reefs was hushed to a soothing hum, +and faintly, from the reedy little lake farther down on the southward +slope came the quacking of wild ducks. To the north and south and west +lay the open sea, and as far as the eye could reach was no sight of +land. + +Jean broke her wide-eyed silence with a whisper: + +"It's under a spell, Ellen, sure as you live." . . . She continued +aloud: "Look at that quaint old latch on the door--made of a piece of +drift-wood. And see the-- Oh! _Shane_!" Incredulity and fear +shrilled in her voice--"Shane! Why, it's _moving_!" She grasped her +brother-in-law's arm as she pointed to the door of the cabin. + +It was true. The door was opening slowly, jerkily, in a way that +hinted of fearsome, because unknown things. The next instant there +stepped out of the opening a tall, shock-haired young man, naked, +except for some tatters of an undershirt and a piece of old canvas +wound about his hips after the fashion of a South Sea _pareu_. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE CASTAWAY + +Kayak Bill was the first to find voice. + +"By the roarin' Jasus,"--his tones trembled with enormous +astonishment--"if it ain't young Harlan!" + +"My God, Gregg, has anything happened to the schooner?" shouted +Boreland, his long stride covering the distance to the porch. + +"Not a thing that I know of, Skipper." The young man, with a weary +gesture, brushed the hair back from his forehead upon which blood from +a slight wound had dried. "But you see I left her before she started +back to Katleean." In answer to the quick questioning in the five +pairs of eyes raised to his he stammered: "I--I--wanted to +come--ashore--for a few minutes, and--I--I--the current carried me onto +the reefs at the south end, and--I wandered in here a little while ago." + +Bruises and deep scratches marred the whiteness of his slim body, and +bore evidence of a desperate struggle with the sea and rocks. He was +the last person in the world that Ellen would have chosen to be thus +romantically cast up on the shores of Kon Klayu with them, but woman is +potentially a mother and even her heart was touched by his plight. For +Harlan, trying--and failing--to appear nonchalant and at ease in his +embarrassing situation was boyishly appealing. + +"Why, Shane, then the poor fellow hasn't had a bite to eat since +yesterday," she exclaimed practically, while preparing to divest +herself of her pack. "Everybody get busy here and we'll get him some +lunch. Shane, you and Kayak see what you can spare in the way of +clothes, and in the meantime, Mr. Harlan--" her conventionally polite +tone as she turned to that young man caused Boreland and Kayak Bill to +exchange an amused wink--"you may take this blanket that Jean has +wrapped about her violin, and put it around you." + +A few minutes later Kayak Bill filled the coffee pot from a small +crystal spring that trickled from the hillside into a sunken, +moss-grown barrel, and placed it over a bonfire Boreland had made. +Ellen left the old man to prepare lunch for their unexpected guest, and +followed Jean and Lollie into the cabin that was to be their home. + +As she crossed the threshold the close, musty odor of decay smote her +unpleasantly. The room had one tiny cobwebbed window through which the +north light filtered. In the center a rough, home-made table, with one +leg slanting inward, supported some battered cooking utensils now green +with a fungus-like mould and disagreeably reminiscent of the Indian +hunters who had last camped in the place, no one knew how long ago. In +the corner where a stove had once stood, was a pile of damp soot and +ashes, and the floor was littered with decaying woolen socks, old +papers and rubber boots from which the tops had been cut to make a +house-shoe known to Alaskan miners as "stags." Here and there daylight +showed between the uncovered log walls, and great cobwebs wavered in +dusty festoons from the chinking of brown peat. An infirm ladder +leaned against one side of the room evidently for the purpose of +mounting to the loft indicated by the black opening that yawned in the +ceiling. + +Ellen had no inclination to follow her sister into the little room that +opened off the right. She was appalled at the amount of work to be +done before the musty squalor of the place could be banished and the +cabin made really habitable. For a moment she even considered the +possibility of living in the tents until the White Chief brought the +winter provisions, by which time she hoped she might be able to +persuade her husband to leave the Island. + +Boreland, coming into the room with the broom on his shoulder, +interrupted her gloomy thoughts. + +"Pretty snug little place, eh, El?" he said cheerfully, looking about +him and lunging for the nearest cobweb with his broom. "The roof is +good and when we get another window here facing the sea, and fix her up +a bit, we'll be cozy as bears in a cave." + +He filled his pipe, still warm from the last smoke, and lighted it. +Going to the opening leading to the next room he called: "Clear out +now, young ones. I'm going to start things going in here pretty +pronto!" + +Through the open cabin doorway Ellen could see Harlan sitting by the +bonfire in a borrowed undershirt and the scarlet blanket. He seemed +refreshed and strengthened by his lunch and was telling Kayak Bill of +his failure to swim back to the _Hoonah_, and his subsequent landing on +the south end of the Island. Though all but exhausted by his battle +with the waves he had managed to dig himself into the dry, sun-warmed +sand, and had slept heavily for hours. When he awoke the position of +the sun told him that it must be morning. After washing the blood and +sand from his scratches, he had set out to find the camp of the +Borelands. + +Harlan did not give any reason for his apparently senseless +determination to swim ashore at the last moment, nor was any expected. +On the frontier it is actions, not the reasons for them that are of +moment. At the risk of appearing a fool Harlan kept silent on the +subject. If he told now what he had heard of Kon Klayu that night he +had lain in the top bunk at Silvertip's, there would be nothing for the +Borelands to work for, nothing to hope for, during the time that must +elapse before the _Hoonah_ returned with the winter stores. The truth +now would only arouse bitter thoughts of revenge in the heart of +Boreland, who must chafe inwardly at his helplessness. There was time +enough for the truth when the schooner returned to Kon Klayu. + +"Over there on the east side of the Island, almost directly opposite to +this point, I think, I found a sort of Eskimo hut made of whale ribs +and peat and drift," Harlan was saying as Ellen came out of the cabin. +"It isn't half bad, and with a little work I can make it fit to live +in." + +The young man saw Ellen and came to his feet. "I honestly don't know +how to excuse myself for being here, Mrs. Boreland,"--there was a hint +of wistfulness in the deep dark eyes he bent upon her--"but--I _am_ +here and dependent on your generosity until the schooner comes back. +I'll try to be as little of a bother as I can. I was just telling +Kayak about the hut I found on the other side of the Island. I'll live +there." + +Ellen's mind had already been busy with the problem of housing her +unwelcome guest. She had not been blind to the interested and +welcoming look Jean had given the young man as she greeted him half an +hour before. She was aware of the almost inevitable result of +propinquity. She looked up now with relieved interest and despite +herself, with faintly quickening approval. By living on the other side +of the Island, Harlan would in part solve the problem. She could then +see to it that he saw little of Jean. If it were not for her sister, +she might find it in her to like, though she could never approve of the +good-looking young ne'er-do-well. Through Kayak Bill she had come to +know part of the truth about the death of Naleenah, but like most good +women, she could not bring herself fully to exonerate one who had been +so compromised. Potentially, if not actually, Gregg Harlan was to her +a squaw-man, and most certainly he was a drunkard. + +"Well, Lady, me and him's goin' down to the North end of the Island for +another load o' grub and camp gear," drawled Kayak Bill as he finished +scouring out a burned place in the frying pan. "You can't tell a speck +about how long this here weather's goin' to last and we want to get +under cover soon as possible. Besides--" the old man's eyes +twinkled--"Gregg here looks too durned lady-like in this la-de-dah +outfit." He pointed to the scarlet blanket. "What he needs is a pair +o' pants. Pants, I claim, has a powerful civilizin' and upliftin' +influence on the mind o' man. Take the heathen now. They don't wear +none, and see what----" + +Kayak's threatened monologue was cut short by Boreland, who, having +attacked the dirt and debris in the cabin appeared now and began to +pile some of it on the fire. + +After the old man and Harlan had gone, Boreland swept down the cobwebs +and made the cabin ready for scrubbing. That sense of satisfaction and +happiness which comes to those in the process of home-making in the +wilderness, found expression in his rollicking Irish melody. + +The legless Yukon stove was set up after the fashion of the country--an +old packing box, found at the cabin, being filled with gravel and the +stove put on top of it. A few minutes later there was a crackling fire +of drift-wood and every pot and kettle brought from the camp that +morning was full of heating water. + +The floor of smooth boards, was unbelievably dirty. The lack of soap +at first caused Ellen to despair of ever getting it clean, but Loll, +who had watched Senott at Katleean cleaning her house, solved the +problem by pouring sand on it while Boreland scrubbed with the broom. + +Two hours later the clean bare floor was drying rapidly from the heat +of the stove before which Ellen stood stirring a savory pot of duck +mulligan for an early supper. . . . + +It was late afternoon when Kayak and Harlan returned with their loads. +As they turned in from the beach to the little grass-grown trail, Kayak +stood a moment looking up at the silver smoke floating against the +green hill. Jean, more starry-eyed than usual, was singing as she +arranged the dishes on a canvas spread upon the floor of the porch, and +at her direction Lollie was painstakingly placing some wild flowers in +a tin can for a centerpiece. The two looked up to wave a welcome to +the packers as they approached. + +"By hell," said Kayak with slow appreciation, "it beats all creation +how quick women folks can make a home out o' nothin'." . . . + +After supper the men sat on the porch smoking and discussing ways of +transferring the provisions from the north end of the Island. + +"If we ever get a day calm enough so that we can use the whale-boat," +said Boreland, "it won't take long to get the whole business down here. +But we can't depend on that. I don't think the sea will get smooth +enough this fall for us to bring the boat around the North Shoals. +We'd better skid it across to this side of the Island--it can't be over +a quarter of a mile wide there--and pack the grub over too. When a +favorable day comes we can load her up and it's only a few miles down +here. It's lucky for us, Gregg," he added placing a hand on the young +man's shoulder, "that we have another strong back to depend on." . . . + +As they talked evening closed in. From the alders on the hillside came +the plaintive night-song of the golden-crown--the three notes of +poignant beauty and mystery that were linked indissolubly with the +summer twilights of Kon Klayu. Out over the reefs the sun had gone +down splendidly into the sea. Broad ribbons of clear jade streaked the +primrose of the sky. Beneath, bands of amethyst, amber and rose merged +slowly into a flame of crimson, and while the violet dusk crept over +the sea, the stars came out. Blowing across the bare brown reefs the +night wind brought the scent of kelp and the muffled boom of surf. + +The peace and promise of the sunset soothed all into silence for a +time. Ellen and Jean and Lollie sitting close on the bottom step of +the porch, watched in reverent wonder as the colors changed. At last +the boy lifted his eyes to his mother's face. + +"God smiles, mother," he said simply, resting his tired head against +her shoulder. + +Jean leaned across to her sister. + +"Ellen," she said quietly, "I think I love best of all the evening-time +of things, don't you--the fall of the year; the end of the day. I +wonder--" a wistfulness crept into her voice--"I wonder . . . I +hope . . . no, I _know_ that when it comes, I'll find that the sunset +time of life is the most beautiful!" + +As she finished speaking she turned instinctively to look at the old +man on the porch above her, the only one of them whose slowing feet had +turned into the Sundown Trail. Kayak's hand, loosely holding his +cooling pipe, rested on his knee. His sombrero backed his strong, +bearded face, which had taken on the serenity of the evening. His deep +eyes were calm with revery. As she gazed the girl's heart was flooded +with a pitying tenderness for him, for Kayak Bill who, because of +something buried deep in his past, faced the sunset of life--alone. + +She turned her face away--and met the warm young eyes of Gregg Harlan +bent upon her. . . . Then suddenly she was glowingly happy because she +was still young. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE GIANT BALLS OF STONE + +It was not yet five o'clock the following morning when Loll, from his +blankets on the floor of the cabin living-room, raised his tousled head +and looked cautiously about him. His big, grey eyes were alive with +eagerness and expectation. The strangeness of his surroundings +thrilled him with possibilities. Through the window the sun-flooded +world called him to adventure. + +Again he glanced speculatively at the sleeping forms round him and then +eased warily out of bed. + +With a pudgy finger on his lips and long steps of a stealthiness so +exaggerated that his balance was threatened at every move, he tip-toed +to the corner where his shoes lay, and without stopping for any further +addition to his toilet, slipped out the door in his nightgown. + +He avoided the blanket-cocooned figures of Kayak Bill and Harlan on the +porch, and continued a short distance down the path to the chopping +block where he sat down to pull the shoes on his little bare feet. + +Kobuk, returning from some early morning adventure on the beach, espied +him, and with a red-mouthed huskie smile, came bounding up the trail, +wriggling an extravagant and clumsy welcome. With loud whispers hissed +through fiercely protruding lips, Loll tried to shoo him away, but the +dog only whirled about, thumping him with a joyously wagging tail and +poking a cold damp nose down the neck of his nightgown. + +After fastening the top button of his shoes the boy stood up and looked +about him. The wonderful sunniness of the world thrilled him. From +the blue sky soaring gulls called to one another, and the sunlight +poured down on the silver-green ocean and the little lake to the south. +Faint breaths of air stirred the scent of green things, and everywhere +was that exhilarating freshness of late summer that has in it the hint +of autumn frosts. + +The youngster waved his arms and danced from sheer joy in living, and +with Kobuk at his heels, ran down off the trail through the damp grass +toward the lake. + +About a hundred yards from the cabin, hidden in a clump of alder +bushes, he came upon a low hut built of drift logs. Half the roof was +gone and pieces of decaying seal-hide and a ragged red shawl embedded +in the dirt floor hinted of the visits of long-ago Indian otter-hunters. + +Interested in his discovery, the little fellow was peering cautiously +in, when, with a sudden bound, Kobuk dashed by him nearly knocking him +over. There was a whirr of wings overhead, sounds of bird alarm, and +half a dozen swallows circled wildly about the frantic Kobuk before +finding a place of escape through the hole in the roof. + +"Gosh, Kobuk, I was pretty near scared," admitted the youthful +explorer, looking up at the rafters under which several nests made +clay-grey splotches. + +Swallowing hard a time or two he buttoned up the neck of his nightgown. +Outside the hut again he slanted a discreet glance back in the +direction of the cabin to assure himself that everyone still slept, and +then with a whispered whoop of invitation to the dog, skipped down +toward the beach. + +The cabin stood well back on the bank off the center of a small +crescent cove, flanked on the north by the bluff around which the party +had come the day before. Toward the south the beach curved to what was +marked "Sunset Point" on Add-'em-up's map. Loll tucked his nightgown +up under his arm and headed for that unexplored territory, talking to +Kobuk as he skipped along. + +The tide was falling and screaming gulls rose and fell over the rocks +feeding on the shellfish among the seaweed. Far out on the water great +flocks of black sea-parrots floated, and overhead these stocky little +birds flew in hundreds, their huge, crimson beaks thrust determinedly +out before them, their round, white-ringed eyes showing plainly, and +their wings, seemingly too small for their pudgy bodies, beating the +air in a hurried manner, as they attended strictly to the business of +feeding their young. Unlike the lazy gulls they took no time to loiter +along the way. + +The boy, looking up at the busy black workers, little dreamed of the +vital and spectacular part both he and they were to play later in the +struggle for existence on the Island of Kon Klayu. + +The weed-covered boulders of Sunset Point drew him, but though he felt +strongly the fascination of the ocean bed now becoming uncovered by the +tide, for some indefinable childish reason he hesitated to go down +among the rocks in his nightgown. So, whistling with moist +tunelessness, he rounded the Point, Kobuk trotting on ahead. + +Here the character of the beach changed, and the high-tide line, where +the rice-grass began, was piled with a criss-cross confusion of +bleached drift-logs thrown up by the mighty surf of storms. Mounds of +old kelp lay drying in the sun, and the unforgettable odor of decaying +sea-things mingled with the freshness of the morning. + +Absorbed in the delights of discovery, Lollie poked about in the +tangled masses finding strange, beautiful shells and sea-flowers +fragile and delicately colored as the heart of a rose. He gathered his +nightgown up into a pocket in front of him in which to carry home some +of the damp and none too fresh treasures of the beach. + +Sea figs in tan and orange and vermilion made splashes of color among +the wet piles of shiny brown kelp brought up by the last tide, and +small dead starfish turned pale stomachs to the sun. Grotesque, +bulging seaweeds stirred him to laughter, and after untangling one--a +head-like growth that seemed to grin sociably at him from a tail twenty +feet long, he tied the thin end about his waist. The bulb wriggled +along behind him on the sand, alternately piquing and repelling the +curiosity of the sniffing Kobuk. + +Another point ahead lured him on. Clouds of sand fleas rose in +rustling hops as he ran along. Here and there monster jelly-fish +glistened in the sun. With his mouth in a continual O of admiration +and wonder, the little fellow squatted repeatedly to gaze at the +exquisite geometrical designs in their crystal depths; but after one or +two half-hearted attempts to pry them apart to see how they were made +he contented himself with adding one to his already overburdened +nightgown. Even in the thrill of discovery he had an instinctive +antipathy against marring a beautiful thing. + +Kobuk, running on ahead, had found something which interested him. He +stood looking back, woofing impatiently as if urging the boy to hasten +and see what it was. As Loll came nearer he shouted in astonishment, +increasing his gait with difficulty because of the impeding pocket in +front of him. What he saw was a head of some great sea monster, +perhaps twelve feet long. The dark skin was streaked with dull red and +purple, and where the head had been severed from the body, the sea had +whitened it to sand-encrusted tatters. The huge mouth lay open and +twisted, and from the lower jaw protruded two rounded tusks, nearly a +foot long. + +There was a contemplative moment while Loll's eyes opened wide. + +"Golly, Kobuk--" reverent awe was in his tones--"I bet-cha that's the +whale that swallowed old Jonah!" + +There was a singular fascination about the battered remnant, far gone +in decay, but the stench from it finally proved so overpowering that, +despite his intense desire to linger near his discovery, Loll was +obliged to move on. + +He turned to the upper beachline for further explorations. Across a +narrow strip of tundra-like land lay the small lake visible from the +cabin porch. On the edge of the rice-grass he stumbled against a +boulder that was as remarkably round as if it had been shaped by human +hands. He stopped in delight at the great stone ball and tried to move +it with his one free hand. Farther on he saw more of the curious +spheres. Some were two feet and more in diameter. + +"Maybe--giants played ball with 'em once!" he whispered to himself, +with a cautious glance about him. + +He headed for the tundra and was startled by coming suddenly upon the +skeleton of a whale whitening in the sand where an extra high tide had +thrown the creature long ago. Purple wild peas and blue beach +forget-me-nots blossomed between the monster ribs, and the huge +vertebrae, scattered here and there, were half hidden by the grass. It +was from this relic, no doubt, that the Point opposite derived its +name--Skeleton Rib. + +Afterward Louie's father utilized several of these vertebrae for +stools, but seeing them for the first time, the little fellow looked +down at them respectfully, hushed into silence by vague, sea-born +feelings. Far down the beach to the southward rose the cliff's where +thousands of sea-birds swarmed in the sunshine. Their screaming, +softened by the distance, came to his ears with an eerie wildness. All +at once he felt very small and alone among alien creatures. Kobuk had +turned back without him and was bounding out of sight around Skeleton +Rib. The giant balls of stone suddenly took on fearsome suggestions +from the realms of fairy tales. + +The dog had disappeared now. The plaint of a high-flying gull drifted +down to the boy. A breath of wind whispered in the grass about the +whitening bones. . . . Suddenly he was flooded with a very panic of +loneliness. Grasping the folds of the nightgown more tightly before +him he set out as fast as his little bare legs would carry him towards +home, the trailing kelp attached to his waist bounding wildly along +behind him. . . . + +It was thus that Ellen, white-faced with anxiety, met her returning son +as he rounded Sunset Point. She clasped him frantically to her to +assure herself that he was indeed safe and sound, and then held him off +at arm's length, surveying the havoc to his nightgown, and preparing +for the admonishing that was due. But Loll had already learned to +divert many a mild scolding by the relation of some startling +discovery. He launched forth now on the subject of the whale's head +and the stone balls that giants must have played with, giving +embellishments so amazing that his eyes stood out in growing +astonishment as he talked. + +Out-maneuvered, Ellen led him to breakfast where he took his place +still holding forth on the wonders of his adventures. Kayak Bill +regarded him with an appreciative eye. Finally he drawled: + +"Son, you sure do vocabulate most as well as a sourdough!" [1] He +paused to take a long, slow swoop of coffee and wipe his mouth with his +red bandana. "The whale's head that et Jonah ain't so bad--but them +giant hand balls o' stone sounds phoney. . . . You know there seems to +be somethin' about this durned country that just nache'ly makes white +men--not lie exactly--but sort o' put trimmin's on the truth. . . . I +recollect a couple o' yars back when I'm hibernatin' one winter up on +the Kuskokwim River with a bunch o' white trappers and prospectors." +With his spoon, Kayak scraped the bottom of his empty coffee-cup to get +every unmelted grain of sugar that lay there. "The next summer, I'm a +son-of-a-gun, if them Injines up there ain't callin' that place by an +Injine name that means 'The Valley o' Lies'. . . . I've sort o' got it +figgered out like this: This doggoned Alasky land, bein' so big and +magnificent like, a man just feels plumb ashamed to tell of some little +meachin' thing a-happenin' in it--he feels downright obliged to fix +things up so's they'll match the mountains and the rest o' it." + +And drawing his corn-cob from the pocket of his hair-seal waistcoat, +Kayak Bill shuffled off into the cabin to light it from a splinter +thrust into the round draft hole of the Yukon stove, while Boreland and +Harlan made ready to leave for the provision camp at the North end. + +For five days after landing the weather continued clear, although the +sea never became sufficiently smooth for a trip with the whale-boat. +Each day the men of the party went down to the first camp to pack +provisions across the Island to what they called the West Camp, the +place from which they expected to load them into the whale-boat and +take them by water to the cabin. When the entire outfit had been +packed across, the whale-boat was also skidded over on small drift +logs. By this means they avoided the long shoals which ran so far out +into the sea. + +"Now for a few days of smooth water," said Boreland, when the job was +completed, "and we'll be able to take everything down to the cabin by +boat. We must have this grub under cover before the autumn storms set +in. The rougher the sea, the better chance for gold, so +Silvertip--damn his cowardly hide--told me. Kilbuck said old +Add-'em-up used to send his squaw out patrolling the beach after each +storm, and she usually found patches of black or ruby sand which +carried considerable gold. . . . It seems reasonable enough, Kayak, +for it's the same with all placer diggings along the sea." + +The three men seated themselves on the upturned boat to eat their +lunch. Boreland, whose mind was ever dwelling on the time when he +should be free to begin his search for the gold of Kon Klayu, talked +on. Harlan listened in silence to the other's eager plans. + +"But of course it's the _source_ of the gold we want! Silvertip thinks +it is thrown up out of the sea by the action of the waves. Kilbuck +imagines it is washed down from the banks, although all the prospecting +done by the fox-farmers revealed nothing. But--gold is where you find +it, and I mean to leave no stone unturned while I'm here. . . . +Speaking of stones," he went on after a moment's silence, "Loll was +right about his giant balls of stone. Have either of you noticed here +and there along the beach, especially toward the south, small, +perfectly round boulders? By thunder, they look exactly like cannon +balls!" + +Harlan, though he had at first attended the others' speeches had +gradually become immersed in his own thoughts. Each day, while his +muscles ached and the desire for stinging liquor flamed like fire in +his veins, he had worked with Boreland and Kayak Bill at the North end +of the Island packing provisions across on his back. Though he still +ate his meals with the Borelands at the cabin, almost immediately after +supper he took the mile and a half trail across the Island to the hut, +which he had found on his landing. Intuitively, he knew Ellen +Boreland's opinion of him. He smiled sometimes at the grim humor of +the situation: He, who had tried to get away from the society of women +found himself now on the mercy and generosity of a woman who did not +like him. He was dependent on her, by Jove, for every stitch of +clothing on him, for even the soap that he used--for his very +toothbrush. Soon, he knew, she would be giving him provisions so that +he might cook his own meals on the other side of the Island. She +didn't want him around her, or her sister. It piqued him to be felt +unwanted--aroused in him a desire to show her---- + +His innate honesty compelled him to admit that Ellen knew him in no +hero's light. Still he could not help a feeling of bitterness at the +relieved look that came, unconsciously, to her face each evening when +he turned, reluctantly, from the homelike group on the cabin porch, to +take the lonely little zig-zag trail up the hillside. + +His mind went back now to a scene of the evening before. After supper +just as he was preparing to leave. Jean had taken her violin from its +case. + +"I'm going to play, tonight, Mr. Harlan. Are you too tired to stay a +while?" she asked, looking at him with friendly eyes. + +Too quickly Ellen had interrupted: + +"No, no, Jean. Don't keep this poor, tired fellow from his bed. I'm +sure he wants to go to sleep as soon as possible. And here, Mr. +Harlan,"--she advanced toward him thrusting into his arms a blanket and +a pillow,--"I found this extra bedding for your bunk today. . . . +There now, tuck it under your arm, like this. . . . Good-night. . . . +Sleep well. . . . _Good-night_." Her voice was kind as she smiled up +into his face, but there was no mistaking her meaning. With shame and +resentment in his heart he had turned up the hillside trail. + +On the brow of the hill he had stopped and flung the bedding angrily on +the ground, himself upon it. Was he a criminal that he should be +debarred from an hour's pleasure in the society of the only other human +beings on this Island? Suddenly he felt that he hated Ellen Boreland. +He hated all women. He hated all the world. The longing for strong +liquor swept him, shaking him like a leaf. He could feel his chin +under his soft young beard quiver. He despised himself for a weakling +and a fool. He tightened the clasped hold of his arms about his knees +and dropped his head upon them. The thought that had been tormenting +him since the first day he began transferring the provisions, came back +now with an added urge. At the West Camp were flour, sugar, cornmeal +and dried fruit. With those ingredients he could make himself the +stuff that his system craved--make it as the Indians made it, with two +kerosene cans and a long piece of hollow kelp. In his hut on the other +side of the Island he could, undetected, heat the fermented mash in a +can, attach the piece of kelp to the top and immerse it in cold water +until the condensed steam came out at the other end in the form of +Thlinget _hoochinoo_. + +As he huddled there on the brow of the hill he had cradled the thought +in his mind, planning in detail each step of the distilling. With +provisions so low it would be impossible to take enough from the cache +to make any quantity--but he might make sufficient to ease, just once, +the intolerable thirst that possessed him. It might be six weeks +before the _Hoonah_ returned--six weeks of torment and loneliness. + +Another thing had been troubling him of late. His thoughts had been +returning to stories he had heard of Add-'em-up Sam who had died of +delirium tremens at Katleean. Silvertip, when in liquor, was fond of +detailing the last, violent days of the old bookkeeper. . . . +Sometimes, Harlan fancied, he too was beginning to see those fearful +shadowy images that dance on the borderland of insanity. How else +could he account for that spectre of the tundra which he saw, +sometimes, as he went home in the dusk--that dark, almost imperceptible +figure far off toward the south cliffs where the lone tree of Kon Klayu +stood on the brow of the hill? Was he too going the way of Add-'em-up +Sam? + +As he sat there he had cursed himself for ever leaving the _Hoonah_ and +risking his life to help a woman whose kind, polite aloofness irritated +his drink-shattered nerves as an open declaration of hostility could +not have done--a woman to whom he was merely a foolish young man who +had chosen to get himself marooned, and whose presence forced her to +calculate more closely the alarmingly depleted store of provisions left +after the wetting of the tide. + +Suddenly, in the midst of his bitter reverie, he raised his face from +his clasped arms. Up from the cabin below floated the faint, pure +harmony of violin strings. So exquisite, so lovely sounded the notes +in the wide, wild loneliness of the evening, that Harlan sat for a +moment with suspended breath. Gradually, under the spell of the music, +he became aware of the beauty of the world about him. The after-sunset +sky was a vast expanse of tender rose and blue deepening into violet on +the long encircling horizon line. Below lay the wine-dark sea fringing +with pale foam the sands of Kon Klayu. The noise of breakers on +distant reefs was like the wind in the eucalyptus trees of his +California home. . . . A flood of homesickness dissolved the +resentment in his heart. . . . Gradually the old fears and haunting +troubles faded from his lean young face. The low, vibrant tones of +Jean's violin brought him comfort. The soft, rippling notes breathed +him confidence, and the silvery chords lured him into the promises of +the future. He felt equal to noble and heroic deeds--to fighting and +conquering. From a sense of being outcast and alone, he felt a sudden +warming kinship with all the world. With his heart expanding he came +to his feet, the better to catch the harmony. + +The time and air had changed into something vaguely familiar. . . . +With a glow of pleasure he recognized it,--the lament of the funeral +canoes at Katleean, but with something else added, something that made +him feel the mystery and the weirdness and the elemental call of the +North. It was almost as if she played to him comforting him with +promises of this clean, new land of beginnings. + +Abruptly, he remembered, the music had broken off. There was a +moment's silence. And then there had drifted up to him Jean's +invariable good-night to the deepening twilight. Sweet and clear from +a long-drawn singing bow it came--a commingling of love and peace and +beauty he had once heard a great contralto sing: + + "In the West + Sable night lulls the day on her breast. + Sweet, good-night! . . ." + + +He had longed to throw back his head and sing these words to Jean's +music, but he had shaken himself. No. That was a song for a lover. . . + +"Son, are you plumb dead to the world?" Kayak Bill's words roused +Harlan from his dreaming. He sprang up and began stacking provisions +inside the tent. He realized as he worked, that today no tempting +thought had come to him of secretly distilling hootch from stores he +might take from this camp. The enormity of such an action struck him +for the first time. This food meant life on Kon Klayu--and there was +little of it. . . . + +A few hours later headed down the long stretch of beach toward the +cabin, he squared his shoulders under the heavy pack he bore and joined +in with the voices of Kayak Bill and Boreland who, with lusty +incongruity were singing the whaling song of the trading-post: + + "Up into the Polar seas + Where ice is delivered free, + And a man don't have to hustle + Like a blooming honey-bee!" + + +Work was hard in this country of the last frontier, but men had more +time, more inclination to sing, he thought. + +As he swung along the hard sand, in his heart was a sense of +expectancy--for what he did not know. + + + +[1] Old-time Alaskan. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE STORM + +The following morning was sunless. The air was still and heavy with +foreboding. Leaden-colored waters heaved under a gloomy sky and though +the sea appeared smooth to the eye the hollow roar of distant surf +sounded louder than usual. There was a strong smell of kelp and salt +brine, and a new, wild note in the cries of the gulls. + +"I say," Boreland called to Kayak Bill, who was tying back the flap of +the tent in which he slept. "It looks as if there's a storm brewing. +But I never saw the sea smoother. I think, if we're quick about it, we +can get a boat-load of grub down here before she breaks. What you say, +Kayak?" + +Kayak spread his legs and leaned back to take a long look at the sky, +just as Harlan came down over the hill and joined them. + +"I'm yore man, Boreland," he said at last. "But we'd better be spry +about it, for it'll be Davy Jones' locker for us if we get caught in a +gale off the reefs." + +A hasty breakfast over, Ellen joined the men and the four left for the +West Camp to select the most important things with which to load the +whale-boat. + +Arrived at their destination they worked swiftly, Ellen making her +selection of necessities while the men skidded the boat down to the +water's edge. It was soon loaded. A small pile of lumber from +Katleean for making sluice-boxes and furniture was made into a raft to +be towed. + +"About three more trips with the boat, and we'll have everything down +at the cabin," said Ellen, as she tied the flap of the tent. She had +noted that while he worked, Shane had glanced uneasily from time to +time at the grey sky. It was rapidly taking on a purple tinge, though +the sea was still as oily-smooth as it had been early in the morning. + +When the last sack had been stowed away and the raft made fast to the +boat, Ellen saw Harlan call her husband aside. In a low voice she +heard him make some suggestion which Boreland dismissed with a gesture. + +"Thanks, old man," he said, "but this is a job for all three of us," +and he turned to join Ellen who was standing at the edge of the water. +"We'll be home in time for supper, El," he said, with forced +cheeriness. "Don't worry, now--mind!" And he patted her hand +reassuringly before he turned to the boat. + +As she watched the craft slip away from the shore she conquered a wild +impulse to reach out and drag it back again. Shane and Harlan shoved +on their oars with long, slow strokes, as they faced the reefs that lay +between them and the open sea; Kayak Bill steered. Ellen watched them +move in and out between the protruding rocks. On the grey slope of the +sullen swells that rose and fell unbroken about them the raft in tow +shone wetly yellow. From time to time she caught glimpses of streaming +tangles of kelp which somehow suggested the floating hair of dead +women. . . . + +The boat crept off-shore to get outside the most dangerous of the +reefs, and once free, Boreland, small now in the distance, looked back +to wave a hand at her. At last, having seen the craft swing and move +slowly southward on the home stretch round the Island, Ellen sighed +with relief, and turning away from the sea, started down the beach +toward the cabin. + +Across the dark pall of the sky in the southwest clouds were beginning +to form in heaving sombre masses. A breeze, coming at first in +scarcely perceptible breaths, freshened almost in a moment, until the +glassy surface of the sea was wrinkled and streaked far out with black. +It was impossible to see the whaleboat now because of the barrier +reefs. Ellen's heart grew heavy with foreboding. The wind . . . +Remembering the tales of quick-rising wind and sea, she prayed that +these fitful puffs might not be the first breaths of a borning gale. + +She found Jean and Loll on the beach below the house. They had felt +the danger of the coming storm and were looking out anxiously for a +first glimpse of the boat. + +Only rearing waters and lowering sky bounded their vision. + +The wind increased. + +Silence grew upon them. + +The cloud banks in the southwest separated into weird-shaped masses +which detached themselves and began to travel swift and low toward them +across the sky. Some menacing quality in this relentless, headlong +rush increased Ellen's fears, and in growing alarm she watched the tiny +white-caps that were beginning to form on the waves. + +As they hurried down to the point off the bluff to command a wider view +of the waters, the wind whipped their skirts about them and tore at +their hair. + +Three grey gulls flew swiftly overhead with plaintive, long-drawn cries +quite different from their usual raucous screams. In her anxiety Ellen +remembered that these wild birds of Kon Klayu had as many moods as the +sea, and were prophetic of them. Loll, holding tightly to his mother's +hand, looked up at her with grave eyes. + +"Mother," he said, "Senott told me one time that sea-gulls are the +souls of little dead Indian babies and they always cry for their +mothers before a storm. Hear them now?" + +Immeasurably sad and longing the bird call struck through the sound of +increasing surf. Above, the whole sky was a mass of swiftly moving +clouds. The wind increased steadily. + +Another dragging hour went by with no sign of the whale-boat. With the +incoming tide the wind had risen until Ellen's heart quaked with a +great fear for the men who must row against it. Her senses tingled +with the welter of torn, tempestuous sea and clouds that seemed to +mingle and snatch at her with stinging, salt fingers. Her straining +eyes smarted from the high-flung spray of increasing combers. + +Bracing against the gale, she suddenly found herself aching from the +stress of trying, by sheer will, to keep back the force of the storm. +Some pagan thing within her had endowed the elements with a godlike +personality. She caught herself praying, beseeching the sea to rise no +higher; to be kind to her loved ones tossing somewhere on its seething +bosom. Both wind and tide were against the whale-boat now, and looking +out across the rearing waters it seemed to her that no small craft +could live in such a sea. + +A few drops of rain stung her face. Afar off from the southwest more +was coming. . . . She turned hopelessly from it, then almost at once +her dull misery was changed to joy. + +Half a mile out a blurred, dark thing rose for an instant on the crest +of a billow. She started to point it out to Jean, but simultaneously +the rain-squall struck her, drenching, stinging, cutting off for a +moment her view of the sea. From under the grey curtain of the driving +rain combers of muddy green raced in, spouting high in wind-torn fury +against the rocks and rolling swiftly toward her to fling themselves +roaring at her. . . . Again in a lull she caught a glimpse of the boat +tossing skyward . . . dropping from sight . . . rising again and +creeping slowly, slowly onward. . . . + +Hatless and coatless Boreland and Harlan were standing in the bottom of +the boat shoving on the oars with every ounce of their strength. Twice +she saw the younger man take the oars alone while her husband bailed. +Kayak Bill, rigid, watchful, sat in the stern his hand on the tiller, +ready with the instinct that comes of long experience for every motion +of the sea. + +Inch by inch they battled their way around the point in the face of +flying spray and driving rain. Behind them, like a live thing tugging +on the rope the raft rose and fell on the combs of the dark swells. +Pathetic and tear-compelling was the courage of these three men pitting +their puny strength against the pitiless violence of the elements. +Once the little boat seemed to stand still a long time, swashing up and +down in the hollows of the waves, while over it the chop of the sea +splashed in spiteful fury. . . . At last it advanced again slowly and +Kayak swung broadside, turning in towards the beach on which the +anxious woman stood. + +A gust of wind caught viciously at the tarpaulin spread over provisions +in the stern. It carried its fluttering blackness straight back into +the white and green of a giant comber directly behind. The onrushing +breaker reared its cruel head . . . then just as another rain-squall +broke, hiding it from view, it curled down swift, terrifying, and the +whale-boat disappeared in its foaming maw. . . . + +With a cry of despair Ellen rushed to the very edge of the surf, +straining her eyes over the wild sea. Had the force of the breaker +swept everyone from the whale-boat? Had the canvas stretched tightly +over the provisions been sufficient to keep the water from filling and +swamping the boat? Would the violence of the tide and wind bring them +in if--if--Kayak Bill had not been torn from his post? Suddenly she +knew that on Kayak depended everything: Kayak Bill who had once been a +pilot at surf-bound Yakataga; Kayak Bill who had run the raging bars of +the delta-mouthed Copper River. Would he be equal to the surf of Kon +Klayu? Could he keep his hold on the tiller? . . . Oh, if the +rain-curtain would only lift! If she could but see out there in that +foaming, roaring swelter of water! + +She dashed a hand across her face tearing aside the wet hair that +flattened itself against her eyes. . . . The squall was letting +up. . . . She could see now, but there was nothing--nothing but +breakers. . . . A sob tore itself from her throat. She started to +turn away. Then dimly, she saw. . . . + +Low in the water, veiled by flying white-caps, they came--Boreland and +Harlan bailing desperately, and in the stern Kayak Bill, his hand still +on the tiller, keeping the oarless boat steady a-top the swift, rushing +wave that was sweeping them on to the beach! + +With outstretched, welcoming arms Ellen waded out into the foam of the +spent breaker that grounded the whale-boat almost at her feet. . . . + +That evening the adventurers sat in the warmth of the crowded cabin +living over again the events of the day. Every available corner was +piled high with the wet provisions that had been unloaded from the +whale-boat that afternoon, but contrasted with the gale outside the +place was satisfyingly snug and comfortable. Still lingered the savory +aroma of the duck mulligan that had been their supper. In the Yukon +stove the fire roared and crackled as if in defiance of the terrific +blasts that shook the cabin. The sense of kinship that comes to those +who have fought their way together through some great danger was strong +upon them all tonight. + +"Holy Mackinaw, boys!"--Boreland emphasized his remarks with the stem +of his pipe--"I wouldn't have given a hoot in Hades for our chances +when that wave broke! Thought it was all day with us then. Kayak, +Harlan, a fellow never realized what small potatoes he is until he +looks _up_ from the hollow of a wave!" He stretched his long arms +comfortably and laughed. "But . . . after you've been up against a +proposition like that, and come through, it certainly makes a man feel +like a _man_!" + +"It certainly does, Skipper!" Harlan's eyes glowed. He appeared more +alive than at any other time since his landing, beginning to +understand, evidently, something of the hard freedom of the North, for +which men must either fight or die. + +Of the three men Kayak Bill alone had been silent concerning his +sensations. Ellen thought that the praise of the others had smitten +him with a strange shyness. Loll was sitting astride the old man's +knees, questioning him about that moment when the giant breaker had +engulfed the boat. + +Determined on an answer, the boy was urging for the fifth time: + +"But, Kayak, what did _you_ feel like?" + +"Wall, son,"--Kayak's hazel eyes twinkled--"I just couldn't' figger out +for a minute whether I was a clam . . . or a pond-lily." + +In the laugh that followed Harlan took up a roll of blankets and went +into the other room. There was no thought of his crossing the Island +tonight. Kayak Bill's tent had blown down during the afternoon and he +was, as he put it, "forced to seek better anchorage." He and Harlan +were to spread a bed on the floor of the adjoining room. + +Kobuk, with appealing whines and tentative pawings at the door, had +finally won an entrance and was curled up in front of the stove. Just +before supper Shane had come in lugging the pigeon's cage, which he +placed carefully on top of a tall packing box. Ellen felt the bird's +presence in a way that was beginning to trouble her. Tonight it seemed +to wear a sullen and dejected look, unlike its usual bold air. All +evening it had sat motionless in the bottom of the cage. The only sign +of life it displayed was in the deep orange pupils of its eyes which, +she was sure, followed her about wherever she went. + +She forced herself to look away from the cage. A hush had fallen on +those in the room. The shrieking of rising wind challenged attention. +Ellen listened with a feeling strangely compounded of delight and +terror. Never before had she known such a wind. It swept down on the +roof of the cabin in woolies, threatening to blow it in, and then +seemingly sucking it out again. The log walls quivered. Every joist, +and board creaked and strained. The box on which the lamp stood +vibrated, and the flat yellow flame flickered. The air reverberated to +the thunder of surf that crashed against the hundred reefs on Kon +Klayu. Ellen had a feeling that the little Island trembled in the +splendid abandon of wind and sea--trembled, yet exulted in the freedom +of the elements. She found herself paradoxically fearing, yet hoping +that the next blast of the gale might be heavier. + +Harlan had finished spreading the blankets in the other room. +"Skipper," he said, "I've been wondering how the whale-boat is. Before +we turn in I think I'll go down and see that we made the old girl +fast." He took up his oilskins from the floor and slipped into them. + +When the door had closed behind him, Kayak Bill looked at Boreland and +nodded. + +"I make affirmation," he drawled, "that there's a paystreak in any man +who looks first after his hoss--or his boat." + +While the significance of the old man's remark was dawning on Ellen, +there was an odd lull in the storm. Surprisingly a new sound came to +them. It was a sound blown from the south cliffs; a sound that was, +yet was not of the storm; a hollow reverberating roll that was deep and +mellow, thrilling and strange. Boreland and Kayak rose simultaneously +and looked questioningly into each other's eyes. + +"What--" Boreland's words were cut off by the flinging open of the +door. White-faced and dripping Harlan staggered in, slamming it to +shut out the driving rain. He leaned heavily against it. + +"God--Skipper," he gasped. "The whale-boat-- It's gone!" + +At that moment, like a happening in a sinister dream, Ellen was aware +that the pigeon perched high on the packing-box, had suddenly come to +life. It was flapping its wings diabolically, exultingly. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE MYSTERIOUS PRESENCE + +The loss of the whale-boat was a calamity staggering in its magnitude. +It meant that every pound of provisions left at the West Camp must be +packed on the backs of the men to the cabin. Not only that, but they +were now without any means whatever of leaving the Island. Nothing but +the direst necessity could have forced Boreland to seek the mainland in +the frail craft, but, remembering that the Indians of the coast had +been known to journey the hundreds of miles from Sitka to Kodiak in +open canoes, there had been a certain feeling of assurance in the +thought that with the whale-boat there was at least a chance of +bringing help to the Island should it be necessary. + +Boreland was the first to recover from the blow. The morning following +the loss the three men were discussing it. + +"Well, these post mortems get us nowhere," he said at last as he rose +and prepared to stow the provisions away in the loft. "We'll tackle +the job on hand now. After all, Kilbuck will be here with the _Hoonah_ +soon, and we can get another boat from him." + +All that afternoon while the gale tore at the corners of the little +cabin and the sea beat with increasing violence on the beach and reefs, +the men worked with hammer and saw, putting up shelves, making a table +and a bedstead, and erecting two bunks for Jean and Lollie, one above +the other in the adjoining room. Because he would so soon be leaving, +Kayak Bill decided to pitch his tent again in the lee of the house as +soon as the storm permitted, and occupy it until the _Hoonah_ came. + +The storm lasted three days. The second day the roof began to leak. +The third day the rickety little porch blew down on one end and much of +the chinking came out from between the logs of the cabin. + +When, on the fourth morning, the wind died away and the sun burst out +brilliantly upon a tumbling, muddy sea and rain-drenched landscape, +Boreland's first thought was of repairing the house. + +"We're in a devil of a stew here," he exclaimed after breakfast. +"We'll have to get this place fixed up right now. Still, some of us +ought to go down to the West Camp and take a look at the cache. +Luckily there are no animals on the island, so we have nothing to fear +from that source." + +"Why can't Loll and I go down to the camp, Shane?" broke in Jean. +"Then all you men can get busy on the house. The poor, little old +thing looks as if it had a black eye, with the porch battered down over +the door." + +Boreland was at first not in favor of the idea, doubting that it was +safe for them to go alone. At last, however, he consented. + +"Keep to the upper beach line," he cautioned, as the two started out, +"and remember, if the sea is breaking near the bluff when you come +home, wait on the other side until the tide drops before you attempt to +cross." + +After the long confinement in the crowded cabin Jean was as delighted +as her capering little nephew to feel again the freedom of the beach. +In spite of all the hardships--perhaps because of them--she was growing +to love the sands of Kon Klayu, and to look upon this incalculable +ocean as a sort of fairy god-mother, who, with every tide, brought up +something different to lay at her feet. She never started out for a +walk along the sea without experiencing that delightful, childish sense +of expectancy which is so keenly a part of the life of Alaska. + +While Kobuk trotted on ahead she and Loll, remembering the talk of +beach mining to which they had so often listened, scanned the way for +ruby sand, the carrier of gold. But this morning the beach was untidy +with great masses of fresh kelp and seaweeds from the deep, torn by the +storm and scattered everywhere. + +"Oh, look, Jean! The gulls have found something!" Loll's finger, +pointing ahead indicated a cloud of screaming, white-breasted birds +that were rising and falling on slate-tipped wings over some object +below them. "Let's hurry and see what it is." + +But Kobuk was before them. Dashing on ahead he plunged into the melee, +frightening the gulls from their find so that they flew shrieking into +the air as the girl and her little companion ran up to discover the +remains of a large fish on the sand. It was a halibut nearly six feet +long. With the exception of the bones but a small portion and the head +remained, for the birds had been gorging on it for some time. The +flesh, however, looked fresh and firm and white. + +Jean regarded it thoughtfully. "If we had nothing else to eat, Lollie, +we _might_ eat a fish like this--that is if we got it before the gulls +had been at it." In an emergency even a great storm might be made to +serve, since its very violence flung up from the deep such fare as +this. At any rate, the gulls appreciated it, for even as Loll and Jean +stood there, the birds had flown back, settling upon their find, their +strong, lemon-colored, crimson-splotched beaks tearing greedily at the +flesh. In their eagerness they flew thrillingly close, cold, +gold-ringed eyes staring fiercely into the faces of the two, powerful +wings fanning their cheeks. Loll, seeing Jean shrink away from an +overly bold bird, took her hand and tugged her away from the +discordantly screaming mass. + +"Gosh, Jean, if those fellows were very hungry and I was alone, I bet +they'd take a peck at _me_!" + +Recalling a day at Katleean, when she had stood by a creek watching the +salmon struggle up through the shallow water, while screeching gulls +swooped exultantly down on the helpless creatures and gouged the eyes +out of the living fish, Jean shuddered and quickened her steps. + +They approached the tent cache at the West Camp. It appeared intact. +The wind, being from the southwest had struck with full force on the +opposite end of the Island. Jean untied the flap of the tent and went +inside. The provisions were piled up nearly to the ridgepole at the +back. Lollie, poking about, came upon a piece of rope, which, boylike, +he took outside and wound about his waist. Jean heard him stumbling +over the guy-ropes at the side. Then from the back came his call: + +"Jean! Come here!" + +The girl ran out and joined him. He was pointing to the back of the +tent. The pegs which had fastened it to the earth were uprooted. The +canvas swung free. But what filled her with momentary conjecture was +that which lay at her feet. A sack of flour evidently had been dragged +out from under the wall of the tent and ripped open, for the sand was +whitened with the doughy mixture resulting from the rain. + +At this moment it did not occur to the girl to be frightened. There +were no tracks in the sand other than hers and Loll's. Evidently, she +thought, in the haste to load the boat before the storm, the men had +dropped the sack and it had burst open. + +"But how careless of them, Loll, not to peg the tent down again," she +said. Loll, however, was already headed for the first camp-site made +when landing on the northeast side of the Island. Her call brought his +eager answer: + +"Aw, come on, Jean, I want to see how drowned we'd be if we'd stayed +there during the storm." + +Smiling to herself at the boy's love of dwelling on their narrow +escapes from death, real and imaginary, the girl turned and picking up +a stone drove in a few of the tent-pegs before she followed him. + +On each side of the trail great patches of rice-grass had been +flattened from the force of the wind and rain, and the air was filled +with the sweet smell of vegetation drying in the sun. As she +approached the other side, the blue sky curved down to meet the ocean +on a far straight line. The yellow-green of the sea was set off by +astonishing areas of clearest cobalt blue, and the flying spray from +combers breaking for miles out on the North Shoals, caught the sunlight +in a glory of rainbow mist. + +"See, I told you, Jean," Loll nodded sagely and pointed ahead as she +overtook him. + +A hundred feet above the place where the first camp had been the +rice-grass had been torn out by the roots and whitened drift-logs and +kelp were massed there confusedly. + +In silence the girl stood looking at the spot. Emotions of fear, +thankfulness and something of reverence swept her. Lollie, looking +down over the freckles on his nose, vested the lower part of his face +in his hand in a manner reminiscent of Kayak Bill. + +"Escaped, by hell, by the skin of our teeth!" he gloated. + +The tide had been coming in fast during the past half hour. Jean, +noting it, suddenly turned back, and with uneasy haste began the +homeward journey. + +Opposite the little lake where Boreland had shot the first ducks, Loll +insisted on running up to the beach line to look over and see whether +there were any more birds feeding there. Jean, waiting for him, +watched him make his way through the short grass to the narrow, sandy +lake-shore, and then stoop to look at something. . . . All at once he +raised his head, and with a strange, blanched look on his little face, +glanced quickly, fearfully behind him into the tall alder thicket +toward the hill. Then, wide-eyed, he sprang toward her without a sound. + +"Wha--what is it, Loll?" she gasped. + +The boy's eyes shone with excitement. "It--it--it was a wild beast's +tracks, Jean. This long--" He measured off about twelve inches between +his trembling hands--"and it had claws--big ones that digged deep into +the sand!" + +"But there are no beasts on the Island, Loll! You must be mistaken!" + +"No, no!" Loll's face quivered in his anxiety to convince her of the +truth of his statements. Knowing the youngster's unconscious tendency +toward exaggeration, she was doubtful. There could be no animal on the +Island. But . . . to make sure . . . she herself would go back to see. + +She looked about for Kobuk, but the dog had gone on toward the bluff. +Impressing on Loll the necessity of remaining where he was until she +should come back she turned toward the lake again, running. + +As she drew near the margin, unreasoning terror of the unknown began to +take possession of her. Every pile of driftwood, every alder bush +became alive with sinister possibilities. She drove herself forward. +She could see the stretch of sand where Loll had stood. She could see +that there were marks of some kind upon it. Trembling, fearful, her +heart beating like a hammer in her breast, she pressed forward and +looked closely at the marks. . . . Loll was right. Here on Kon Klayu +were monster tracks of--what she did not know. + +She wheeled swiftly and ran back to where the boy waited. Without a +word she snatched his hand and fled with him down the beach toward the +bluff and home. + +Kobuk, far in advance, was picking his way along the bluff, and now as +they ran Jean became aware that a new danger threatened them. The tide +had come in so far that even from a distance she could see the foam of +spent breakers washing up against the rocky wall ahead. Boreland had +said to wait until the tide fell, before attempting to pass the bluff, +but with the new, strange terror behind them, she had no thought of +obeying. The sea, roaring almost at her feet, seemed kinder and more +to be trusted than the unknown beast lurking in the alders, or perhaps +slinking along, even now, above the beach line, watching, waiting to +spring out at them any moment. + +Arrived at the bluff she saw, with dismay, that all along, the +back-wash of breakers licked the base. She stopped, tightening her +hold on Loll's hand. She looked a long moment at the huge rollers of +the incoming tide that crashed so close to her, and then back from +whence she had come. + +Loll raised his sober little face to the sky. + +"God," he said, conversationally, "I guess _you'll_ have to take a +hand." + +Jean slipped the rope from about his waist. She tied one end to him +and the other about her own body in clumsy, womanish knots. + +"Lollie,"--despite her efforts her voice quavered--"we're going to run +for it. Cling tightly to my hand, dear." + +At that moment a wave receded. They ran dizzily forward in the +shifting, wet gravel of the beach. When the next incoming comber was +beginning to curl down from the top, Jean dashed to the bluff. +Shielding the little fellow below her, she clung to the uneven shale of +its base, presenting her back to the billow that crashed with a +deafening roar just behind her. + +Swift, terrifying, the wash of the breaker boiled and foamed about +their feet, to their ankles, to their knees. It made Jean's head swim. +It paralyzed her power of thought, leaving her with only the instinct +to cling. She had to wait while two more breakers rolled in and broke +before she saw a chance to stagger to the next point of safety. It +seemed to her that hours passed thus while she and Loll struggled, wet +and battered, onward. + +They had gone but two-thirds of the way when, glancing at the incoming +wave to calculate how far they might run, she became aware of a +mountainous unbroken roller immediately behind it--a watery monster +that humped its back into a ragged, dancing crest high above her head. +It advanced in eager, liquid blackness. She knew it must break nearly +against the bluff where they stood. + +Her desperate eyes espied a rough ledge just above her. With the +strength born of despair she caught up her nephew and tossed him to +safety. Frantically she herself tried to climb the bluff. . . . She +thought she heard a man's voice shouting to her. . . . There was a +moment when Loll's white face looked down at her through a haze. . . . +A moment when his little hands moved swiftly taking a turn with the +rope about a ragged, upstanding piece of rock. Then a boiling, roaring +sound filled her ears. . . . An avalanche of dark water crashed down +upon her, freezing her, smothering her, crushing her. She felt her +body thrown high against the stony wall. . . . + +As she was whirled, choking, into darkness and oblivion there flashed +through her mind the thought: + +"This, then, is how it feels to die." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE PERIL OF THE SURF + +After Jean and Loll had left for the West Camp that morning Harlan, +Boreland and Kayak Bill set to work repairing the roof of the cabin and +the porch. From his position astride the peak Harlan could hear Ellen +busy at her tasks indoors. As the tide began to run in he saw her come +to the door from time to time and walk down onto the beach to look for +the absent ones. Apparently she was vaguely uneasy. The Island's +possibilities for good or bad were yet unknown to her and she was +evidently never quite secure in her mind when any of her household was +out of her sight. After one of the last excursions to the beach she +had spoken of the fact that the waves had reached the base of the cliff. + +"They won't be able to come now for a while," she said, addressing the +men on the roof. And then she added: "Could two of you give me a +little help inside, Shane? I need to move the bed." + +Kayak and Boreland accordingly slid down from the ridge and followed +her into the house. + +Gregg paused in his work of nailing tar-paper over the boards, and +stretched wide his arms. He was taking a cursory glance toward the +incoming tide when his attention was attracted by the figure of Kobuk +ambling up the trail from the beach. The dog was dripping wet and at +intervals he stopped to shake himself violently. Kobuk must have been +playing along the edge of the surf, Harlan thought. And yet, he must +have crossed the sands below the bluff . . . and the tide was only an +hour from the flood. . . . But of course Jean would not dream of +attempting a crossing now. He took up his hammer again. . . . +Suddenly he hooked it over the ridge. At any rate, he would go down +and make certain. . . + +Slipping off the roof he ran down to the beach. There he sped along +its curve until his eye could command the length of the bluff. . . . +He stopped aghast. Midway Jean and the boy were coming on, stumbling +across the sand left bare by a receding wave, dashing to the ragged +base of the cliff and clinging to it while the incoming comber broke +and seethed about them, then rushing on again! Owing to the storm of +the past days the billows were higher than usual. Also there was yet +the most dangerous portion of the way to be traversed. + +With a call for help Harlan started toward them, he also racing as the +breakers ran out, and climbing the cliff out of their reach as they +broke. + +He shouted to Jean to attract her attention. If he could only sign to +her to ascend the bluff and hold fast till he came! Vainly he tried to +make his voice heard above the deafening roar. She neither heard nor +saw him. . . . Desperately he plunged on, not taking time now to climb +up for his own safety, but ploughing through the onrushing waves. Once +a crashing comber caught and threw him flat on the shifting gravel. +Before he could right himself it had sucked him almost into the maw of +the next down-curling sea. Fortunately it was a small one. He was +able to regain his feet and stagger to a hand hold. + +Then at the same instant that Jean's eye caught it, he became aware of +the huge, unbroken billow advancing toward the struggling figures of +the girl and boy. He saw her snatch up the child and toss him to the +safety of the ledge, saw her ineffectual efforts to follow . . . then +the dancing crest broke and Jean became but a formless dark object +tossed like a drift-log on the foaming waters that spouted against the +foot of the bluff. + +With a despairing cry, Harlan plunged forward, and as the great wave, +the first of three, receded, he reached her. + +Limp and unconscious she hung from the rope that bound her to the +terrified small boy above, and he saw that the little fellow had taken +a turn with it about a jagged rock. But for this timely precaution the +girl must have been drawn back into the sea and the child with her. + +An extra long recession of the water gave him time to lift the inert +body and throw it across his shoulder, and thus, while the second giant +roller broke at his hack he gripped with his torn hands into the sharp +shale and held on. As it ebbed he hoisted her to the ledge above him. + +From the temporary safety of this narrow shelf he considered their +chances. It was impossible to scale the face of the bluff above him, +yet the tide would not be full for an hour. Owing to the enormous sea, +they would all three be swept into the ocean if they remained where +they were. There was but one thing he could do. + +He laid a hand on Loll's quaking shoulder. + +"Pal," he said quietly, "will you be afraid to stay here while I carry +Jean to the other side of the bluff?" + +The boy looked down at the clamorous, booming tide and hesitated. . . . +He swallowed hard, blinking. Then he looked at the inert form of his +aunt, and meeting Harlan's eyes, shook his head bravely. + +"Good! Hang on tight then, old man, and I'll be back for you before +you can say 'Jack Robinson'!" + +He cut the rope about Jean's waist, and backing down from the ledge, +took her again across his shoulder. As Lollie's hand reached out and +began coiling the rope, he turned to watch the breakers, that he might +time the first dash of his flight back to safety. + +The tide was higher now, the combers nearer, and he had but one free +hand with which to cling to the base of the bluff when the enveloping +waters rose about him. He plunged. He staggered. . . . His senses +after a few moments were bludgeoned into numbness by the roar of the +sea; his body was sore from the impact of beating water and stinging +gravel. He struggled on step by step, feeling his way along the +shifting beach, until only the primal instinct of self-preservation was +guiding him in the grim game with the tide. + +At last he reached the other end of the bluff. He reeled up to the dry +sand and let the body of the girl slip from his shoulder. As he did so +he heard a shout. Boreland and his wife were running down from the +cabin trail. He did not pause but plunged back again through the +drenching maelstrom. + +In a moment their frantic calls were swallowed up in the deafening roar +of waters. Would he have strength to fight his way back? Would he +find the boy where he had left him, or had a comber swept him off the +narrow shelf? Harlan was unutterably weary now. He longed to let go +his hold on the rocky wall, to cease fighting, and let himself be taken +out into obliteration; but he drove himself on . . . and on. . . . +After a long while he gained the perilous perch where Loll bravely +awaited him above the roar. + +He rested a moment. The little fellow's absolute faith in him gave him +the will to fight his way back again. He took the child on his +shoulders and once more plunged into the watery hell. + +How he returned to safety he never knew. He was conscious only of +reaching the place where Jean lay . . . of asking whether or not the +girl was still alive . . . then the great weariness overpowered him. +He sank down on the sand beside Jean, and Lollie's glad shout, as he +was clasped in his mother's arms, floated through his mental numbness +like a clear toy balloon drifting up in a fog. + +Three hours later Harlan was resting on the bed in the living-room. In +the adjoining room where Jean lay in her little bunk he knew that the +girl was hearing, from Ellen's guarded lips, the story of her rescue. +On recovering consciousness she had tried to rise, but one side, where +she had struck against the rocks, was bruised and so painful that, +though she rebelled, she would be obliged to remain in bed for the +remainder of the day at least. + +Loll had already told the story of the mysterious animal tracks by the +lake, and the scattered flour at the cache. Boreland had taken his +rifle and gone down to the place as soon as the tide permitted. As +Harlan lay there thinking, he was filled with an intense relief--he +knew now that the spectre of the tundra that had so worried him was no +creature of his own disordered brain. Whatever it might be, it was of +flesh and blood. He could speak of it now. + +Boreland returned about supper time. + +"Did you see 'em, dad?" shouted Loll as his father came in the door. + +"What was it, Shane?" Jean called from the other room. + +Boreland replaced his rifle in the rack over the head of the bed. + +"Bear tracks," he answered succinctly. "Hind foot measures fourteen +and a half inches!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +HOME-MAKING + +"I figure that the Kodiak cub the Alaska Fur and Trading Company +brought over here as a pet, is now wandering about the Island a +full-grown grizzly, instead of being in bear heaven, as the people of +Katleean thought," said Boreland, as they all sat about the supper +table. "Confound it, it makes it mighty bad for us, with all that grub +down there at the West Camp! If the beast takes a notion he can go +there and raise the very devil." + +"I'll take my blankets down there tomorrow and guard the cache until we +get the provisions transferred," announced Harlan, quickly. "I'd like +to get a shot at a Kodiak bear." + +"Son, I ain't a-castin' any asparagus on yore shootin' ability, but I +claims the right to shoot that anamile myself!" spoke up Kayak Bill. + +"Funny!" Boreland laughed. "I had the same idea myself." + +After supper they discussed the problem of getting the remainder of the +provisions down to the cabin at once. It was decided that each man +should take a turn guarding the cache. Boreland finally left the +conversation to Kayak and Harlan while he sat at the table silent, one +hand clutching his hair, the other drawing queer-looking cart-wheels +and figures on a paper before him. Just before the others started to +leave for the night, he sprang up, with an exclamation. + +"By thunder, I've got it!" he announced enthusiastically. "Fellows, +we're going to make a nautical cart and sail her on the beach of Kon +Klayu!" + +The nautical cart, when completed, proved to be a hybrid contrivance +with two large wheels. The wheels had a cumbersome appearance, owing +to the double rims, which were tired with barrel-staves cut in two and +mailed crosswise to prevent sinking into the sand. The top of the cart +was a platform eight feet long and four wide, with two handles +projecting at each end. Rising from its middle was a mast for which +Kayak Bill rigged up a sail from a tarpaulin. + +Boreland stood off and regarded the finished child of his brain. +Beside him Kayak eyed it for some minutes in admiring silence. + +"By--hell!" he drawled at last. "Sired by a whisky barrel, spawned by +a stretcher, and a throw-back to a Chinese sampan!" + +Boreland laughed. "I got my idea for this little beauty from something +I read once about the sailing wheelbarrows used by farmers in the +interior of China, Bill! I'll bet you, with a fair wind, we can make +all of five miles an hour with her on the beach!" + +The cart exceeded even its builder's expectations. Steered to the West +Camp the next afternoon it was loaded with provisions and the sail +hoisted. With Harlan between the two front handles and Boreland at the +rear, the odd vehicle was headed toward home. The sail, twice as large +as the cart, strained at the mast from the force of the wind behind it, +and to the men between the handles, the load seemed hardly to matter at +all. Bare-footed, with trousers rolled up to their knees as in boyhood +days, the two men found it a new and distinctly pleasant sensation to +be swept along thus before wind. In a few minutes Kayak Bill, smoking +placidly before the provision tent, was left far behind. + +Remembering the back-breaking loads he had carried to the cabin, Harlan +grinned back at the bellying sail behind him as he sped along. + +"This is child's play, Boreland!" he shouted to his partner. "The +problem of transportation is solved; for if there's one thing we never +lack on Kon Klayu, it's wind!" + +And so it came about that, thanks to the nautical cart, which though +the subject of much jesting, did the work, a month from the time of +landing found all that remained of the adventurers' outfit transferred +to the cabin. Not once during this time was the bear seen in the +vicinity of the cache, though sometimes fresh tracks appeared on the +margin of the little lake--now christened Bear Paw Lake--where Loll had +discovered them. + +With the boards taken from the tumble-down shack an extra shed had been +built near the cabin, and the porch repaired and strengthened. Harlan +found time to make a much larger cage for the pigeon. As he told +Ellen, the bird, confined in such close quarters, might not thrive. + +Harlan noticed that despite Ellen's determination to leave the Island +on the coming of the _Hoonah_ she took a woman's delight in doing her +best to make life comfortable with the few things at her command. +Since it was the dictum of fate--if she would be with the man she +loved--that she must spend so much of her married life in tents along +new trails, floating down rivers in flatboats, or wayfaring in +trappers' cabins, she sooner or later accepted those conditions. +Doubtless, many times she rebelled in her heart. Any woman would. +But, he fancied, she was the kind who would chide herself for the +momentary disloyalty to Shane and with an increased tenderness, set her +capable, feminine touch to perform some new marvel of transformation in +each wild place of the moment. + +In the cabin on Kon Klayu she accomplished much. With newspapers and +magazines found in the box of books from Add-'em-up Sam's collection, +she papered the rooms. At the new windows which framed a wide expanse +of ever-changing sea, giving a sense of space and freedom to the +living-room, she hung cheese-cloth curtains. The folds of these draped +a book shelf beside the window, supporting few books but holding in its +empty space the gold-scale, unused as yet on Kon Klayu, and glinting +newly as it caught the light on its polished surface. In a corner of +the room the bed was gay with Indian blankets and bright cushions. The +homely cheer of a red tablecloth was reflected in the bright nickel of +the shaded lamp on the table, and on the white, sand-scoured floor a +long strip of rag carpet from Ellen's old home in the States, made a +note of old-fashioned, comforting cleanliness. On the Yukon stove the +kettle sang cheerily to the pots and pans hanging in a shining row on +the wall behind and the room was pervaded by the faint, clean smell +from the woodbox piled high with newly-split wood that had lain long in +the sea. + +Harlan followed Boreland into the house the day Ellen finished her +curtains. He came upon the big prospector standing with his arm across +his wife's shoulders. + +"I'm blessed of the saints, entirely," Shane was saying, as he bent to +lay his cheek affectionately against her hair. "God love you, Ellen, +little fellow. . . . you could make a home out of a drygoods box." . . . + +After the rescue of Loll and Jean at the bluff, Harlan noticed that +Ellen's silent gratitude found vent in a dozen little ways, though he +was aware also that he never had an opportunity of seeing the girl +alone. Since the _Hoonah_ was expected any day now, Ellen had +suggested that the young man bring his blankets across the Island and +"bunk" with Kayak Bill until their departure. Had it been offered +three weeks earlier, this arrangement would have been eagerly accepted. +But Gregg's attitude toward life on Kon Klayu had changed. It was +still changing. + +He was now cooking his own meals at the Hut, clumsily, it is true, +since his unaccustomed hands had never before held a frying-pan. But +he was learning, and he was surprised to find himself taking pleasure +in the experience. He thanked Ellen for her invitation, but refused +it. He would not have been human had he not felt a certain +satisfaction in doing so. + +He wondered tentatively if Kayak Bill had suspected the struggle that +was going on within him during his first days on the Island--the fear +of delirium tremens, the fight he was making to conquer the craving for +liquor which continued, intermittently now, to torment him. The old +man said nothing on the subject, but on one pretext or another Harlan +noticed that Kayak managed to spend much of his leisure time at the +Hut. Often, if the night were fine, he would roll up in a blanket +before the fire and stay there until morning. + +Kayak Bill's sauntering feet had followed Dame Fortune over every +gold-trail from Dawson to Nome, and there was no trick of Alaskan camp +life that he had not learned. He never tried to force his knowledge on +the younger man, but casually, in the course of his slow, whimsical +monologues, he taught Harlan much that was of inestimable value to him. +Indeed, if it had not been for the old man, Harlan might have been +forced to swallow his pride long before and ask for shelter at the +Boreland cabin, for despite his brave talk of living in the Hut, it was +a shelter of the rudest type, built, probably, as a feeding station by +the experimenting fox-farmers. + +Its structure interested him. It was made by standing whale ribs up on +end about two feet apart in a circle. The spaces between were filled +with turf, which abounded all over the island, thus making a wall two +feet thick. Harlan had repaired it, and in the words of Kayak who +helped him, had "rigged" himself up a stove from kerosene cans. It was +the old hootch-maker who showed him how to arrange stones to form a +crude, open-air fireplace in front of his door for use in fine weather. +It was Kayak Bill who taught his blundering hands the trail way of +stirring up a bannock and baking it in a frying-pan propped up before +the blaze. + +Harlan now had less time to think about himself. The little can stove +required much finely chopped firewood to keep it going. The open-air +fireplace consumed large quantities of drift which he had to chop with +an axe, since the one saw on the Island was needed at the cabin. After +his day's work with Boreland, he had his meals to prepare. There were +brown beans to clean and cook, and sourdough hotcakes to set for the +morning. Kayak had taught him to prepare his sourdoughs--a resource +which was to become the food mainstay of all on the Island. Harlan +learned from the old man that the sourdough hotcake, or flapjack is as +typical of Alaska as the glacier. The wilderness man carries, always, +a little can filled with a batter of it; with this he starts the +leavening of his bread, or, with the addition of a pinch of soda he +fries it in the form of flapjacks. So typical a feature of Alaska is +the sourdough pot that the old timer in the North is called a +"Sourdough." + +Harlan grew to have a real fondness for his Hut--the only home he had +ever made for himself. Its very primitiveness endeared it to him. He +grew also to look forward to the fine evenings when he and Kayak, +stretched before the open fireplace with their backs to a bleached +whale rib, smoked and yarned and sang, while they watched the leaping +driftwood flames. + +Strange, picturesque characters of the last frontier stalked through +all Kayak Bill's tales: Reckless Bonanza Kings of Klondyke days, buying +with their new-found gold the love of painted women; simple-hearted, +gentle Aleuts kissing the footprints of skirted, bearded, Russian +priests; pathetic, gay ladies of adventure; half-mad hermits of the +hills; secretive squaw-men, and wistful, emotional half-breeds--all +these Kayak Bill made to live again in the glow of the evening fire. + +In his quaint, whimsical way he told of the prospector--that brave +heart who makes gold but an excuse for his going forth to conquer the +wilds. Harlan came to understand them--the lure of gold, and their +slogan: "_This_ time we will strike it." Through Kayak Bill's eyes he +saw them aged, broken by the rigors of many northern winters, but with +the indomitable spirit of youth still in them, a recurrent yearning +that defies age, rheumatism and poverty, and sends them with their +grub-stakes out questing into the hills. He saw them, with picks, and +gold pans wandering happily during the wonderful Alaskan summer and +fall, and when the frost paints the green above timber-line with russet +and gold and the Northern Lights beckon them back to the settlements, +he saw them arrive, tired, penniless, perhaps, but satisfied, and +already planning the next trip into the magnetic golden hills. + +And one night, being in a pensive mood, Kayak told of a partner of his, +the Bard of the Kuskokwim, an old northern poet unknown except in the +Valley o' Lies, who had put the prospector's soul hunger into verse: + + "We yearned beyond the skyline, + With a wistful wish to know + What was hidden by the high line, + Glist'ning with eternal snow. + And we yearned and wished and wondered + At the secrets there untold, + As the glaciers growled and thundered, + Came the whisper: 'Red, raw gold!'" [1] + + +As if he feared Harlan might think him sentimental, Kayak Bill finished +his recital with: + +"Yas, son, that old cuss partner o' mine was always recitin' them +poetry sayin's o' his. Durned if he wouldn't vocabulate to the trees +or the hills when there warn't another soul nearer to him than a +hundred miles!" + +But of Kayak Bill, himself, Harlan noted, there was never a personal +thing. In all his tales the old hootch-maker was ever the spectator, +amused, kindly, philosophical. + +Sometimes the two were silent--with the companionable silence that the +camp-fire instills. Leaning back against the whale-rib, while the +embers died in the fireplace and the sea below took on its veil of +twilight, they mused and listened to the universe. It was at such +times that Harlan began to feel, though faintly, the healing, vibrant +energy that comes to those who live close to Mother Earth. Katleean +and the bunkful of liquor that at first had occupied so much of his +thought, occurred to him less frequently. The States--and all that had +happened to him there were becoming a dream. He began to feel as +though he had always lived as he was living now. To his surprise as +the time drew near for the arrival of the _Hoonah_ he found himself +unconcerned, indifferent. Like Kayak Bill, he was learning to face +life serenely, undisturbed as to the morrow, but doing his best today. + + + +[1] From the unpublished poems of Edward C. Cone, Bard of Kuskokwim. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +GOLD + +Toward the end of September another heavy gale swept the Island. This +time the little party was snug and warm in the cabin with the +provisions under cover, and while the storm raged outside, Ellen and +Boreland climbed up into the loft and made a list of the supplies on +hand. In the log Ellen had begun to keep the day they landed on Kon +Klayu she made this entry: + +"Heavy gale blowing from the southwest. We hear again that strange +rolling sound from the south cliffs. Discovered today that all rolled +oats and flour is musty from being wetted by the tide when we landed, +and much of it is spoiled. Fortunately the flour caked on the outside +and the inside is fairly well preserved. We used the last of our +butter today. We have sugar for one more week." + +Though she said little her growing anxiety communicated itself in some +occult way to the other members of her household, even to Loll, to whom +she gave daily lessons in reading, writing and arithmetic. The little +fellow was at this time moved to write and illustrate a book on some +discarded letter-heads of a defunct life insurance company. Ellen +breathed a prayer of thanks that he so well entertained himself on +stormy days. + +On the first page of this work appeared the text of Old Mother Hubbard +written in the boy's large, childish, downhill hand with spelling of +distinct originality. Above it in a flaming red wrapper a lady with a +large bust and impossible tiny feet, slanted tipsily toward some +shelves--conspicuously empty, while in the offing quite aloof from the +lady a lean, pale-green animal stood with despondent drooping head and +tail. Other nursery favorites that had to do with eating and food, +followed. They were illustrated in red and black and green. The red +was made by a crayon pencil, miraculously produced by Kayak Bill; the +green was obtained by the simple expedient of chewing up rice-grass. +Toward the end of the book were many of Lollie's own poems, composed +for his mother, and beautified with marginal decorations of flying +gulls, sailing ships and fat button-eyed daisies, all bearing evidence +of repeated erasures with a wet little finger. + + "The red sun sinks down in the sea of the West, + The wind goes to sleep. + Seagulls flies homes to their nests. + And the gold stars their watches keeps. + I think the weather will be fine. + So the _Hoonah_ can come in. + If she don't we will be out of grub. + And O, what will we do then." + + +Thus Lollie indicated the unspoken thought which underlay all the +activities of the Boreland household now. They were subconsciously +counting the days until the White Chief should come to the Island with +the _Hoonah_ and, while they counted, they were beginning to fear. + +During the time of this second great gale Boreland and Kayak Bill made +ready for mining by making a gold-saving device called a rocker. It +was a box-like affair four feet long, eighteen inches wide and the same +dimension in height. The front end was open as well as the top and it +was mounted on rockers like a cradle. Over the back end was a sieve or +hopper, and immediately beneath slanted a frame covered with blanket +cloth. The pay-dirt was to be poured into the hopper and running water +turned in on it. While the cradle was rocked with a jerky movement the +sand sifted down through the hopper to the slanting apron. Much of the +gold, Boreland explained, would be caught in the nap of the apron, and +in the little sag at the bottom of it, but the sand would flow on out +over the bottom of the rocker which was also lined with blanket cloth +held down by cleats nailed crosswise at intervals. The sand, being +lighter than the gold, was washed on down the length of the rocker +floor and thence out on the ground, while the cleats and the rough nap +of the cloth caught any further yellow metal. + +With his Irishman's gift for seeing life through childish eyes, +Boreland made a small duplicate of the rocker for his son's use, a gift +which, in a way, was for the purpose of distracting Loll's mind from a +misfortune which had befallen Kobuk during the storm. The dog in +playing about the shed where the men were working, had knocked down the +long cross-cut saw, and the sharp teeth had fallen with full force +across Kobuk's right foreleg cutting it cruelly and, it was feared, +cracking the bone. Shane had cleansed the wound with the last bit of +antiseptic and bound it up in splints, but Kobuk's limping had brought +forth Loll's extravagant proffers of sympathy. + +The first receding tide after the six-day storm found the whole party +on the beach. With the provisions under cover and the cabin repaired +all was clear for the mining. They were patrolling the beach for +prospects. + +Kayak Bill and Gregg turned southward toward Skeleton Rib, as Harlan's +growing interest in the round boulders of that vicinity often drew him +there. Shane and his family took the beach around the bluff toward the +north. Ellen carried the rifle, for though there had been no time yet +to hunt, especially for the great bear that roamed Kon Klayu, she was +always on the alert. Boreland, happier than he had been since his +landing, was at last outfitted with a shovel and a gold pan, emblems of +his romantic calling. + +Each storm that tore the Island produced a different effect on the +beach. When they rounded the bluff this morning, instead of finding +piles of seaweed and gravel tossed up as they had after the first great +gale, they were surprised at vast areas of bedrock from which every +vestige of sand had been swept away. Tiny rills of water, drainage +from the tundra banks above the beachline, flowed down the shallow +crevices of the clayey, hard substance. + +Jean, who had never seen a nugget in its native state, was excitedly +searching for pieces of gold. Ellen smiled to see her, with Loll at +her heels, running hither and thither, expecting any moment to come +upon large, brassy-looking lumps resting like eggs on the hardpan. + +Boreland skirted the edges of the bedrock. + +They had reached the vicinity of Bear Paw Lake when abruptly he dropped +to his knees and looked keenly at the formation beneath him. In an +instant they were all running toward him. + +He raised his face transfigured with an eager joy. + +"Gosh all hemlock!" he exclaimed. "Here it is at last! Ruby +sand--_kon klayu_! Look, El! Jean!" + +At the edge of the bedrock dark beach sand was mixed with minute +garnet-like particles that imparted to it a tinge of ruby. A first +glance revealed nothing but rills of water running down through the +sand carrying it through the depression in the bedrock. Like live +things the atoms crawled slowly along the seam. Suddenly each watcher +caught her breath. Amid the shifting flow there came a glint--then +another. A second later, in the roughened surface of the bedrock lay +flakes of virgin gold! + +Gold! + +No thrill that gold can buy ever equals the wild ecstasy experienced by +those who find it. Jean threw her arms successively about her happy +sister and brother-in-law, and finished by capering over the bedrock +with Loll as a willing partner. + +When the first excitement had spent itself, Boreland sent the boy to +Kayak Bill and Harlan with word to bring shovels and the wheelbarrow. +It was necessary to gather and convey the pay-sand to a place of safety +before the next tide covered it, as the surf of Kon Klayu was too heavy +to permit surf-mining. Marking the spot with a piece of drift Boreland +continued down the beach with the others. + +They followed the shore as far as the site of the West Camp looking for +further patches of ruby sand, but found none. + +Having learned that by the aid of a hairpin and Boreland's knife they +could pick up the colors of gold that were caught in the crevices, +Ellen and Jean were on their knees examining the seams in the bedrock +when Kayak and Harlan arrived. The particles of gold were +extraordinarily flat and thin, and the largest flakes only could be +seen with the naked eye. There were few of these, but no miner was +ever prouder of his spring clean-up than was Jean of the ten colors she +collected in her drinking cup. + +Harlan could hardly credit his eyesight when he beheld the yellow +flakes Jean showed to him. . . . Gold on the Island of Kon Klayu after +all! . . . Then he recalled that on that memorable night of the +Potlatch dance the White Chief had admitted there was gold, but while +the tides occasionally uncovered pay-sand rich beyond most placers, +there would follow months when not a single color showed up in the +sands of Kon Klayu. It was not a paying proposition. This deposit of +ruby sand must be what Kayak Bill called a mere "flash in the pan." +Though he tried not to let his co-workers become aware of it, Harlan +was filled with doubts. + +All that day, while the tide permitted, the men wheeled pay-sand to a +place of safety above the high-tide line and the following morning, the +cart, speeding before a spanking breeze, carried all the mining outfit, +including Loll's rocker, down to the pay-dirt. Ellen, because of +household duties was the only one to remain at the cabin. + +Once more the night-tide had shifted the sands, and they found no trace +of any gold-carrier. The bedrock that had been bare the day before now +lay under several feet of gravel. The complete change in the +topography of the shore was almost weird. It filled them with +wondering and a strange respect for the mysterious workings of the sea. + +The rockers were set up on the beach just below Bear Paw Lake, and with +a flume made of a series of boards nailed together in a V-shape, water +was conveyed to the hopper of the rocker. Jean and Loll, before +beginning their own preparations, watched while Boreland and his two +helpers rocked out the first gold. After glints of yellow began to +appear in the nap of the cloth apron, they turned to their own outfit. + +Harlan solved their water problem by digging a hole below the large +rocker and catching the waste after it had done its work above. Long +before the pool was completed he and Jean were on terms of laughing +friendliness. This was the first time he had been with her, without +being uncomfortably aware of the watchful and disapproving eye of +Ellen. He felt a distinct exhilaration. + +He poured sand into the hopper while Jean rocked and Loll, detailing +much little-boy wisdom, dipped up the water from the hole beside them. + +Though it was her first year in the North, Jean, he thought, had fallen +into the ways of the country with the natural ability that marks the +young sea-gull launching out on the deep. Evidently she had dressed +hastily that morning. Her khaki-flannel shirt, belted loosely with +green leather and worn like a Russian blouse, lay open at the throat. +Her mass of dark hair was tucked under a green tam o' shanter perched +at an unconsciously rakish angle. Unframed by her hair her face had a +piquant, boyish look, and her wide-set hazel eyes seemed larger than +usual. There was a ghost of a golden freckle or two on the bridge of +her straight little nose. From her green tam to her stout leather +boots Harlan could find no evidence of a single feminine artifice--not +a thing, perhaps, that might have appealed to him a year ago,--yet he +was conscious of a stir of pleasure as he looked at her. + +He placed a shovel of sand in the hopper, spilling half of it on Lollie +who was at the same moment pouring in water. The girl laughed at his +clumsiness, as she loosened her hold on the rocker handle and +straightened, tossing her head so that the tam assumed a different but +equally alluring angle. Her sleeves were rolled to the elbow. She had +the lithe slimness, and the greens and browns that suggested the +outdoors. When she turned away from him presently to look out over the +sun-lit sea, Harlan rested his shovel in the sand to watch her. + +"I wonder where my Kobuk is this morning?" The remark came from Loll +squatting at the edge of the water-hole, waiting for it to fill again. + +Neither answered him. + +"Have you noticed how clearly, on days like this, one can see the +mainland, though it is ninety miles away?" Jean asked, her mind +apparently intent on the far horizon. "There seems to be something in +the atmosphere that brings it nearer." + +"I whisht I knew where my Kobuk is, I do!" murmured Loll plaintively. +The youngster was evidently getting tired of work. He was filling the +pail listlessly, emptying the contents over his own red little hand. + +Jean's eyes roaming out over the shining ocean spaces, rested upon a +spot in the northwest. Very low on the rim of the sea lay a mountain +range, its purple and white ethereal in the distance. + +"I _said_ I whisht I knew where my Kobuk is!" There was a slight +belligerent tone in Lollie's voice which Jean, doubtless, failed to +catch, for she mused on: + +"Though I know that coast over there is practically uninhabited it +always gives me a feeling of being closer to people when I can see +it--and a sense of delightful unknown things lying just there beyond +the range." She paused as if contemplating some illusive thought. + +Harlan, looking at her profile, became aware that her chin, while of an +engaging firmness, had that impalpably soft texture that suggests the +powdered wing of a creamy butterfly. He was surprised that he had +never noticed it before. The tam slanted obligingly to the other side +and left exposed the lobe of a small ear that was as rosy in tint as +the delicate tiny clam shells he occasionally marveled at on the beach. +The curve at the back of her neck had the look that invites kisses in a +very little girl who has her curls knotted up on the top of her +head. . . . He found mining a distinctly agreeable occupation. + +"You are like a soft, cool breeze from the sea, after a hot day in the +city," he was astonished to find himself saying. But his statement was +lost in a verbal explosion from the enraged Lollie. + +"Gosh darn it! _Nobody_ 'll notice _me_!" The little fellow was +looking up at Jean with petulant indignation. "I'm going to find +Kobuk!" + +He flung his pail to the sand as if casting all thought of fickle woman +from him and ran off down the beach toward the cabin, deigning not to +hear Jean as she called to him. + +"The poor little man!" The girl's voice was sympathetic as she looked +after the flying figure of her nephew. "I know he must feel lonely +sometimes with no one of his own age to play with." + +"It's a feeling he shares, then, with some of us older ones." + +Jean glanced at Harlan quickly. "Then why--" she began, and checked +herself. + +She wanted to ask him why, if this were so, he had buried himself in +the isolated post of Katleean. She wanted to know why he, young, +educated, brave, with the world of opportunity before him had immersed +himself in the lazy, dreamy life of an Alaskan trading post. Was he of +the stuff that Silvertip was made--Silvertip who was content to do odd +bits of work for the White Chief at Katleean, for which he took his pay +in tobacco or some other luxury necessary to his own comfort, while the +energetic Senott kept his house, gathered and chopped his wood, salted +fish, canned berries, dried clams and put down sea-gulls eggs in salt +for the winter? Was this good-looking young creature a squaw-man at +heart, if not in reality. + +A squaw-man! She was intensely interested in those strange members of +the white race who go native. She had not the contempt for them that +Ellen felt. She had only a kindly desire to understand their point of +view. In a way she could account for the White Chief. Katleean was +his wilderness kingdom where he ruled white and native alike by sheer +strength of arm and will. Silvertip, ignorant, lazy, weak, she could +also understand vaguely. But there were others. She recalled a day on +the beach at the trading-post when she had met a tall, blond man. He +was sitting on the edge of his canoe nonchalantly smoking a cigarette, +while his Indian wife and four little half-breed children dug clams a +few feet away. One minute he had talked to her of the effect on +character of the geographical aspect of the country, sprinkling his +remarks with "Schopenhauer maintains" and "Nietzsche says." In the +next breath he had informed her proudly that he and his children were +of the eagle totem--claiming it by reason of his Thlinget wife's clan. + +The incident remained vivid in her mind, setting up never ceasing +queries of "Why?" "How?" Neither Ellen or Shane encouraged her +attempts to discuss these conditions. . . . + +Jean's thoughts wandered on. It occurred to her that Ellen seemed to +be changing, too. There was not the old freedom of speech between them +that had always existed prior to their coming to Kon Klayu. Perhaps it +was her own fault, for lately, especially since the day at the bluff, +she had resented Ellen's attitude toward herself and Gregg Harlan. +There were many things she wished she might talk over with the young +man. Her interest in squaw-men, for instance--but of course that would +be impossible, she reminded herself. She had nearly forgotten--there +had been that Indian girl, Naleenah. + +As if in answer to her unspoken thought, Harlan turned to her +impulsively. + +"There's something I want to tell you, Miss Wiley, about--about that +little Indian girl--" He stopped, his tanned face flushing. It was as +if he had no words to express himself in terms that she would +understand. "You see I--I----" + +"Ahoy, there, Gregg! Jean! A ship! Look, it must be the _Hoonah_!" +Boreland's joyous call broke in on them. He had run down from his own +rocker and was pointing far out where the sunlight fell on the sails of +a vessel heading directly for the Island of Kon Klayu. It was the +first sail sighted since the schooner went away. + +"Hurrah boy! She's coming with the provisions!" Boreland tossed his +cap into the air. "Jean, run down to the cabin and tell Ellen the +glorious news!" + +The girl looked at the approaching ship a moment. Happy as she was at +the sight she could not help wishing that Boreland had discovered it a +few minutes later. She leaned toward Harlan. + +"Tell me some other time," she said softly, and with a word to Shane +started for the cabin. + +She found Ellen, who never threw anything away that might later be used +for food, rolling some hard, sea-soaked lumps of flour beneath the +rolling-pin trying to crush them fine enough to use. + +"O, angel child, you won't have to save that stuff now!" Jean shouted, +bursting in upon her. "The _Hoonah's_ coming! We sighted her!" She +caught Ellen about the waist and whirled her madly over the floor, +releasing her suddenly to dash out the door with a "Come on, sis!" + +The two arrived breathless on the point of the bluff from whence the +ship was visible, and whence the men had gathered. Jean began eagerly +pointing out the sail, but even as she did so, she faltered. She +turned and caught the sickening look of disappointment on the faces +about her. A thin line of smoke was now trailing out behind the +vessel. It was not the _Hoonah_, but a steamer. Also it had swerved +in its course and now, broadside to the Island, it was headed south. + +"O-o-o!" With a world of hopelessness in her voice Jean uttered the +sound and threw her arm about Ellen's waist. Together they watched the +departing vessel with that desperation of heart that hopes, even while +the brain knows there is no hope. A quarter of an hour passed, but the +ship did not change its course. + +They turned from the sea to find that the men had begun to gather up +the tools and the clean-up from the sand. + +"It's a cannery steamer, El, with the sail up, going to the States for +the winter," Boreland said, dully. "The salmon run is over." + +Ellen was not listening. She had taken her eyes from the fast +vanishing steamer and was looking anxiously down the empty beach toward +the far away rockers. + +"Shane . . . Shane . . ." she faltered now. There was a queer, +frightened tone in her voice that sent a chill to the hearts of her +listeners. "Where is Lollie?" + +Boreland wheeled about. + +"Why, he went home to you two hours ago, El! Haven't you seen him?" + +"No!" Ellen's alarmed gaze sought his. Forgotten was the ship, the +gold, the people about them; forgotten was everything else in the world +but the soul-gripping parental fear they saw reflected in each other's +face. + +"The grizzly!" The mother's white lips whispered the words the father +dared not utter. "O, Shane, come! Quick! We must find him!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +KOBUK + +Boreland and Kayak Bill searched the beach below the cabin for +footprints while Harlan took the trail across the Island toward his +Hut. Ellen and her sister hoping that the boy had returned during +their absence, ran home to look into every nook and corner. . . . The +silence drove them once more into the open. + +Ellen, her throat tightening with unshed tears, stood on the porch and +called: + +"L-o-l-l-i-e! . . . S-o-n!" + +The only answer was the mocking cry of a gull floating high in the +sunlight. . . . + +Boreland came hurriedly up the trail from the beach. + +"There are no tracks in the sand toward Sunset Point, El, but Kayak is +going along Skeleton Rib toward the cliffs." + +At the stricken look in the mother's face, Jean turned quickly to her +brother-in-law. + +"He must have found Kobuk and gone off adventuring again, Shane. . . . +But he can't have gone far with the dog so crippled. Perhaps he's +picking flowers," she suggested hopefully. + +Ellen had started down toward the dilapidated hut where Loll had +surprised the swallows on his first morning exploration. Lying on the +doorsill she found some fragrant spikes of late-blooming orchis tied +with a grass blade. Calling to the others she picked up the flowers. +Boreland answered her with a gesture and after running back into the +cabin for his rifle, followed. + +"He loved the yellow flowers best, Jean," Ellen said thoughtfully. +"Perhaps he has gone to the gulch where they grow thickest." + +Toward the steep depression in the hillside some two hundred yards +distant the coarse grass of the tundra was flattened in spots as if +something had passed that way. The women seized upon this clue and +eagerly followed the signs. + +Where the land sloped upward toward the hill they came upon a grave. +It was old, so old that the Greek cross at the head was moss-grown, +broken and decayed. Once before Ellen and her son had stood there, +touched with the gentle speculative melancholy that a wilderness grave +always brings. Before leaving they had placed a cluster of flowers +upon it in memory of the bold Russian sailor of long ago, whose body +lay beneath. Now there was a fresh bunch of blossoms at the foot of +the cross. . . . At the sight of them quick, hot tears welled up in +Ellen's eyes. It hurt her to remember Loll's quaint way of talking to +the flowers he had picked. + +Boreland, rifle in hand, overtook them just as they entered the gully +that ran upward to the flat top of the Island. + +During the rainy season the gulch undoubtedly cradled a small stream of +water but now it was only slightly damp, and on each side, untouched +yet by frost, grew a golden profusion of flowers. Here and there +freshly broken stems indicated that Ellen had not been amiss in her +surmise as to the boy's route. + +Halfway up they came upon Loll's cap swinging from a dried celery +blossom. With a cry Ellen caught at it and clasped it to her breast +while she called his name again and again. Jean joined her; then +Boreland took up the name. . . . + +There was no answer. + +When the voices died away at last it seemed strangely, ominously still +in the sunny, flower-scented hollow. . . . With a sickening fear that +she might never hear her boy's call again Ellen continued to stand +straining her ears for the sound of it. On either side of her a wall +of yellow bloom arose, shutting her in. A breath of air stirred the +fragrance of it,--clean, sweet. Suddenly, on its scent, there flashed +before her baby-pictures from the realm of her mother-memories--Loll, +curly-headed, grey-eyed and laughing, holding out chubby arms as he +took his first unsteady steps; Loll's plump, diminutive legs, dancing +"tippy-toe" with comical baby joyousness before he would consent to be +buttoned into his nightie; Loll asleep, his little tousled head on the +pillow beside that of "Shut-eye" an absurd and dilapidated doll dear to +his infant heart. . . . And once, when she had impatiently slapped his +fat little hand as it closed on a forbidden object, Loll's baby face +looking up at her with hurt, astonished eyes and quivering chin. . . . +This last bought stabbed her with poignant regret wounding her heart +with such anguish and self-reproach and longing that she burst into +sobs as she climbed blindly to the top of the gulch. + +On the crest of the hill all three stopped for a moment, out of breath +from the steep ascent. + +Spread out like a vast beautiful meadow the top of the Island lay flat +as the palm of a hand. The tundra, softly green and brown, was +splashed with the yellow and rose and purple of late-blooming wild +flowers. Small brown pools of water bordered with moss were sunk here +and there. To the north and east not a tree or bush broke the level +but southward the tundra rose gently toward the top of the cliffs a +mile or more away, where the air was thick with seabirds. A narrow +path, suggestive of heavy padded feet, ran from north to south along +the edge of the hill. + +Despite this gentleness, this softness of contour characteristic of the +tundra meadows of the North, there was a feeling of wind-swept spaces. +The air was exquisitely pure. Jean, looking about her, involuntarily +drew a deep, long breath. Midway between her and the edge of the +distant cliffs stood the one lone tree of Kon Klayu--a small gnarled +spruce, its branches all growing from one side of the trunk, bearing +mute testimony to the velocity of the prevailing gales. There was +about this tree an air of almost human loneliness and--waiting. On the +brow of the hill it faced the sea like a woman with long, wind-blown +hair. Near it rose a dome-shaped mound like an Eskimo hut in form but +many times larger. + +As the girl's eyes followed the trail south she suddenly became aware +of a small, slowly-moving object, . . . then another. + +"Oh, Ellen!" There was glad relief in her voice. "_There_ he is! +There they are--Loll and Kobuk! See! Their heads are bobbing just +above the grass toward the tree!" + +At the first exclamation Boreland had started hurriedly along the +trail. The two women followed him calling to the boy as they ran. But +Loll, evidently deeply interested in his own small adventures, did not +hear their shouts. Kobuk was now hobbling on ahead and despite his +bandaged leg, was tacking hither and thither woofing in the manner of +the huskie when he wishes to bark. As Loll neared the tree they saw +him branch off the trail and a few minutes later disappear around the +hummock. + +But Kobuk did not follow. + +With short staccato woofs he was limping forward toward the crest of +the hill and back again. There was a strange note in the sound. +Presently he stood still, his long nose raised, wolf-like, as if to +catch a scent. + +At this point Boreland stopped in the trail. + +"El," he said hurriedly, "you and Jean stay right here. I'm going to +make a short-cut to the hummock. I'll bring Loll back. Mind what I +tell you, _stay_ here!" + +He started swiftly across the deceptively smooth-looking tundra, his +face drawn and ashen. While Jean watched him, he slipped his rifle to +the hollow of his arm. The movement brought the thought of the bear to +the girl. Her heart thumped against her side. She glanced at Ellen, +but her sister was standing with hand-shaded eyes following the +progress of Shane who had covered nearly half the distance to the +mound. Jean turned again to the crest of the hill where Kobuk had +been. He was hobbling toward her. Even as she looked the dog stopped, +glanced behind him, then stiffened, every hair along his neck +bristling. He stood as if sniffing the wind which was blowing toward +her. Then he came on. + +"Kobuk, what's the matter, Kobuk----" + +The girl broke off with a gasp of terror. In a fascination of fright +her gaze became fastened on a spot beyond the advancing Kobuk. + +Out of the bushes that crowned the edge of the hill a great, hairy head +was slowly rising. Followed the massive arches of shoulders, the whole +powerful body. An instant later the vast bulk of a Kodiak bear, with +low-hung swinging head, was outlined against the growth behind. A +moment it stood, looming huge, brown, fearful--the most dangerous beast +that roams the Alaskan wilderness. Then deliberately it came to its +haunches, its immense paws dangling in front, its monstrous head and +neck turning from side to side. . . . Dropping to earth again it +slouched heavily in the direction of the hummock where Lollie had +disappeared. + +Jean turned swiftly to see if Boreland were aware of the proximity of +the creature, now making for the opening to its den on the other side +of the mound--a den which Loll no doubt was at that moment exploring. +Her brother-in-law was preparing to spring across one of the little +brown pools. . . . Then, to her despair, he stumbled, and one leg went +down in the soft muck of the farther edge. As he fell, he tried to +throw his rifle to the bank, but the heavy, metal-stayed butt jammed +against his hand. + +Jean held her breath. For a long moment he did not move. Had he +broken his leg? Had he--? She sobbed with relief. He was beginning +to struggle out; but, even in her excitement, she noticed that he did +not use his right hand. It hung limply from the wrist. + +Ellen must have seen the beast as soon as Jean for as her husband fell +she was dashing away across the tundra to him. Jean's mind wrestled +with the situation. With his right hand useless, Boreland, good shot +though he was, could never send the single bullet that must kill the +grizzly. They could risk no fight at close range with a wounded and +infuriated Kodiak bear. Jean remembered her sister's unusual skill at +target practice on the _Hoonah_. Jean herself was a good shot but +Ellen could, unfailing, hit a bull's eye at twenty paces, though she +could never be persuaded to shoot at a living thing. Would she have +the courage, the coolness, to face the monster in that critical moment +which meant life or death to her son? Would she _be_ in _time_? + +Now the bear had traversed more than half the distance to the hummock +and was still lumbering along. She must stop him, must at least delay +him--she and Kobuk--so that Ellen might reach the other side of the +mound before him. + +She ran to meet the dog. Snatches of hunting tales Kayak Bill had told +came to her--tales of northern huskies hamstringing wild beasts. She +did not know what the term meant, but Kobuk could do it. Kobuk, the +powerful, the swift, the beautiful. . . . Then she remembered--Kobuk's +right foreleg was crippled and still tightly bandaged. . . . Kobuk +crippled stood no chance against a Kodiak bear! + +She came up to him. At her approach, as though reinforced by her +presence, the dog turned clumsily on three legs to face the beast. +Low, savage growls issued from his throat. His lips curled away from +his sharp fangs; spasms serrulated his nose; the hair along his spine +rose and fell. + +Jean patted his side. Sick at heart she urged him forward. She +pointed desperately to the monster. + +"Mush, Kobuk! Sick 'im, old boy!" She forced enthusiasm into her +tones. "Go head him off!" + +The dog limped a few feet. He looked back at her, his ferocious look +softened. His crippled leg hung useless. He raised clear, questioning +eyes to her face. + +"Oh, Kobuk, darling, I know--I _know_--" the girl's voice broke. She +knelt and threw her arms about him. "But you must do _something_! +Kobuk, you must!" She pleaded with him as if he were human. + +Once more the dog looked at her, his dark, intelligent eyes fearful and +sad. He gave a half-hearted little woof, shifted on his three legs and +rested his head a moment against her knee. + +She sprang up and ran a short distance ahead of him. Again she pointed +to the bear. + +"Mush, Kobuk! Oh, go after him, boy!" + +He started. Once more his hair bristled ferociously. Then suddenly, +to Jean's dismay, he turned and instead of heading the bear off, began +to make a detour behind it. Forgetful of all else but the necessity of +delaying the beast, she ran after the dog shouting encouragement. + +As he left her behind he gathered speed. He swerved, making straight +for the back of the bear. His woofing sounds had ceased now. He was +grimly silent. The instincts of his wolf ancestors at the sight of +quarry must have awakened in his heart making him forget his bodily +pain, for as he sped on in his desire to maim and kill, he put his +bandaged leg to the ground with increasing frequency. By the time he +reached the animal, gone was the friendly, gentle Kobuk Jean had always +known. In his place rushed a new and terrible Kobuk--a snarling, +leaping devil-dog, with blazing eyes, white fangs gleaming in a +dripping mouth, little ears laid back against a lean, wolf-like head. + +He attacked the bear from behind, nipping it slightly. The huge beast +stopped and whirled in clumsy astonishment. For a moment it looked +almost curiously at the white-fanged fury leaping away. Then turning +lumbered on again toward the mound. The monster had lived so long on +Kon Klayu undisturbed by man or beast that it was apparently +indifferent to both. + +But Kobuk, cripple though he was, would not be ignored. Again he +dashed at the bear, seeking to nip it from the rear. Again he +retreated. Repeating his maneuvers he kept on, until suddenly Jean saw +the beast whirl viciously. Its cumbersome bulk stiffened, its little +eyes gleamed with rage. It rose on its hind feet, its monster head +swaying from side to side. Then the girl stopped, horrified, dazed at +the unequal battle that ensued. + +She had a confused memory of a huge upstanding creature laying about it +like a fiend with great furry arms. She saw her dog, crippled, but +dauntless, ever dodging, wheeling, leaping, circling and attacking from +behind the moment the bear's back was toward him. She saw Kobuk catch +glancing blows from the mighty claw-barbed paws and roll five feet, ten +feet. She saw him battered, bleeding, panting, struggling to his feet +again and again to renew his losing fight. Backward and forward over +the tundra they fought, swiftly, savagely, yet despite it all ever +nearing the mound. Then all in a moment--they disappeared around the +edge of the hummock. To the girl it was as if the earth had swallowed +them. She stood for a moment bewildered. But remembering, she turned +to where she had last seen Ellen and Shane. Her sister was not in +sight, but Boreland was limping around the opposite end of the mound. +He carried no gun. Then he, too, disappeared. . . . A second later a +shot rang out--then another. After that was silence. + +The sound of the rifle galvanized the girl into action. With wildly +thumping heart she sped toward the scene of the shooting, dreading what +she might find there. Rounding the hummock she stopped, staring at the +scene before her. + +A few feet from the cave-like opening in the hillock, lay the great +bear dead, but with limbs still twitching. It had been shot fairly +through the shoulder and into the heart. Ellen, the rifle at her feet, +stood sobbing against her husband's breast. His sound hand patted her +back mechanically, but his eyes were fixed on something beyond. + +Jean's followed them. + +Loll was sitting flat on the ground beside the prostrate body of Kobuk, +holding the dog's head on his knees. Kobuk's great dark eyes, swimming +in tears of pain, were raised to the child's face, in a look so sad, +and withal so full of love that Jean started forward, a cry breaking +from her heart. From shoulder to thigh the dog was a bleeding horror +where one whole side of his faithful body had been raked by the iron +claws of the bear. + +"Oh, my Kobuk! My dear doggie!" The little boy sobbed and laid his +cheek against Kobuk's head. + +The dog moved slightly, and his pink tongue went out weakly to lick his +small comrade's face. + +"I won't let him hurt you no more now, Kobuk," crooned Lollie, +protectingly. + +Jean sank on her knees beside him. + +"Kobuk--dear old--Kobuk--" she murmured brokenly, stroking a limp, hot +paw. + +The dog's dimming senses must have caught the sound of his name, for +his tail moved feebly as if, with the last beat of his brave heart he +was trying to wag goodbye. . . . He lifted his head, . . . a shudder +passed through him. Then he lay still, his wide, glazing eyes fixed on +the little boy's face. + +Jean buried her head in her arms oblivious to everything but the wild +grief that shook her. But Lollie, not realizing that Kobuk was dead, +sat patting the relaxed bandaged leg, while he whispered childish words +of comfort in the unheeding ears. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +AT THE LONE TREE + +That evening they buried Kobuk on the brow of the hill near the lone +tree of Kon Klayu. + +At sunset time Loll sat by himself on the cabin steps. His chin was in +his hand and his wide, grey eyes were fixed on the clear rose of the +western sky. It was the first time that death had come near to him and +the mystery and loneliness of it filled him with strange, new thoughts. + +For a long time he looked into the fading glow. Then he shook his head +slowly, reproachfully. + +"God," he said, in the uncanny way he had of seeming to converse with +Deity. "God, how can you smile so, when my Kobuk is dead?" + +The purple dust of twilight sifted down on land and sea, . . . At +last, awed by the unanswerable mystery of life and death, the little +questioner turned in to the cabin, where his mother sat sewing in the +soft, yellow light of the shaded lamp. . . . + +Breakfast the next morning was an event. Harlan had accepted Ellen's +invitation to be present, and as he entered the cabin, the air was +permeated with the delicious smell of frying steak. With the exception +of ducks the party had eaten no fresh meat for a month before coming to +the Island, and the recent daily breakfasts of musty oatmeal and +hotcakes was becoming monotonous. Despite the tragedy of Kobuk, it was +a grateful family that gathered about the big platter of bear meat and +steaming cups of black coffee. + +"This ought to tide us over nicely until the _Hoonah_ comes," said +Boreland helping himself to another piece. "A fine breakfast, El! +Upon my word, it couldn't be better if we were in the States. . . . +Still--I'd like a bit of butter--real, honest-to-God cow's butter--on +my hotcakes!" + +"Wall," mumbled Kayak with his mouth full of steak. "Sugar and like +sweetenin' hits me where I live. I used to think if they took away my +sugar I'd just as lief die. But now that there ain't any, I'm +scratchin' along tolerable wall. But--I'd give my hat for somethin' +tasty to smear on these here sourdoughs!" + +"Go on with you, Kayak! With El's sourdoughs you don't need +sweetening." Boreland laughed. "We can use bear fat instead of butter +now, for that old devil certainly was fat. We'll try some of it out. +Of course we won't need much, for the schooner will be in any day now. +We'll smoke part of it and put the rest down in salt." He leaned back +in his chair and drew contentedly on his pipe. + +"By h-hen, a smoke does taste mighty good after high-toned grub like +this," drawled Kayak, surrounding himself with a cloud. + +"You men smoke too much," Ellen broke in. "Sometimes I'm convinced +that pipes bear the same relation to men that pacifiers do to babies. +At the rate you three are going, you'll be out of tobacco in no time. +If the _Hoonah_ doesn't----" + +"Holy mackinaw, El! You're eternally seeing the hole in the doughnut +lately!" her husband interrupted somewhat testily. "Of course she will +be along right away. No man would leave us on this island long without +provisions. It wouldn't be human. And about smoking"--he waved an +airy hand--"why I can quit any time I want to and never miss it." + +"Same here." Kayak puffed out another tobacco-scented cloud. "I'll +tell a man no measly habit ever got a strangle holt on me." + +Harlan said nothing. + +After breakfast the clean-up from the rockers was panned and freed from +sand. Boreland weighed the dust in the new gold scales. + +"Four ounces," he announced, as they balanced. "That ought to bring us +about sixty dollars. Not bad for one day's work. If we can only find +enough of that sand we'll make a stake here, boys. Gad, I wish the +_Hoonah_ would get here so we could establish ourselves permanently." +Boreland had been trying to induce Kayak to remain with him on the +Island. + +The remainder of the day was spent in getting the bear meat to the +cabin and preparing it for preservation. The Indian hut where Loll had +surprised the swallows was cleaned out and fitted up as a smoke house. +Harlan cut and brought in several back-loads of alder to furnish +hard-wood smoke to cure the meat. The women were busy indoors trying +out the fat. + +After the fire in the smoke-house had been going some time, Kayak Bill +sauntered in with a can full of ashes. + +"These here's hard-wood ashes, Lady," he told Ellen. "We ain't got no +white man's antiseptic medicine now, and I reckon we better make some +o' the Injine kind. Put warm water on these and let 'em stand +overnight. You'll have an antiseptic then that'll be a ringtailed +wonder, Lady." + +As they worked about the house that morning Ellen and Jean discussed +the shooting of the bear. It was the sight of the monster tearing her +dog from shoulder to thigh that had calmed Ellen. Her fear was +swallowed up in a gripping desire for revenge that made it possible for +her to take careful aim and fire. Jean knew that Ellen had experienced +none of the thrills that come to the hunter of big game. She was a +domestic woman, a home maker, thrown by circumstances into situations +where she was forced to do things she never dreamed she could +do--things she shuddered over afterward. Even as she told of the +incident it seemed to both women like a tragic and terrible dream--a +dream whose influence would not leave them. + +On this day the sisters were heartily sick of life on the Island of Kon +Klayu. + +Jean's depression continued all day long. The thought of Kobuk never +left her. She found herself recalling his friendly, wagging ways; the +feel of his muzzle nosing her hand; his soft eyes looking up at her +from attentive, side-turned head. She found herself regretting that +Kobuk was not there to share the fresh meat with them. + +Several times during the day she stopped in her work to lift her head, +listening. She kept fancying she heard Kobuk's husky woofing. Once +she went to the door and looked out to convince herself that he was not +there. Down at the smoke-house Lollie, whom she had expected to be +loudly inconsolable at the death of the dog, was helping the men. He +had his old revolver tied to his waist and was shouting lustily. Jean +felt a pang of disappointment in her nephew. She would have had him +come to her and talk of the dog. Womanlike, she wanted to comfort him +for the loss and in so doing ease her own grief. Kobuk had been her +dog and Loll's. + +She stepped back into the living-room. + +"I suppose it's the nature of the male to forget quickly," she said. + +"Forget what?" Ellen asked, the word "male" causing her mind to fly at +once to Harlan. + +"Oh--nothing." + +While the girl was doing up the supper dishes she heard Loll go +whistling down the trail. When she had finished she took her violin +from its case and stepped out on the porch. Kayak and Boreland were +engaged in a close game of double solitaire. Ellen, with a headache, +was lying down in Lollie's bunk. Harlan had gone across the Island to +his Hut. It was very lonely. + +She put down her violin. + +"I'm going for a walk, Shane," she called through the open door. + +Down past the smoke-house and the Russian sailor's grave she went; then +up the gulch that led to the top of the hill. There were no animals to +be afraid of now. + +On the crest she turned her back on the flat lonesomeness of the tundra +and looked down on the wide expanse of ocean spread below. The day was +dying in soft flushes of amber and rose and lavender. Life on Kon +Klayu was hard, but she never tired of the soothing beauty of its +nights. + +Her eyes followed the trail to the solitary tree facing the sea like a +waiting woman with long, wind-blown hair. In the fading light its +human aspect brought a sense of comfort to the girl. It made Kobuk's +grave seem less lonely. She wished Loll were with her, she would go +then and see how the men had left him. Poor Kobuk, with his dear, +friendly ways! Everyone but her seemed to have forgotten him +today--even Loll. Suddenly she decided she would go by herself. + +She was startled by the sound of a step behind her. Glancing over her +shoulder she saw Gregg Harlan coming from the north along the bear +trail that skirted the bushes at the edge of the hill. She waited for +him. + +"I was headed for there, too," he said simply, indicating the tree down +the trail. + +They walked silently in single file along the narrow path. The +sweetness of a long sunny day came up from the grass that brushed +Jean's skirts. For many minutes the new mound they were approaching +was screened by the tall growth, but when they saw it, Jean stopped +abruptly, her finger on her lips. From the grave came to them a +muffled sound. + +Loll was there before them. + +The little fellow, oblivious to everything but his loneliness and his +loss, lay across the fresh turned earth. His bare head was buried in +his outflung arms. One hand fiercely clutched a few bruised flowers +and his small body shook with long, slow sobs. + +Jean's throat tightened and tears of sympathy flooded her eyes. With +outstretched arms she started impulsively forward to comfort him, but +before she had taken a second step Harlan laid a detaining hand on her +arm. + +"Not now," he whispered. "Come." + +He drew back along the trail. Wondering, she followed until they were +out of earshot. + +"We'll wait for him here at the top of the gulch, Jean." It was the +first time he had called her that. Each was aware of a sudden, warming +sense of comradeship--a sense of sharing something tender, sad. + +They sat down on the crest of the hill, so close that only a single +tundra daisy nodded between them in the deepening twilight. + +"Why--why did you do that, Gregg?" + +He did not answer at once. . . . Up from the sea came the susurrous +voice of the reef whispering its eternal questions. + +"Because--men, real men, bear their griefs silently, and alone," he +said at last. "It is their way." + +Jean thought of the little fellow, so childish in many ways, but silent +all day on the subject of his loss. He had gone to cry out his grief, +unseen, on Kobuk's grave. . . . Suddenly she loved him with a +tenderness she had never known before, but . . . with it came a new +loneliness. It was as if already his boyish hand and shut her, a +woman, from that place in his heart that only men might know and +understand. + +She rested her elbows on her knees and cupped her chin in her hands. + +"Oh--o--o," she said, reflectively. "I did not know. I did not dream +. . . men were like that." . . . The hearts of men . . . it was +strangely sweet to know what lay hidden in the hearts of men. + +The faint, disembodied cry of a seabird keened across the dusk. +Formless waters stretched away into the wide, beckoning dimness. The +twilight wind was pungent with the strange awakening smell of the sea. +Forgotten now was the depression of the day; it had no place in the +romance, the mystery, the promise of the northern night. She became +suddenly conscious that there was something sublimely beautiful in life +that she had never yet experienced, something that unknowingly she had +been waiting for; something that must come to her at last. . . . She +wondered if the young man sitting so close to her were ever stirred by +such rapturous, intangible thoughts. With quickened interest she +turned to look at him, and met his deep eyes intent on her face. + +Somewhat confused, he snapped off the head of the daisy between them. + +"I--I was just wondering what you were thinking about, Jean." + +"I was thinking about you," she answered candidly. "I was +wondering----" + +There came the sound of little running feet on the trail near them, and +the girl rose hastily, calling Loll's name. + +"Don't be afraid, honey. It's I--Jean!" + +Breathless but relieved at the sight of them, the boy joined them and +the three went slowly down the gulch toward the cabin. + +Before the porch Harlan stopped. + +"No, I won't go in now," he said in answer to her question. + +They stood a moment, a sudden shy silence falling upon them. . . . + +"Good-night, Jean." Slim and tall, he stood looking down at her +holding out his hand. Hers went out to meet it and the pressure of his +strong, slender fingers sent a thrill to her heart. She was stirred by +the magic of his nearness. + +"Good . . . night," she whispered wonderingly. She longed to linger +there in the dusk with him, but--because of her desire--she turned and +ran up the steps to the cabin. . . . + +Ten minutes later she stood in the twilight on the bank below the +cabin. The sea, the night, the world seemed to hold out loving arms to +her. A feeling tremulously new and enchanting had come to her. . . . +She tucked her violin beneath her chin and drew her bow softly across +the strings. This night she could play as she had never played before. +This night she must play. + +The music floated up through the dusk with dreamy, questioning +sweetness. . . . Time slipped by. . . . At last she drifted into the +notes of her good-night. She felt that there was a special tenderness +in the chords from her long-drawn singing bow tonight. Lost in the +harmony of her own creating she hardly knew when the voice--his voice +from the hilltop, took up the strain. So softly was it done that she +was unsurprised. The words came down to her now clear, mellow, +thrillingly masculine, and--did she only imagine there was something +personal in them? + + "In the West + Sable night lulls the day on her breast. + Sweet, good-night! . . . Love, good-night!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +ELLEN + +The days passed. They were growing noticeably shorter now and provisions +were getting low. The trail up the steep hillside behind the cabin +became hardened by the feet of the watchers alert for the hourly expected +arrival of the _Hoonah_. At the top which they all had come to call the +Lookout, every hour of the day found some one of the party anxiously +scanning the ocean toward Katleean. + +Many cannery steamers and whalers on their way south were sighted, but +all gave the Island a wide berth. The hundred reefs of Kon Klayu had no +lure for sailors of the North Pacific. + +Boreland, who never failed to patrol the beach daily, found one more +patch of ruby sand, which the three men rocked out. He weighed the gold +after the clean-up. + +"This sand is richer than the other batch, El!" he exclaimed +enthusiastically. + +For a moment Ellen eyed the yellow gleam of the dust without interest, +then she leaned over and dipped her fingers into the golden flakes, +letting them fall slowly back into the scales. + +"Shane, Shane"--she turned away and patted his arm maternally--"you are +like a little boy playing with wooden money." What value had gold on the +Island of Kon Klayu, she thought, where it could not buy an ounce of food? + +To Ellen Boreland these were days of anguished conjecture, of harassed +indecision. As they passed with no sign of the _Hoonah_ she began to +recall her last week at Katleean. On the screen of her mind appeared +over and over again the White Chief's dark face, in her ears the voice of +memory repeated his softly-spoken, enigmatic words: "Remember . . . +you'll want me. . . . The pigeon loose, comes back . . . I will +understand." + +The _Hoonah_ was overdue. . . . Was this then what he had meant? Was he +now holding the schooner believing that in her anxiety for the safety of +her loved ones she would release the bird? Was he trying to force her, +at such a cost, to buy from him the lives of those dear to her? . . . +Had he planned this thing from the beginning? Was he even now at the +post waiting--certain that eventually she must release the pigeon? The +picture unnerved her to the point of panic. And yet she tried to +reassure herself. No man, however cruel and pitiless, could deliberately +plan so monstrous a thing. She tried to find excuses for the non-arrival +of the _Hoonah_. . . . Perhaps the fall steamer had not come in on +time. . . . Perhaps some accident had happened and the White Chief was +having the schooner repaired. Surely he would come, if only to ascertain +the fate of his bookkeeper for whose safety Silvertip must account. But +Silvertip--had the Swede told the truth? Might he not have said that +young Harlan had preferred to stay behind and had been safely landed with +the party? Then it occurred to her with a fearful knowledge that to the +White Chief of Katleean the life of a man meant nothing. + +While she went about her household duties there came to her again and +again the sound of the white trader's sardonic: "I have presented your +_son_ with a pigeon." Not to her, nor to Jean had he given the bird, but +deliberately he had made a present of it to her little boy that Loll +might innocently love and care for the thing designed to be the symbol of +his mother's shame! + +To her harassed mind the bird came to have a hideous vitality. There was +something uncanny in the way it thrived in its captivity--as though it +fed on her distress. And almost like a conspiracy was the determination +of her loved ones to preserve it. Loll was devoted to it, especially now +since the death of Kobuk; it was his only playmate. Shane was +particularly zealous in his care of it, exercising the bird by means of a +long string, since Loll would permit no one to clip its wings. Even +Kayak Bill was always bringing it green stuff to supplement its diet of +rolled oats. Only Jean appeared indifferent to the bird--Jean, always +tender of dumb things. She had remarked, once, that it's smoke-grey +color reminded her unpleasantly of the eyes of the White Chief. + +Sometimes, in a kind of fury, Ellen wondered if the pigeon bore a charmed +life--if it _could_ not die! Dead, her problem would be solved for +her. . . . Yet she dared not let it die. . . not while there was a +chance--! Standing before the cage day after day, Ellen would torment +herself with a thought. If she should leave the door unlatched, so that +it would jar open . . . if, of its own accord, the bird should fly away! +Then, when the White Chief came she could disclaim all knowledge of its +going. . . . But there was the lock of her hair, about which she had +lied to her husband. It was still in possession of the trader who, +secure in his power over everyone in his wilderness kingdom, was capable +of any melodramatic folly, of any false tale. And Shane, hot-headed, +protective--she shuddered. In her overwrought imagination she saw her +husband's hands stained with another man's blood. . . . No, the bird was +a kind of _thing_ fastened upon her which she could not, must not in all +conscience lose. + +Torn by these conflicting emotions and sick with foreboding, she would +turn away from the cage. Tomorrow--she would wait until tomorrow. +Perhaps the Hoonah would come tomorrow. Perhaps it was even in sight +now! With hope and longing so intense that it bordered on despair she +would leave the cabin and climb to the Lookout to scan the empty sea. + +One sunny afternoon she was standing there alone watching a dark streak +of steamer-smoke move slowly southward. Below her, stretching away to +the wide horizon lay the sea, its great, smooth swells heaving jade-green +in the sunlight. Autumn color lay over the tundra moss, the rice-grass, +the short alder bushes. Autumn, a soothing autumn was in the air, +promising the northern world of growing things a long, snow-enfolded +peace; but herself and her little family--what? + +For some time she had half-consciously been aware of a strange encircling +hush. She looked about her and realized that nowhere was a seabird of +any kind. Then far out, a dark mass like a fallen cloud, challenged her +attention. Even as she wondered it rose into the air and began to +advance swiftly toward her, . . . it resolved itself into thousands of +small black birds. + +"The sea-parrots!" Ellen spoke aloud in her surprise. "They must be +going south." She had not known that this would happen. She felt a dull +regret that it should be so. + +With crimson beaks pointed south they came nearer and nearer, until, +flying directly overhead, they cast a shadow as if a cloud had passed +over the sun. The sky was black with them. Noiseless on the wing, there +was something ominous in the sea-parrot's silence during the quarter of +an hour in which they flew steadfastly over the island on their course. +Ellen watched them with an interest divided between wonder and awe. + +Before they had passed an increasing wild chorus came to her ears. She +turned to face the north again where another cloud--grey-white--was +coming. She knew it to be composed of her noisiest neighbors, the gulls, +bound also for southern shores. + +Over the island these birds sailed with gay squawkings, their wide wings +seeming to wave a contemptuous good-bye. It was as if they scorned, yet +pitied the human creature below who must stay behind because she had no +wings to bear her away. + +The last call dimmed and died. Despite the lazy swash of the swells on +the beach below the sunny afternoon was heavy with silence. Ellen's eyes +swept the vast circle of the distance. The smoke of the south-bound +steamer was no more. Far down the tundra toward the cliffs stood the one +lone tree of Kon Klayu facing the sea like a waiting woman with long, +wind-blown hair. . . . An appalling sense of loneliness flooded Ellen. +A sudden, overwhelming need for human companionship swept her. . . . She +turned hastily into the trail that led down to the cabin--then checked +herself, as the sound of some one whistling came to her. She glanced +back. + +Walking briskly toward her along the tundra trail that led from his Hut +to the Lookout came Gregg Harlan. He must recently have borrowed Shane's +razor, for the soft, dark beard that had shadowed his face was gone. +Bareheaded, he advanced swingingly, vigorously, his chin up, his whole +figure the personification of youth, confidence, and a new strength. For +the first time Ellen was glad to see him. + +As she waited for him to approach she studied him with interest. He had +changed much since his landing on Kon Klayu. Under the rigors of +hardship, of physical labor, of abstinence, he had developed a clean-cut +masculinity that was strangely reassuring. She remembered how +unconsciously, during these past weeks, she had turned to him for the +steadiness which others had lacked; how instinctively she had counted on +him for a perception of the little things, the smaller needs, which are +so often the greater ones. After all, she reminded herself, in the day +by day stresses of life, it was this gift of understanding, of sympathy +with the innate needs, that counted so tremendously. + +She pictured Jean, with her warm emotions, her love of the finer beauties +of life, thrown into the rough and changing currents of existence as the +wife of a man older, sturdier, perhaps, than Gregg, but without his +steadier gentleness. Ellen shrank instinctively from the thought. And +Gregg had changed--of that there was no doubt. There was no longer a +sign of his old subservience to the poisonous brew of Katleean; instead +there was every evidence that he was not another man, but in a greater, +stronger way, the man he had once been. + +After all, Ellen thought, who was she to determine for Jean the sort of +man the girl should choose--she who had permitted herself compromising +entanglements with such a one as the White Chief! With Gregg Jean was +safer at that moment than was she in her own tragic situation--safer and +cleaner in her motives! . . . With something of appeal for the steadying +power of his friendship in her need, whose eventualities would be as +vital to Jean as to herself, Ellen turned with a new warmth in her manner +to greet the young man. Discussing the phenomenon of the bird migration, +she went with him down the trail to the cabin. + +As they approached the house Lollie came rushing up from the beach, +holding something tightly in his little hand. He was shouting excitedly +and at his urging the family gathered curiously around him to find +themselves electrified at the disclosure of what the youngster held. It +was a nugget, fully an ounce in weight! He had found it, he explained, +on the bedrock below Bear Paw Lake. + +Boreland went off immediately to prospect with Kayak Bill and Harlan. +Contrary to all previous experience, this gold had not been uncovered by +a storm--there had been no storm. Then there must be a place where the +yellow metal lay otherwise revealed. Somewhere on the Island must be a +mine of gold. Harlan, who had spent an inattentive year at a school of +mines before he was requested to leave, began to take an interest in the +situation. + +Shane returned that night long after the others, without having found +another sign. Nor was he any more successful, when day after day he +continued to patrol the beaches, though his faith in the sands of Kon +Klayu remained unshaken. + +Ellen and he were returning one afternoon, from Skeleton Rib where they +had gone to look for pay-sand. He had recovered the use of his sprained +wrist and had brought along the shotgun. Opposite the little lake in +this vicinity they turned in from the beach. A drizzling rain had begun +to fall. The dead yellow grass lay flat on the ground. The bare brown +branches of the alders were hung with globules of water which fell, +wetting Ellen as she brushed through them. Out on the lake she caught +glimpses of a flock of belated mallards, but since there was now no +upstanding vegetation it was difficult for the hunters to hide their +approach. Crouching low behind an alder Ellen watched Shane creep up +within shooting range. Since the gun was an old thing held together by +copper wire, and went off at the slightest jar it was impossible to carry +it loaded. Shane paused, inserted the shells, raised the piece and took +careful aim. There came a loud report, a whirr of wings, and the next +instant Shane fell backward, one hand flung upward to his head. + +Ellen sprang to where he lay motionless, blood streaming down one side of +his face. Even in her anguish she noted that the gun barrels had burst +from the force of overloaded shells. Swiftly she plunged her +handkerchief into the water and uttering incoherent entreaties and +endearing names, began to bathe his face which already was beginning to +swell. + +For what seemed a long time Shane did not move. Frantically she tore a +strip from her lawn chemise and bound up his head to stop the flow of +blood. Then with all her strength she sought to raise him from the +grass. His head fell limply back exposing his bare brown throat to the +falling rain. + +"Shane . . . Shane . . . O, help me, dear! Please!" Cold fear gripped +her and made her voice tremble. She struggled once more to raise his +heavy body. She was unable to lift him. Calling him, imploring him, she +tried again and again, until at last he sat up slowly, groaning and +putting both hands to the bloody bandage about his head. + +"Come, dear--" her voice broke as her shaking hands tried to assist him. +"We must go home, Shane. Come now." As if he were a child she coaxed +and encouraged the stunned man until he rose painfully, swayed, and +steadied himself against her. After a lurching step or two he managed to +keep his feet and in silence that struck to her heart, he suffered her to +lead him along through the soft, drizzling rain. + +Ellen found only Harlan at the cabin. Without a question the young man +sprang to her assistance. He helped Shane into the house and to bed. + +The last of the antiseptic had been used for Kobuk. Ellen ran for the +clear water from the hard-wood ashes--the Indian antiseptic which Kayak +Bill had induced her to make, and while she held the basin Harlan washed +the blood from her husband's face. The sight of the wound sickened her. +Just below Shane's right eye was a livid gash two inches long. + +What could she do? In some way stitches must be taken to draw the edges +together, but how? She had nothing but ordinary needles and thread. She +blamed herself bitterly for leaving Katleean without a medicine chest. A +moment she thought of that one, ordered from the States, which was to +arrive on the _Hoonah_. Then again she set her mind to the solution of +the problem before her. . . . It came to her in a flash, one of Kayak +Bill's tales of an Eskimo woman's ingenuity! + +"Gregg!" She spoke firmly. "Hand me the scissors." She took the +hairpins from her hair and it fell in a heavy coil to her waist. Harlan +eyed her as though he feared she had suddenly gone insane when she cut a +strand of hair and held it up to him. + +"We'll boil this and some needles, Gregg," she continued quietly, "and +when they are sterilized you must help me put the stitches in this +wound." . . . + +Half an hour later it was over. Shane lay back on his pillow. Ellen +watched beside him stroking his hand which lay twitching on the coverlet. +Something in the outline of her husband's long, still body under the +blankets chilled her with foreboding. Heretofore the thought of hunger +only had been with her. Now, should sickness or further accidents come +upon them . . . Should Shane develop blood-poisoning . . . + +Like one doomed Ellen's eyes sought the wall calendar. NOVEMBER 1 met +her gaze with the force of a blow. The _Hoonah_ was already two weeks +overdue! + +Suddenly she bent and rested her head against the blankets, pressing her +quivering lips fiercely, passionately against her husband's thin hand. + +Tomorrow . . . Tomorrow she must--she _would_ release the pigeon! + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +MAROONED + +Six hours later Kon Klayu was cowering in the blasts of the most +terrific storm yet experienced by the adventurers. The fearful +velocity of the wind and rain made it impossible for Kayak Bill to keep +his tent erected, and in the middle of the night he was forced to move +his bedding into Jean's and Lollie's room, where the sisters helped him +screen himself off by tacking up a tarpaulin. + +After Jean had slipped back into her bunk she was surprised to hear her +sister discussing, almost wildly she thought, the possibility of a +bird's flying against such a gale; and after everyone else had settled +down again for the night she could hear Ellen pacing the floor of the +living-room. Poor Ellen, thought the girl, she was all unstrung over +Shane's accident and frightened at the thought of blood poisoning. + +But Shane was feeling much better next morning, though he kept to his +bed all day and for several days after. He was unusually silent, +realizing, perhaps for the first time, the gravity of the situation, +for the storm did not blow itself out in three or six days, as storms +had always done before. It lasted twelve days and increased in +violence until near the end. + +During this great gale Jean sought her bunk early each evening and lay +there between sleep and wakefulness listening to the wind and sea. She +was thankful that this was not a snow storm, since snowfall on Kon +Klayu did not come until later, owing to the proximity of the Japan +Current, but she found herself concerned for Harlan alone in his Hut on +the other side of the Island. When it became apparent that Shane's cut +was healing as it should, the girl found her thoughts lingering on +Gregg. She missed him more than she cared to admit, even to herself. + +Before Shane's accident with the shotgun it had fallen to Gregg's lot +to hunt the ducks and geese which were by now an important part of +their food. There was little ammunition and every shot must be made to +tell. With the make-shift shotgun it was impossible to hit anything on +the wing, and though it was evident that Harlan's sporting instincts +revolted against slipping up and pot-shooting birds on the water, the +scarcity of shells compelled him to do it. Kayak Bill flatly refused +to handle anything but his .45, confessing to a casual scorn for what +he termed a "shootin' iron that spewed its durned in'ards all over the +range." In the growing anxiety over the non-arrival of the _Hoonah_, +Ellen had relaxed somewhat, her vigilant attitude toward Harlan, and so +Jean had come to join the young man on his hunting expeditions. + +Recalling them now she glowed at the memory of those past October +mornings, when, leaving the rest of the family sleeping she had slipped +out of the cabin and met the waiting hunter. She had grown to love the +hunt--the early sun sparkling on the yellow of frost-coated grass, the +green of the ocean, the tonic of the sea air, and the swift, +never-to-be-forgotten creak-creak-creak of flying wings close overhead. +There was a thrill in the cautious creeping toward the lake wreathed in +the gossamer mists of the autumn morning, and the wriggling through the +stiffened yellow grass, and a pang of delighted wonder at coming so +close to the wild, winged things, squattering and making soft +duck-chatterings in the shadow of the reeds. + +But duck-hunting days were over now, she reminded herself regretfully. +The shotgun was useless. + +Shane's wound continued to heal without complications, but still after +everyone else had long been in bed, Jean could hear Ellen pacing the +floor nearly every night. This increased the uneasiness that had been +growing upon the girl. She wished Ellen would confide more in her. +She was finding it very hard for her to understand her sister these +days. Ellen had not been herself for weeks. The girl recalled her +curious and changeable attitude toward the pigeon the White Chief had +given Loll. From at first ignoring it, Ellen had suddenly begun to +manifest a lively interest in its welfare. The best of the rolled oats +went to feed it. Owing to the occasional frosts Ellen had moved the +cage into the shed and she herself had solicitously covered it nightly +with an old blanket. Sometimes she had stood for ten minutes at a time +looking in at the smoke-grey bird. + +One incident stood out clearly in Jean's mind. She had come upon Ellen +musing thus beside the cage. Her sister had just washed her hair and +it hung about her shoulders in lovely, golden-brown profusion. There +was a look on her face--Jean, thinking of it, shook her head to banish +the memory of that look. Presently Ellen had reached up and with a +trembling hand gathered together the short tresses that marked the +place where she had--foolishly, Jean thought--cut off the lock of hair +in Katleean. Ellen's fingers slipped over the severed ends, then +flattened themselves forcibly over the latch on the pigeon's cage. +"No! No!" Passionately the words had escaped her as she turned her +back on the cage. Meeting Jean's questioning eyes she had flushed and +gone on into the house without speaking. + +Always, at night, as Jean lay thinking, this incident drifted with +curious insistency through her mind. + +As the storm continued through dreary days, blowing always from the +southwest, the strange, reverberating roll from the south cliffs came +more loudly than ever before. Listening to it sometimes, Jean would +shiver at the hint of the supernatural in its cadence. + +The continual thundering of the surf on the beach and the trembling of +the cabin in the rainy blasts of the gale finally began to tell on the +nerves of those confined in such small quarters. Gradually the talk at +the table grew less. Even Kayak Bill ceased his monologues. He and +Shane smoked more than ever and buried themselves in the reading of the +old magazines and papers. Ellen seemed more affected than any of them. +Her face had become drawn and haggard. She was so inattentive to +Loll's questions when the daily lessons were in progress that the +little boy grew impatient and asked Jean to help him instead. Then, +too, Ellen's strange solicitude for the pigeon increased until it was +with difficulty that Shane could prevent her bringing the bird into the +cabin during the gale. + +One night Jean woke from a troubled doze. Everywhere was a strange, +arresting stillness. She realized in a moment that the wind had gone +down. The roar of the breakers which had been so loud and constant, +now sounded muffled. Her first feeling was one of intense happiness +and relief. The storm was over at last--the longest storm she had ever +known. Surely, now, she thought, the _Hoonah_ would come. + +Though she knew it must be after midnight there was a murmur of voices +in the living-room. A chair scraped along the floor. Then came Kayak +Bill's tones, distinctly and with a gravity that sent a chill through +her. He was evidently concluding some argument. + +"But I'm a-tellin' you, Boreland, that there's nary a Injine or a white +on the Alasky coast that'll venture nigh the Island o' Kon Klayu after +November first----" + +"Great God, Kayak!" Boreland's protest cut him short. "Kilbuck +_knows_ we haven't enough grub for the winter! He wouldn't leave us +here to starve, especially two women and a child, after he has put us +here himself! He's _promised_ to bring us provisions! Given us his +word! To go back on it would be a violation of the law of the cache! +Why, the man has my schooner, and he hasn't paid for her yet! No, no, +Kayak. Kilbuck will come. . . . By God, he's _got_ to come!" + +There was slow finality in Kayak Bill's answer. + +"Boreland, he's waited too long. He _can't_ come. It's the thirteenth +o' November. No one can come to Kon Klayu now till the breakup o' the +winter. . . . The White Chief's staked the cards on us, son. We're up +against it." + + + + +PART III + + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +ON RATIONS + +After the great November storm was over, Ellen realized that her +problem--for the present--had been taken out of her hands. Even if the +pigeon were sent now, the White Chief would not risk bringing a +schooner to the Island of Kon Klayu; there was no boat built that could +make a landing on its reef-guarded shores during the winter season. It +was too late. They were marooned until spring at least. She would +keep the bird until then. Further than that she refused to think. + +As she accepted the inevitable she felt a sense of peace settle upon +her, and with it came new strength. As Kayak had said they were up +against it, and knowing now what she had to fight, she was ready. + +Her mind turned at once to the pitifully meager supply of provisions. +With all the shrewdness of a general preparing to withstand an +indeterminate siege, she planned her rations so that they might last +the longest period of time. If the party could exist until spring, a +cannery boat, a whaler, a ship of adventure, might call in and get +them, even though the White Chief did not come. Ellen made a mental +vow that they would live until spring. + +On the fourteenth of November she made the entry in her log: + + We have the following provisions on hand: + Flour--damaged--enough for eight months + Bacon, 1 slab + Dried onions, 1 pound + Beans, enough for five months if we have them once a week + Rice--damaged--for five months, once a week + Lemon Extract, 1 bottle + Salt and Pepper + Worcestershire sauce, 1 bottle + Dried bear meat + Bear fat, rancid + Rolled oats--mouldy--four months + Tea and Coffee + Three boxes candles + Two jars canned plums from mother's + + +That afternoon, on a pretense of his looking for pay-sand, she sent +Loll down on the beach, and, calling the others together, summed up the +problem that confronted them. She read her list of provisions and set +forth her plan of rations. In conclusion she urged that each one take +a turn hunting for sea-food on the rocks and stranded fish on the +beach. If they could supplement their ration thus, they might, by +confining themselves strictly to it, exist until some boat came in the +spring. Harlan, she decided, must take his meals at the cabin. + +"Jean and I will begin gathering shellfish tomorrow, while you men +start to lay in a supply of firewood for the winter months," she +finished. Even Shane agreed that existence, now, instead of gold, was +their main concern on the Island of Kon Klayu, although his was the +logic which still insisted that their desertion by Kilbuck could not be +true simply because it seemed so intolerable. + +Strange to say, after this frank facing of their difficulties every one +of the party felt more cheerful. There came a letting down of the +tension, a relaxation of the nerves, which had made their storm-bound +days so trying. + +The following morning found Ellen and her sister in hip rubber boots +belonging to their men, headed for Sunset Point. They were equipped +with pails and case knives. + +The sun shone bright although there was little warmth in it. The air +was sharp and exhilarating and wonderfully pure after the great wind. +The thunder of surf on a hundred reefs spoke of the storm of yesterday. + +They soon found themselves down among the great boulders amid tangles +of brown seaweed, where the shallow pools left by the outgoing tide +were alive with strange and interesting sea life. Here, more than in +any other place on Kon Klayu they were conscious of the air, the sound, +the whole enchanting spell of the sea. The bottoms of tiny sea-pools +were dotted with red and yellow starfish. Entrancing rose and purple +sea-anemones blossomed like thistles on the water-covered stones but at +a touch, a sound, folded their delicate beauties into tight buttons +hardly to be distinguished from the base to which they clung. Comical, +tiny iridescent fish, with eyes of bulging astonishment, and thorns on +their backs, darted about the women's feet and went into hiding under +floating russet seaweed. The big boots lumbering into the shallow +water caused sea-eggs of green and lavender to move solemnly on the +bottom with raylike prickles erect. + +"We'll try the sea-eggs later on," Ellen said, as she watched them. +"Senott told me at Katleean that all natives eat them." + +The boulders were encrusted with great, grey, open-mouthed barnacles. +Periwinkles, like tiny purple snails, clustered on the weeds. These +were so numerous that the sisters could not step without crushing them. +The crunching sound at first filled Ellen with repugnance for her task, +but necessity forced her on and before she had filled her pail with +them she had become accustomed to it. + +As they moved farther out to where the waves of the ebb tide were +creaming against the rocks, the dark seamed sides were painted a +delicate sea-pink by a lichen-like growth. Above their heads these +boulders rose and all about them was the soft, seeping sound that sea +things make when the tide is low. + +Kayak Bill had often described what he called a "gumboot," remarking +that the name was bestowed locally because of the toughness of this +aquatic animal when cooked. From the old man's description Ellen had +thought they might be limpets. Since there were no clams on the beach +of Kon Klayu she had concluded to try them. + +Now, suddenly, she came upon them, their cone-shaped shells adhering to +the rocks. When she and Jean tried to pick the small creatures from +their abiding places, the least touch or sound caused them to tighten +to the boulders. It was impossible then to dislodge them without +smashing the shell. + +"We'll have to sneak up on them, El," whispered Jean, suiting her +actions to her words, and with a sudden, swift movement sweeping half a +dozen from their support. It was then that the sisters began to +experience the thrill of anticipation, the fascination of uncertainty, +that comes to those forced to hunt their food in wild places. + +The tide came in flooding the pools in which they were standing and +warning them that it was time to leave. With full pails they hastened +to the cabin eager to try their new food. + +Periwinkles, boiled, had not an unpleasant taste, but because of their +likeness to worms, neither of the women could eat them. It fell to +little Loll to extract them from their small shells by means of a pin. +This was a slow process and after the novelty wore off, the youngster +gave utterance to loud lamentations over Kayak Bill's fondness for +periwinkles. + +The "gumboots" were also boiled, and found to be as rubbery as the name +implied. Chopping them fine Ellen made a hash of bread crumbs and +fried the mixture in bear fat. Afterward she sometimes added a small +bit of chopped bacon, considered a rare treat since the bacon was +hoarded for flavoring beans which they were permitted but once a week. + +In putting her family on rations Ellen noticed that each one's appetite +increased tremendously. Only by exercising the most rigid self-control +could she keep herself to the portions she had allotted. The sight of +Lollie scraping his plate for the last morsel of food and then looking +up at her expectantly, was the hardest thing she had to bear. She soon +began, surreptitiously, to put aside a portion of her daily share for +him. + +For a time food was the all-absorbing topic of conversation. The men +found a certain grim amusement in sitting about the table talking of +the kind of "grub" they would order if they were in the States. They +could go into such detail as to taste and smell of certain appetizing +dishes eaten in the past that often Jean laughingly stopped them. + +"By Jove!" Harlan would say. "I know a little place in San Francisco +where you can get a beefsteak Bordelaise that would _actually_ . . ." + +"Um-m, yes," Shane would follow, "and don't you remember that little +Italian dump on Columbus where they serve spaghetti with a gooey stuff +filled with chicken livers and mushrooms--Oh . . . man!" + +"One time up on the Kuskokwim I snared me a cut-throat," Kayak Bill +would drawl, and then, with an angler's delight, proceed to describe +every wiggle of that super-fish until he landed it, and every phase of +camp-fire cooking, until, crisp and bacon-garnished, he ate it from the +frying-pan. + +Jean's longing for fruit, especially bananas, was so intense that she +used to wake up at night thinking about them. She dreamed of bananas +smothered in cream. When she closed her eyes sometimes during the day, +bunches of the yellow fruit dangled enticingly in her mental vision. +She tried to re-read _Pickwick Papers_. The hungry Fat Boy at first +appealed to her, but Dickens' masterly descriptions of the nourishing +food of old England filled her with such a hunger that she put the book +aside. + +December proved to be a month of snow and blizzards, but despite the +faithful patrolling of the beach nothing in the way of pay-sand came to +light. Whenever the weather permitted everyone sought shellfish among +the rocks, as it had become necessary to gather a quantity sufficient +to last during storms. The prickly sea-eggs were now added to the +fare. Often however, when the wet snow was hurled unceasingly against +the windows for days, the supply of sea-food gave out. Then, for +hours, there was hunger in the little cabin on Kon Klayu. + +Jean noticed that her nephew, in some manner, had come to know that it +distressed his mother to speak of being hungry after he had eaten what +she had to give him. It was seldom now that he mentioned it. His +little mind appeared to be taken up with speculations as to Christmas. + +Jean had often listened to Kayak Bill prefacing his tales with: "I'm +a-tellin' o' you, you never can tell a speck about a man till you +'cabin' with him a-durin' o' one winter." She was beginning to +understand what the old man meant by it now. She was growing to +appreciate Shane's irrepressible Irish cheerfulness that always rose +above hunger, accident and the nerve-trying confinement of the cabin in +stormy weather. Because of him the storm-bound hours, despite the food +situation, were for the most part, times of story telling and exchange +of reminiscences. For Shane, with a strange faith, still clung to the +thought that the White Chief might bring the _Hoonah_ to the Island +before the end of the year. + +As Christmas drew nearer, however, with one storm succeeding another, a +change came over him. He began to sit beside the table in silence, his +head in his hands, his brown eyes looking off into space. + +One night when the house trembled in the grip of a blizzard and the +unexplained reverberating sound from the south cliffs came louder than +usual, he sat thus while Kayak Bill played a game of solitaire on the +opposite side of the table. Lollie had established himself in his +mother's bed. While he turned the pages of a fairy tale book, he +pointed out the pictures to Jean. That day there had been no shellfish +to supplement the scanty allowance of food and the little fellow +lingered hungrily on the colored pictures depicting bountiful tables of +feasting kings; jolly fat cooks basting roasting ducks in the kitchens +of queens; little Jack Horner pulled a ripe plum from a pie. Finally +he turned a page which disclosed the Queen of Hearts holding out a pan +of delicious, browny-crusted tarts. The crimson jelly at the centers +seemed almost to quiver. + +"Oh, mother, mother, I'm _so hungry_!" he burst out. + +Ellen laid aside her sewing and going to the cupboard brought out a +tiny dish of rice and gave it to him. Jean saw Boreland's eyes follow +the movements of his wife. She wondered if he, like herself, suspected +that the dish contained over half Ellen's portion for that day. There +was a tenseness about his jaw, a smouldering light in his eye that sent +a queer chill over the girl. A few minutes later he rose and climbed +up into the loft. When he descended he held a revolver in his hand. + +The weapon was one he had carried since boyhood. Its history belonged +to an oldtime Indian scout, a friend of Boreland's father. On its +handle were three notches. The last time the girl had heard the story +of those three notches was at Katleean when Shane, pointing them out to +the White Chief, had told him that each one stood for a man who +deserved and met death at the hand that held the gun. + +She grew inattentive to the questions of Loll as she watched her +brother-in-law at the table oiling and polishing the old revolver. He +spent much time at his task and when it was finished sat thoughtfully, +his thin fingers slowly passing over the notches as if he were counting +them for the first time. After some minutes he leaned across to Kayak +Bill. + +"Kayak," he said so softly that the girl could scarcely hear, "_if_ I +get back to Katleean in the spring--_there will be four--_" He tapped +the notched handle of the revolver significantly. + +A sudden chill of foreboding, doubly terrible because at first so vague +and incomprehensible, swept her. She saw Kayak's eyes looking into +Boreland's. They were tense, half-closed and glittered coldly, not at +Shane, but at some vision induced by Shane's words. Then the old man +nodded twice, slowly, approvingly, decisively. . . . + +As the days of December went by everyone on the Island, with the +exception of Loll, asserted often that of course there could be no +Christmas. Despite this, however, as the date drew near the holiday +spirit hovered persistently over the camp. Mysterious things were +going on. Kayak Bill withdrew himself behind his curtain very early +each day, and tantalizing sounds of whittling came from his corner; +while Boreland and Harlan shut themselves up for hours in the shed. + +The day before Christmas came white and still with great soft +snowflakes falling until noon. + +"Santa Claus weather! Santa Claus weather!" sang Lollie dancing up and +down before the window. "He'll surely come now--if there is one," he +added for Jean's benefit. The girl had tried to explain the spirit of +Christmas to the youngster, but he still clung to his early conception +of the good old saint. + +There was a party that night on Kon Klayu. Jean had never admired her +sister more than when she saw Ellen rise above the haunting fear of +starvation and with the few pitiful things at her command create the +cheer of Christmas Eve. And there was no lack of presents--home-made +gifts that had cost their donors much thought and hours of +labor--gifts, some of them smile-provoking, but bringing with them a +sense of warmer friendliness, a touch of tenderness which enhances the +spirit of fellowship that comes to those who share the hazards and +adventures of the North. + +Loll, with one lump of hoarded sugar, two full-rigged schooners, an +Indian war canoe and a new blouse sewed by Ellen's fingers, was +supremely happy. For the men were mittens made of a blanket, scarves +knitted from the unraveled yarn of two old sweaters, and--even on Kon +Klayu the male members could not escape the inevitable Christmas +neck-tie, for Ellen had produced from the bottom of her trunk three +brand new ones purchased for Shane before she sailed from the States. + +Kayak Bill looked his over a few minutes and then disappeared behind +his tarpaulin-screen in the next room. When he emerged it was with one +hand holding aside his bushy beard. The new neck-tie, impaled with a +large nugget pin, hung low on his blue flannel shirt. + +"I ain't wore one o' these dude halters for ten yars, Lady," he +drawled, hitching his shoulders with an air of being pleased with +himself, "but I ain't forgot how they goes." + +There were two beautiful caps for Ellen and Jean made of the iridescent +necks of mallard drakes, carefully prepared and sewed by Kayak; a +dust-pan made of a kerosene can; a calendar ruled off on the letter +paper of the defunct life insurance company, and to their genuine +delight, two paper knives carved from the tusks taken from the sea +monster's head which Lollie had discovered. Adorned with the +emblematic figures of the Thunderbird and the Wolf they were, in their +way, works of art, and Ellen, reading the penciled greeting on the +paper attached to her gift, could not keep the look of surprise from +her face as she thanked Harlan for it. It occurred to her that this +young man was continually and agreeably surprising her lately. + +After the distribution of the gifts, and the old-time stories told in +the candlelight, Jean, by the magic of her violin coaxed them all into +singing the Yuletide songs fraught with memories of the homeland;--all +that is with the exception of Kayak Bill. The old man, his high +forehead shining from his recent ablutions, his bushy beard hiding his +new tie, sat silent, even wistful, stroking the home-made gifts that +lay upon his knees. Jean as she played, wondered what long-ago +memories were misting his hazel eyes. + +When the singing came to an end, little Loll, without an invitation, +rose and announced: + +"_Now_, I'm going to speak my piece." + +He walked to the middle of the room and made a low, circular bow. In +the effort to recall that "piece" he had spoken the year previous in +Sunday-school, his brow puckered and his grey eyes took on a look of +intense thought. His emphasis fell in strange places: + + "'Twas _the_ night before Christmas + An' all _through_ the house + Not-ta creature . . . was . . . Was _stirring_ + _Not_-teven a mouse . . . not-_teven_ a mouse . . . + Not-teven a _mouse_!" + + +All efforts to remember further having proved vain, Lollie, far from +being embarrassed, bowed low again with the poise of one who has +recited brilliantly, and took his seat amid the applause. . . . + +Harlan rose at last to say goodnight. From Loll's bunk, where she was +helping the sleepy boy to bed, Ellen called after him her Christmas +wishes. Jean slipped into her coat and followed the young man out to +the porch. + +The night had turned wondrously clear, but it did not seem cold to the +two who stood silently looking out on its beauty. + +"Never was there such a night for Christmas carols, Gregg," said the +girl after some minutes had gone by. "Wait." + +She darted into the cabin and returned almost immediately with her +violin tucked beneath her coat. + +"I may never have a chance like this again. . . . I'm going up as far +as the Lookout with you. Come." + +They climbed up through the white, star-lit silence to the top of the +hill. From the height they looked down through the weird half-light +reflected from the snow. The formless waters kissed the ermine-wrapped +shores of the Island. The sweet, hoarse voice of the sea had in it the +cadence of happy child calls. There was an effect of illimitable +space, of wonderful freedom. Up from the north into the night-blue +bowl of the sky mystic lights unfurled themselves in pulsing, wreathing +chiffon-like streamers of changing rose and violet, green and amber, +red and gold--unfurled . . . trembled . . . rippled into opal splendor, +and then swiftly and softly swept across the heavens and entangled +themselves in the calm, friendly stars that looked down on Kon Klayu. + +Jean caught her breath. + +"The Christmas lights of God," she whispered. "I have never been so +near to Him before." She lifted her violin to her shoulder and began +the opening bars of _Holy Night_. Gregg's voice joined the instrument, +reverent, worshipful. + +As she played there beside him the girl knew that they were sharing +something never to be forgotten by either--the magic of a moment of +perfect accord, a moment of beauty that transcended earthly things and +left them but two souls worshipping together beneath the softened glory +of the Northern Lights. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +WINTER DAYS + +It had taken Gregg Harlan some time to realize fully that mere +existence on Kon Klayu was an all-absorbing problem! but when he did so +the primitiveness of it stimulated, intoxicated him, not as liquor had +once done, but with a freshness that cleared his brain and sent his +blood racing through his veins. Every cell in his body tingled with +life. He felt this exhilaration in his swinging stride, his up-lifting +chin. By Christmas he was no more tormented by a craving for liquor. +On the contrary he was nauseated at the memory of his stupid, sodden +days at Katleean. Alaska, the Great Country, which either makes or +breaks, had challenged him to prove himself a man--and he had accepted +the challenge. Kon Klayu, Island of mystery and beauty had laid its +charm upon him, for despite the hardships it was a place where romance +and adventure were the realities of life. + +For the first time in his twenty-five years he felt the spur of +responsibility. He was filled with a desire to fight, to conquer, to +do something to try his new strength and to earn favor in the eyes of +Jean--and Ellen. He grinned boyishly to himself, sometimes, when this +mighty urge to noble deeds resolved itself into the accomplishing of +prosaic tasks such as getting in firewood and hunting shellfish. + +In the matter of clothes, Boreland and Kayak were the only ones who +were in any way prepared for the cold weather. Ellen had cut up a +scarlet blanket to make Harlan and Loll winter coats. Jean had +fashioned for herself an attractive mackinaw from a small white +blanket, and the young man was not blind to the picture she made, +red-cheeked, laughing, trotting along beside him on the beach as they +looked for sea food. + +One windy day Kayak Bill came in from the beach without his cherished +sombrero. + +"The gol durned breeze snatched it often my haid, and lit out with it +for foreign parts," he drawled sadly as he smoothed down his wildly +blown locks. Despite Ellen's anxious protests he went bareheaded after +that, although he wound his scarf about his ears on extra cold days. +His hair continued to grow unchecked also, for after watching Ellen +earnestly manipulating an inverted bowl and a pair of scissors while +she trimmed her protesting husband's hair, Kayak spoke with slow +conviction: + +"I hearn tell o' lady barbers down in the States, but I ain't no nature +for 'em a-fussin' round my noggin. My kin folks drug me to the +Methydist meetin' house once a-fore I stampeded from Texas, and the +sarmon teched on a long-haired pugilist, Samson, what was trimmed by a +lady barber by the name o' Dahlia." . . . + +For some time Kayak and Boreland had been trying, as they put it, to +"taper off" on their tobacco. Harlan, when he found that the _Hoonah_ +was not coming, had given up smoking so that the older men might longer +enjoy what tobacco was left. After days of silent, mental wrestling +with his desire, he reached the stage where he had successfully downed +the craving, and he watched with grim amusement, and no little +sympathy, his partners' vain efforts to limit themselves to one pipe +after each meal. + +There finally came a day when Kayak and Shane sat at the supper table +lighting their farewell pipes. + +"Goo' bye, lovely Lady Nicotine!" Airily Boreland waved a hand through +the smoke. "I bid thee farewell without fear and without regret! . . . +As a matter of fact, Bill, I've intended to quit right along, and this +makes it easy. Filthy habit, anyway, and I don't want to set a bad +example for Loll." + +It was from Jean that Harlan learned the details of the following +dismal day. It was so stormy that the men could not go out to work. +After breakfast Shane and Kayak had risen from the table and, pipes in +hand, instinctively sought the tobacco-box in the corner. Their +fingers met on the bare tin bottom. With blank looks they faced each +other. + +"Hell, Kayak, I'd forgotten!" Boreland grinned sheepishly. "Now +begins the battle of Nicotine! Buck up, pard!" He forced a +cheerfulness into his tones as he slapped Kayak's shoulder. + +Kayak Bill looked down at the empty pipe cupped lovingly in his hand. +With a sound between a grunt and a groan he put it back into his pocket +and dawdled dispiritedly off into the other room to his bunk behind the +tarpaulin. + +Shane thrust both hands deep into the pockets of his overalls and +shifted his weight alternately from heel to toe. . . . Crossing over +to the stove where his wife stood he bent upon her a wistful, +little-lost-dog expression, so ridiculous in a man of his size that +Ellen burst into laughter. + +"Poor--little--thing!" she sympathized, patting his cheek. "It's lost +its pacifier, it has!" + +With a sickly grin Shane turned to the window and dully watched the +slanting sleet blown by the gale. . . . Kayak's puffing snore came +presently from the other room. Boreland wheeled about, glaring. + +"By thunder! to think that old cuss can _sleep_ at a time like +this! . . . The man must have a heart of stone! For two cents I'd go +in there and . . ." + +He paced the floor, his hands fidgeting. + +"Are you _sure_, El, you didn't save out a box of tobacco on us, just +to give us a bit of a surprise now," he asked hopefully for the third +time that morning. + +In the days that followed Harlan could not make up his mind who +suffered most during the "battle of Nicotine"--Shane or Kayak Bill, or +Ellen. He grew to feel a bit sorry for Ellen. He found himself +gradually assuming the duties neglected by the other two men during +their period of misery. Boreland lost much of his good-natured +cheerfulness. He was inclined to view the food situation with +increased alarm. He often spoke sharply to Lollie, and sometimes to +his wife. But invariably after an irritable outburst he sought to make +up to the boy with some home-made toy, or a new story of adventure. +With Ellen his method of apology was different. He would put his arm +across her shoulders and look down at her whimsically. + +"I swan to goodness, little fellow, if I wasn't an angel I couldn't +live with you at all, at all, you're that peevish since I've stopped +smoking." Then with his most wistful Irish look he would add, "Be +patient with me El. I'm having a hell of a time." + +As Harlan watched the struggles of his partners he grew to have a +better opinion of his own power of self-control. Jean was responsible +for this in a way. Sometimes on stormy days when it was impossible to +go outside, the patience of the whole family would be sorely tried by +the actions of the older men. They would research every nook and +corner of the cabin, go into the pockets of every garment and even rip +linings in their efforts to find some over-looked bit of tobacco. +After just so much of this, Jean would turn on them scornfully and +compare their childish actions with those of Harlan when he was +undergoing the same deprivation. Undoubtedly this holding him up as a +good example had the opposite effect to that hoped for by Jean, but it +nevertheless caused a warm glow to encircle his heart. + +One day Boreland made a great discovery: By pulverizing the old +nicotine-laden pipes, of which there were over half a dozen, he found +that the resultant mixture could be smoked. He and his partner in +disgrace did no work that day. In disgust Ellen banished them to the +woodshed to do their smoking. From this place of refuge Kayak Bill's +drawling tones of immense satisfaction floated out at intervals: + +"Honest to grandma, Shane, I'm a-feelin' like a new man." + +By the time the corncobs had all been pulverized and consumed, and but +one cannabalistic pipe, itself pared down until it held but a +thimbleful, was left between them, all the other members of the party +had arrayed themselves against the sufferers. By persisting even +though sickness was often the penalty for smoking an extra strong +pulverized pipe, they had forfeited the sympathy of all hands. Matters +came to a crisis one afternoon, when Boreland, taking a candle, crawled +up into the loft to make one more search among the provisions. + +Suddenly there was heard a great commotion overhead--a beating and a +floundering about. + +"Hey! Get some water up here--quick!" came Shane's alarmed shout. +"I've set the bloody place afire!" + +Half an hour later the fire was out, thanks to the efforts of the +bucket brigade which rushed water from the spring, but in the roof was +a gapping hole, and much of the outfit stowed away in the loft was wet +again. + +Boreland came slowly down from above. He was besmudged, apologetic and +sheepish. Ellen was waiting for him. She looked him over from head to +foot, her blue eyes snapping, scorn and supreme disgust radiating from +her. Next she turned to Kayak Bill and took him in with the same look. + +"Now, men, listen to me," she said sternly, as they both started to +slip toward the door. "I've reached the limit of my endurance." She +emphasized her next remarks with a decisive finger. "The _very next +one_ of you who mentions tobacco inside this cabin will be banished to +the smoke-house to live by himself. I mean every word I say!" With +hang-dog looks the culprits turned away and disappeared through the +door. Ellen, with business-like brevity, climbed up into the loft to +investigate. Harlan followed. + +He found a roll of tar paper with which to mend the hole in the roof +and helped Ellen shift the dunnage bags which had been wetted by the +water. They worked in silence for some time. + +Suddenly Ellen stopped in her operations. She rested her palms on the +floor and looked up at Harlan. In the candle-lit gloom of the loft he +could see that her eyes were twinkling. A new friendliness was in the +ingenuous smile she gave him. + +"Gregg," she said in a tone that finally admitted him to her +friendship, "remember--there isn't a man living who cannot be benefited +by having a good, sound scolding once in a while." . . . + +And so the days passed until the end of January. They were stormy ones +for the most part, yet no ruby sand showed on the beach of Kon Klayu. +One clear, cold morning Harlan and Jean were gathering shellfish among +the boulders on Sunset Point. The air was strangely still and under +the pale sunshine the sapphire waters were tinged with rose and +lavender. They had long been accustomed to those tricks played with +sea and clouds by the magician Mirage, and today the crest of each +billow was magnified until, on the horizon the points seemed to leap up +into the sky. Above a lucid space in the southwest a mass of silver +and amethyst tinted clouds moved slowly and spread out like a platform. +They sat on a flat boulder to watch the changing beauty of the colors. +Their daily forays for shellfish had deepened their love of the +sea--its ways of mystery that were ever bringing to their attention +some new loveliness of form and tint. Now, before their incredulous +eyes there appeared rising from the cloud bank the illusion of +graciously rounded domes, spires, minarets, and the next instant they +were gazing on a city of enchantment softly reflected in a pearly +sea--a silvery city of fantasy like an exquisite shadowy drawing of +some foreign land. . . . They sat silent, entranced. How long the +vision lingered neither of them knew. . . . Then a breeze fanned their +faces and in a twinkling the city of dreams vanished. + +They raced back to the cabin with their news but found the others on +the porch. They too had witnessed the phenomenon. Kayak Bill alone +showed no surprise. + +"That's what sourdoughs up here calls 'The Silent City,'" he drawled. +"Alasky folks have been seein' it for yars. One time I saw it above +Muir glacier, and one time when I was a-crusin' in the Bering Sea. +Sailors calls it a mirrage. If I don't miss my guess, there'll be hell +a-poppin' in the way of a storm purty soon." + +Kayak was right. Within twenty-tour hours the worst southwest gale +experienced racked the Island. The strange reverberating roll from the +south Cliffs beat with weird insistence on their ears for three long +days and nights. When the weather cleared the immediate need for +shellfish sent Jean and Harlan out among the rocks again. + +They were coming home from Skeleton Rib with their pails full of +"gumboots," making a desultory search for pay-sand, which no one had +seen for weeks. They left the beach and turned toward the little lake +visible from the cabin porch. The storm had shifted the cannon-ball +shaped boulders which characterized that part of the shore, stripped +the tundra of every sign of vegetation, and exposed the brown turf +beneath. Gregg in restoring his knife to his pocket, dropped it. As +he stooped to pick it up a look of astonishment crossed his face. He +sank on his knees and eagerly scanned the brown surface beneath. + +"Jean!" There was excitement in his voice as he beckoned her. "Look!" + +The girl rushed to his side. She bent to look and caught her breath. + +The dark surface of the turf was flecked with glittering colors of gold. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +SPRING + +Once again gold cast its magic spell over the Island of Kon Klayu. The +daily food hunting was alternated with preparations for mining the +gold-bearing turf--the top of which had caught, like the nap of a +blanket, the flakes of yellow metal washed up by the storms of years. +Though the men knew they had not yet found the source of the Island +gold, they were confident there was a small fortune in sight. + +In his enthusiasm Boreland put behind him for a time the growing hatred +for the White Chief of Katleean that was slowly eating into his heart, +and with Kayak Bill and Harlan went about the "dead work" that preceded +the actual mining. There were puddling-boxes and sluices to be built +at the edge of the little lake off Skeleton Rib, and the top of the +gold-carrying turf was to be cut up into squares and piled like +cordwood until they were ready to shred it and run it through the +sluices. + +While the work went on everyone kept a sharp lookout for cannery ships +going west, for along the Alaskan coast the first sign of spring is the +coming of the fishing fleet from the States. + +"Of course February is a month too early," said Harlan one evening as +they sat about the supper table discussing the possibilities of rescue, +"but we ought to have some way of attracting attention. We might put +up a flag-pole on the Lookout, but--" he shrugged his shoulders, "we +have no flag." + +"If you men get the pole up, I'll see that you have a flag," Ellen +promised. + +No one had been well supplied with clothes in the beginning of the +Island adventure, and gradually Ellen had used every available piece of +cloth to eke out the worn and patched garments, which despite all her +efforts, turned her family into tatterdemalions. But she took what was +left to put together her flag: some flour sacks, an old blue shirt of +Shane's and a red blanket that could hardly be spared. The men hunted +for days among the drift of the beach before finding a log the proper +length and shape for their purpose, but at the end of a week the pole +was in place. + +The hoisting of the flag for the first time was made an event which +demanded the presence of every member of the party on the Lookout. +Sudden, poignant emotion stirred the six tattered figures that stood +about the pole as the crude banner unfurled its stars and stripes to +the strong breeze. Home-made and heavy it was, but it fluttered above +them, the emblem that has ever stood for hope, for freedom, for +justice, and there was that in the sight of the flag which caused the +men to stand with bared heads, while Ellen and Jean viewed it through a +mist of tears. + +"Oh, surely, _surely_ now, some ship will sight it and come in!" +proclaimed Jean, as she turned to scan the sea, her face alight with +the faith inspired by the faded colors. + +It was the latter part of March before the smoke of the first cannery +boat was seen moving slowly to the westward. Though the vessel was so +far away the watchers knew their low Island could hardly be seen from +its deck, the mere fact that ships were beginning to navigate the +northern sea promised well, and the flag was kept flying from the +Lookout day and night, its stars turned down as a sign of distress. + +It was decided that Jean and Harlan should attend to the evening signal +fires. There was little darkness in the nights, for already the long +Alaska daylight had set in, but by placing half-dry seaweed on the +driftwood flame a great smoke resulted that, it was hoped, might be +seen by passing vessels. + +It was good to sit about the fire looking down on the sea while the +dusk crept in, and now that Ellen had, to some extent, modified her +opinions regarding Harlan, there was nothing to hinder the growing of a +delightful, outdoor companionship that made the hours pass with +miraculous rapidity for the two young fire tenders. Past hardships and +hunger were forgotten up there on the Lookout. The evenings became +hours of confidences when they discussed their plans, their dreams, +their budding philosophies of life. They came to know each other's +moods and each other's thoughts and that magic of shared adventures +which can be more binding than love. + +One night Gregg told her of his early ambition to be a mining engineer, +his year at a mid-western school of mines, where his studies were +terminated, he admitted with entire frankness, by a request to leave. +He told her also of his return home to San Francisco, and the +subsequent years of aimless drifting which ended in the final break +with his father. + +"I can see now," he concluded, "that poor old dad had good reason for +disappointment. As a last resort he sent me to Katleean hoping that +I'd get some sense jolted into me--but--well, I didn't, Jean, +until . . . until the _Hoonah_ put into the bay. I've been wondering +what he is thinking now. . . . He hasn't had a word from me since +August, although, of course, he hears from Katleean--" He checked +himself, pausing a moment as if he were on the point of telling her +something else. Then: "Dad is--he's interested in the Alaska Fur +Trading Company, you know." + +But Jean's mind was already intent on the young man's future. + +"Now you _are_ going to wake up and do something, though," she declared +with a decisive movement of her little head. "I don't care much for +what you've told me of your past, Gregg," she admitted frankly, "but--" +she waved her hand with a gesture of dismissal--"up here it isn't +yesterday that counts, it's today and tomorrow. This is a wonderful +new land to begin in----" + +"And you just watch me do it, Jean!" he interrupted her +enthusiastically. As if he already felt the need of action he rose +from the ground and thrusting his hands in his pockets, began walking +up and down before her. "I've done a lot of thinking over there in my +little Hut--a _lot_ of it, and I know this country has gotten a hold on +me, some way. It's mine from now on. There's something about it that +makes me feel alive. I want to get out and hustle like the +dev--dickens. Honestly, if it wasn't for you and Ellen and Loll, I +could be glad we have been put up against it here on Kon Klayu! I've +actually enjoyed the fighting for food and warmth and shelter! . . . +We'll all have a good stake when we leave here, Jean, but already I'm +planning to come back. I have a few ideas about mining that I'd like +to try out." + +The girl looked up at him, her eyes glowing with interest. Encouraged, +he took his place once more by the signal fire and began in detail his +plans for the further prospecting and development of the Island. + +But not all their hours on the Lookout were spent in the discussion of +mining. They seemed to have the whole world to themselves up there--an +enchanted world, cool, redolent of hidden sprouting green things and +the smell of driftwood smoke; a world tinctured with a sheer beauty +that neither of them had ever known before. They had reached the stage +in their companionship where sometimes they sat silent for long +minutes, only occasionally looking across the fire at each other with +the smile of understanding that is often better than speech. Sometimes +they laughed together as only youth can laugh, over inconsequential +things, and sometimes he sang to her--songs of the sea, men's songs at +first, but these gave place later to the songs of sentiment that may, +when the singer choose, be made more intimate, more tenderly personal +than the most personal spoken word. + +Jean, after she had gone down to her little bunk at night, often lay +there wondering how, under the circumstances, she could be so happy, +especially since the food situation was becoming more desperate each +day. But, with the exception of occasional lapses into acute anxiety, +she was strangely content and confident for the future. + +One morning she was awakened by Loll's excited whisper. + +"Jean! Oh J-e-a-n! Do you hear anything?" The youngster was standing +beside her bunk, the early light falling on his red head, his ear +raised alertly after the manner of the little dog in a famous +phonograph advertisement. She roused herself drowsily and sat up to +listen. Above the sound of the surf on the beach came the faint wild +call of gulls. + +"Oh, Loll, winter's gone!" she exclaimed just above a whisper. "The +birds have come back to nest!" + +She bounded out of bed and a moment later the two slipped quietly out +to the porch. The light fall of snow had already been gone for weeks. +It was a glorious morning of sunshine and sparkling sea. Looking up +she saw against the cobalt sky the white wings of sea-gulls--the +harbingers of spring. + +Her happiness in the sight was somewhat lessened as the sound of +coughing came from inside the cabin. Everyone but Ellen appeared to be +standing well the enforced diet of bread and shellfish upon which they +were now living. Sometimes Jean was worried over her sister's +condition. She suspected that never from the first had Ellen eaten her +full share of the food, even when they had had beans and rice and +oatmeal. Her sister could not eat the tough "gumboots" and her only +nourishment was obtained from bread and black coffee. Ellen still went +about her household tasks, but it took her longer to do them now and it +was evident to Jean's critical eye that her strength was waning. +Meat--meat was what she needed, the girl thought. The pigeon--once she +suggested to Ellen that it might be killed, but her sister opposed the +idea so violently that Jean never mentioned it again. + +One day Harlan brought down a sea-gull with a stone. Jean hopefully +cooked it, but the flesh was so tainted with fish that no one could eat +it. The sea-parrots had returned to the Island but these wary little +birds kept far out over the water. + +There came a morning when Ellen did not get up for breakfast. The men +left early for the lake. They were devoting all their time to their +mining, and secure in the thought that they had struck something rich, +they were eager for the clean-up; but to Jean, stepping quietly about +her household tasks, gold did not seem valuable now. It made no +difference how much they found--it would not buy them one ounce of +nourishing food--and nourishing food was what Ellen must have, and soon. + +The girl tip-toed to the bed and looked down at her sister's face, +white and thin against the tumbled mass of golden-brown hair. There +was something small and very girlish-looking about Ellen as she lay +there--and something suggestive of a great weariness. Jean felt a +sudden tenderness for her--a desire to clasp her sister in her strong +young arms and shield her, from what she could not tell. She stooped +and softly kissed the small, work-stained hand that lay outside the +blanket. + +As she continued her work, the plan which had often before suggested +itself to her, now returned. Ellen's peculiar conduct in regard to the +pigeon precluded her mentioning it to her sister. She took a sheet of +thin paper and in painstaking, minute characters wrote a message. She +would attach it to the pigeon and turn the bird loose. Perhaps it +might fly back to Katleean, and then, surely, if the White Chief found +her message he would make an effort to come at once. + +Half an hour later she had the pigeon on the beach below the cabin. +She was urging it to fly, but the bird merely spread its wings and +fluttered about. Fearing that the long confinement had deprived it of +the power of flight, Jean was redoubling her efforts, when Loll came +running along the sand. + +"Gee Whiz, Jean!" he yelled, "What-cha doing with my pigeon? Can't you +see he can't fly good yet? Dad clipped his wings that time one of them +got caught in the hinge of his cage." And Lollie, with coaxing noises +and terms of endearment proceeded to gather his pet into his arms. + +Obliged by Ellen's illness to assume the responsibilities of the larder +Jean was surprised and dismayed at the small amount of food that was +left them. She tried to banish the fears that this knowledge brought +her by talking cheerfully of the certainty of procuring seabird eggs. + +Spring had the effect of coming suddenly. The yellow grass and bare +branches which had greeted them for so many months changed seemingly +overnight. The adventurers awakened one morning to find that the +alders had burst into pungent, sticky little green leaves and the +tundra had taken on a tinge of emerald. When the Indian celery had +grown a foot in height Jean and Loll brought an arm-load to the cabin. +The girl remembered that Senott at Katleean had told her "him plenty +good eatin' when salmon run." Everyone craved something green and +though the celery was hollow-stalked, very watery and of a strong musky +taste and odor, they ate it, because, as Loll put it, it _felt_ like +green stuff going down, anyway. + +Ducks and geese flew over the Island so low that the sibilant sound of +their wings could be heard from the porch. Shane often tried to kill +one with a stone, but without success. He and Kayak Bill had long ago +used all the ammunition for their revolvers endeavoring to shoot +hair-seals off the south end. Shane's revolver finally disappeared +entirely. One day, however, after he had stood long by Ellen's bed, he +went out to the shed. Jean coming upon him there had found him +thoughtfully twirling the weapon on his finger--his trigger finger as +he had often called it. Although he announced that there were no more +cartridges for it the girl later came upon five wrapped in a bandana +handkerchief. + +When at last the flowers began to bud, Jean and her nephew climbed the +gulch trail to the top of the Island where Kobuk lay under the tundra +on the crest of the hill. The lone tree, so like a woman with +wind-blown hair, had lost one of its branches during the winter gales, +but it still stood, as if looking out across Kobuk's grave to the +far-away, illimitable skyline; ever looking, Jean thought, as she was, +for a ship that never came. + +She and Lollie made Kobuk's resting place a bed of transplanted violets +and iris and dog-tooth lilies. When the work was finished, Lollie +stood leaning on the club he had begun to carry, as his one desire in +life at this period was to emulate Robinson Crusoe. He looked +thoughtfully down at the grave for some time. + +"Perhaps, after all, Jean, it's better that Kobuk died," he said at +last. "We'd have nothing to feed him now, poor old Kobuk, and he'd be +hungry, like us." He raised his thin little face to watch a sea-parrot +flying overhead with a fish in its bill. + +Jean leaned against the tree, one of her recurrent floods of +hopelessness sweeping her. Far down the tundra toward the north she +could see the flag-pole on the Lookout. The tattered home-made flag +hung dispiritedly in the still sunny air, and the smoke of the signal +fire was a mere straight-rising wisp. The calls of happy mating gulls +came to mock her--gulls replete with the bountiful food of the sea. +Today she was hungry, so hungry that every atom of her body cried for +food, hot, nourishing food which she had not known for months. And +Ellen, back there at the cabin, was growing weaker and weaker each day. + +The girl's eyes dully followed the low-flying sea-parrots. In a half +conscious way she noticed that many of them came toward the crest of +the hill and disappeared. Sea-parrots were not as fishy tasting as +gulls, as she had heard Kayak Bill say. If only they had some way of +killing these birds perhaps the broth and the flesh might bring back +Ellen's strength. + +"Jean, isn't that the place the old bear came up the hill?" Lollie's +voice broke in on her thoughts. He was pointing to the scrubby growth +on the brow of the hill where she had first seen the bear of Kon Klayu. +"Let's go over and see." + +As they walked toward the ridge their feet made no sound on the soft +tundra. They peered down hill into the shady recesses under the +stunted alder and salmon-berry bushes. Jean's nostrils twitched as +there was wafted up to her the strong, acrid odor which lingers about +the places of nesting birds. As her eyes became accustomed to the +dimness, she ventured a remark which died abruptly as she caught her +breath. Beneath the low canopy of branches the ground was bare of +vegetation, and on the cool brown earth, packed hard by the patter of +webbed feet, a dozen or more sea-parrots were sitting not fifteen +slanting feet below! + +At the sight of them Loll dropped to his hands and knees and, club in +hand, crept cautiously down under the low-growing bushes. Inch by inch +he drew nearer to the birds. . . . Then, with a swift movement he was +in the midst of wildly flapping wings, clubbing fiercely at +crimson-beaked heads. + +Jean, fearing that he was in danger, threw herself on the ground and +tried to wriggle forward to him, but the low growth made the passage of +her larger body impossible. She drew herself back and called +frantically to the boy. She could hear the commotion and see the +parrots one by one flying clumsily out as they escaped from the spot +where he fought. With a shout of encouragement to him she made another +attempt to crawl under the brush. At that moment Loll's freckled face +was thrust through the undergrowth. He turned to tug at something, +grunting and straining as if trying to free it from the tangle. + +"Jean! I've got 'em! I've got 'em!" he yelled. + +A second later he was standing before her, breathless, his blouse torn +from his shoulders, his face scratched. In his bleeding little hands +he held five dead sea-parrots. "Killed 'em with my club, Jean, just +like Robinson Crusoe, 'cause they can't fly away quick under there!" he +explained. "They've all got little tunnels under there, too--nests I +think they are, but I couldn't reach the end of 'em when I put in my +arm!" + +An hour later Jean was attending to the cooking of the birds. When +skinned, only the breast was found to be edible. The meat when cooked +was coarse and dark red, but it was a palatable sea-parrot and dumpling +mulligan that the girl evolved. + +When the men returned from Skeleton Rib that night there was more +rejoicing over the food than there was over the fact that at last +everything was in readiness at the lake for the first clean-up. Three +puddling-boxes stood full of the soft brown muck that had once been +turf. The sluices were in place ready for the water that would be +turned into them the following day, and the tools, wheelbarrow and the +cart had been drawn aside, clearing the space for action. + +"Tomorrow, boys, we'll be bringing home _hi-yu_ gold!" Shane asserted +confidently at supper. "And before the end of the week we'll all have +enough to go anywhere we wish. Now that we are certain of plenty of +birds sure our hearts should be light as feathers--for a boat will +surely be along soon!" + +On the Lookout that night Jean said good-night early to Harlan. As she +came down the hill to the cabin she stopped to look at the +wide-spreading ocean. The sun had gone down in a strange sea mist and +below her the waters heaved dim and vast and ghost-like in the +twilight. There was a hushed feeling in the air. It may have been +that she was more tired than usual, for when she slipped into her +little bunk she fell into a heavy sleep almost as soon as her head +touched the pillow. + +It was Shane's incredulous shout that awakened her. + +"Kayak! Come here!" + +She could hear Kayak Bill moving quickly toward the door in the +living-room. + +"Ellen, you come out, too!" It was evident that Shane was laboring +under an intense astonishment. + +The girl clambered out of her bunk and flinging on a kimono, started +for the porch. Before she reached the door Kayak Bill's unbelieving +exclamation sounded: + +"By--hell! The lake--" he paused in sheer leaden amazement. "The lake +is _gone_!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE CLEFT + +On the porch all eyes were turned toward the south where the silver of +the little lake off Skeleton Rib had always glimmered through its +screen of alders. There was no friendly sparkle of water this morning, +and gone were the trees that bordered the shore nearest the beach. +Instead, a strange desolation, more noticeable because of the brilliant +sunshine, hung over the spot, which now showed a vague-reddish brown in +the distance. It had the sickening effect of an empty socket from +which the eye has been torn. + +The bewildered look on Kayak's face was slowly changing to one of +enlightenment. + +"Folks," he said quietly. "We're lucky to be alive this morning. +There's been a tidal wave!" + +His eye was taking in the length of the beach that lay between the +cabin and the lake. There was a weird look of alteration about it, as +if a giant hand had tampered with it during the night. Piles of +drift-logs were stacked up far inland, and the vegetation on the banks +above the beach was flattened and in many instances swept completely +away. Close at hand--not twenty feet from the cabin--lay windrows of +seaweed, left there by the spent wash of the great wave. Death, swift, +sweeping, terrible, had been diverted only by the high bank that stood +below the cabin. + +It seemed incredible, monstrous, that they all should have slept +peacefully while the mass of water was rolling in on them from the +deep. Kayak Bill, who had once seen a tidal wave on Bering Sea, +pictured it advancing in the grey unnatural night from the far reaches +of the ocean, growing larger and larger as it neared the shallows off +Kon Klayu, and then, tossing its dancing crest to the sky in gigantic +abandon, curling down from aloft in green-white, crushing splendor and +flinging itself far over the beachline in its endeavor to encompass +them all. + +Without waiting for breakfast the men went down to the spot where the +little lake had been. Nothing but a dark ooze remained. Every block +of gold-carrying turf, every puddling-box, sluice and tool had been +carried out to sea. The work of weeks had come to naught. Their last +hope of gold was gone. + +During the gloomy fortnight that followed it was the food supply, +however, and not the calamity of the tidal wave that was subject of the +most discussion. With the exception of flour there was little left of +the outfit that had been landed on Kon Klayu, and to the consternation +and chagrin of the men, they discovered that Loll was the only one who +could slip up on the sea-parrots and kill them with a club. Shane and +Harlan and even Kayak Bill tried it repeatedly with no success. They +were unable to creep down under the low-growing brush in a manner +stealthy enough to reach the birds. Even Loll found it impossible to +approach them in the open, and they grew more wary day by day. Six +people depended on the child for nourishing food, and Lollie, after +that first wild morning when he had discovered his ability to kill the +birds, found his tender heart revolting against his bloody task. + +Ellen, slowly recovering her strength now that sea-parrot broth had +been added to the daily fare, had become painfully intuitive in the +matter of all those phases of the situation which Shane and the others +clumsily tried to keep from her. Though apparently asleep, she knew +the instant that Shane crept from his bed in the very early mornings +before the sun had dried the dew on the tundra. She could hear him +tip-toe into Lollie's bunk and with forced lightness call softly: + +"Come, Loll, son. Hop up now. We must be after the birds this fine +morning!" + +"Oh, dad! I don't want to kill any more--I can't do it, dad! . . . +Let this morning go by . . . please!" . . . + +"Whist, lad! Your mother'll hear you. Come along now, son, we'll talk +it over on the outside." + +"Oh, please, _please_ . . ." + +Quickly Ellen would put her fingers over her ears that she might not +hear the beseeching little-boy voice, but she knew the moment Shane +lifted the reluctant child from his warm bunk, and she knew, too, that +Shane's heart must be aching with the pity of it, as was her own. + +One morning, thinking they had gone, she raised her head to note the +hour. There was the sound of a quick step on the porch outside. + +"Oh, dad!" came Lollie's pleading tones, and Ellen knew just how his +grey eyes, big now in his small thin face, were raised to his father's, +"dad, if you could see them down there under the leaves, strutting so +cute-like and innocent in front of their little tunnel nests getting +ready for their babies!" Then with passionate intensity: "Today . . . +couldn't you just let me off for to-day, dad?" Inspired, perhaps, by +some shade of feeling in Shane's eyes he went on with hurried, +promising emphasis: "An' _tomorrow_, maybe tomorrow, dad, I'll feel +like getting lots of 'em! Honest, maybe I will!" + +Ellen, with a moan of mental anguish, buried her face in her pillow and +covered her ears to shut out the rest. That her boy, friend and lover +of all wild things, was obliged, against his will, to slaughter birds +in order that they might live seemed more than she could bear. + +And as if to add to the hopelessness of the situation, daily now +steamers and sailing vessels passed far out on the North Pacific, but +none swerved in its course. There was nothing to hinder the _Hoonah's_ +coming--nothing but the word of the White Chief of Katleean. Ellen +chafed inwardly as the long, light days and nights dragged by. Help +must come soon, and for some time she had been counting the hours until +the pigeon's wing-feathers should grow out again. As soon as the bird +could fly she was going to take it to the Lookout and speed it on its +way with her message of capitulation to Paul Kilbuck. + +The long sunny days of May passed, turning Kon Klayu into a garden of +wild flowers. It was violet time with great bunches of purple blossoms +nodding against the hillsides. Above the beachline rice-grass waved +luxuriantly. Indian celery thrust its graceful, creamy parasols above +beach forget-me-nots, strawberry blooms, black lilies, blue geraniums +and thick carpets of delicate wee flowers that have no names. The +green of the tundra on top of the Island was splashed with yellow +buttercups and pink and lavender daisies, and on every little brown +pool and lake floated golden lilies. The warm salt wind from the sea +stirred the fragrance of it all--the flowers, the moist tundra, the +sun-warmed sand into a perfume that is the breath of Alaska; a clean, +invigorating perfume that once known can never be forgotten. It is +charged with that indefinable charm, that hint of promise, which is so +much a part of the great North country. + +To Jean and Gregg, racing along the beaches on their various hunts for +food, it brought a joy of spring that, when they were in the open, made +them forget completely the growing seriousness of their situation. +Nearly every day now the air was softly, embracingly warm, and owing to +the scarcity of garments, no one was wearing more than was necessary. +The men had long been going barefooted, and Jean, as soon as the +weather and the nature of her work permitted it, put her only remaining +pair of worn shoes in the loft against the day when she should leave +Kon Klayu. She, too, went barefooted for the most part, delighting in +the feel of the cool sand against her feet, but she carried with her +the hair-seal moccasins given her by Add-'em-up Sam's widow at +Katleean. These she put on to walk over stones or along the tundra. + +As the sea-parrots were daily growing more wary, and Lollie had now to +exercise the greatest caution to get near enough to club them, the need +of eggs became imperative. One day Jean and Harlan were racing along +the beach headed for the south cliffs to make their accustomed search. +A rope coiled about the young man's waist held to him a bucket which +dangled and bobbed as he ran. The afternoon was sunny and a fresh sea +wind lifted the hair on their bare heads. The surf ringed the grey +sands at their feet with long foaming lines. + +"It's so beautiful, so beautiful, this land and sea, Gregg, that I feel +today must bring us some good luck!" Jean, out of sheer exuberance, +was skimming along ahead, her arms outspread, her chin high, as she +dipped and leaped in imitation of Senott's sea-gull dance which she had +seen at the Potlatch. + +"Wait a minute, wild girl!" called Harlan, endeavoring to accomplish +the feat of rolling up a trouser leg as he hobbled. "Come back here!" +His voice took on an exaggerated tone of threat. "Don't you realize +that a squaw's place is three steps to the rear!" + +In answer to his shout she turned, and laughingly waited for him. He +advanced, suddenly assuming the slouching, shoulder-swinging gait of +the "bad man," his brows drawn and fierce, his chin thrust out. + +"Don't cross muh, woman!" he hissed, melodramatically. "I tell yuh, +I'm rough, an' I'm tough, an' I'm from Katleean! Muh bite is poi-sson, +an' muh s-s-s-ting is d-e-a-t-h! To the rear, I say!" + +Quick as a flash the girl bent, and catching up a long streamer of damp +kelp tossed it about his neck, retaining her hold on it as she ran +ahead. + +"Speak not to me of the rear, Man!" she intoned boastfully. "_I_ am +Xun, the Unfettered! Xun, the Woman-of-the-North-Wind! Men move not +in the North except by my will. My breath in their lungs brings +oblivion. My voice in their ears--and the trail--is--empty! Come!" + +Laughing derisively at his pawing efforts to dislodge the clammy kelp, +she drew him along until the streamer broke. Then still talking their +happy nonsense, they trotted side by side toward the cliffs. + +Half a mile farther on Jean sat down on a spherical boulder and donned +her moccasins. Afterward they turned in from the beach, crossed a flat +sweep of tundra and ascended the hill to the top of the Island. As +they walked toward the edge of the cliffs the shrill chorus of +thousands of sea-birds grew louder. + +"O-o-o-o!" there was a little bell-like shiver in the girl's voice. +"There's no sound in all the world so wild, so suggestive of the +mystery of the untamed, as the calling of nesting gulls, Gregg!" They +stood on the promontory with the winged things dipping and swirling all +about them. Jean continued slowly, as if trying to put into words some +illusive feeling. "Sometimes--it frightens me--I don't know why--and +at the same time, it fills me with such a sense of freedom and +lightness that often, just for a little moment, I almost believe I too +might rise into the air and balance myself against the breeze with +them!" + +Harlan had never seen the nesting grounds of gulls in season, but Jean, +before coming to Kon Klayu, had once gone ashore on a gull island +during laying time. + +"For weeks afterward," she told him, "every night when I closed my eyes +I could see the green waving grass and grey sand dotted with hundreds +and hundreds of crude nests. Each nest contained from one to three +eggs, larger than duck eggs, and of a nile-green color closely speckled +with brown, yellow and lavender. Why, they were so near together, +Gregg, that it was difficult to step without crushing the eggs!" + +With the memory of the gull island in her mind, she started with Harlan +to traverse the stretch of green back of the promontory. + +Back and forth for a square mile they went, searching the flat above +the cliffs. Gulls, flying above, eyed them curiously, making strange +human sounds. Occasionally one alighted on the ground. As often as +this happened they raced hopefully to the spot but found nothing but +grass blades bending from the wind. + +"It's no use, Jean," Harlan decided, after two hours' vain effort. +"It's too early for them to lay. Let's go back to the edge of the +cliffs. The shags lay earlier, I believe, only their nests are so +blamed hard to get at down there." + +Jean was not enthusiastic about shag nests. + +"They fill me with melancholy--those long-necked, black creatures, +Gregg," she said uneasily. "Lollie and I call them witch-birds. I +remember last fall we used to sit on the porch steps in the afterglow, +watching them--strings of dusky, witch-birds, speeding silent and low +over the darkening water to the cliffs. But, if you wish," she added, +"we'll go and see." + +They headed for the windy heights overlooking the ocean, where nodding +tundra grass fringed the space beyond. Harlan took her hand as they +crept close to the edge. They peered down through the cloud of wild +fowl that swarmed in uncounted thousands before their eyes. Three +hundred feet below, deliberate blue rollers, with spray-laced tops +swept in and broke against the rocks, the impact sending whitened water +high into the air. The face of the cliff was plastered with seabirds: +murres, gulls, sea-parrots and cormorants. Harlan threw a stone down +and the air became black with them, leaving the numbers in the rocks +apparently the same. Sea-parrots flew in from the water and +disappeared under the overhanging sod at the top. Mingled with the +breath of the ocean was the wild, unforgetable odor that clings to the +places where seabirds roost. + +Suddenly Harlan spoke. "There _are_ shags eggs down there, Jean, but +the cliff right here is too steep for us to get them. I couldn't even +let you down over the edge on the rope. But I'll tie one end to you +and we'll go along here until we find a place from which I can descend, +perhaps." + +They drew back from their perilous position, and after making fast the +rope about Jean's waist, proceeded, stopping at intervals to lie flat +and look down over the rim of space. + +They were feeling their way along the highest part of the Island, when +suddenly at their feet the tundra opened in a deep cleft not over five +feet wide. It began six yards or more back from the edge and led down +between crumbling, rocky walls at a fearful incline, to a ledge thirty +feet below. + +Jean drew back with a cry at the sense of peril that came over her, but +Harlan looked eagerly down. + +"By Jove, there are a _lot_ of eggs on that ledge," he announced +enthusiastically, "and we can get them!" He hesitated a moment, +considering. His eyes sought hers. "You're not strong enough to lower +me down to the ledge, Jean, but--would--would you be frightened if I +should let you down to them?" + +For one awful moment the sea and sky and birds swirled together as the +girl stood, steeped in fear. Then the raucous cries of the gulls +penetrated her consciousness like shrieking voices calling: "Coward! +Quitter!" + +Harlan was saying convincingly: "I wouldn't let you fall, Jean. My +arms are strong as a blacksmith's--" he flexed the muscles beneath his +thin shirt--"and see, there's a depression here at the head of the +chasm. I can stand in it and brace myself!" + +Ten minutes later Jean, with her heart beating fearfully, stood facing +Harlan, as she prepared to back down the steep rocky slide. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THE SECRET OF THE CLIFFS + +As she felt herself going down step by step, Jean kept her eyes +resolutely shut. She steadied herself with outstretched arms and hands +just touching each wall of the cleft. The rope tightened about her, as +inch by inch Gregg let it out from above. Gradually as all went well, +curiosity overcame her fear and she opened her eyes. At that instant +there came a whirr and a flapping of wings that set her heart thumping +again, and out from the overhanging tundra on top of the cliff an +astonished sea-parrot flew, so close that the tip of his wing stung her +cheek. She could hear other birds below and about her beating their +wings and hurling themselves in alarm from their resting places. Far +beneath the billows detoned against the crags. With hands and feet now +she clung to the rough juttings of rock as she was being lowered. +Harlan's voice, shouting encouragement, gradually became fainter. At +last she felt her feet strike the flat of the ledge. + +With a gasp of relief she straightened and turned to look about her. +She stood high on a narrow shelf thrust out from the sheer-rising +cliff. Before her face swarms of birds fanned the air, their wrangle +and jangle sounding almost in her ears. The wind stirred the acrid +smells about her. At her feet were several crude nests of sticks. +They contained eggs smaller than hen's eggs and of a pale greenish +color. They were the first she had seen for nine months and the sight +sent a thrill through her. With a little laugh at her own enthusiasm +she untied the bucket at her waist and carefully worked her way from +nest to nest as she gathered them. + +Jean, not being one of those who find themselves affected by heights, +quickly became accustomed to her perilous shelf above the sea. After +tucking a large silk handkerchief about the eggs to insure their +safety, she sat down on the ledge to look about her. Every nook and +cranny in the surrounding rocks was alive with birds. Close to her, +long-necked shags on wide-spread wings balanced with dusky gracefulness +before sailing away through the myriad screaming gulls. Dignified +murres, their backs to the sea, sat soldier-like in the crevices like +plumb-bobs from their perches. Huge-beaked sea-parrots squatted with +comical solemnity or flapped quickly away toward the outer reaches of +the ocean where thousands of their kind floated on the water like a +black cloud. These were the love-days in bird-land--the mating time +for all feathered things. Sitting there, the girl felt a sudden +kindred friendliness for all these small creatures--a feeling of +at-one-ness and sympathy with their little lives and nest-making +ambitions. + +As she became more at home on her ledge she began to look about her +with a view to exploring further. She lay flat on the rock and peered +down. Below her on the floor of the sea, now exposed by the falling +tide, she saw dozens of the strange, perfectly round boulders that had +become so familiar to all on Kon Klayu. They were of assorted sizes, +and where they lay thickest there was no seaweed or kelp. . . . After +some minutes she became aware that from one end of her ledge where it +joined the cliff, and running parallel to it, rough, out-jutting rocks +slanted downward in a crude, natural stairway, almost to the beach. +With care, she told herself, after a long scrutiny, she might make the +descent. The rope about her she knew could not reach to the bottom of +the cliff. She would untie it and trust entirely to her clinging hands +and prehensile moccasined feet. She stood up, suddenly confident of +her own powers in this element. Cupping her hands about her mouth she +shouted to Harlan informing him of her intention. Evidently he did not +hear her, or else she could not hear his answer. After waiting a few +minutes she untied the rope from about her and cautiously began the +descent. + +Very slowly and carefully she lowered herself, her feet and hands +clinging tenaciously. The keen salt wind ballooned her ragged skirts +about her. Occasionally when her foot slipped and showers of loosened +particles rolled down startling birds from their perches in screaming +clouds, she could feel the blood pounding in her temples in momentary +fright. At first she marveled at her own daring--then she reveled in +it. + +As she descended she began to experience that thrill which comes to +those who tread where no other human foot has trodden, who look on +scenes no other human eye has visioned. She felt sure she was the +first to visit this part of Kon Klayu, for the steep cliffs at the +south were inaccessible both from the east and from the west side of +the Island, even at the lowest tide. And in all the tales of Kon Klayu +she had heard, no one had ever mentioned the chasm down which she had +come to the ledge. In this section of tidal waves and occasional heavy +earthquakes, it was possible that the cleft had opened up recently. + +At last she felt her feet on the beach below. She straightened and +turned to face the ocean. The waters were sewn with jagged rocks and +long-running reefs. Sleek-haired seals bobbed up to look humanly at +her. A thin, high-rising jet of water afar out bespoke the presence of +a whale. Back of her loomed the precipitous wall of the cliff. She +gasped at her own daring as her eye followed the rough stairway down +which she had descended. A moment she wondered, with dismay, if she +could possibly climb back again; a moment she pictured her plight +should she be caught here when the tide came in and covered the narrow +beach; then her attention was drawn by that which lay farther along. +She ran forward, wending her way in and out between the giant balls of +stone that lay about her. + +At the base of the precipice just ahead of her, and level with the sea +floor, she saw a huge opening. As she approached, it widened, grew +higher, until she round herself peering into the yawning mouth of a sea +cavern fifty feet wide and half that in height. Like monster peas in a +giant's open mouth lay the spherical boulders on the bottom of the cave. + +She was frightened, yet fascinated by her discovery. She hesitated a +moment then advanced slowly into the cool dampness of the place. As +far ahead as her eye could pierce the dimness, the balls of stone lay +catching the light on their rounded surfaces. The walls closed in +about her, as she walked. Water dripped on her. Her feet splashed +through puddles in the uneven, hard bottom, but here there was no trace +of the seaweed that draped the rocks in all other parts of the Island. + +The sound of breakers booming against the reefs came to her in the +cavern with a strange reverberating effect. The underground way ran on +apparently with an upward slant as far as she could see. She longed +for a light so that she might explore further. . . . After some +minutes advance into the deepening gloom, a feeling of timidity began +to assail her. She paused leaning against a lobsided boulder. The +absence of life, the stillness, the Stygian darkness ahead seemed +suddenly ominous. She turned and saw the mouth of the cavern far back +of her. Like an oblong frame it enclosed a small bright picture of +beach and sunlit sea. Undoubtedly, she thought, when the tide was +full, the ocean rushed in along the floor of the cave. Perhaps, when +it was stormy, it rolled the giant balls of stone backward and forward. + +Once more she glanced toward the unknown inner recesses of the cavern; +then, with a little shiver, began making her way back toward the light +again. + +Her foot went down with a quick splash into a water-filled depression, +and in shaking the drops from her moccasin she noted that the strings +were untied. She stooped to fasten them; her eyes now perfectly +accustomed to the dim light, caught a dull gleam at the edge of the +pool. She was conscious of a wild thumping of her heart--an eager +trembling of the hand she instinctively reached forward. + +"No, no! It _can't_ be," she temporized aloud, as if to fortify +herself against disappointment. She forced herself to finish tying her +moccasin, and even looked to the security of the other one before she +hesitantly reached over and put her fingers on the object that had +attracted her. She held it up to the light. + +"Gold! Oh, it _is_ gold!" she breathed. + +In her hand lay a flat piece of yellow metal, smaller than the nugget +Lollie had found, but of the same character. She dropped to her knees +and with unsteady eagerness searched the bottom of the shallow pool for +other nuggets. Her trembling fingers encountered another one, and +still another! Then her luck seemingly came to an end. + +The floor of the cave was strangely worn and filled with numerous +depressions into which the sand had settled. Jean finally dipped her +hands into the pool again and brought up perhaps a cupful. She ran +with it out to the beach and spread it out over a boulder. It was +black, showing tiny garnet-like particles, and here and there the sun +glinted on colors of gold! + +She gathered the precious sand together again and stuffed it into the +pocket of her shirt, then swiftly set off toward the spot where she +could ascend the cliff. + +Suddenly she remembered Gregg waiting for her at the top. She gasped, +dismayed by the knowledge that she had been totally unconscious of the +passage of time. Had she been gone an hour, two--or perhaps more? +What was he thinking? Perhaps he had tried to descend the cleft after +her and had fallen. Perhaps he was even now lying on the ledge +broken--dead. + +Trying to shut out these unwelcome thoughts which took away all the joy +of her discovery, she hastily began her scrambling ascent of the steep +incline. + +She had gone only a few feet when a shout halted her. Glancing up she +saw Gregg's relieved face above her. + +"Thank heaven, your're safe, Jean!" he shouted, and with reckless +disregard of consequences he began to slide from the ledge toward her. +"I thought you'd fallen down the precipice, when I pulled on the rope +and found you not there!" + +He landed on the beach at her feet. The tense look on his face faded +as his eyes devoured her. + +"Lord, girl, what ever made you do such a thing! I rushed back toward +Skeleton Rib and met Kayak Bill coming this way. He let me down to the +ledge--for I couldn't get down any other way. He's up there now +waiting for us. Doggone you, anyway, you little rascal!"--he laughed +shakily, grasping her by the shoulders,--"you nearly scared me to +death!" + +"But just see what I've found!" Jean opened her hand suddenly, and +with the three nuggets lying on it raised it toward his eyes. Then +without waiting for him to look at them, she thrust them into his hand +and began to drag him toward the mouth of the cave. + +Half an hour later two wild, troglodytic figures were giving vent to +their joy by capering and dancing about the floor of the cavern. + +"Jean, you've struck it rich! You've found the source of the gold of +Kon Klayu!" Harlan shouted for the fifth time. "It's better than beach +mining! It's better than Shane ever dreamed! I know enough to venture +that this whole blessed little isle must have a base of igneous rock +and the formation of this south end, especially, is impregnated with a +network of gold-bearing dykes! Why, anyone could see that by the walls +of this cave!" He bent, scooped up a handful of sand, and with eager, +shining eyes watched while he spread it over his palm. + +"Just imagine this hollow during one of our terrific sou'westers, +Jean," he went on, looking about him. "The monster billows crashing +into this cavern, rolling the boulders along the bottom, grinding them +along this gold-bearing formation! By Jove, the action is the same as +that in a stamp mill, almost! The gold is freed, becomes mixed with +the sands, and sooner or later is carried out and concentrated along +certain zones on the Island." + +"But away goes all the mystery of our Island, too, Gregg!" Jean's +voice carried a hint of regret. "That accounts for the strange, +rolling sounds we used to hear during the storms, and for the giant +balls of stone, and for everything!" + +They filled their pockets with samples of the sand to take home to +Shane, and ascended to the ledge. From thence, with the assistance of +Kayak Bill and the rope they mounted one after the other to the top of +the precipice. + +The old man listened to their story of the cavern in silence, though +his eyes were glowing. + +"By . . . hell, from what yore a-tellin' 'o me, children, you sure have +struck it rich!" he drawled at the end. + +Jean threw her arms impulsively about his neck and landed a kiss on his +ear. + +"We all have struck it rich, you old dear! We'll stake the whole +little Island of Kon Klayu, and if we can ever get to the States to get +an outfit, we'll come back here and work it." + +Jean knew that any show of affection caused Kayak acute, wriggling +embarrassment. He backed away from her now, his cheeks fiery red. To +cover his momentary confusion his hazel eye impaled Harlan's ragged +back, which was showing the effects of his rapid slide down the cliff. + +"Young man," he declared with slow solemnity. "The bosom o' yore pants +is showing conside'ble wear an' tear." Gregg whirled to face him, but +before he could utter a word, Kayak, now master of himself once more, +drawled on: "It never rains but it pours, I reckon. I plumb forgot to +tell you, Gregg, that just a-fore you drug me up here this afternoon, +me and Boreland was a-mouchin round just south of Skeleton Rib and +durned if we didn't come across the old whaleboat, high and dry with +celery bushes a-growin' up around her. She's stove in some, but we can +fix her--and I reckon we'll be settin' sail for the mainland in a +couple o' weeks!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE PIGEON'S FLIGHT + +Wonderful as it was, the discovery of the gold took second place with +the finding of the whaleboat. Gold had no more value than sand on Kon +Klayu, unless the adventurers were rescued, and the whaleboat meant at +least a chance of rescue, provided it could be made tight enough to +float. It is true that with summer coming on there would be an +abundance of eggs, sea-parrots and later on berries, for already the +north end of the Island was white with strawberry blossoms--but flour +and coffee were now all that remained of the supplies, and the flour +was low in the barrel. Help must come before another winter set in. + +Ellen, in her first joy over the discovery of the whaleboat, had joined +eagerly in the plans which the three men discussed at the cabin. She +saw herself freed at last from the terrible necessity of summoning Paul +Kilbuck. The pigeon could fly--she had tested it. In another week she +would have sent it with the message that meant life to her family, but +death to her own peace and happiness. But now--in her relief the last +vestige of her illness fell from her. She felt strong again, ready to +take up her work about the cabin. She found herself, for the first +time, able to look normally on the smoke-grey creature, seeing it as a +bird, and not as a hated, yet horribly cherished representative of the +White Chief of Katleean. + +It was slow work putting the old and battered whaleboat in repair. +Ellen had not seen the craft since its recovery, but Shane had told her +that every seam needed recalking. There was no oakum for the purpose, +so she tore up some garments that neither she nor Jean could spare. He +spoke casually of a cracked plank or two that would be strengthened by +tacking pieces of canvas and tin both inside and out. + +After several days Ellen noticed that Harlan and Kayak Bill ceased to +talk of the proposed trip, although Shane still kept up a brave front +and spoke confidently, in her presence at least, of landing at +Katleean. She began to feel vaguely uneasy. + +One morning when Jean and Lollie had gone off to gather gull eggs, +which were now found in small quantities, Ellen decided to take lunch +to the men who were working on the whaleboat a mile and a half away. + +As she approached the spot she saw the upturned hull of the boat lying +upon the sand. No one was in sight. She gasped as she saw the +battered condition of the craft. One end seemed splintered and a +jagged hole showed plainly in the bottom. Three other holes had been +mended with tin. The next instant she was aware that the three men +were sitting on the other side of the whaleboat, resting probably. +Their voices floated out to her distinctly. + +"We mout as well face the music, boys," Kayak Bill was saying. "We're +up against the damn'dest bit o' coast in Alasky, and in a rotten tub +like this it's a ten to one chance we're takin' but----" + +At this point, to Ellen's vexation, the paper containing the lunch +burst apart letting half a dozen gull eggs, which formed the principal +part of it, fall to the sand. Instinctively she stooped to gather +them. The next words that came to her told her that Shane and Kayak +were discussing the unwritten law of the North--the law of the cache. +In a land where food is the god supreme, this law has made itself. +White and native alike bow before it. It means life. The food cache, +no matter where found, is inviolate. Than robbing a cache there is no +more foul or cowardly crime. And ranked with the cache robber is the +man who goes back on his promise, or fails, through neglect, to furnish +food to those who depend on him. Death, Ellen knew, is the penalty for +both crimes in the remote places of Alaska. As she went forward she +heard the White Chief's name and some words that were unintelligible to +her. Then Shane came to his feet. He was speaking in a voice +toneless, dispassionate, but weighted with finality. + +"I'll do it, but I don't need a gun, by God!" From his pocket he drew +his revolver which he had taken that morning in the hope of getting a +seal. He laid it across his other palm. "I have five shots left--but +I'm going to do it with my hands on his throat!" + +As he finished speaking Harlan and Kayak Bill stood up also. The young +man turned and saw Ellen coming toward them. There was a moment's +dissembling as Shane returned the pistol to his pocket, then he greeted +her with a cheeriness which in no way deceived her. + +She said nothing that might betray her comprehension of the situation, +but as soon as she could, retraced her steps to the cabin. + +She knew now that while it was in her power to prevent it she could +never allow her men to put to sea in the unseaworthy whaleboat. One +chance in ten, Kayak had said. Even during the best weather they had +known on Kon Klayu she herself had seen a gale blow up in two hours. +One chance in ten. The words repeated themselves in her brain. And if +they did make the mainland--what then? "I don't need a gun. . . . +I'll do it with my hands on his throat!" . . . The clash between Shane +and the White Chief was inevitable now, no matter how the meeting came +about. She was enough of a frontier woman to appreciate this. She +would summon Kilbuck at once, before her men had a chance to risk their +lives, and when she had sent her message, she would tell Shane her +whole miserable story beginning with the night of the Potlatch dance. +He might lose faith in her; he might despise her, but she knew that he +would fight for her. + +She took out pen and paper and sat before the table to write her +message to the White Chief. She must make it so urgent that he would +come at once before the whaleboat was launched again. She wrote +several, but discarded them. At last she was satisfied. Folding the +paper tightly she slipped it into the little finger of a thin kid glove +she had cut off for the purpose. Then she went out to the pigeon's +cage. + +With the fluttering bird in her arms, she ascended the trail to the +Lookout. At the top the home-made flag flung its tatters out in the +sunshine. Ellen noted that it blew toward Katleean. The wind, then, +was favorable. The trader should have her message by morning. And in +two more days--she shook her head, not permitting herself to think +further. + +A few minutes she stood looking seaward. Then she held the bird out in +both hands and with all her strength tossed it into the air. + +Fluttering wildly, it recovered its balance, circled narrowly, rose a +few feet and--settled down on the tundra before her. It took a few +limping steps. Ellen was puzzled at its behavior. Perhaps she had +tied the message too tightly about its leg. She would readjust it and +urge the bird to flight again. + +With outstretched hands she advanced toward it and tried to imprison it +between her hands, but the pigeon flapped along ahead of her just out +of reach. After some minutes' running back and forth over the short +grass she caught it, and with her back to the flagpole, sat down on a +piece of firewood to loosen the string about the creature's leg. So +intent was she on her work that she did not at once hear the sound of +approaching footsteps. When she did turn her head quickly it was to +look up into the anger-lighted eyes of her husband. + +He reached roughly across her shoulder and with one hand grasped the +pigeon by the legs. With the other he thrust toward her two pieces of +thin writing paper. + +"Now, perhaps, you will explain these!" he said in a voice that +fluctuated strangely from his intense effort to control himself. + +Dazed by the unexpected turn of affairs Ellen rose and mechanically +took the sheets. They were two half completed notes to the White +Chief--notes she had discarded. She must have overlooked them when she +burned the others. What had she said in her anxiety to bring Kilbuck +immediately to Kon Klayu? What had she said to arouse Shane's sleeping +devil of jealousy which she had known often during the first years of +their married life? "Paul Kilbuck,"--the words stood out black in her +large handwriting. As she read the words she slipped the other paper +over them. "I want you now----" + +"So you want him _now_, do you?" Mocking fury sounded in Shane's +voice. "You want him now, this fine, squaw-man lover of yours who left +you to starve! God, what a blind fool I've been--but I can see it all +now. I remember his whisperings to you that day we left Katleean--" +He snatched the papers from her hand and thrust them into his pocket +with a bitter laugh. "I'll deliver your loving message myself just +before I choke--him----" + +"Stop, Shane!" Suddenly Ellen was herself again. She knew nothing +that had happened between her and the White Chief was one tenth as +dishonorable as the things Shane's jealous imagination pictured. She +stepped over to him and laid a hand on his trembling arm. "I _can_ +explain these half written notes," she said quietly. "I can explain +everything, Shane." + +She looked up into his tense, passionate face. He must have seen +something in her blue eyes that claimed him, for he asked more +reasonably: + +"Tell me, then." + +Beginning with her distrust of the trader she did tell him. She ended +with her attempt that afternoon to send the pigeon with a message +urgent enough to bring the White Chief to their rescue before Shane and +his partners had sailed away in the leaky whaleboat. + +When she finished Shane made no comment. She waited. Was it possible +he did not believe her? A long minute went by . . . and then another. +. . . Obeying an impulse she did not understand she swiftly took the +pigeon from him and tossed it once more into the air. + +It readjusted itself and rose confidently. There was a swift movement +as Shane whipped his revolver from his pocket. Before the bird had +flown twenty feet he fired. The first shot missed, but the second +brought the smoke-grey pigeon to the ground. + +A moment later Ellen felt her husband's arms about her. + +"God love you, little fellow." There was tenderness, contrition and a +great relief in his tones as he laid his cheek against her hair. +"Sure, nothing matters now that I know it's myself you're still in love +with and not that damnable blackguard in Katleean!" . . . + +For an hour they sat on the log below the flagpole, explaining, +mutually forgiving, planning. Shane, with Irish logic, chose to see in +the death of the pigeon, a riddance to all adverse circumstances. He +seemed suddenly endowed with a new faith concerning the trip in the +whaleboat and succeeded in imparting some of his enthusiasm to his wife. + +"Luck is with me, El. I tell you I can feel it in my bones. The devil +himself can't keep me from making Katleean now," he declared +confidently as they walked hand in hand toward the trail that led down +to the cabin. + +As if fortune had at last decided in their favor, the days went sunnily +by. Gulls began to lay by the thousands. Loll was relieved of his +hated task of killing sea-parrots, for Harlan discovered that when the +birds began to lay, he could urge them from their tunnel nests with a +long stick, and capture them. The whaleboat, repaired and recalked, +was launched and brought down to the beach before the cabin. All was +in readiness, at last, for the journey. + +The evening before they were to set sail Jean went up the hill to the +Lookout to help with the last signal fire she and Gregg would build +together. The night air, soft and scented, was like a caress to the +senses. Sea and sky were luminous with the rose and amethyst tinting +of Alaskan nights. The three plaintive descending notes of the +golden-crown sounded from the alders along the crest of the hill. + +When she reached the top she found a camp-fire glowing above the ashes +of past flames. Gregg had preceded her and at her coming he tossed his +old blanket coat to the tundra for her to sit upon. He took his place +beside her. Their usual gay exchange of badinage had failed them +tonight. For a time they sat silent, with arm-clasped knees, looking +into the vermilion heart of the fire. All day the shadow of +approaching separation had weighed the spirits of each with heartache +and anxiety. Yet each knew that in this hour tonight there was some +potent quality, some indefinable magnetic thing that seemed to charge +the air with sweetly mysterious emotions. + +People of the cities, worn with the artificialities of civilization +feel the need of some powerful stimulus to arouse emotion: Love is +often born of the wine cup and a dusky, cushioned corner; of music; of +the dance. When the glamour of these is removed--love dies. But +inborn in the heart of every man is a love-dream--a dream of some day +finding that mate who shall battle cheerfully side by side with him +against environment; that mate whose courage, whose understanding, +whose faith shall enable him to laugh at the buffetings of Fate and go +unafraid down the years with the light of dreams in his eyes. + +Perhaps with Jean and Gregg it was the subconscious knowledge of the +fulfillment of this universal dream that kept them happy during all the +lean months on Kon Klayu. They had shared elemental things; together +they had hunted food that they might live, battled against storms, +endured hardships. Together they had sung and laughed and made a +playtime of it all, and slowly there had grown up between them a love +as clean and wholesome as the summer winds that swept the tundra of +their Island. Hitherto they had felt no need of caresses or words to +express their joy in one another. They had been happy as children are +happy, with no thought of tomorrow. They had parted each night knowing +that morning would bring them together again. But now . . . + +Jean, looking into the flame of the fire, dropped her chin in her +cupped hands. Incongruously, it seemed to her, at that instant there +flashed into her mind the memory of a day on an Island trail, when she +and Gregg had come suddenly on a sea vista of heart-stopping beauty. +His eyes had sought hers in quick, silent appreciation of it. She +could not tell why this simple incident should suddenly seem so +intangibly beautiful, but she knew now that it was a moment out of life +that they two would share forever. There had been other times when +they had sung together under the golden winter stars--fleeting, +rapturous spaces when she had been conscious that not only their +voices, but in some way their spirits blended. But now . . . he was +going away into the gravest danger--into death perhaps. . . . + +She overcame a quick impulse to reach out, to feel him under her hands, +to hold him back. + +Gregg rose to place another log on the fire. He brushed his hands one +against the other and thrust them deep into his pockets. She felt his +dark eyes compelling her own, and raised her face from her hands. +Neither spoke, but for a long tempestuous moment they looked at each +other. Something perilously sweet and magnetic drew her. Even as she +rose Gregg was at her side. She felt his arms close about her with +eager tenderness. She stood against him within his hold, tremulous, +thrilling to his nearness, yet even in the ecstasy of it, realizing +that their separation was now made more poignantly unbearable. + +"Jean . . ." a little hoarsely he said her name, and she was aware that +his heart was beating as wildly as her own. "Jean, you--you are so +dear to me! When I come back, could you--will you marry me?" + +His arms tightened about her as his head bent to hers. In answer she +raised her face to his, and in the first joyous enchantment of young +love met his kiss. + +Two hours later she lay in her little bunk steeped in glad tumultuous +memories of those last moments on the Lookout. Her spirit fared forth +on the wings of her love into the future--a future made beautiful +beyond her girlish dreams. She told herself it was not possible that +other men and women loved as she and Gregg; not Ellen and Shane, . . . +not anyone. . . . All at once she became conscious that in the +living-room her sister and brother-in-law were still talking, though +everyone else had long since gone to bed. The indistinct murmur of +their voices mingled with the metallic clicking sound that informed her +Shane was again oiling his revolver. Then his words came to her with +low distinctness: + +"El, I'm going to leave this with you. There are three cartridges left +in it, and if--if--I don't come back and no help comes to you before +another winter . . . you know--little fellow--you know what to do." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +THE JUSTICE OF THE SEA + +Because there is no night in the Northland in June, dawn on Kon Klayu +was but a tender merging of golden twilight into amber and rose and +blue, with the sun reappearing within an hour of his setting, kissing +the summer sea into sparking sheets of silver and jade. The little +green Island with its girdle of creaming surf had never seemed so +beautiful as in the early morning of the day Shane and Kayak and Harlan +sailed away in search of help. The electricity of adventure, of hope +was in the air, and the wind was as soft and balmy as a breath from +tropic seas. + +After the last good-bye had been said, Ellen, Jean and Loll stood on +the beach below the cabin watching the little whaleboat riding the +long, gentle swells just outside the line of breakers. The tin patches +on the frail sides glinted bravely in the sunshine, the mended old +Christopher Columbus sail caught the breeze, and slenderly outlined +against it were the forms of Shane and Harlan waving a cheerful +farewell to the watchers. Kayak Bill, his hand on the tiller and his +face turned resolutely away, headed the pathetic craft out into the +treacherously smiling North Pacific and laid his course for Katleean. + +The boat was slowly lost in the sunny silver distance, and the sisters, +arm in arm, turned and listlessly followed the trail back to the cabin. +Lollie walking on ahead, brushed the tears from his eyes and squared +his narrow shoulders as if already he had assumed the responsibilities +of the man of the family. + +The door of the cabin stood open and the sun made a great rectangle of +light on the floor. It was very quiet--and lonely. The loneliness was +new to both women and it hurt like a pain in their souls. It seemed +impossible that nowhere on the Island were the men to whom they were so +accustomed. + +Ellen began picking up the dishes which were standing as she had left +them after the early breakfast. Jean helped her. When the work was +over there seemed nothing left but the aching emptiness of waiting. + +The long day wore away at last. Tomorrow, if the wind held favorable +and all went well, Ellen and Jean assured each other repeatedly, the +whaleboat would reach Katleean, and in two more days a ship might come +for them. + +At twilight Jean climbed alone to the Lookout. The sunny day had faded +in a grey mist. Afar down toward the south cliffs the tree so like a +waiting woman stood out against it in weird, life-like appeal. The +flat desolation of the plateau was marked by the tundra trail that led +across the Island to the Hut--the trail along which Gregg had so often +come to meet her. She had not dreamed that life could hold so much of +emptiness nor that longing for a loved one could be so intense as to be +almost a physical pain. She sank down beside the dull ashes of last +night's fire. The loneliness was almost unbearable. + +From the pocket in her blouse she took a folded paper. Gregg had +pressed it into her hand as he left that morning. She unfolded it. It +was a verse from some poet unknown to her. "Read it when I am gone," +he had whispered to her. + + "When I am standing on a mountain crest, + Or hold the tiller in the dashing spray, + My love of you leaps foaming in my breast, + Shouts with the winds and sweeps to their foray; + . . . I laugh aloud for love of you, + Glad that our love is fellow to rough weather-- + No fretful orchid hothoused from the dew, + But hale and hardy as the highland heather, + Rejoicing in the wind that stings and thrills, + Comrade of the ocean, playmate of the hills." + + +Before Jean had finished, her shoulders had straightened. She felt +strangely comforted, lifted out of herself. Surely, she thought, +nothing but happiness could come of a love like this. Even the +elements must be kind to one who loved so. Back in her little bunk she +thought of him out on the dark sea in an open boat with only the night +for a covering, and to calm her fears she repeated over and over again +the words of the verse he had left her. + +Her faith was sorely tried the next morning when she woke to the old +familiar roar of wind and wave, and felt the cabin trembling in the +blasts of a gale. She saw, with alarm, that Ellen was not in her bed. +On investigating, Jean found her out on the beach standing bareheaded +while the wind wound her garments about her, loosening the strands of +her braided hair and pelting her with rain and flying spray. Ellen was +gazing, in a fascination of dread, at the green-back waves humping +their backs like fearful monsters, chasing one another in to the line +of foaming breakers that spent themselves at her feet. + +Jean slipped her hand into her sister's and drew her back to the cabin. +When they entered Loll was up making a fire in the Yukon stove. + +The day wore on. The storm increased, though it never became as +violent as some they had experienced during the winter. The direction +of the wind was favorable to their sailors. Both women knew that no +make-shift craft could live in such a sea, yet they hoped with an +intensity akin to despair that Shane had made the shelter of Katleean +Bay before the full fury of the storm was reached. + +Night came on darker than usual, low scudding clouds and flying +wavetops seeming to mingle. Waves sheeted with foam faded ghost-like +into the tossing greyness. Drifts of rain blew stingingly in from the +sea. Cruel and cold the waters appeared now to Jean's anxious eyes, +and she found herself repeating again the lines of Gregg's verse, as if +it had become the tenets of her faith. + +The second day of the storm passed as did the first, except that +evening brought a surcease of rain. The clouds in the west began to +lift. The sisters drawn closer by their common, mounting dread, slept +together that night, one on each side of Loll. + +It was long before sleep visited Jean. But presently she was dreaming +that she dangled at the end of a rope over the cliff above the cavern, +trying to snatch nuggets from the rocky ledges. The wind blew her body +hither and thither, as she clutched the jutting crags. She tried +vainly to secure a foot or hand-hold. From above Gregg's voice was +calling, calling her plaintively, weirdly. She tried to make out his +words but could not. The wind blew them far away, and only a faint, +wild "Awh-hoo-oo-oo-oo!" came to her. Then her rope began to slip and +she was falling, falling interminably past the face of the precipice, +past shags' nests, past thousands of flapping birds who shrieked +tauntingly at her. With a convulsive movement she tried to spring to +the rock shelf below her--tried so hard that she woke trembling and in +a cold perspiration of dream-fear, with her heart pumping so loudly +that she could hear it. + +The wind had died down and only the muffled beating of the great +combers on far seaward bars was audible, but--of a sudden she was bolt +upright in bed, listening with every sense alert. On the island, where +they three were the only human beings, someone, _something_ was +calling. Above the sound of the sea it came--the haunting, long-drawn +cry of her dream: + +"Awh-oo-oo-oo! Awh-oo-oo-oo!" + +But this was no dream. The cry came again, one minute apparently from +the depths of the ocean, then from the Lookout above the cabin. It +came nearer, growing more appalling, more mysterious in its +possibilities. It filled her with fearful, inchoate imaginings. . . . + +In an agony of terror she reached out and shook her sister's shoulder. + +"Ellen! Ellen!" she whispered tensely. "Listen! Some one is calling!" + +Ellen awakened out of a belated sleep, raised on her elbow and tossed +the long loose hair from her face. + +Again came the unearthly: "Awh-hoo-oo-oo!" rising thin and high and +dying away on the falling inflection. + +Ellen's face went paler as she listened. She lingered a moment, then +sprang out of bed. Slipping her hand beneath her pillow she drew forth +the revolver and started for the door. Jean crawled gently over the +sleeping Lollie and followed. + +They stood on the porch in the freshness of the dawn searching the +familiar landscape for some sign of life. The storm had cleared away +and long scarf-like clouds streaked the intense blue above. Once out +in the open Jean's mind was cleared of its phantoms. But a sudden +shock went through her when, from just over the bank, the call came +again. + +Almost immediately there appeared in the trail the strange, tottering +form of a man. He advanced haltingly as if spent from some long +struggle, his bare, black head sunk on his chest, his damp garments +clinging to him. + +"Stop!" Ellen's voice rang out. "Tell me who you are and where you are +from!" + +The man raised his head. At the sight of the two women standing in +their white robes, their loose hair floating about them, a spasm of +mortal terror crossed his dark face. + +"_Kus-ta-ka_! _Kus-ta-ka_!" [1] he yelled, at the same time throwing +up his arms and turning to run weakly down the trail. + +Ellen covered the staggering figure with her revolver, but Jean caught +her hand. "Don't, El! Be careful!" she cried breathlessly. "Can't +you see--it's our old friend! It's Swimming Wolf from Katleean!" + +She sprang along the trail after him calling: "Wolf! Oh, Swimming +Wolf! Don't run away from us! Don't you know your friends?" + +The man terrified by something, she knew not what, kept up his feeble +running gait. She overtook him and grasped his shirt. The big Indian +collapsed on the sand. His hand closed painfully over her arm while +his wild black eyes searched her face. At the touch his look gave +place to one of relief. + +"Ugh! Little squaw with white feet!" he gasped. "Swimming Wolf think +you all the same dead--think all you people dead. Long time you have +no grub." He pinched her arm again as if to reassure himself that she +was flesh and blood and not the _kus-ta-ka_, the ghost he had thought +her. He continued: "Long time now, Swimming Wolf no grub too." He +opened his mouth and pointed a shaking finger down his throat. "No +grub, no water, no sleep, t'ree day." He held up three fingers turning +his head slowly from side to side. "T'ree day lost. Plenty tired." + +His voice was weary, plaintive, as only an Indian voice can be. Jean +wondered how she had for one instant attributed his Indian cry to +supernatural powers--she who had often heard him calling to members of +his tribe along the shores of Katleean. + +Noting his weak condition, the girl checked the eager questions that +rose to her lips, and when Ellen came up, between them they managed to +get the worn man to the cabin. They fed him bread and hot sea-parrot +broth. He ate ravenously as much as Ellen thought good for him, but +when she tried to induce him to lie down in Kayak Bill's bunk, he shook +his head, and started unsteadily for the door. + +"No, no!" he said sharply. "You come along. Other man with Swimming +Wolf." + +They followed him down the trail to the beach and turned with him +toward Sunset Point. He paid no attention to their eager questions, +but suddenly stopped and pointed ahead. In the maw of the surf inside +the Point a whaleboat was churning. At the sight of it cries of alarm +broke from the women's throats, but again the Indian shook his head. + +"Him not there," he assured them. "Him up _there_!" He indicated the +high-tide-line. He lurched along beside them, intent on taking them to +where his friend lay. + +They saw the still dark form lying prone on the edge of the rice-grass +where Swimming Wolf had dragged it. Ellen, with a bottle of water and +some bread in her hand, ran forward toward the prostrate man. Within a +few feet of him, Jean saw her check herself and shrink back. Then, +reluctantly the girl thought, she went on. Jean quickened her pace. + +As she approached Ellen turned swiftly to her. + +"Jean!" she said hardly above her breath. "Look!" + +Jean gazed with incredulous eyes into the face on the sand. The black +beard was matted with seawater. Below the bandaged forehead two weary +grey eyes opened. A moment a faint look of surprise crept into them. +Then they closed again and the man lay still as death. + +"Oh-o-o!" Jean's voice held an uncontrollable quiver. "Oh-o-o! It's +the White Chief of Katleean!" + + + +[1] Ghost. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +BENEATH THE BLOOD-RED SUN + +A week had gone by since the day the White Chief and Swimming Wolf had +been cast up on the shores of Kon Klayu. The women, with the help of +the Indian, had lifted the inert form of the dazed man to a mattress at +the spot where they had found him, and dragged it literally inch by +inch along the beach to the cabin. They put him to bed in Kayak's bunk +in the little room off the living-room. + +For Ellen and Jean the days were filled with intangible doubt and +mounting fear, for no sail whitened off Kon Klayu. Added to the acute +anxiety in regard to their men was now the problem of the White Chief +of Katleean. What queer twist of Fate had tossed the trader, helpless +and without food, on the Island where his very life depended on those +he had left to starve? And, if their men were lost at sea, what would +happen to them when Kilbuck recovered his strength? + +Gradually, from the disjointed utterances of the superstitious Indian +and from their own knowledge of the trader, they were able to piece +together the story of the White Chief's mishap,--not the story as +Swimming Wolf knew it, tinged with eerie Thlinget superstition and +mystery--but the prosaic version of the white man, who sees everything +through logical eyes, and is ever explaining away all that is +mysterious in life and much that is interesting. + +The White Chief, sometimes going for months without liquor, had, as +they knew, periods when he drank as no other man in all Alaska. +Curiously enough, he never gave way to his desire while at Katleean, +but with one faithful native to attend him, he would go aboard some +visiting vessel, and there sink himself into the oblivion brought about +by quantities of hootch. + +It was in the latter part of May that a schooner, the _Silver Fox_, +came to anchor in the Bay of Katleean. The owner and captain was a +German, bound for Cook's Inlet with a load of gasoline and enough +equipment to start an illicit still at Turn-again-arm. Paul Kilbuck, +after nearly a year of abstinence, succumbed to his craving, and with +Swimming Wolf, sought the cabin of the _Silver Fox_. After two days of +the German's liquid hospitality, he was ready for any mad adventure. +Doubtless the thought of Ellen and her family must have been with him +during the winter. Perhaps he had some inchoate drunken plan of +seeking her when he put to sea with the potvaliant captain of the +_Silver Fox_; but six hours from the post he collapsed in a stupor on +the captain's bunk. + +Tales of the North are replete with instances of the incredible +recklessness of men drunk on the pale liquor of that land--men who, +sailing along the dangerous coast, lash the wheels of their vessels, +and leaving all sail set, go below for a day's carousal; men who drain +the very liquid from the compass to satisfy their burning thirst when +hootch is gone. So it was no surprise to the women to learn that the +storm which swept the Island so soon after the departure of the three +men, had broken upon the _Silver Fox_ when all hands, except the +faithful Swimming Wolf, were too far gone in drink to man the craft. + +As he talked, the Indian, with expressive eyes and hands, acted out +each step of his story. He told how the wind increased; how he lashed +the wheel and all alone tried to reef the bellying canvass, letting it +fall as it would at last. With a few words and many dramatic gestures, +he made known how the trader, roused from a two-day stupor by the +pitching of the vessel and the banging of the boom sticks, had +staggered up out of the cabin, and been struck by the heavily swinging +boom of the mainsail. + +The captain and the three sailors crawled to the deck soon after, where +the freshness of the rising gale undoubtedly cleared their brains +somewhat. They tried to make things ship-shape to weather the storm. +The captain was just about to cut the tow-line that still bound the +trader's whaleboat to the stern of the _Silver Fox_, when suddenly +volumes of black smoke came pouring out of the cabin. + +Swimming Wolf was never able to give a white man's reason which would +explain the fire that started in the hold of the schooner where the +gasoline was stored. He swore it was the _kus-ta-ka_ who kindled the +flame, the _kus-ta-ka_ who knocked the White Chief on the head and made +him fall "all same dead." That he finally got the trader into the +whaleboat and escaped the burning vessel while the crew departed in +their own small boat was evident. There was but one oar, and the craft +was blown hither and thither on the tossing sea at the wind's will. In +the dawn of the third day Swimming Wolf had been able to beach it on +the rocky shore off which he found himself. + +The Indian had no idea where he was landing, and when he saw the +white-robed figures appear on the rickety porch of the cabin, it was +not surprising that he thought them ghosts. + +Further questioning of Swimming Wolf revealed the fact that at +Katleean, two drunken sailors had run the _Hoonah_ ashore in the lagoon +on one of the highest tides of the fall. Though uninjured, it would +have required some work to get the little craft off again; so there, +evidently, she had remained. + +"But Swimming Wolf, why didn't the White Chief get another boat and +come with our provisions? Why didn't the Indians come for us? Didn't +anyone care whether we starved or not?" + +The Wolf looked at Ellen with that stolid, blank expression an Indian +assumes when he does not wish to be questioned. + +"Me dun know. Me dun know." He shook his head. "Indian have no boat. +Kilbuck, he Big Chief. He all time say: 'Mind you business or Indian +get no grub. Tomorrow I go.' He all time say 'Tomorrow.'" + +Tomorrow! From the lips of Kayak Bill who knew his Alaska, Ellen and +Jean knew what tragedies lie behind that word. From waiting on wind +and tide and the next steamer to go someplace, from waiting on summer +or winter to do something, from waiting on an indifferent government to +act on something, people of the North have found that Alaska has become +essentially a Land of Tomorrow! A month in Alaska becomes as a day in +the States. + +Humanity demanded that the two women do their best for the man who had +brought about their present perilous situation, though he had forfeited +all claim to womanly sympathy. Ellen could not bring herself to go +near the White Chief after he was placed in Kayak's bunk, but she +directed Swimming Wolf, who nursed and fed him. At first Kilbuck lay +in a stupor, but suddenly, at the end of twenty-four hours, he came out +of his daze. Jean, going into his room, encountered his narrow grey +eyes looking up at her with their normal expression. + +He recovered quickly from the blow on the head, and on a diet of bread +and broth rapidly regained his strength. The women avoided him +whenever possible, but Loll, on whom once more they were dependent for +sea-parrots, found time to sit beside him, asking about his friends at +Katleean, and in turn telling the trader all his small affairs of the +day. As time went by he must have given the man a fair idea of the +struggle for existence during the winter on Kon Klayu. + +Kilbuck, for the most part, was silent. He made no effort to explain +his failure to keep his promises. His strange, grey eyes, whenever it +was possible, followed the movements of Ellen and Jean. Sometimes the +women could hear him, indistinctly, questioning Lollie. + +The fourth day Swimming Wolf assisted him to the porch where he sat +looking a long time at the sun-kissed sea. The fifth day, with the +Indian's help, he took a walk on the beach. What he thought of the +situation Ellen and Jean had no means of knowing, but as they watched +him rapidly regaining his old arrogant manner, vague fears crept +insiduously into their minds. At the end of the week he was issuing +his orders to Swimming Wolf with all the ease and certainty of one in +supreme command. + +One afternoon Ellen sat on the porch trying to piece together the +remnants of a little shirt for Loll. Jean and the boy were off with +Swimming Wolf gathering food. The White Chief had gone to his room +some time before. Ellen's heart was heavy with anxiety for her +husband. If he were alive, he should by now have returned to her. If +he were dead. . . . For some minutes she was oblivious to all about +her as she strove to thrust this thought from her mind. The incipient +menace of the White Chief's presence hovered about her, though so far +he had never by word or look betrayed any sentimental interest in her +since his advent on the Island. Perhaps by now, she told herself +hopefully, time and his illness had changed him for the better. +Perhaps---- + +Something caused her to turn her head toward the cabin door back of +her. Against the portal stood the White Chief. His hand was hooked +beneath his scarlet belt in the old familiar manner. His narrow, pale +eyes were fastened upon her in a way she had known in Katleean. She +felt suddenly that he had taken in every detail of her appearance--her +heavy braided hair, her worn and faded blouse, her short ragged skirt, +and her feet incased in home-made moccasins of canvas. She felt a rush +of hot blood rising to her hair. He noted it and smiled, his sardonic, +thin-lipped smile. The peculiar warmth that crept into his eyes caused +Ellen's heart to contract with a realization of appalling +possibilities. A small, inward panic took possession of her. + +She rose abruptly and ran swiftly up the hillside trail to the Lookout. +She knew now that she was not dealing with a sick man. She and her +sister were practically at the mercy of Paul Kilbuck. + +She resolved to keep her suspicions from Jean as long as possible, but +that evening as they were sitting together in the living-room, after +Lollie had climbed into bed, the girl kept glancing apprehensively +toward the closed door that shut off the sleeping place of the trader. + +"Ellen," she said, hardly above a whisper. "I don't think he's as ill +now as he would have us believe." She nodded toward the closed door. +"We ought to ask him to move over to the Hut with Swimming Wolf +now. . . . Ellen--I'm growing dreadfully afraid of him. . . . Oh!" +She started nervously at a sound from the other room. + +"I wish we had some way of locking that door." In a low voice Ellen +thus admitted her own uneasiness, while her gaze wandered about the +room. "We might put the table in front of it, and then if he did try +to come through in the night, we would hear him." + +Cautiously the two women lifted the table and placed the inadequate +barrier across the door. + +"From now on, Jean, only one of us will sleep, while the other +watches--just to be ready, you know. If he makes one suspicious +move--" she broke off and patted almost lovingly the revolver she had +drawn from an inside pocket of her blouse. + +Noting the look of fear that had crept into Jean's eyes since her +suspicions had been confirmed, Ellen added: "But it won't be much +longer, Jeanie, this waiting. Surely Shane will come in a day or two. +It's nearly the twenty-first of June." + +The twenty-first of June, the longest and most beautiful day of the +year in the North, was also the anniversary of Ellen's wedding. Never +during the last ten years had Shane forgotten it. Never had he failed +to bring her some little surprise, to arrange some extra pleasure for +her. For the past two weeks this thought had been with Ellen +constantly, comforting her, promising her. By some complex, womanish +process she had come to believe that on the twenty-first of June Shane, +if alive, _must_ come to her. As she and Jean lay awake whispering +during the long, light nights, she had instilled some of her faith into +the girl's mind. If they could but keep the trader from any untoward +action until then, they both felt that all would be well. + +During the days that followed the sisters never left each other's side. +Swimming Wolf and Lollie procured the food. The Wolf chopped the wood +and attended to other like duties about the cabin. The White Chief did +nothing, except lounge on Kayak's bunk. In response to Ellen's +suggestion that he move to the Hut on the other side of the Island he +had merely looked into her eyes and smiled. + +Since recovering his strength he had begun to take long walks about the +beaches. Ellen feared that sometime he might come upon their cavern +and learn the secret of the gold of Kon Klayu, but Jean assured her +that there was no approach from either side of the precipice. The only +way to the cave lay by way of the cleft. + +As time dragged on the strain of uncertainty became almost more than +the women could bear. Sometimes as they sat about the table eating the +wild food which was their only sustenance now, Ellen could hardly +control her impulse to hurl at the enigmatic man opposite her the +questions that rose to her lips. Why was he so silent? For what was +he waiting? What did he think of their situation? What did he mean to +do with them? + +She realized that they could not go on indefinitely as they were now. +_Something_ must happen to relieve the tension. She had reached a +point where any word, any action that might give her a clew to the +trader's intentions, was welcome. She began to long intensely that he +might do something which would give her an excuse to use the revolver +she carried constantly beneath her blouse. + +But beyond looks and an occasional cryptic smile, he did nothing to +alarm either of the women. Yet his very silence and inaction were more +ominous than threats. He instilled in them a crawling dread, a growing +terror and uncertainty that was worse than anything they had hitherto +known. + +The twenty-first of June dawned beautiful and clear. It had been +Ellen's turn to watch all night and she was a-stir early, happier and +more cheerful than she had been for months. Today--today Shane must +come. She was sure he would come. He had never failed her, She woke +Jean and Loll, and with that undying instinct which prompts every true +woman to make a feast for her returning man, Ellen prepared an extra +amount of the poor fare at her command: gumboot hash, boiled eggs and +sea-parrot. + +Shortly after the mid-day meal the White Chief, now fully recovered, +went off with Swimming Wolf in the direction of the south cliffs. +Ellen with her sister and Lollie climbed hopefully to the Lookout to +begin their watching. + +In the bright sunshine the sea below heaved gently and stretched away +to the horizon where, today, the dim outline of the amethyst range +showed. Afar out the smoke of a west-bound steamer smudged the sky +faintly, lending a suggestion of human nearness to the scene that +cheered the waiting ones. Nearly three weeks had gone by since the men +had left the Island, and the weather, with the exception of the one +storm, had been calm. Today, certainly, Shane would come--if he were +alive. + +Eagerly, hopefully they talked of his arrival as they sat scanning the +ocean toward Katleean. The soft breeze died away. The sea took on the +smooth shimmer of undulating satin. From afternoon down to sunset the +day grew in beauty. + +Time went by and the passing of each hour lessened somewhat the measure +of their blind faith and hope. Their talk became desultory. The blue +and silver of afternoon gave way to the blue and gold of approaching +evening. The tide came in and the amber sky took on the luminous tints +of rose and jade, cobalt and orange. The heaving, chameleon sea, +unruffled by a breath of wind, gave back the colors quivering, +burnished, opalescent, like the bowl of an abalone shell. They, on the +Lookout, felt themselves alone inside the tinted bubble of the world. +Ellen's day was waning in an enthralling splendor that rendered the +watchers speechless; it numbed them by its exquisite beauty so +incongruous with their own growing sense of hopelessness. Ellen's day +was waning, and yet there was no sign of Shane. + +From the pole on the Lookout the home-made flag hung in pathetic +bleached tatters, like lifeless grey hair down the back of an old +woman. Beneath it, on driftwood left over from the signal fires, sat +the watchers. A faint breath from the dead ashes mingled with the +freshness of the evening air and added an indefinable touch of +loneliness. Little Loll, tired out from his long, vain watching, +curled up against Ellen's knee and went to sleep. Shags, dark and +witch-like against the glowing sky, flew in long, low lines toward the +cliffs. There was no sound except the eternal murmur of the surf. + +The opal tints deepened, . . . then faded to a dull amethyst. Just +above the line of the sea the blood-red sun stood out against the haze +like an immense weirdly-luminous balloon. The women watched it +sinking, . . . sinking. It seemed pregnant with awesome, universal +mysteries--this dully-growing crimson ball of the sun whose descent +marked the close of the day. + +"Oh, Jeanie, Jeanie!" Suddenly the low cry quivered on the hush of the +night. Ellen's brave spirit had succumbed at last to the awful, +beautiful, loneliness. She sank her head on her sister's shoulder and +clasping her arms about Jean, vainly tried to still the surge of grief +that shook her. + +"Jeanie!" she sobbed. "He's dead. Shane--my husband--is dead! If--if +he were living--he would have come--to me--today!" + +The tattered flag on the pole above stirred to an awakening +breeze. . . . The midnight sun touched the rim of the sea, and +lingered to kiss with blood-red lips the cruel waters that have taken +many men. . . . Then it doubled back on its track and slowly, +perceptibly, rose again, as if reluctant to lose sight of the lonely +Lookout where Lollie, fully awake now, was trying to gather two sobbing +women into his thin, little-boy arms. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +ANCHORS WEIGHED + +An hour later, Ellen, worn out by the vigil of the night before and the +long watching on the Lookout, lay on the blankets of her bed fully +dressed. Lollie slumbered beside her, his tumbled red head in the +crook of his arm. It was Jean's night to watch, and she sat before the +table, the revolver ready to her hand. Her shoulders drooped and her +eyes were heavy-lidded and swollen from weeping. She rested her elbows +on the table and dropped her face in her hands. Numbed by their grief +and disappointment, both women for the time being had relaxed their +caution, and for the first time in days, the table had not been placed +across the closed door of the White Chief's room. + +For an hour the girl sat immovable. . . . Then she glanced up at the +clock. It had stopped. Ellen had forgotten to wind it. Jean wondered +dully how they were now to tell the time. There was no other timepiece +on the Island. But time didn't matter. Nothing mattered now. She +dropped her face again in her hands. . . . Her head was very +heavy. . . . Her arms slipped slowly until they rested on the +table. . . . Her head settled forward until it lay upon them. . . . +There came a long, tired sigh, and then the regular breathing of the +sleeper. . . . + +The sun of late morning was streaming in through the little north +window when the door off the living-room softly opened. The tall +figure of the White Chief stood a moment as he looked in at the quiet +forms before him. A gleam of triumph showed in his narrow eyes as they +came to rest on the pistol lying before the dark bowed head of the girl +at the table. His nostrils twitched and his lip lifted in his wolfish +smile. He tip-toed cautiously until his avid hand closed on the weapon. + +In the middle of the room he paused, and with an air of satisfaction +turned it over and over in his hands. There was a movement on the bed +in the corner, and abruptly Ellen sat upright, her wide gaze on the man +before her. + +"Good morning!" He smiled at her derisively. His instinct for +effective poses asserting itself, he began showing off his aptitude +with the revolver. He twirled it, with elaborate carelessness, on his +trigger finger, and with one movement of his wrist, stopped it, at the +same time drawing a bead on the shining gold-scales above the window. + +"I've been trying to get my hands on this for days," he said +conversationally, turning to her again. "Your aim is a little too sure +for me to take any chances." He looked at the weapon in his hand. +"You know, my dear, I have never really believed in that popular +fallacy concerning women and force--that a club and long hair go +together. Still, you never can tell. . . . As a persuader this is a +bit better than a club, but--" he shrugged his shoulders +contemptuously, "I'll not need it--here." He extracted the three +cartridges from the revolver and tossed it easily to the bed. + +"Oh-o-o Ellen!" Jean's despairing voice struck through the room as she +woke and found the pistol gone. + +The trader glanced from one to the other. "I am indeed a fortunate +man," he laughed, "to be cast upon an island with two charming women. +Some might think it an embarrassment of riches--but I. . . ." He +allowed a significant silence to sink in. + +Ellen had risen from the bed and stood beside her sister, a hand +resting protectingly on the girl's shoulder. The White Chief crossed +to the table and seated himself on the edge of it, one foot swinging +free. + +"You're both going to think a lot of me before we're taken off Kon +Klayu," he told them. "Oh, yes, we'll be taken off, my dears, but not +by your husband, Mrs. Boreland." He ignored Ellen's cry and proceeded: + +"I was a little afraid the first week that he might, by sheer Irish +luck, have escaped the storm and be turning up here--but it's too late +now. I'll wager you're a widow." + +He seemed to be enjoying himself immensely as his pale eyes lingered +first on one and then on the other woman before him. + +"The pale white rose, and the dewy red bud," his vibrant voice went on +mockingly. "Oh, do not be alarmed--" as they both shrank back--"I'm +not going to be crude. I have plenty of time--plenty of time-- Oh, +you would, would you!" He broke off with a sudden snarl, as Ellen, +infuriated by his manner, snatched up the empty revolver and hurled it +with all her strength at his head. + +He dodged, and with one panther-like movement, leaped at her, his arms +closing like a vice about her shoulders. + +As if maddened by her struggles he crushed her to him and pinioning her +wrists in one powerful hand, he embedded the other in her loose hair +and brutally drew her head back until her face was upturned to his. A +moment he bent above her, crouching, feral, then he thrust his dark +bearded face against hers and shut off her screams. + +At the first intimation of the man's violence Jean had rushed to her +sister's aid and was beating him with wildly impotent hands, calling +despairingly to Lollie, to Swimming Wolf, even to Gregg. Then like a +young tigress she sprang at him from behind trying to get a hold on his +neck so that she might drag him from Ellen. + +But the man was impervious to everything outside the circle of his arms. + +"Oh, Swimming Wolf! Oh, help! Help us!" Jean's desperate screams +rang out again as she heard the sound of hasty footsteps on the porch +outside. + +She leaped for the door, but before her hand touched the latch it was +flung open and against the blinding sunshine loomed the tall figure of +Shane Boreland. + +With one bound he crossed the living-room. There came the sound of a +blow, . . . struggling, . . . a sudden choked cry, and Shane's gasping +words: + +"God . . . you cur . . . come . . . in the open . . . I'll kill you!" + +Two writhing, panting figures reeled about the living-room. . . . They +broke. . . . Shane, livid with rage, side-stepped, and with the +agility of a wild-cat leaped again at his adversary. His arm encircled +and tightened about the trader's neck. Kilbuck turned in the grip and +chest to chest they swayed, strained, their tentative blows rendered +impotent by their very nearness to each other. With twistings of legs +and sudden saggings of bodies they sought to get each other prostrate. +The hot breath whistling from their gaping mouths made the only human +sounds. Wheeling, lurching they fought swiftly about the room, +knocking over chairs, . . . the table . . . sweeping the stove from its +foundation. Then Shane's ankle turned as his foot encountered the +fallen revolver, and he lost his balance. + +In that instant the trader had him down--was upon him, slugging +viciously with both fists. From the first there was no science in the +fight. Both men inflamed--one with a long-denied passion for revenge, +the other with hatred for one he had wronged, had reverted to the +primitive lust to gouge, to claw, to kill with bare hands. They rolled +about the floor, first one on top, then the other, striking, tearing at +each other's throats, their very blind fury defeating their +purpose. . . . Again a turn found them on their feet, and like +snarling beasts they bounded back to the attack. Shirts were torn from +their backs, warm, gummy blood on their sweating bared bodies rendered +their grips insecure. . . . After what seemed to the watchers a +frenzied eternity, their efforts began slowly to slacken. Their grips +became more feeble, their hoarse rasping gasps for breath more +labored. . . . The Chief attempted groggily to dodge a blow. Shane +recovered his balance, rushed him low, and closed. A moment they +swayed together, then slowly the trader was lifted off his feet; a +sudden twist of Shane's shoulders, a heave, and the Chief was slammed +against the edge of the overturned table, his arm striking heavily. +Even as he went down Shane was on top of him, his hands fastened in a +death grip about Kilbuck's throat. The man's face began to turn +purple, his pale narrow eyes widened slowly, horribly until they seemed +starting from the sockets. + +Then Jean screamed. + +"Gregg! Kayak! Stop him! Don't let him commit murder!" + +The sound of the girl's voice broke the spell that had bound the +spectators standing in the doorway. Kayak Bill and Harlan strode into +the cabin and between them tore Boreland from his enemy and placed him +on the bed in the corner, where Ellen and Lollie took charge of him. +The insensible White Chief was carried into the next room and put in +Kayak's bunk. Breathing heavily from exertion Kayak Bill stepped back +to look at him. + +"That lyin' skunk's so crooked he cain't lay straight in bed, Gregg. I +was honin' somethin' powerful to horn in on that little shindy--but I +reckon Shane's bunged him up conside'ble," he drawled with immense +satisfaction, as he leaned over and felt the trader's arm. "'Pears +like he's got a busted flipper, and I know his noggin is sure addled. +Get some water, Gregg. I mout as well bring the durned squaw-pirate +back to life, 'cause when he's well again, I aim to knock hell outen +him myself----" + +Kayak turned to find that his remarks had fallen on the empty air, for +Gregg and Jean, standing amid the ruins of the dish cupboard, were +oblivious to all the world except each other. His hazel eyes roved to +the bed where Ellen and Loll were welcoming Shane as if he had returned +from the dead. Kayak stood a moment. + +"'Pears like I'm playin' a lone hand here," he said wistfully as he +started for the water that was to revive the White Chief. + +"Oh, Kayak! Kayak!" came Lollie's shout as he burrowed out from +between his parents. "It's your turn now to get some lovin'. Wait a +minute!" And the little fellow sprang from one end of the bed into +Kayak's arms. A second later both Ellen and Jean were welcoming him +with a warmth of affection that sent his new sombrero flying and made +his old hair-seal waistcoat slip half-way off his shoulders. Delighted +but unprepared for such demonstrations, Kayak was at a loss how to meet +them. His cheeks turned fiery red, and though his eyes were glowing he +backed away the moment they released him and began earnestly to +readjust his worn waistcoat. + +"By he--hen, Lady," he managed to say with some semblance of his old +nonchalance, as he fumbled with a torn buttonhole. "I--I--" he glared +accusingly at the hair-seal garment, "I believe this durned thing +is--is--is a-sufferin' from poverty o' the buttons, or--or maybe +enlargement o' the buttonholes!" And in the laughter that greeted his +statement he went off to care for the White Chief. + +Joy in the reunion and an hour's rest put Shane on his feet again. +While the women gathered up their few belongings, they learned how the +old whale-boat in which the men had left Kon Klayu had held together, +seemingly by a miracle, during the first part of the storm, but later +had been driven out of its course. When Shane finally landed at a +cannery fifty miles from Katleean the boat was abandoned and they were +taken to the trading post in the canoes of some fishing Indians. There +they learned of the White Chief's trip on the _Silver Fox_ and set +about getting the _Hoonah_ off the beach at the lagoon. The tides of +June being higher than usual they had little trouble, but it took days +to calk the seams and put the schooner in shape for the trip. + +"We were within fifty miles of here yesterday when the wind died down, +El," Shane told his wife, "and myself doing my best to make it on our +wedding anniversary! I knew you'd be expecting me, little fellow." He +patted her hand. "Well," he continued after some strictly personal +remarks, "I suppose we'll have to take Kilbuck to a doctor before we go +to Katleean--damn him, I ought to kill him, though. There's an M.D. at +the cannery this summer. I want the blackguard fixed up so I can +settle with him later." He drew a new corn cob from his pocket and +cramming it with tobacco, lit it. "But I tell you, girls," he went on +between puffs of the keenest enjoyment, "Kayak and I had the biggest +surprise of our lives the day before we left Katleean!" He turned to +Gregg and made a ludicrous confidential attempt to wink a swollen eye. +"A cannery steamer put in and landed no less person than his royal +nibs--the president of the Alaska Fur and Trading Company!" + +This announcement was received with no particular enthusiasm by either +of his listeners. He went on: + +"We got close as paving bricks right off the reel, and he's going to +finance the mining of Kon Klayu!" He stopped to note the effect of +this statement. "We left him at the post looking into the business +methods of the White Chief. The cannery steamer will be back in ten +days and we'll all strike out for San Francisco together and get our +outfit. We'll be back here at Kon Klayu this fall to begin +operations." There was a dismayed exclamation from Ellen; a delighted +one from Jean. "Oh, cheer up, El," he said to his wife. "You and I +won't have to come unless we want to. We've already appointed the old +man's son resident manager. He wants the job--is crazy about it in +fact. Turn around girls, and I'll present him to you--Mr. Gregg +Harlan, ladies!" With a grand flourish Shane indicated the flushing +young man. "Why he chose to keep it a secret all these months, he +hasn't told us yet, but--perhaps Jean will find out!" Laughing at the +incredulous look on Ellen's face he limped out to the shed where Kayak +Bill was doing up samples of ore to take aboard the _Hoonah_ lying just +off the bluff. + +At midnight the schooner was rippling gently over the long swells into +an atmosphere of golden sunset light that flooded the sky and crinkled +along the wavetops in shimmering, mellow orange. Up in the bow of the +_Hoonah_ silhouetted against the glow, old Kayak Bill stood alone. In +his hazel eyes was the wistful look that crept there sometimes when he +watched the domestic happiness of those about him. A-top the cabin by +the mainmast Jean and Gregg stood looking back over the lengthening +stretch of water. Kon Klayu lay, an oblong of jade in the amber light, +ringed with a wreath of foam. A single gull winnowed across the vision +calling a wistful question, and from the Lookout the tattered flag +flung itself out on the breeze as if in farewell. Jean's happy voice +came to him from where she snuggled in the circle of Harlan's arm. + +Kayak Bill let his gaze wander to the stern where Shane and Ellen stood +together at the wheel: Despite Boreland's battered countenance his chin +was up in his old jaunty and debonaire manner. The wind ruffled the +hair on his bare head. One hand managed the steering gear. The other +arm lay across his wife's shoulders. + +Kayak, watching shook his head gently. + +"I always hearn tell," he spoke softly to himself, "that the only +difference a-tween happy marriages and unhappy ones is that the happy +ones keeps their bickerin's private like--but I don't know, . . . I +don't know . . ." + +A moment more he looked at the prospector and his wife, then he turned +away and his old eyes gazed out across the tinted ocean spaces to that +something which had always seemed to beckon him from beyond the sunset +glow. Lost in his dreaming the old man did not hear Shane's eager +voice as he released the wheel a moment and pointed off the bow to +where, beyond the rim of the sea, lay the northwest coast of Alaska. + +"It's up there in the Valley of the Kuskokwim, El! They've made a +brand new strike and are getting ten dollars to the pan!" He looked +down at her and went on in his most coaxing Irish way. "Darlin', when +we get Loll in school, and Jean and Gregg and Kayak safely settled on +Kon Klayu . . ." he hesitated, then finished eagerly, "Sure El, it +would do us the world of good to go up there, little fellow, . . . just +to take a bit of a look. . . ." He straightened, his eyes alight with +the old questing expression, his face turned to the northwest, his +spirit already faring forth across sea and land to the beckoning Valley +of the Kuskokwim. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHERE THE SUN SWINGS NORTH*** + + +******* This file should be named 19747.txt or 19747.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/9/7/4/19747 + + + +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. 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